UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES 
 
 BROWSING ROOM
 
 PLUTARCH'S ESSAYS 
 
 WITH 
 
 A PREFACE BY 
 THE REV. ANDREW P. PEABODY, D.D., 
 
 AND 
 
 AN INTRODUCTION BY 
 RALPH WALDO EMERSON, LL.D. 
 
 TROY, N. Y. 
 NIMS AND KNIGHT.
 
 Copyright, 1881, 
 BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 
 
 r 
 
 UNIVEKMTV PKI.AS : JOHN WILSON & SON, 
 CAMBKIDUB
 
 College 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 WE learn more about Plutarch from his own writings than 
 from all other sources ; and all that he says about himself seems 
 so frank and genuine as to conciliate belief, and at the same 
 time respect and sympathy. He may not have been a marked 
 man ; there may have been many such men ; but if there were, 
 they have left no sign. We know not his like in all antiquity. 
 He reminds us of the ISnglish or American country-gentleman, 
 ooOf superior claims on the score of birth and fortune, culture and 
 Amoral worth, living at an easy distance from some provincial 
 ocapital or university town, while so far from the metropolis as 
 to make a visit there one of the most important events of his life, 
 ^trusted and beloved by his neighbors, taking interest as a citizen 
 and an office-bearer in local concerns however small, maintain- 
 * ing^ a generous domestic establishment, and exercising a liberal, 
 Q t ycF sober hospitality. He would have been an eminent man 
 had he lived in Rome, and he seems to have been received there 
 ^ with distinguished honor ; but a single somewhat prolonged 
 sojourn in the imperial city, whither he went on public business 
 ^S for his native Chseroneia, appears to have been his only opportu- 
 Tlity for extended intercourse with either scholars, philosophers, 
 r statesmen. Athens, where he was educated, and Delphi, 
 where he served as priest of Apollo his principal sacerdotal 
 duty being that of entertaining strangers at official banquets 
 were his centres of intelligence and influence ; and in the best 
 society of both ^bese cities he evidently held a chief, probably 
 the chief, p,uce.
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 We know of no writer, ancient or modern, who seems so in- 
 stinctively ethical as Plutarch. Though the title, " Moral ia," 
 under which his miscellaneous writings have been grouped, 
 seems inapplicable to the subjects of some of them, it belongs 
 pre-eminently to the pervading tone and spirit of them all, 
 and to the " Lives " as well. He cannot help viewing persons, 
 objects, and events in their moral aspects and relations. He can 
 think of a character only as an example, and of acts only as 
 expressions of character. He can hardly be said to have be- 
 longed to either of the great schools of philosophy. Educated 
 a Peripatetic, and, with those of his school, holding at their full 
 worth the constituent elements of a prosperous life, he did not, 
 like them, degrade each separate virtue into the middle term 
 between two vicious extremes. While an ardent admirer of 
 Plato, he was at a heaven-wide remove from the scepticism of 
 the later Platonists of the New Academy. His high and un- 
 swerving standard of right brought him into near kindred with 
 the Stoics ; but there was in him nothing of their asceticism 
 and their professed contempt for outward goods. He probably 
 would have defined himself as an Eclectic, and, except from the 
 Epicureans, whom he abhorred, he would have been a willing 
 borrower from every then extant school. His main characteris- 
 tics as an ethical writer are inflexibility of principle, a settled 
 conviction as to the rightfulness and wrongfulness of specific 
 acts, emphatic disapproval of all that is base and vile, and a 
 candM ami hopeful treatment of evil itself, when it has uny 
 semblance, or admixture, or promise of good. 
 
 Without boasting or self-praise, he gives us a very exalted 
 idea of his own personal excellence. So far as he comes into con- 
 tact with evil, it is manifestly contact without commingling. In 
 tli<- dialogue form in which many of his writings are cast, his 
 interlocutors sometimes talk in a way in which a moralist of the 
 nineteenth century would not make them talk : but \\e have yet 
 to find a single instance in which he sanctions, defends, or ex- 
 tenuates immorality of any kind, or in which, if there bo a dis- 
 >n, the casting vote represented by his voice is not on the 
 side of truth and right.
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 While the contents of this volume have all been selected 
 for qualities which can hardly fail to make them interesting, 
 instructive, and edifying, there are two pieces, in their respec- 
 tive veins unsurpassed, if not unequalled. One is that entitled 
 " Concerning such whom God is slow to punish," or, as it might 
 be better named, " On the Delay of the Divine Retribution." 
 If, on this profound and perplexing theme, Plutarch has omit- 
 ted any thing that can be wisely said, we doubt whether any 
 one else has said it. De Maistre made a very elaborate para- 
 phrase of this Dialogue, without adding to it a single argument 
 or thought of any moment. The other piece to which we refer 
 is Plutarch's " Consolatory Letter to his Wife," on the death 
 of a child during his absence from home. The gentleness and 
 sweetness of this letter, the resignation to the kindly ordering 
 of Providence, and the confident hope of immortality, together 
 with the tokens of the purest and closest domestic affection that 
 give tone to every sentence, render it almost Christian, and indi 
 cate in the writer a soul which would have found itself in entire 
 harmony with the new faith, as uttered in the teachings and in- 
 carnate in the life of its Founder.
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 (REPRINTKU FROM PLUTARCH'S MORALS, 5 VOLS.) 
 
 IT is remarkable that of an author so familiar as Plutarch, not 
 only to scholars, but to all reading men, and whose history is so 
 easily gathered from his works, no accurate memoir of his life, 
 not even the dates of his birth and death, should have come down 
 to us. Strange that the writer of so many illustrious biographies 
 should wait so long for his own. It is agreed that he was born 
 about the year 50 A. D. He has been represented as having 
 been the tutor of the Emperor Trajan, as dedicating one of his 
 books to him, as living long in Rome in great esteem, as having 
 received from Trajan the consular dignity, and as having been 
 appointed by him the governor of Greece. He was a man whose 
 real superiority had no need of these flatteries. Meantime, the 
 simple truth is, that he was not the tutor of Trajan, that he 
 dedicated no book to him, was not consul in Rome, nor governor 
 of Greece ; appears never to have been in Rome but on two occa- 
 sions, and then on business of the people of his native city, 
 Chaeronsea ; and though he found or made friends at Rome, and 
 read lectures to some friends or scholars, he did not know or 
 learn the Latin language there ; with one or two doubtful excep- 
 tions, never quotes a Latin book ; and though the contemporary 
 in his youth, or in his old age, of Persius, Juvenal, Lucan, and 
 Seneca, of Quintilian, Martial, Tacitus, Suetonius, Pliny the Elder, 
 and the Younger, he does not cite them, and in return his name 
 is never mentioned by any Roman writer. It would seem that the 
 community of letters and of personal news was even more rare 
 at that day than the want of printing, of railroads and telegraphs, 
 would suggest to us. 
 
 But this neglect by his contemporaries has been compensated 
 by an immense popularity in modern nations. Whilst his books 
 were never known to the world in their own Greek tongue, it is
 
 Mil INTRODUCTION. 
 
 curious that the " Lives" were translated and printed in Latin, 
 thence into Italian, French, and English, more than a century 
 before the original "Works" were yet printed. For whilst the 
 ' Lives " were translated in Rome in 1471, and the " Morals," 
 part by part, soon after, the first printed edition of the Greek 
 "Works "did not appear until 1572. Hardly current in his 
 own Greek, these found learned interpreters in the scholars of 
 Germany, Spain, and Italy. In France, in the middle of the 
 most turbulent civil wars, Amyot's translation awakened general 
 attention. His genial version of the " Lives " in 1559, of the 
 " Morals " in 1572, had signal success. King Henry IV. wrote 
 to his wife, Marie de Medicis : " Vive Dieu. As God liveth, you 
 could not have sent me any thing which could be more agreeable 
 than the news of the pleasure you have taken in this reading. 
 Plutarch always delights me with a fresh novelty. To love him 
 is to love me ; for he has been long time the instructor of my 
 youth. My good mother, to whom I owe all, and who would 
 not wish, she said, to see her son an illustrious dunce, put this 
 book into my hands almost when I was a child at the breast. It 
 has been like my conscience, and has whispered in my ear many 
 good suggestions and maxims for my conduct, and the govern- 
 ment of my affairs." Still earlier, Rabelais cites him with due 
 respect. Montaigne, in 1589, says : " We dunces had been lost, 
 had not this book raised us out of the dirt. By this favor of his 
 we dare now speak and write. The ladies are able to read to 
 schoolmasters. 'Tis our breviary." Montesquieu drew from him 
 his definition of law, and, in his Pensees, declares," I am always 
 charmed with Plutarch ; in his writings are circumstances 
 attached to persons, which give great pleasure ; " and adds 
 examples. Saint Evremond read Plutarch to the great Condd 
 under a tent. Rollin, so long the historian of antiquity for 
 France, drew unhesitatingly his history from him. Voltaire 
 honored him, and Rousseau acknowledged him as his master. 
 In Knirland, Sir Thomas North translated the " Lives" in 1579, 
 and Holland the" Morals" in 1603, in time to be used by Slmk- 
 speare in his plays, and read by Bacon, Dryden, and Cud worth. 
 
 Then, recently, there has been a remarkable revival, in France, 
 in the taste for Plutarch and his contemporaries, led, wo may 
 say, by the eminent critic Saint-Beuve. M. Octave Gruard, in a 
 critical work on the " Morals," has carefully corrected the popular
 
 INTRODUCTION. IX 
 
 legends, and constructed from the works of Plutarch himself his 
 
 O / 
 
 true biography. M. Leve'que has given an exposition of his 
 moral philosophy, under the title of " A Physician of the Soul," 
 in the Revue des Deux Mondes ; and M. C. Martha, chapters on 
 the genius of Marcus Aurelius, of Persius, and Lucretius, in 
 the same journal ; whilst M. Fustel de Coulanges has explored 
 from its roots in the Aryan race, then in their Greek and 
 Roman descendants, the primeval religion of the household. 
 
 Plutarch occupies a unique^ place ^ia literature as an encyclo- 
 paedia of Greek and Roman antiquity. Whatever is eminent 
 "~m~Tact or in fiction, in opinion, in character, in institutions, in 
 science natural, moral, or metaphysical, or in memorable say- 
 ings, drew his attention and came to his pen with more or less 
 fulness of record. He is, among prose-writers, what Chaucer is 
 among English poets, a repertory for those who want the story 
 without searching for it at first hand, a compend of all 
 accepted traditions. And all this without any supreme intellect- 
 ual gifts. He is not a profound mind ; not a master in any 
 science ; not a lawgiver, like Lycurgus or Solon ; not a metaphy- 
 sician, like Parmenides, Plato, or Aristotle ; not the founder of 
 any sect or community, like Pythagoras or Zeno ; not a naturalist, 
 like Pliny or Linnaeus ; not a leader of the mind of a genera- 
 tion, like Plato or Goethe. But if he had not the highest powers, 
 he was yet a man of rare gifts. He had that universal sympathy 
 with genius which makes all its victories his own ; though he 
 never used verse, he had many qualities of the poet in the power 
 of his imagination, the speed of his mental associations, and his 
 sharp, objective eyes. But what specially marks him, he is a 
 chief example of the illumination of the intellect by the force of 
 morals. Though the most amiable of boon-companions, this 
 generous religion gives him apergus like Goethe's. 
 
 Plutarch was well-born, well-taught, well-conditioned ; a self- 
 respecting, amiable man, who knew how to better a good edu- 
 cation by travels, by devotion to affairs private and public ; a 
 master of ancient culture, he read books with a just criticism ; 
 eminently social, he was a king in his own house, surrounded 
 himself with select friends, and knew the high value of good 
 conversation ; and declares in a letter written to his wife that 
 " he finds scarcely an erasure, as in a book well-written, in the 
 happiness of his life."
 
 
 X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The range of mind makes the glad writer. The reason of 
 Plutarch's vast popularity is his humanity. A man of society, 
 of affairs; upright, practical; a good son, husband, father, and 
 friend, he has a taste for common life, and knows the court, the 
 camp, and the judgment-hall, but also the forge, farm, kitchen, 
 and cellar, and every utensil and use, and with a wise man's or 
 a poet's eye. Thought defends him from any degradation. He 
 does not lose his way, for the attractions are from within, not 
 from without. A poet in verse or prose must have a sensuous 
 eye, but an intellectual co-perception. Plutarch's memory is full, 
 and his horizon wide. Nothing touches man but he feels to be 
 his ; he is tolerant even of vice, if he finds it genial; enough a 
 man of the world to give even the devil his due, and would have 
 hugged Robert Burns, when he cried, 
 
 " O wad ye tak' a thought and mend ! " 
 
 He is a philosopher with philosophers, a naturalist with natural 
 ists, and sufficiently a mathematician to leave some of his readers, 
 now and then, at a long distance behind him, or respectfully 
 skipping to the next chapter. But this scholastic omniscience of 
 our author engages a new respect, since they hope he understands 
 his own diagram. 
 
 He perpetually suggests Montaigne, who was the best reader he 
 has ever found, though Montaigne excelled his master in the 
 point and surprise of his sentences. Plutarch had a religion 
 which Montaigne wanted, and which defends him from wanton- 
 ness; and though Plutarch is as plain-spoken, his moral senti- 
 ment is always pure. What better praise has any writer received 
 than he whom Montaigne finds " frank in giving things, not 
 words," dryly adding, " it vexes me that he is so Exposed to the 
 spoil of those that are conversant with him." .It is one of the 
 felicities of literary history, the tie which inseparably couples these 
 two names across fourteen centuries. Montaigne, whilst he grasps 
 Etienne de la Boece with one hand, reaches back the other to 
 Plutarch. These distant friendships charm us, and honor all the 
 parties, and" make the best example of the universal citizenship 
 and fraternity of the human mind. 
 
 I do not know where to find a book to borrow a phrase of 
 Ben Jonson's "so rammed with life," and this in chapters 
 chiefly ethical, which are so prone to be heavy and sentimental.
 
 INTRODUCTION. x j 
 
 No poet could illustrate his thought with more novel or striking 
 similes or happier anecdotes. His style is realistic, picturesque, 
 and varied ; his sharp objective eyes seeing every thing that 
 moves, shines, or threatens in nature or art, or thought or 
 dreams. Indeed, twilights, shadows, omens, and spectres have 
 a charm for him. He believes in witchcraft and the evil eye, in 
 demons and ghosts, but prefers, if you please, to talk of these 
 iu the morning. His vivacity and abundance never leave him to 
 loiter or pound on an incident. I admire his rapid and crowded 
 style, as if he had such store of anecdotes of his heroes that he 
 is forced to suppress more than he recounts, in order to keep up 
 with the hasting history. 
 
 His surprising merit is the genial facility with which he deals 
 with his manifold topics. There is no trace of labor or pain. 
 He gossips of heroes, philosophers, and poets; of virtues and 
 genius ; of love and fate and empires. It is for his pleasure 
 that he recites all that is best in his reading : he prattles history. 
 But he is no courtier, and no Boswell : he is ever manly, far from 
 fawning, and would be welcome to the sages and warriors he 
 reports, as one having a native right to admire and recount these 
 stirring deeds and speeches. I find him a better teacher of rhetoric^ 
 than any modern. His superstitions are poetic, aspiring, affirma=^ 
 tive. A poet might rhyme all day with hints drawn from Plutarch, 
 page on page. No doubt, this superior suggestion for the modern 
 reader owes much to the foreign air, the Greek wine, the religion 
 and history of antique heroes. Thebes, Sparta, Athens-, and 
 Rome charm us away from the disgust of the passing hour. But 
 his own cheerfulness and rude health are also magnetic. In his 
 immense quotation and allusion, we quickly cease to discriminate 
 between what he quotes and what he invents. We sail on his 
 memory into the ports of every nation, enter into every private 
 property, and do not stop to discriminate owners, but give him 
 the praise of all. 'Tis all Plutarch, bv right of eminent domain, 
 and all property vests in this emperor. This facility and abun- 
 dance make the joy of his narrative, and he is read to the 
 neglect of more careful historians. Yet he inspires a curiosity, 
 sometimes makes a necessity, to read them. He disowns any 
 attempt to rival Thucydides; but I suppose he has a hundred 
 readers where Thucydides finds one, 'and Thucydides must often 
 thank Plutarch for that one. He has preserved for us a multi-
 
 Xli INTRODUCTION. 
 
 tude of precious sentences, in prose or verse, of authors whoso 
 books are lost ; and these embalmed fragments, through his loving 
 selection alone, have come to be proverbs of later mankind. I 
 hope it is only my immense ignorance that makes me believe 
 that they do not survive out of his pages, not only Thcspis, 
 Polemos, Euphorion, Ariston, Evenus, &c., but fragments of 
 Menander and Pindar. At all events, it is in reading the frag 
 ments he has saved from lost authors that I have hailed another 
 example of the sacred care which has unrolled in our times, 
 and still searches and unrolls papyri from ruined libraries and 
 buried cities, and has drawn attention to what an ancient might 
 call the politeness of Fate, we will say, more advisedly, the 
 benign Providence which uses the violence of war, of earthquakes, 
 and changed watercourses, to save underground through barbar- 
 ous ages the relics of ancient art, and thus allows us to witness 
 the upturning of the alphabets of old races, and the deciphering 
 of forgotten languages, so to complete the annals of the fore- 
 fathers of Asia, Africa, and Europe. 
 
 His delight in poetry makes him cite with joy the speech of 
 Gorgias, " that the tragic poet who deceived was juster than he 
 who deceived not, and he that was deceived was wiser than he 
 who was not deceived." 
 
 It is a consequence of this poetic trait in his mind, that I con- 
 fess that, in reading him, I embrace the particulars, and carry a 
 faint memory of the argument or general design of the chapter ; 
 but he is not less welcome, and he leaves the reader with a relish 
 and a necessity for completing his studies. Many examples 
 mitrht be cited of nervous expression and happy allusion, that 
 indicate a poet and an orator, though he is not ambitious of 
 thr.Mj titles, and cleaves to the security of prose narrative, and 
 only shows his intellectual sympathy with these; yet I cannot 
 ar to cite one or two sentences which none who reads 
 them will forget In treating of the style of the Pythian Oracle, 
 he says, 
 
 " Do you not observe, some one will say, what a grace there is in Sap- 
 pho's measure, ari'l how they delight and tickle the ears and fancies of the 
 hearers? "Whereas the Sibyl, with lirr frantic grimaces, uttering sen- 
 r thoughtful and serious, neither fnmseii nor perfinnri], 
 continues her voice a thousand years through the favor of the Divinity 
 that speaks within her."
 
 INTRODUCTION. x 'm 
 
 Another gives an insight into his mystic tendencies, 
 
 " Early this morning, asking Epaminomlas about the manner of Lysis's 
 burial, I found that Lysis had taught him as far as the incommunicable 
 mysteries of our sect, and that the same Daemon that waited on Lysis, 
 presided over him, if I can guess at the pilot from the sailing of the ship. 
 The paths of life are large, but in few are men directed by the Daemons. 
 When Theanor had said this, he looked attentively on Epaminoudas, as if 
 he designed a fresh search into his nature and inclinations." 
 
 And here is his sentiment on superstition, somewhat condensed 
 in Lord Bacon's citation of it : "I had rather a great deal that 
 men should say, There was no such man at all as Plutarch, than 
 that they should say, that there was one Plutarch that would eat 
 up his children as soon as they were born, as the poets speak of 
 Saturn." 
 
 The chapter " On Fortune " should be read by poets, and other 
 wise men ; and the vigor of his pen appears in the chapter 
 " Whether the Athenians were more Warlike or Learned," and in 
 his attack upon Usurers. , 
 
 There is, of course, a wide difference of time in the writing of 
 these discourses, and so in their merit. Many of them are mere 
 sketches or notes for chapters in preparation, which were never 
 digested or finished. Many are notes for disputations in the 
 lecture-room. His poor indignation against Herodotus was per- 
 haps a youthful prize essay : it appeared to me captions and 
 labored; or perhaps, at a rhetorician's school, the subject of 
 Herodotus being the lesson of the day, Plutarch was appointed by 
 lot to take the adverse side. 
 
 The plain-speaking of Plutarch, as of the ancient writers gen- 
 erally, coming from the habit of writing for one sex only, has a 
 great gain for brevity, and, in our new tendencies of civilization, 
 may tend to correct a false delicacy. 
 
 We arc always interested in the man who treats the intellect 
 well. We expect it from the philosopher, from Plato, Aristotle, 
 Spinoza, and Kant ; but we know that metaphysical studies in any 
 but minds of large horizon and incessant inspiration have their 
 dangers. One asks sometimes whether a metaphysician can treat 
 the intellect well. The central fact is the superhuman intelligence 
 pouring into us from its unknown fountain, to be received with 
 religious awe, and defended from any mixture of our will. But
 
 XIV INTRODUCTION. 
 
 this high Muse comes and goes ; and the danger is that, when tho 
 Muse is wanting, the student is prone to supply its place with 
 microscopic subtleties and logomachy. It is fatal to spiritual 
 health to lose your admiration. " Let others wrangle," said St. 
 Augustine : " I will wonder." Plato and Plotinus are enthusiasts, 
 who honor the race ; but the logic of the sophists and material- 
 ists, whether Greek or French, fills us with disgust. Whilst we 
 expect this awe and reverence of the spiritual power from tho 
 philosopher in his closet, we praise it in the man of the world, 
 the man who lives on quiet terms with existing institutions, yet 
 indicates his perception of these high oracles, as do Plutarch, 
 Montaigne, Hume, and Goethe. These men lift themselves at 
 once from the vulgar, and are not the parasites of wealth. Per 
 haps they sometimes compromise, go out to dine, make and take 
 compliments ; but they keep open the source of wisdom and 
 health. Plutarch is uniformly true to this centre. He had not 
 lost his wonder. He is a pronounced idealist, who does not hesi- 
 tate to say, like another Berkeley, " Matter is itself privation ; " 
 and again, " The Sun is the cause that all men are ignorant of 
 Apollo, by sense withdrawing the rational intellect from that 
 which is to that which appears." He thinks that " souls are 
 naturally endowed with the faculty of prediction ; " he delights 
 in memory, with its miraculous power of resisting time. Ho 
 thinks that " Alexander invaded Persia with greater assistance 
 from Aristotle than from his father Philip." He thinks that 
 " he who has ideas of his own is a bad judge of another man's, it 
 being true that the Eleans would be the most proper judges of 
 the Olympic games, were no Eleans gamesters." He says of 
 Socrates, that he endeavored to bring reason and things together, 
 and make truth consist with sober sense. He wonders with Plato 
 at that nail of pain and pleasure which fastens the body to the 
 mind. The mathematics give him unspeakable pleasure, but he 
 chiefly liked that proportion which teaches us to account that 
 which is just, equal ; and not that which is equal, just. 
 
 Of philosophy he is more interested in the results than in (he 
 method. He has a just instinct of the presence of a master, and 
 prefers to sit as a scholar with Plato, than as a disputant ; and, 
 true to his practical character, he wishes the philosopher not to 
 hide in a corner, but to commend himself to men of public regards 
 and ruling genius: "for, if he once possess such a man with
 
 INTRODUCTION. XV 
 
 principles of honor and religion, he takes a compendious method, 
 by doing good to one, to oblige a great part of mankind." "Pis 
 a temperance, not an eclecticism, which makes him adverse 
 to the severe Stoic, or the Gymnosophist, or Diogenes, or any 
 other extremist. That vice of theirs shall not hinder him from 
 citing any good word they chance to drop. He is an eclectic in 
 such sense as Montaigne was, willing to be an expectant, not a 
 dogmatist. 
 
 In many of these chapters it is easy to infer the relation 
 between the Greek philosophers and those who came to them for 
 instruction. This teaching was no play nor routine, but strict, 
 sincere, and affectionate. The part of each of the class is as im- 
 portant as that of the master. They are like the base-ball players, 
 to whom the pitcher, the bat, the catcher, and the scout are 
 equally important. And Plutarch thought, with Ariston, "that 
 neither a bath nor a lecture served any purpose, unless they were 
 purgative." Plutarch has such a keen pleasure in realities that 
 he has none in verbal disputes ; he is impatient of sophistry, and 
 despises the Epicharmian disputations : as, that he who ran in 
 debt yesterday owes nothing to-day, as being another man ; so, he 
 that was yesterday invited to supper, the next night comes an 
 unbidden guest, for that he is quite another person. 
 
 Except as historical curiosities, little can be said in behalf 
 of the scientific value of the " Opinions of the Philosophers," the 
 *' Questions," and the " Symposiacs." They are, for the most 
 part, very crude opinions ; many of them so puerile that one 
 would believe that Plutarch in his haste adopted the notes of his 
 younger auditors, some of them jocosely misreporting the dogma 
 of the professor, who laid them aside as memoranda for future 
 revision, which he never gave, and they were posthumously pub- 
 lished. Now and then there are hints of superior science. You 
 may cull from this record of barbarous guesses of shepherds ami 
 travellers statements that are predictions of facts established in 
 modern science. Usually, when Thales, Anaximenes, or Anaxi 
 mander are quoted, it is really a good judgment. The explanation 
 of the rainbow, of the floods of the Nile, and of the remora, <fec., 
 are just ; and the bad guesses are not worse than many of Lord 
 Bacon's. 
 
 His Natural History is that of a lover and poet, and not of a
 
 XVI INTRODUCTION. 
 
 physicist. His humanity stooped affectionately to trace the virtues 
 which he loved in the animals also. u Knowing and not knowing 
 is the affirmative or negative of the dog ; knowing you is to be your 
 friend ; not knowing you, your enemy." He quotes Thucydides, 
 saying, " that not the desire of honor only never grows old, but 
 much less also the inclination to society and affection to the 
 State, which continue even in ants and bees to the very last." 
 
 But though curious in the questions of the schools on the nature 
 and genesis of things, his extreme interest in every trait of 
 character, and his broad humanity, lead him constantly to Morals, 
 to the study of the Beautiful and Good. Hence his love of heroes, 
 his rule of life, and his clear convictions of the high destiny of 
 the soul. La Harpe said " that Plutarch is the genius the most 
 naturally moral that ever existed." 
 
 Tis almost inevitable to compare Plutarch with Seneca, 
 / who, born fifty years earlier, was for many years his contem- 
 / porary, though they never met, and their writings were perhaps 
 unknown to each other. Plutarch is genial, with an endless 
 interest in all human and divine things ; Seneca, a professional 
 philosopher, a writer of sentences, and, though he keep a sublime 
 path, is less interesting, because less humane ; and when we have 
 shut his book, we forget to open it again. There is a certain 
 violence in his opinions, and want of sweetness. He lacks the 
 sympathy of Plutarch. He is tiresome through perpetual didac- 
 tics. He is not happily living. Cannot the simple lover of truth 
 enjoy the virtues of those he meets, and the virtues suggested by 
 them, so to find himself at some time purely contented ? Seneca 
 was still more a man of the world than Plutarch ; and, by his 
 conversation with the Court of Nero, and his own skill, like "N ol 
 taire's, of living with men of business, and emulating their ad- 
 dress in affairs by great accumulation of his own property, learned 
 to temper his philosophy with facts. He ventured far appar- 
 ently too far for so keen a conscience as he inly had. Yet we 
 owe to that wonderful moralist illustrious maxims ; as if the scar- 
 let vices of the times of Nero had the natural effect of driving 
 virtue to its loftiest antagonisms. " Seneca," says L'K>t ran _:, 
 " was a pagan Christian, and is very good reading for our Chris- 
 tian pagans." He was Buddhist in his cold abstract virtue, with 
 a certain impassibility beyond humanity. He called "pity, that
 
 INTRODUCTION. Xvil 
 
 fault of narrow souls." Yet what noble words we owe to him : 
 " God divided man into men, that they might help each other ; " 
 and again," 'the good man differs from God in nothing but dura- 
 tion." His thoughts are excellent, if only he had a right to say 
 them. Plutarch, meantime, with every virtue under heaven, 
 thought it the top of wisdom to philosophize, yet not appear to do 
 it, and to reach in mirth the same ends which the most serious 
 are proposing. 
 
 Plutarch thought " truth to be the greatest good that man can 
 receive, and the goodliest blessing that God can give." " When 
 you are persuaded in your mind that you cannot either offer or*"" 
 perform any thing more agreeable to the gods than the enter- 
 taining a right notion of them, you will then avoid superstition as 
 a no less evil than atheism." He cites Euripides to affirm, " If 
 gods do aught dishonest, they are no gods," and the memorable 
 words of Antigone, in Sophocles, concerning the moral senti- 
 ment : 
 
 " For neither now nor yesterday began 
 These thoughts, which have been ever, nor yet can 
 A man be found who their first entrance knew." 
 
 His faith in the immortality of the soul is another measure of 
 his deep humanity. He reminds his friends that the Delphic 
 oracles have given several answers the same in substance as that 
 formerly given to Coraz the Naxian : 
 
 " It sounds profane impiety 
 To teach that human souls e'er die." 
 
 He believes that the doctrine of the Divine Providence, and that 
 of the immortality of the soul, rest on one and the same basis. 
 He thinks it impossible either that a man beloved of the gods 
 should not be happy, or that a wise and just man should not be 
 beloved of the gods. To him the Epicureans are hateful, who 
 held that the soul perishes when it is separated from the body. 
 " The soul, incapable of death, suffers in the same manner in the 
 body, as birds that are kept in a cage." He believes " that the 
 souls of infants pass immediately into a better and more divine 
 state." 
 
 I can easily believe that an anxious soul may find in Plutarch's 
 chapter called " Pleasure not attainable by Epicurus," and his 
 " Letter to his Wife Timoxena," a more sweet and reassuring 
 argument on the immortality than in the Phaedo of Plato ; for
 
 XVl'ii INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Plutarch always addresses the question on the human side, and 
 not on the metaphysical; as Walter Scott took hold of boys 
 and young men, in England and America, and through them 
 of their lathers. His grand perceptions of duty lead him to 
 his stern delight in heroism ; a stoic resistance to low indulg- 
 ence ; to a fight with fortune ; a regard for truth ; his love of 
 Sparta, and of heroes like Aristides, Phocion, and Cato. lie 
 insists that the highest good is in action. He thinks that the 
 inhabitants of Asia came to be vassals to one only, for not 
 having been able to pronounce one syllable ; which is, No. So 
 keen is his sense of allegiance to right reason, that he makes 
 a fight against Fortune whenever she is named. At Rome lie 
 thinks her wings were clipped : she stood no longer on a ball, 
 but on a cube as large as Italy. He thinks it was by superior 
 virtue that Alexander won his battles in Asia and Africa, and 
 the Greeks theirs against Persia. 
 
 But this Stoic in his fight with Fortune, with vices, effeminacy, 
 and indolence, is gentle as a woman when other strings are 
 touched. He is the most amiable of men. " To erect a trophy 
 in the soul against anger is that which none but a great and vic- 
 torious puissance is able to achieve." " Anger turns the mind 
 out of doors, and bolts the door." He has a tenderness almost to 
 tears when he writes on " Friendship," on " Marriage," on " the 
 Training of Children," and on the " Love of Brothers." " There 
 is no treasure," he says, " parents can give to their children, like 
 a brother ; 'tis a friend given by nature, a gift nothing can supply ; 
 once lost, not to be replaced. The Arcadian prophet, of whom 
 Herodotus speaks, was obliged to make a wooden foot in place of 
 that which had been chopped off. A brother, embroiled with his 
 brother, going to seek in the street a stranger who can take his 
 place, resembles him who will cut off his foot to give himself one 
 of wood." 
 
 All his judgments are noble. He thought, with Epicurus, that 
 it is more delightful to do than to receive a kindness. "Thi.s 
 courteous, gentle, and benign disjx>sition and behavior is not so 
 acceptable, so obliging or delightful to any of those with whom 
 we converse, as it is to those who have it." There is really no 
 limit to his bounty : " It would be generous to lend our eyes and 
 ^ears, nay, if possible, our reason and fortitude to others, whilst we 
 are idle or asleep." His excessive and fanciful humanity reminds
 
 INTRODUCTION. x ix 
 
 one of Charles Lamb, whilst it much exceeds him. When the 
 guests are gone, he " would leave one lamp burning, only as a sign 
 of the respect he bore to fires, for nothing so resembles an animal 
 as fire. It is moved and nourished by itself, and by its brightness, 
 like the soul, discovers and makes every thing apparent, and in if s 
 quenching shows some power that seems to proceed from a vital 
 principle, for it makes a noise and resists, like an animal dying, or 
 violently slaughtered ; " and he praises the Romans, who, when 
 the feast was over, " dealt well with the lamps, and did not take 
 away the nourishment they had given, but permitted them to live 
 and shine by it." 
 
 I can almost regret that the learned editor of the present 
 republication has not preserved, if only as a piece of history, the 
 preface of Mr. Morgan, the editor and in part writer of this 
 Translation of 1718. In his dedication of the work to the Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, Wm. Wake, he tells the Primate that 
 " Plutarch was the wisest man of his age, and, if he had been a 
 Christian, one of the best too ; but it was his severe fate to flour- 
 ish in those days of ignorance, which, 'tis a favorable opinion to 
 hope that the Almighty will sometime wink at ; that our souls may 
 be with these philosophers together in the same state of bliss." 
 The puzzle in the worthy translator's mind between his theology 
 and his reason well re-appears in the puzzle of his sentence. 
 
 I know that the chapter of " Apothegms of Noble Command- 
 ers " is rejected by some critics as not a genuine work of Plutarch ; 
 but the matter is good, and is so agreeable to his taste and genius, 
 that if he had found it, he would have adopted it. If he did not 
 compile the piece, many, perhaps most, of the anecdotes were 
 already scattered in his works. If I do not lament that a work 
 not his should be ascribed to him, I regret that he should have 
 suffered such destruction of his own. What a trilogy is lost to 
 mankind in his Lives of Scipio, Epaminondas, and Pindar ! 
 
 His delight in magnanimity and self sacrifice has made his 
 books, like Homer's Iliad, a bible for heroes ; and wherever the. 
 Cid is relished, the legends of Arthur, Saxon Alfred, and Richard 
 the Lion-hearted, Robert Bruce, Sydney, Lord Herbert of Cher- 
 bury, Cromwell, Nelson, Bonaparte, and Walter Scott's Chronicles 
 in prose or verse, there will Plutarch, who told the story of 
 Leonidas, of Agesilaus, of Aristides>, Phocion, Themistocles, De-
 
 XX INTRODUCTION 
 
 mosthenes, Epaminondas, Caesar, Cato, and the rest, sit as the 
 bestower of the crown of noble knighthood, and laureate of the 
 ancient world. 
 
 The chapters " On the Fortune of Alexander," in the " Morals," 
 are an important appendix to the portrait in the " Lives." The 
 union in Alexander of sublime courage with the refinement of his 
 pure tastes, making him the carrier of civilization into the East, 
 are in the spirit of the ideal hero, and endeared him to Plutarch. 
 That prince kept Homer's poems, not only for himself mdcr his 
 pillow in his tent, but carried these for the delight of the Persian 
 youth, and made them acquainted also with the tragedies of 
 Euripides and Sophocles. He persuaded the Sogdians not to kill, 
 but to cherish their aged parents ; the Persians to reverence, not 
 marry their mothers ; the Scythians to bury, and not eat their 
 dead parents. What a fruit and fitting monument of his best 
 days was his city Alexandria to be the birthplace or home of 
 Plotinus, St. Augustine, Syuesius, Posidonius, Ammonius, Jain- 
 blichus, Porphyry, Origen, Aratus, Apollonius, and Apulcius. 
 
 If Plutarch delighted in heroes, and held the balance between 
 the severe Stoic and the indulgent Epicurean, his humanity shines 
 not less in his intercourse with his personal friends. He was a 
 genial host and guest, and delighted in bringing chosen compan- 
 ions to the supper-table. He knew the laws of conversation and 
 the laws of good-fellowship quite as well as Horace, and has set 
 them down with such candor and grace as to make them good 
 reading to-day. The guests not invited to a private board by the 
 entertainer, but introduced by a guest as his companions, the 
 Greeks called shadows ; and the question is debated whether it 
 was civil to bring them, and he treats it candidly, but concludes : 
 " Therefore, when I make an invitation, since it is hard to break 
 the custom of the place, I give my guests leave to bring shadows ; 
 but when I myself am invited as a shadow, I assure you I refuse 
 to go." He has an objection to the introduction of music at 
 feasts. He thought it wonderful that a man having a muso in 
 his own breast, and all the pleasantness that would fit an enter- 
 tainment, would have pipes and harps play, and by that external 
 noise destroy all the sweetness that was proper and his own. 
 
 I cannot close these notes without expressing my sense of the 
 valuable service which the Editor has rendered to his Author and to
 
 INTRODUCTION. xx [ 
 
 his readers. Professor Goodwin is a silent benefactor to the book, 
 wherever I have compared the editions. I did not know how care- 
 less and vicious in parts the old book was, until in recent reading 
 of the old text, on coming on any thing absurd or unintelligible, I 
 referred to the new text, and found a clear and accurate statement 
 ir. its place. It is the vindication of Plutarch. The correction 
 is not only of names of authors and of places grossly altered or 
 misspelled, but of unpardonable liberties taken by the transla- 
 tors, whether from negligence or freak. 
 
 One proof of Plutarch's skill as a writer is that he bears trans- 
 lation so well. In spite of its carelessness and manifold faults, 
 \vhich, I doubt not, have tried the patience of its present learned 
 editor and corrector, I yet confess my enjoyment of this old 
 version for its vigorous English style. The work of some 
 forty or fifty University men, some of them imperfect in their 
 Greek, it is a monument of the English language at a period 
 of singular vigor and freedom of style. I hope the Commission 
 of the Philological Society in London, charged with the duty of 
 preparing a Critical Dictionary, will not overlook these volumes, 
 which show the wealth of their tongue to greater advantage 
 than many books of more renown as models. It runs through 
 the whole scale of conversation in the street, the market, the 
 coffee-hojise, the law courts, the palace, the college, and the 
 church. There are, no doubt, many vulgar phrases, and many 
 blunders of the printer ; but it is the speech of business and con- 
 versation, and in every tone, from lowest to highest. 
 
 We owe to these translators many sharp perceptions of the wit 
 and humor of their author, sometimes even to the adding of the 
 point. I notice one, which, although the translator has justified 
 his rendering in a note, the severer criticism of the Editor has 
 not retained. " Were there not a sun, we might, for all the other 
 stars, pass our days in Reverend Dark, as Heraclitus calls it." 
 I find a humor in the phrase which might well excuse its doubtful 
 accuracy. 
 
 It is a service to our Republic to publish a book that can force 
 ambitious young men, before they mount the platform of the 
 county conventions, to read the " Laconic Apothegms " and the 
 " Apothegms of Great Commanders." If we could keep the 
 secret, and communicate it only to a few chosen aspirants, we
 
 XX11 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 might confide that, by this noble infiltration, they would easily 
 carry the victory over all competitors. But, as it was the desire 
 of these old patriots to fill with their majestic spirit all Sparta 
 or Rome, and not a few leaders only, we hasten to offer them to 
 the American people. 
 
 Plutarch's popularity will return in rapid cycles. If over-read 
 in this decade, so that his anecdotes and opinions become com- 
 monplace, and to-day's novelties are sought for variety, his 
 sterling values will presently recall the eye and thought of the 
 best minds, and his books will be reprinted and read anew by 
 coming generations. And thus Plutarch will be perpetually 
 rediscovered from time to time as long as books last.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. f, 
 
 How may a tendency to anger be overcome 1 2. Not by the interference of other 
 persons, 3. The mind being then under the influence of stormy passion, 4. 
 The aid of reason and judgment is more effectual, 5. Resist the beginning of 
 anger, 6. When inclined to anger, try to be quiet and composed, 6, 7. Anger 
 is unreasonable and foolish, 7. It disfigures the countenance, 8. Tends to one's 
 dishonor and discredit' 9. Produces absurd and insulting speeches, 10. Is dis- 
 ingenuous and unmanly, 10. Indicates a weak mind, 10. Discovers meanness 
 of spirit, 11. Fortitude consists with a mild temper, 12. Anger can destroy, it 
 cannot restore, 14. It often overreaches itself, 15. Excessive urgency often fails 
 of success, 15. Forbearance towards servants urged, 16. Anger towards servants 
 makes them worse, 16. Never punish in anger, 17. Allow anger to cool, 17. 
 No harm arises from deferring anger, 17. Causes of anger examined ; we think 
 we incur contempt without it, 18; it arises from self-love, 20 : and a spirit of 
 fault-finding, 20. The absence of these makes a man gentle towards others, 21, 
 22. Nobody can dwell with an angry man, 22. Anger, the essence of all bad 
 passions, 21. Good temper in us will disarm others, 23. Moderate expectations 
 prevent anger, 24. Knowledge of human nature softens anger, 25. Make trial 
 for a few days of abstinence from anger, 27. 
 
 OF SUPERSTITION, OR INDISCREET DEVOTION. 
 
 Ignorance respecting God may lead either to atheism or superstition, 28. Atheism 
 and superstition compared, 28, et seq. Atheism tends to indifference, super- 
 stition to terror, 29. Superstition infuses into the mind a constant alarm and 
 dread, 30. Superstition allows of no escape from fear, it permits no hope, 32. 
 It perverts the moral sense, 33, 34. The atheist may be fretful and impatient ; 
 the superstitious man charges all his misfortunes and troubles to God, 35. Is 
 full of unreasonable apprehensions, 38. Converts tolerable evils into fatal ones, 
 37. Misinterprets the course of nature, 37. Is afraid of things that will not 
 hurt him, 37. Allows himself no enjoyment, 38. Entertains dishonorable 
 thoughts of God, 40 ; and thus is morally wrong, 41. He secretly hates God, 
 and would have no God, 41. Superstition affords an apology for atheism, 42. 
 Superstition of the Gauls, Scythians, and Carthaginians ; they offered human sac- 
 rifices, 42, 43. In avoiding superstition do not fall into atheism, 44.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 The son of Apollonius had died, 45. Apathy and excessive grief arc alike unnat- 
 ural and improper, 46. Avoid both of these extremes, 40. Uninterrupted 
 happiness is not to be expected, 48. Every thing is subject to change, 49. 
 Evil is to be expected, 50, 51. Sorrow will not remove suffering, 52, 53. 
 Others are in trouble besides ourselves, 54. Why should death be considered 
 so great an evil ? 54. Death is but the debt of nature, 55. Death is inevitable, 
 and the termination of all human calamity, 50. Death is the brother of sleep, 
 57. Death divests us of the body, and thus frees us from great evil, 58. The 
 gods have often sent death as a reward for distinguished piety ; illustrated by 
 the cases of Biton and Cleobis, of Agamedcs and Trophonius, of Pindar nnd 
 Euthynous, 59, 60. Even if death be the extinction of our being, it is no evil, 
 and why, Cl. Even untimely death may shield from evil, 63. Not long life, 
 but virtuous is desirable, 63, 64. Sorrow for the dead may proceed from selfish 
 considerations, 65. Does the mourner intend to cherish grief ns long as he 
 lives ? 06. Excessive grief is unmanly, 67. An untimely death differs not 
 much from that which is timely, 68. It may be desirable, 69, 70. Excessive 
 grief is unreasonable. 71. The state of the dead is better than that of the 
 living, 72. The evil in the world far exceeds the good, 73. Life is a loan, soon 
 to be recalled, 73. Some people arc querulous and can never be satisfied, 75. 
 Death is fixed by fate, 77. Life is short, and should not be wasted in unavailing 
 sorrow, 78. Derive comfort from the example of those who have borne the 
 death of their sons bravely, 78, 79. Providence wisely disposes, 81. Your 
 son died at the best time for him, 81. He is now numbered with the blest, 82. 
 The conclusion ; a touching appeal to Apollonius, 85. 
 
 OF LARGE ACQUAINTANCE: OR, AN ESSAY TO PROVE THE 
 FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 
 
 True friendship a thing of rare occurrence, 86. In the early times, friends went in 
 pairs, Orestes and Py lades, &c., 87. True friendship cannot embrace a multi- 
 tude, 88. If we have numerous acquaintances, there should be one eminently 
 a friend, 88. The requisites to a true friendship, 89. The difficulty of finding 
 a true friend, 89. Be not hasty in getting friends, 90. Admit none to your 
 confidence without long and thorough trial, 90. As true friendship cements two 
 hearts into one, so a large acquaintance divides and distracts the heart, 91. We 
 cannot discharge the obligations of friendship to a multitude, 92; therefore do 
 not attempt it, 93. Joining one's self intimately to another involves one in his 
 calamities, 94. Real friendship always has its origin in likeness, even in brutes, 
 94. There must be a substantial oneness, 95. Therefore it is next to a mir- 
 acle to find a constant and sure friend, 96. 
 
 OP ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 Envy and Hatred are alike opposed to Benevolence, 97. Yet they are distinct pas- 
 sions, 97. Their points of difference, 97, et ttq. Hatred regards the hated person 
 as evil ; envy regards only the felicity of others, 97. Hatred may be directed 
 against brutes ; envy is directed only against man, 98. Brutes may hate but 
 never envy brutes, 98. Envy is always unjust; hatred is often jn-' 
 Hatred increases as the object grows worse ; envy rises higher as the object 
 increases in virtue, 99. Envy often ceases when the object has risen to supreme 
 power; hatred never ceases, 100.
 
 CONTENTS. XXV 
 
 HOW A MAN MAY INOFFENSIVELY PRAISE HIMSELF WITHOUT 
 BEING LIABLE TO ENVY. 
 
 An arrogant boaster is universally condemned, 102. Yet there are times when a 
 man may fitly praise himself, 103. A man may vindicate his worthy acts when 
 maligned by others, 105. Instances of this in Pericles, Pelopidas, Epaminondas, 
 105. A man grappling with ill fortune may vindicate himself, 100. A man may 
 do it, if treated ungratefully, 107. Or if unjustly accused of evil acts, 108. A 
 man may indirectly praise himself by praising others who are of similar charac- 
 ter, 109. Envy may be forestalled by giving the credit of our good actions to 
 Fortune or to God, 110; and by admissions of partial wrong in our character or 
 conduct, 112, 113. We may praise ourselves when it seems to be for the advan- 
 tage of others, 114 ; and when by so doing we may silence an insolent and blus- 
 tering man, 115. When evil conduct is praised, and we may attract the attention 
 of the company to a worthier example, 110. In general we should avoid talking 
 about ourselves, 117. This habit engenders boasting and vain-glory, 118. It 
 leads to the disparagement of others, 119. We should hear our praises uttered 
 with modesty and caution, 120; otherwise we incur disgrace, 121. 
 
 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 
 
 Introduction, 122. Supposed conversation among some friends respecting affairs at 
 Thebes, at the period of the return of the exiles, 123-120. About Pelopidas, 
 Kpuminondas, Charon, Archias, Leontidas, Lysanoridas, 12-3, 120. Plan for liber- 
 ating Thebes from the Spartan rule, 126. Strange portents and omens, 127-120. 
 Recourse to Egypt for the interpretation of a strange, antiquated writing, 127- 
 129. The writing interpreted, 130. Folly of superstition, 131. Socrates pursued 
 a more rational method, 131. What shall we think of his Daemon ? 132. Was 
 it some trifling thing, as an omen or a sneeze ? 133, 135. It could be nothing but 
 sound judgment, 134. A stranger from Italy introduced, 13(5. His account of 
 affairs at Metapontum, 137. Lysis had escaped from massacre at Metapontum, 
 and been hospitably received at Thebes, 138. Theanor, the stranger, offers 
 money in requital for the kindness bestowed on Lysis, 138. The offer refused, 
 and why, 13'J. Discourse of Epaminondas thereon, 140-142. Epaminondas has 
 a good Daemon, 143. The conversation turns on the liberation of Thebes from 
 the Spartan garrison, 144. Fear that the plot is discovered, 145. Dreams and 
 omens, 145, 140. The Daemon of Socrates again, 147, 148. A strong impression 
 made on the mind of some extraordinary man is from a Daemon, like that of 
 Socrates, 150. A romantic dream related, 151-155. A descent into the infernal 
 regions, 153. Daemons are seen there; their connection with human beings on 
 earth, \~>[, 1 ">">. The Pythagorean philosophy respecting dreams, daemons, and 
 sacred impulses, 150, 157. Epaminondas refuses to kill any citizen without pro- 
 cess of law, 158. Slaughter of the Spartan commanders and liberation of 
 Thelej, 158-107. 
 
 HOW A MAN MAY BE SENSIBLE OF HIS PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 There can be no progress in virtue while habits of wrong-doing continue un- 
 changed, 168. A change from vice to virtue is not instantaneous, it must be 
 progressive, 109. The opinion of the Stoics confuted that all men are equally 
 vicious, 170. As there are degrees of moral improvement, they are easily dis- 
 cernible, 171. Constant endeavors to be good may inspire confidence of success,
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 172. It is a good sign if our effort8 after moral improvement become more 
 intense and constant, 173. And if difficulties gradnally disappear. 174. Ex- 
 amples given, 17o. It is a good sign if the ridicule or opposition of friends do 
 not induce us to leave our studies, 170. What may evince proficiency in virtue, 
 177. Many fail of advantage from the study of philosophy, 178. In hearing 
 lectures or reading, attend to things spoken rather than the words, 17'.. Do not 
 read merely to admire the style, 179. Be more ready to hear than to speak, 1K1. 
 Maintain an unruffled temper, 181. Cultivate presence of mind, 182. Be guided 
 by truth rather than ostentation, 183. Exercise self-restraint, 183; and modera- 
 tion, 184. Cultivate a serious spirit, 185. Be willing to receive admonition, isi'i, 
 187. When in the wrong, willingly acknowledge it, 188. Effects of careful and 
 persistent training, 190. Pleasant dreams indicate proficiency in virtue, P.M. 
 Not only love and admire but imitate virtuous examples, 192. Let some vir- 
 tuous example ever be in our thoughts, 194. Cultivate the acquaintance of the 
 wise and good, 195. Carefully avoid every fault, 1%. 
 
 WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID, LIVE CONCEALED. 
 
 He who said this had no mind to live concealed, 197. Such men strive hard to be 
 known, 197. Even a bad man ought not to withdraw from the notice of others, 
 198. It is a loss to the world, if virtuous men live concealed, 199. If brave and 
 good men become known, they are examples to others, 200. Virtue by use grows 
 bright ; but human abilities, unemployed, go to decay, 201. Our life and all our 
 faculties were given to be used, and to make us known, 202. Only a vicious, 
 useless life should be forgotten, 204. 
 
 OF BANISHMENT, OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 
 
 Afflicted persons need to have their grief lightened, not increased, 205. Banish- 
 ment may not be an evil of itself, but only as the mind makes it such, 200. If it 
 be an evil, philosophy may help a man to bear it, 207. If it be an evil, let us 
 consider how much good remains to balance it, 208. By nature, we have no 
 country, we are citizens of the world, 208, 209. In whatever part of the world 
 we are, we may make ourselves at home, 210. It is folly to suppose that we can- 
 not enjoy life but where we were born, 210. A man of skill and ability can 
 thrive anywhere, 211. Custom makes every thing and every place pleasnnt, 'JP-'. 
 Change of scene may afford relief, 213. Happiness is not limited to place, 214. 
 The Cyclades are places of exile, yet great men have lived there, ~2\l. Homer 
 commends islands as places of abode, 215. An i.-laml maybe a place of much 
 quiet and enjoyment, 215, 216. Few of the prudent and wise were buried in 
 their own country, 217. Instances of the fact, 218. Some of tin finest human 
 compositions were written in exile, 219. Instances of this, 219. It is not igno- 
 minious to be banished, 219,220. Instances produced, 220, 2'J- M.-mishment 
 does not deprive us of our liberty, 221. We are all strangers and pilgrims on 
 earth ; the soul being of heavenly origin, 224. 
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 
 Plan of the essay, 226. Opinions of philosophers : of Menedcmus, Ariston, Zcno, 
 Chrysippus, 227. Opinion of Plato, 229 ; of Aristotle, 2-'JO. The ROU! has a 
 twofold nature, 228. It is composed of intellect or reason, and the pnssioin. 280. 
 The reason and an intelligent judgment must govern, 231. The passions by
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 long training become subject to the reason, the result is MORAL VIRTUE, 233. 
 Science and Prudence, what, and their objects, 234. How science and prudence 
 differ, 234, 235. Prudence has need of deliberation, 235. It corrects the excesses 
 and defects of passion, 235. Moral virtue is the mean between excess and defect, 
 236. Yet it needs the ministry of the passions, 230. Mean and mediocrity not 
 the same thing, 236. The idea further illustrated, 237. Continence distin- 
 guished from temperance, 238. Incontinence and intemperance, 239. Illus- 
 trations, 240, 241. Moral virtue is firm and immovable, 243. The passions are 
 subject to frequent and sudden changes, 243. When reason is overborne by 
 passion, there is a sense of guilt, 244. Reason is not at variance with itself, '-'4o 
 The soul is at peace, where passion does not interpose, 245. Reason tends to 
 what is true and just, 245. Reason, left to itself, embraces the truth, 246. It is 
 often hindered by passion, 246. Reason and passion often divide the soul, 247. 
 They often harmonize and concur, 248. Some philosophers affirm that reason 
 and passion do not materially differ, 243. Their opinions controverted, 244, et seq. 
 Their improper use of terms, 249. The passions differ with their occasions, 251. 
 Men may mistake in their judgments, 252. The passions, deriving their strength 
 from the body, are powerful in the young, 254. The state of the body cor- 
 responds with the state of the passions, 255. We should not seek to exterminate 
 the passions, but to regulate and control them, 255. The passions have their 
 proper use, 256. These considerations are of importance in the government of 
 States, and in the education of the young, 258, 259. 
 
 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. V 
 
 " Concerning those whom God is slow to punish." This subject is discussed 
 between Plutarch and several of his relatives, Plutarch being the principal 
 speaker. Epicurus had just left the company uttering invectives against the 
 justice of the Deity in the government of the world, 2(50. It is admitted that the 
 delay of divine justice gives rise to perplexing thoughts, 201. Some of the 
 objections are, (1) Such delay seems to proceed from indifference on the part 
 of the Deity to the desert of crime ; (2) Punishment long delayed fails to restrain 
 the commission of crime, as a speedy retribution would do ; (3) It is often entirely 
 useless as a reparation to those who have suffered from injustice ; (4) It embold- 
 ens the transgressor, 201 ; (5) It diminishes in many minds the belief of Divine 
 Providence ; (0) Punishment long delayed fails of any good effect on the offender 
 himself, 203. To what good purpose, then, do the millstones of the gods grind, 
 when they grind so slowly? 263. To these objections it is answered as follows. 
 It becomes us to enter on such inquiries with great caution and self-distrust, 
 because our knowledge of God and of his ways is extremely narrow and imper- 
 fect, 204. We are very incompetent judges of what it is fit for God to do, '2<'A. 
 God only knows when, and in what manner, and how much to punish, 264. Those 
 who are ignorant of music or of military affairs are not competent judges of 
 those matters, 204. No one who is not properly trained can wisely administer 
 human law, 265. The remissness of which complaint is made is true only in 
 part, and is only apparent. So far as it is real.it may be vindicated l>y the fol- 
 lowing considerations: (1) The Deity, by being slow to punish, teaches us to 
 moderate our anger, and never to punish in a passion, 266. He would lead us to 
 imitate his own gentleness and forbearance, 2GJ ; ('-) The wicked, in consequence 
 of delay, have opportunity to repent, and are therefore spared from a desire of 
 their reformation, 268; The summary justice, to which the passions of men
 
 XXviii CONTENTS. 
 
 incite them, excludes all regard to this object, and degenerates into the mere 
 gratification of malice and revenue, 208; The wisdom of the divine policy, so 
 different from this, is fully justified by the results, since history records many 
 instant vs where men who, in early life, were profligate, have afterwards reformed 
 and become useful to society, 20'J, 270 ; (3) The wicked are often permitted to 
 live and prosper, that Providence may by them execute its justice on others, of 
 which instances are given, 271, 272; (4) The wicked arc sometimes spared that 
 a noble and virtuous posterity, proceeding from them, may bless the world, L'T'J; 
 (5) Punishment is sometimes deferred for a time that the hand of Providence 
 may be more conspicuous in inflicting it, 273. But the objection against an over- 
 ruling Providence, founded on the prosperity of the wicked, assumes too much ; 
 the delay is apparent rather than real, 274. Retribution follows hard on the 
 steps of crime, in the shame, remorse, and inward suffering of the offender, 274. 
 Many look with envy on wicked men who seem to enjoy high prosperity, while 
 those men are soon to become involved in the deepest misery, 274. Wicked HUM 
 buffer not a late but a long punishment ; they suffer all the time, 27"). What we 
 call delay, is not such to the Deity ; distinctions of time with him have no place, 
 275. It is not the last moment of punishment which contains all the punish- 
 ment, 275. God has the offender all the while in his power, and does not suffer 
 him to rest, 276. Instances are given of remorse suffered by the guilty, 27(5, 277. 
 Were death the extinction of our being, it mi|/ht still be maintained that the 
 Deity is not remiss in punishing crime, 277. The wicked find, even here, that 
 no real good comes from their wickedness, 278. Self-condemnation, a dread of 
 censure, a fear of death, embitter their lives, 27 ( J. One of the company now 
 leads the conversation to a kindred subject, the question how the conduct of 
 Providence can be justified in punishing children for the misconduct of their 
 parents, of which several instances arc quoted, 280, 281. To this it is replied : 
 
 (1) Children often derive advantage from the virtue and piety of their fathers; 
 it is not therefore strange that they should suffer for their wickedness, 28:3, 284. 
 
 (2) The law of cause and effect comes in here, as in other cases, though we may 
 not fully explain it ; children often inherit the diseases of their parents ; the 
 plague of Athens took its rise in far distant Ethiopia, 285. (3) The constitution 
 of society binds one generation to another, and thus renders this retribution just, 
 as well as inevitable ; every family, as well as every state, has a separate exist- 
 ence, a personal identity of its own, and it is one and the same through succes- 
 sive ages ; hence the social crime of one age may properly work out its legitimate 
 results in another, 236-288. (4) In all cases, God deals with men according to 
 their deserts ; if children are virtuous, they are not harmed for what their ances- 
 tors have done, 289. But, says one of the company, some of your remarks imply 
 the immortality of the soul, 288, 280. Plutarch answers, yes; and we have good 
 reason for assuming that point ; if we were like the leaves which fall from the 
 trees in autumn, or like the hot-house plant which has no enduring root; if we 
 were brought into existence to endure only for a day, it would be unworthy of 
 the Deity to lavish so much care upon us, 289. The immortality of the soul, 
 and an overruling Providence, are confirmed to us by the same argument 
 
 If the soul survives the body, we may conclude that its future state will be one 
 of reward or punishment, because life is a struggle and a probation, 290. Punish- 
 ments that reach posterity often restrain the inclinations of wicked persons, 291. 
 Children born of diseased parents need to be guarded against the hereditary 
 'disease, 292. And children of wicked parents will be themselves wicked, unless 
 careful and timely restraints be placed upon them, 293, 294. God sees the inbred
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 corruption if we do not, and often does not wait till the actual outbreak before 
 animadverting upon it, 294, 295. Dormant villany may be more dangerous than 
 open iniquity, and so may need chastisement, 2 f J5. The innocent are never 
 punished for the guilty ; but if a man tread in his father's steps, he must succeed 
 to 1 1 is punishment, 295, 296. The argument is enforced by the story of a man 
 who lived a dishonest and wicked life; who appeared to die; visited the world 
 of spirits; saw the rewards and punishments there experienced ; came back to 
 life and was greatly reformed in consequence, 207-308. 
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 Talkativeness an inveterate disease, 309. Talkative people are very troublesome, 
 310. They are avoided and are not heard, 811. They never gain belief, 312. 
 Talkativeness often results from drunkenness, 313. Silence is often a great vir- 
 tue; anecdote of Zeno at a feast, 314. Loquacity shows great want of good 
 breeding, 316. It exposes to great danger, 317. It gave Athens into the power 
 of Sylla, 317. It prolonged the tyranny of Nero, 317, 318. The noble tacitur- 
 nity of Leaena, 318, 319. Secrets are not to be revealed, even to our most inti- 
 mate friends, 321, 322. Anecdote of a Roman senator and his wife, 322, 323. 
 Mischiefs of a vain curiosity, 325. Loquacious men destroy themselves, 327. 
 Anecdote of Dionysius and a barber, 327 Of an Athenian barber, 327, 328. Of 
 one who robbed the temple of Minerva, 328. Of the murderers of Ibycus, 329. 
 Great peril of an unbridled tongue, 329. A tell-tale is often a traitor, 330. To 
 cure ourselves of so vile a habit, consider the mischiefs which arise from it, 331. 
 Study conciseness of speech : imitate the Spartan brevity, 332. When in com- 
 pany questions are asked, keep silence till all the rest have refused to answer, 
 334, 335. Be not hasty to answer questions that are intended to ensnare you, 330. 
 When the questioner really desires information, let there be a pause between the 
 question and the answer, 336. Three sorts of answers to questions, the neces- 
 sary, the polite, the superfluous, 337. Beware of the third sort, 338. Beware of 
 talking on favorite subjects, and of matters relating to your profession, 339, 340. 
 Before you speak, consider what advantage may arise from speaking, and what 
 mischief from holding your peace, 342. 
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 1. Antiphon, 343-347. 2. Andocides, 347-349. 3. Lysias, 350-352. 4. Isocrates, 
 353-359. 5. Isaeus, 359. 6. Aeschines, 3W-3G2. 7. Lycurgus, 302-308. 
 8. Demosthenes, 369-379. 9. Hyperidee, 379-383. 10. Dinarchus, 383, 384. 
 Decrees proposed to the Athenians for statues to be set up to Demosthenes, 
 384-389. 
 
 OF FATE. 
 
 Fate is either (1) an energy, a law, an act, 390 ; or (2) a substance, the soul of the 
 world, 391. Though comprehending infinite, it is itself finite, for law is in its 
 nature finite, 31)1, :j'J2. Every thing moves in a circle ; all beings and all actions 
 that now exist will come around again : we shall again do what we are now doing, 
 and in the same manner, 392. Fate, the Divine Law, the Law of Nature, deter- 
 mines all things, 393. It determines both conditionally nnd universally, 394. 
 What relation has Fate to Divine Providence ? what to fortune? what to human 
 ability 1 what to contingent events 1 395. As the civil law comprehends and re-
 
 XXX CONTENTS. 
 
 lates to many things which are not lawful, BO it is with Fate, 305. The words 
 possible and contingent defined ; also power, necessity, &c., 896, 397. Of causes : 
 some are causes per ae, others are causes by accident, 398. Fortune is a cause 
 by accident, 399. Fortune is not the same thing as Chance, though Chance com- 
 prehends Fortune, 400. Fortune relates to men only ; Chance includes things 
 animate and inanimate, 400. Of Divine Providence : (1) the will of the Supreme 
 Deity; (2) the will of the subordinate deities ; (3) the will of the Daemons, 401. 
 Of the Providence of the Supreme God, 402. Of the Providence of the inferior 
 gods, 403. Of the Providence of the Daemons, 404, 405. 
 
 PLUTARCH'S CONSOLATORY LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 
 
 He counsels patience, 406. The child was affectionate and interesting ; her memory 
 should be cherished, 407. The mother is commended for controlling her grief ; 
 excessive grief is unreasonable, 408. The mother's admirable conduct on the 
 previous death of her eldest son, 409. Women are frantic with joy at the birth 
 of their children, and mourn excessively at their death, 409, 410. The body 
 should not suffer through grief, 410. Women nourish and increase the grief of 
 bereaved wives and mothers, by their tears and lamentations when visiting them ; 
 Plutarch does not fear this in the present case, 410. We should remember the 
 pleasure our deceased child has afforded us, 411. True happiness arises from the 
 mind itself, and not from external circumstances, 412. You have much left to 
 comfort you, 412. State of the soul after death ; the soul will return to earth in 
 a new body ; an early death is desirable, 413, 414. 
 
 AGAINST RUNNING IN DEBT, OR TAKING UP MONEY UPON USURY. 
 
 Running in debt should not be resorted to but in the last necessity, 415. To avoid 
 it, practise the closest economy, 416. The borrower is slave to the lender, 417, 
 418. Usurers are chargeable with oppression, fraud, and falsehood, 419, 420. 
 They take a man's money without an equivalent, 420. It is shameful to be in 
 the power of another, 421. We incur debt, not to procure necessaries, but to 
 purchase ornaments and superfluities, 423. We must avoid the usurer or be 
 ruined, 424-427. 
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS; OR REMARKABLE SAYINGS OF THE 
 SPARTANS, 428-483. 
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OR REMARKABLE SAYINGS OF KINGS AND 
 GREAT COMMANDERS, 484-649.
 
 PLUTARCH'S ESSAYS.
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 A DIALOGUE. 
 
 SYLLA, FUNDANUS. 
 
 1. SYLLA. Those painters, O Fundanus, in my opinion do 
 very wisely, who never finish any piece at the first sitting, 
 but take a review of it at some convenient distance of time ; 
 because the eye, being relieved for a time, renews its power 
 by making frequent and fresh judgments, and becomes able 
 to observe many small and critical differences which con- 
 tinual poring and familiarity would prevent it from notic- 
 ing. Now, because it cannot be that a man should stand 
 off from himself and interrupt his consciousness, and then 
 after some interval return to accost himself again (which is 
 one principal reason why a man is a worse judge of him- 
 self than of other men), the next best course that a man 
 can take will be to inspect his friends after some time 
 of absence, and also to offer himself to their examination, 
 not to see whether he be grown old on the sudden, or 
 whether the habit of his body be become better or worse 
 than it was before, but that they may take notice of his 
 manner and behavior, whether in that time he hath made 
 any advance in goodness, or gained ground of his vices. 
 Wherefore, being after two years' absence returned to 
 Rome, and having since conversed with thee here again 
 for these five months, I think it no great matter of wonder 
 that those good qualities which, by the advantage of a 
 good natural disposition, you were formerly possessed of
 
 2 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 have in this time received so considerable an increase. 
 But truly, when I behold how that vehement and fiery dis- 
 position which you had to anger is now through the con- 
 duct of reason become so gentle and tractable, my mind 
 prompts me to say, with Homer, 
 
 O wonder ! how much gentler is he grown ! * 
 
 Nor hath this gentleness produced in thee any laziness 
 or irresolution ; but, like cultivation in the earth, it, hath 
 caused an evenness and a profundity very effectual unto 
 fruitful action, instead of thy former vehemency and over- 
 eagerness. And therefore it is evident that thy former 
 proneness to anger hath not been withered in thee by any 
 decay of vigor which age might have effected, or spontane- 
 ously ; but that it hath been cured by making use of some 
 mollifying precepts. 
 
 And indeed, to tell you the truth, when I heard our 
 friend Eros say the same thing, I had a suspicion that he 
 did not report the thing as it was, but that out of mere 
 good-will he testified those things of you which ought to 
 be found in every good and virtuous man. And yet you 
 know he cannot be easily induced to depart from what he 
 judges to be true, in order to favor any man. But now, 
 truly, as I acquit him of having therein made any false 
 report of thee, so I desire thee, being now at leisure from 
 thy journey, to declare unto us the means and (as it were) 
 the medicine, by use whereof thou hast brought thy mind to 
 bo thus manageable and natural, thus gentle and obedient 
 unto reason. 
 
 FUNDANUS. But in the mean while, O most kind Sylla, 
 you had best beware, lest you also through affection and 
 friendship may be somewhat careless in making an esti- 
 mate of my affairs. For Eros, having himself also a mind 
 oft-times unable to keep its ground and to contain itself 
 
 11. xxn. 373.
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 3 
 
 within that obedience which Homer mentions, but subject 
 to be exasperated through an hatred of men's wickedness, 
 may perhaps think I am grown more mild ; just as in 
 music, when the key is changed, that note which before 
 was the base becomes a higher note with respect to oth- 
 ers which are now below it. 
 
 SYLLA. Neither of these is so, Fundanus ; but, I pray 
 you, gratify us all by granting the request I made. 
 
 2. FUNDANUS. This then, O Sylla, is one of those 
 excellent rules given by Musonius which I bear in memo- 
 ry, that those who would be in sound health must physic 
 themselves all their lives. Now I do not think that reason 
 cures, like hellebore, by purging out itself together with 
 the disease it cures, but by keeping possession of the soul, 
 and so governing and guarding its judgments. For the 
 power of reason is not like drugs, but like wholesome food ; 
 and, with the assistance of a good natural disposition, it 
 produceth a healthful constitution in all with whom it hath 
 become familiar. 
 
 And as for those good exhortations and admonitions 
 which are applied to passions while they swell and are at 
 their height, they work but slowly and with small success ; 
 and they differ in nothing from those strong-smelling things, 
 which indeed do serve to put those that have the falling 
 sickness upon their legs again after they are fallen, but 
 are not able to remove the disease. For whereas other 
 passions, even when they are in their ruff and acme, do in 
 some sort yield and admit reason into the soul, which 
 comes to help it from without ; anger does not, as Melan- 
 thius says, 
 
 Displace the mind, and then act dismal things ; 
 
 but it absolutely turns the mind out of doors, and bolts 
 the door against it ; and, like those who burn their houses 
 and themselves within them, it makes all things within full
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 of confusion, smoke, and noise, so that the soul can neither 
 see nor hear any thing that might relieve it. Wherefore 
 sooner will an empty ship in a storm at sea admit of a pilot 
 from without, than a man tossed with anger and rage 
 listen to the advice of another, unless he have his own 
 reason first prepared to entertain it. 
 
 But as those who expect to be besieged are wont to 
 gather together and lay in provisions of such things as 
 they are like to need, not trusting to hopes of relief 
 from without, so ought it to be our special concern to fetch 
 in from philosophy such foreign helps as it affords against 
 anger, and to store them up in the soul beforehand, seeing 
 that it will not be so easy a matter to provide ourselves 
 when the time is come for using them. For either the soul 
 cannot hear what is spoken without, by reason of the 
 tumult, unless it have its own reason (like the director of 
 the rowers in a ship) ready to entertain and understand 
 whatsoever precept shall be given ; or, if it do chance to 
 hear, yet will it be ready to despise what is patiently and 
 mildly offered, and to be exasperated by what shall be 
 pressed upon it with more vehemency. For, since wrath 
 is proud and self-conceited, and utterly averse from compli- 
 ance with others, like a fortified and guarded tyranny, that 
 which is to overthrow it must be bred within it and be of 
 its own household. 
 
 3. Now the continuance of anger and frequent fits of it 
 produce an evil habit in the soul called wrathfulness, or a 
 propensity to be angry, which oft-times ends in choleric 
 temper, bitterness, and moroseness. Then the mind be- 
 comes ulcerated, peevish, and querulous, and like a thin, 
 weak plate of iron, receives impression and is wounded by 
 even the least occurrence ; but when the judgment pres- 
 ently seizes upon wrathful ebullitions and suppresses them, 
 it not only works a cure for the present, but renders the 
 soul firm and not so liable to such impressions for the fu-
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 5 
 
 ture. And truly, when I myself had twice or thrice made 
 a resolute resistance unto anger, the like befell me that did 
 the Thebans ; who, having once foiled the Lacedaemonians, 
 that before that time had held themselves invincible, never 
 after lost so much as one battle which they fought against 
 them. For I became fully assured in my mind, that anger 
 might be overcome by the use of reason. And I perceived 
 that it might not only be quieted by the sprinkling of cold 
 water, as Aristotle relates, but also be extinguished by put- 
 ting one into a fright. Yea, according to Homer, many 
 men have had their anger melted and dissipated by sudden 
 surprise of joy. So that I came to this firm resolution, 
 that this passion is not altogether incurable to such as are 
 but willing to be cured ; since the beginnings and occa- 
 sions of it are not always great or forcible ; but a scoff, or 
 a jest, or the laughing at one, or a nod only, or some other 
 matter of no great importance, will put many men into a 
 passion. Thus Helen, by addressing her niece in the 
 words beginning, 
 
 O my Electra, now a virgin stale, 
 
 provoked her to make this nipping return : 
 
 Thou'rt wise too late, thou shouldst have kept at home.* 
 
 And so did Callisthenes provoke Alexander by saying, 
 when the great bowl was going round, I will not drink so 
 deep in honor of 4-l exan der, as to make work for Aescu- 
 lapius. 
 
 4. As therefore it is an easy matter to stop the fire that 
 is kindled only in hare's wool, candle-wick, or a little chaff, 
 but if it have once taken hold of matter that hath solidity 
 and thickness, it soon inflames and consumes, as Aeschylus 
 says, 
 
 With youthful vigor the carpenter's lofty work ; 
 
 so he that observes anger while it is in its beginning, and 
 
 Eurip. Orestes, 72 and 99-
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 sees it by degrees smoking and taking fire from some 
 speech or chaff-like scurrility, need take no great pains to 
 extinguish it, but oftentimes can put an end to it only by 
 silence or neglect. For as he that adds no fuel to the fire 
 hath already as good as put it out, so he that doth not feed 
 anger at the first, nor blow the fire in himself, hath pre- 
 vented and destroyed it. Wherefore Hieronymus, although 
 he taught many other useful things, yet hath given me no 
 satisfaction in saying that anger is not perceptible in its 
 birth, by reason of its suddenness, but only after its birth 
 and while it lives ; for there is no other passion, while it is 
 gathering and stirring up, which hath its rise and increase 
 so conspicuous and observable. This is very skilfully 
 taught by Homer, by making Achilles suddenly surprised 
 with grief as soon as ever the word fell on his ear, saying 
 of him, 
 
 This said, a sable cloud of grief covered him o'er ; * 
 
 but making Agamemnon grow angry slowly and need many 
 words to inflame him, so that, if these had been stopped 
 and forbidden when they began, the contest had never 
 grown to that degree and greatness which it did. Where- 
 fore Socrates, as oft as he perceived any fierceness of spirit 
 to rise within him towards any of his friends, setting him- 
 self like a promontory to break the waves, would speak 
 with a lower voice, bear a smiling countenance, and look 
 with a more gentle eye ; and thus, by bending the other way 
 and moving contrary to the passion, he kept himself from 
 falling or being worsted. 
 
 5. For the first way, my friend, to suppress anger, as 
 you would a tyrant, is not to obey or yield to it when it 
 commands us to speak high, to look fiercely, and to beat 
 ourselves ; but to be quiet, and not increase the passion, as 
 we do a disease, by impatient tossing and crying out. It is 
 
 IL xvn. 691.
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 7 
 
 true that lovers' practices, such as revelling, singing, crown- 
 ing the door with garlands, have a kind of alleviation in 
 them which is neither rude nor unpleasing : 
 
 Coming, I asked not who or whose she was, 
 But kissed her door full sweetly, that I wot ; 
 If this be sin, to sin I can but choose. 
 
 So the weeping and lamentation which we permit in mourn- 
 ers doubtless carry forth much of the grief together with 
 the tears. But anger, quite on the contrary, is more in- 
 flamed by what the angry persons say or do. 
 
 The best course then is for a man to compose himself, 
 or else to run away and hide himself and retreat into quiet, 
 as into an haven, as if he perceived a fit of epilepsy com- 
 ing on, lest he fall, or rather fall upon others ; and truly 
 we do most and most frequently fall upon our friends. 
 For we neither love all, nor envy all, nor fear ^ all men; 
 but there is nothing untouched and unset upon by anger. 
 We are angry with our foes and with our friends ; with our 
 own children and our parents ; nay, with the Gods above, 
 and the very beasts below us, and instruments that have no 
 life, as Thamyras was, 
 
 His horn, though bound witli gold, he brake in's ire, 
 He brake his melodious and well-strung lyre ; * 
 
 and Pandarus, wishing a curse upon himself if he did not 
 burn his bow, 
 
 First broken by his hands.t 
 
 But Xerxes dealt blows and marks of his displeasure to 
 the sea itself, and sent his letters to the mountain in the 
 style ensuing : " O thou wretched Athos, whose top now 
 reaches to the skies, I charge thee, put not in the way of 
 my works stones too big and difficult to be wrought. If 
 thou do, I will cut thee into pieces, and cast thee into the 
 sea." 
 
 For anger hath many terrible effects, and many also that 
 
 * From the Thamyras of Sophocles, Frag. 224. t II. V. 216
 
 8 
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 are ridiculous ; and therefore of all passions, this of anger 
 is most hated and most contemned, and it is good to con- 
 sider it in both respects. 
 
 6. I therefore, whether rightly or not I know not, 
 began this cure with learning the nature of anger by be- 
 holding it in other men, as the Lacedaemonians learned what 
 drunkenness was by seeing it in the Helots. And, in the 
 first place, as Hippocrates said that that was the most dan- 
 gerous disease which made the sick man's countenance 
 most unlike to what it was, so I observed that men trans- 
 ported with anger also exceedingly change their visage, 
 color, gait, and voice. Accordingly I formed a kind of 
 image of that passion to myself, withal conceiving great in 
 dignation against myself if I should at any time appear to 
 my friends, or to my wife and daughters, so terrible and dis- 
 composed, not only with so wild and strange a look, but also 
 with so fierce and harsh a voice, as I had met with in some 
 others of my acquaintance, who by reason of anger were 
 not able to observe either good manners or countenance or 
 graceful speech, or even their persuasiveness and affability 
 in conversation. 
 
 Wherefore Cains Gracchus, the orator, being of a rugged 
 disposition and a passionate kind of speaker, had a pipe 
 made for him, such as musicians use to vary their voice 
 higher or lower by degrees ; and with this pipe his ser- 
 vant stood behind him while he pronounced, and gave him 
 a mild and gentle note, whereby he took him down from 
 his loudness, and took off the harshness and an^riuess of 
 lib voice, assuaging and charming the anger of the orator, 
 
 As their shrill wax-joined reed who herds do keep 
 Sounds forth sweet measures, which invite to sleep.* 
 
 For my own part, had I a careful and pleasant compan- 
 ion who would show me my angry face in a glass, I should 
 not at all take it ill. In like manner, some are wont to 
 
 * Aesch. Prometheus, 674.
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 9 
 
 have a looking-glass held to them after they have bathed, 
 though to little purpose ; but to behold one's self unnaturally 
 disguised and disordered will conduce not a little to the 
 impeachment of anger. For those who delight in pleas- 
 ant fables tell us, that Minerva herself, playing oil a pipe, 
 was thus admonished by a satyr : 
 
 That look becomes you not, lay down your pipes, 
 And take your arms, and set your cheeks to rights ; 
 
 but would not regard it ; yet, when by chance she beheld 
 the mien of her countenance in a river, she was moved with 
 indignation, and cast her pipes away ; and yet here art had 
 the delight of melody to comfort her for the deformity. 
 And Marsyas, as it seems, did with a kind of muzzle and 
 mouth-piece restrain by force the too horrible eruption of 
 his breath when he played, and so corrected and concealed 
 the distortion of his visage : 
 
 With shining gold he girt his temples rough, 
 And his wide mouth with thongs that tied behind. 
 
 Now anger doth swell and puff up the countenance very in- 
 decently, and sends forth a yet more indecent and unpleasant 
 voice, 
 
 Moving the heart-strings, which should be at rest 
 
 For when the sea is tossed and troubled with winds, 
 and casts up moss and sea- weed, they say it is purged ; but 
 those impure, bitter, and vain words which anger throws up 
 when the soul has become a kind of whirlpool, defile the 
 speakers, in the first place, and fill them with dishonor, ar- 
 guing them to have always had such things in them and 
 to be full of them, only now they are discovered to have them 
 by their anger. So for a mere word, the lightest of things (as 
 Plato says), they undergo the heaviest of punishments, being 
 ever after accounted enemies, evil speakers, and of a ma- 
 lignant disposition. 
 
 7. While now I see all this and bear it in mind, the
 
 10 CONCERNING TUE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 thought occurs to me, and I naturally consider by myself, 
 that as it is good for one -in a fever, so much better is it for 
 one in anger, to have his tongue soft and smooth.. For if 
 the tongue in a fever be unnaturally affected, it is indeed an 
 evil symptom, but not a cause of harm ; but when the 
 tongue of angry men becomes rough and foul, and breaks 
 out into absurd speeches, it produces insults which work ir- 
 reconcilable hatred, and proves that a poisonous malevo- 
 lence lies festering within. For wine does not make men 
 vent any thing so impure and odious as anger doth ; and, 
 besides, what proceeds from wine is matter for jest and 
 laughter, but that from anger is mixed with gall and bitter- 
 ness. And he that is silent in his cups is counted a burthen, 
 and a bore to the company, whereas in anger there is 
 nothing more commended than peace and silence ; as 
 Sappho adviseth, 
 
 When anger once is spread within thy breast, 
 Shut up thy tongue, that vainly barking beast. 
 
 8. Nor doth the constant observation of ourselves in 
 anger minister these things only to our consideration, but 
 it also gives us to understand another natural property of 
 anger, how disingenuous and unmanly a thing it is, and 
 how far from true wisdom and greatness of mind. Yet the 
 vulgar account the angry man's turbulence to be his activity, 
 his loud threats to argue boldness, and his refractoriness 
 strength ; as also some mistake his cruelty for an under- 
 taking of great matters, his implacableness for a firmness 
 of resolution, and his morosity for an hatred of that which 
 is evil. For, in truth, both the deeds and motions and the 
 whole mien of angry men do accuse them of much little- 
 ness and infirmity, not only when they vex little children, 
 scold silly women, and think dogs and horses and asses 
 worthy of their an^er and deserving to be punished (as 
 Ctesiphon the Pancratiast, who vouchsafed to kick the ass
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 11 
 
 that had kicked him first) ; but even in their tyrannical 
 slaughters, their mean-spiritedness appearing in their 
 bitterness, and their suffering exhibited outwardly in their 
 actions, are but like to the biting of serpents who, when 
 they themselves become burnt and full of pain, violently 
 thrust the venom that inflames them from themselves into 
 those that have hurt them. For as a great blow causes a 
 great swelling in the flesh, so in the softest souls the giving 
 way to a passion for hurting others, like a stroke on the 
 soul, doth make it to swell with anger ; and all the more, 
 the greater is its weakness. 
 
 For this cause it is that women are more apt to be angry 
 than men are, and sick persons than the healthful, and old 
 men than those who are in their perfect age and strength, 
 and men in misery than such as prosper. For the covetous 
 man is most prone to be angry with his steward, the glutton 
 with his cook, the jealous man with his wife, the vain- 
 glorious person with him that speaks ill of him ; but of all 
 men there are none so exceedingly disposed to be angry as 
 those who are ambitious of honor, and affect to carry on a 
 faction in a city, which (according to Pindar) is but a 
 splendid vexation. In like manner, from the great grief 
 and suffering of the soul, through weakness especially, there 
 ariseth anger, which is not like the nerves of the soul (as 
 one spake), but like its straining and convulsive motions 
 when it vehemently stirs itself up in its desires and endeav- 
 ors of revenge. 
 
 9. Indeed such evil examples as these afford us specula- 
 tions which are necessary, though not pleasant. But now, 
 from those who have carried themselves mildly and gently 
 in their anger, I shall present you with most excellent 
 sayings and beautiful contemplations ; and I begin to con- 
 temn such as say, You have wronged a man indeed, and is 
 a man to bear this ? Stamp on his neck, tread him down 
 in the dirt, and such like provoking speeches, where-
 
 12 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER, 
 
 by some do very unhandsomely translate and remove anger 
 from the women's to the men's apartment. For fortitude, 
 which in other respects agrees with justice, seems only to 
 disagree in respect of mildness, which she claims as more 
 properly her own. For it sometimes befalls even worser 
 men to bear rule over those who are better than them- 
 selves ; but to erect a trophy in the soul against anger 
 (which Heraclitus says it is an hard thing to fight against, 
 because whatever it resolves to have, it buys at no less a 
 price than the soul itself) is that which none but a great 
 and victorious power is able to achieve, since that alone 
 can bind and curb the passions by its decrees, as with 
 nerves and tendons. 
 
 Wherefore I always strive to collect and read not only 
 the sayings and deeds of philosophers, who (wise men say) 
 had no gall in them, but especially those of kings and 
 tyrants. Of this sort was the saying of Antigonus to his 
 soldiers, when, as some were reviling him near his tent, 
 supposing that he had not heard them, he stretched his 
 staff out of the tent, and said : What ! will you not stand 
 somewhere farther off, while you revile me ? So was that 
 of Arcadio the Achaean, who was ever speaking ill of Philip, 
 exhorting men to flee 
 
 Till they should come where none would Philip know. 
 
 When afterwards by some accident he appeared in Mace- 
 donia, Philip's friends were of opinion that he oujjht 
 not to be suffered, but be punished ; but Philip meeting 
 him and speaking courteously to him, and then sending 
 him gifts, particularly such as were wont to be given to 
 strangers, bade him learn for the time to come what to 
 speak of him to the Greeks. And when all testified that 
 the man was become a great praiscr of Philip, even to ad- 
 miration, You see, said Philip, I am a better physician 
 than you. And when he had been reproached at the
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 13 
 
 Olympic solemnities, and some said it was fit to make the 
 Grecians smart and rue it for reviling Philip, who had 
 dealt well with them, What then, said he, will they do, 
 if I make them smart ? Those things also which Pisistra- 
 tus did to Thrasybulus, and Porsena to Mutius, were 
 bravely done ; and so was that of Magas to Philemon, for 
 having been by him exposed to laughter in a comedy on 
 the public stage, in these words : 
 
 Magas, the king hath sent thee letters : 
 Unhappy Magas, thou dost know no letters. 
 
 And having taken Philemon as he was by a tempest cast 
 on shore at Paraetonium, he commanded a soldier only to 
 touch his neck with his naked sword and to go quietly away ; 
 and then having sent him a ball and huckle-bones, as if he 
 were a child that wanted understanding, he dismissed him. 
 Ptolemy was once jeering a grammarian for his want of 
 learning, and asked him who was the father of Peleus : I 
 will answer you (quoth he) if you will tell me first who was 
 the father of Lagus. This jeer gave the king a rub for 
 the obscurity of his birth, whereat all were moved with 
 indignation, as a thing not to be endured. But, said Pto- 
 lemy, if it is not fit for a king to be jeered, then no more 
 is it fit for him to jeer others. But Alexander was more 
 severe than he was wont in his carriage towards Calisthenes 
 and Clitus. Wherefore Porus, being taken captive by 
 him, desired him to treat him like a king ; and when 
 Alexander asJced him if he desired no more, he answered, 
 When I say like a king, I have comprised all. And hence 
 it is that they call the king of the Gods Meilichius, while 
 the Athenians, I think, call him Maimactes ; but the office 
 of punishing they ascribe to the Furies and evil Genii, 
 never giving it the epithet of divine or heavenly. 
 
 10. As therefore one said of Philip, when he razed the 
 city of Olynthus, But he is not able to build such another
 
 14 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 city ; so may it be said to anger, Thou canst overthrow, and 
 destroy, and cut down ; but to restore, to save, to spare, and 
 to bear with, is the work of gentleness and moderation, of a 
 Camillus, a Metellus, an Aristides, and a Socrates ; but to 
 strike the sting into one and to bite is the part of pismires 
 and horse-flies. And truly, while I well consider revenge, I 
 find that the way which anger takes for it proves for the 
 most part ineffectual, being spent in biting the lips, gnash- 
 ing the teeth, vain assaults, and railings full of silly threats ; 
 and then it acts like children in a race, who, for want of 
 governing themselves, tumble down ridiculously before 
 they come -to the goal towards which they are has- 
 tening. Hence that Rhodian said not amiss to the servant 
 of the Roman general, who spake loudly and fiercely to 
 him, It matters not much what thou sayest, but what this 
 your master in silence thinks. And Sophocles, having in- 
 troduced Neoptolemus and Eurypylus in full armor, gave 
 a high commendation of them when he said, 
 
 Into the hosts of brazen-armed men 
 
 Each boldly charged, but ne'er reviled his foe. 
 
 Some indeed of the barbarians poison their swords ; but 
 true valor has no need of choler, as being dipped in reason ; 
 but anger and fury are weak and easily broken. Where- 
 fore the Lacedaemonians are wont by the sounding of 
 pipes to take off the edge of anger from their soldin^. 
 when they fight ; and before they go to battle, to sacrifice 
 to the Muses, that they may have the steady use of their 
 reason ; and when they have put their enemies to flight, 
 they pursue them not, but sound a retreat (as it were) to 
 their wrath, which, like a short dagger, can easily be Imn- 
 died and drawn back. But anger makes slaughter of thou- 
 sands before it can avenge itself, as it did of Cyrus and 
 Pelopidas the Theban. Agathocles, being reviled by some 
 whom he besieged, bore it with mildness ; and when one
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 15 
 
 said to him, O Potter, whence wilt thou have pay for thy 
 mercenary soldiers'? he answered with laughter, From 
 your city, if I can take it. And when some one from the 
 wall derided Antigonus for his deformity, he answered, I 
 thought surely I had a handsome face : and when he had 
 taken the city, he sold those for slaves who had scoffed at 
 him, protesting that, if they reviled him so again, he would 
 call them to account before their masters. 
 
 Furthermore, I observe that hunters and orators are wont 
 to be much foiled by anger. Aristotle reports that the 
 friends of Satyrus once stopped his ears with wax, when 
 he was to plead a cause, that so he might not confound 
 the matter through anger at the revilings of his enemies. 
 Do we not ourselves oftentimes miss of punishing an 
 offending servant, because he runs away from us in fright 
 when he hears our threatening words'? That therefore 
 which nurses say to little children Do not cry, and thou 
 shalt have it may not unfitly be applied to our mind 
 when angry. Be not hasty, neither speak too loud, nor be 
 too urgent, and so what you desire will be sooner and 
 better accomplished. For as a father, when he sees his 
 son about to cleave or cut something with an hatchet, 
 takes the hatchet himself and doth it for him ; so one 
 taking the work of revenge out of the hand of anger doth 
 himself, without danger or hurt, yea, with profit also, 
 inflict punishment on him that deserves it, and not on him- 
 self instead of him, as anger oft-times doth. 
 
 11. Now, whereas all passions do stand in need of dis- 
 cipline, which by exercise tames and subdues their un- 
 reasonableness and stubbornness, there is none about which 
 we have more need to be exercised in reference to servants 
 than that of anger. For neither do we envy nor fear them, 
 nor have we any competition for honor with them ; but we 
 have frequent fits of anger with them, which cause many 
 offences and errors, by reason of the very power possessed
 
 16 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 by us as masters, and which bring us easily to the ground, 
 as if we stood in a slippery place with no one standing by 
 to save us. For it is impossible to keep an irresponsible 
 power from offending in the excitement of passion, unless 
 we gird up that great power with gentleness, and can slight 
 the frequent speeches of wife and friends accusing us of 
 remissness. And indeed I myself have by nothing more 
 than by such speeches been incensed against my servants 
 as if they were spoiled for want of beating. And truly it 
 was late before I came to understand, that it was better 
 that servants should be something the worse by indulgence, 
 than that one should distort himself through wrath and bit- 
 terness for the amendment of others. And secondly, observ- 
 ing that many by this very impunity have been brought to 
 be ashamed to be wicked, and have begun their change to 
 virtue more from being pardoned than from being pun- 
 ished, and that they have obeyed some upon their nod only, 
 peaceably, and more willingly than they have done others 
 with all their beating and scourging, I became persuaded 
 of this, that reason was fitter to govern with than anger. 
 For it is not as the poet said, 
 
 Wherever fear is, there is modesty ; 
 
 but, on the contrary, it is in the modest that that fear is bred 
 which produces moderation, whereas continual and unmerci- 
 ful beating doth not make men repent of doing evil, but only 
 devise plans for doing it without being detected. And in 
 the third place I always remember and consider with m\- 
 self, that as he who taught us the art of shooting did not 
 forbid us to shoot, but only to shoot amiss, so no more can 
 it be any hindrance from punishing to teach us how we 
 may do it seasonably and moderately, with benefit and 
 decency. I therefore strive to put away anger, especially 
 by not denying the punished a liberty to plead for them- 
 selves, but granting them an hearing. For time gives a
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 17 
 
 breathing-space unto passion, and a delay which mitigates 
 and dissolves it ; and a man's judgment in the mean while 
 finds out both a becoming manner and a proportionable 
 measure of punishing. And moreover hereby, he that is 
 punished hath not any pretence left him to object against 
 the correction given him, if he is punished not out of 
 anger, but being first himself convinced of his fault. And 
 finally we are here saved from the greatest disgrace of all, 
 for by this means the servant will not seem to speak more 
 just things than his master. 
 
 As therefore Phocion after the death of Alexander, to 
 hinder the Athenians from rising too soon or believing it 
 too hastily, said : O Athenians, if he is dead to-day, he 
 will be so to-morrow, and on the next day after that; 
 in like manner do I judge one ought to suggest to himself, 
 who through anger is making haste to punish : If it is 
 true to-day that he hath thus wronged thee, it will be true 
 to-morrow, and on the next day, also. Nor will there any 
 inconvenience follow upon the deferring of his punishment 
 for a while ; but if he be punished all in haste, he will ever 
 after seem to have been innocent, as it hath oftentimes fallen 
 out heretofore. For which of us all is so cruel as to torment 
 or scourge a servant because, five or ten days before, he burnt 
 the meat, or overturned the table, or did not soon enough 
 what he was bidden ] And yet it is for just such things as 
 these, while they are fresh and newly done, that we are so 
 disordered, and become cruel and implacable. For as 
 bodies through a mist, so actions through anger seem greater 
 than they are. Wherefore we ought speedily to recall 
 such considerations as these are to our mind ; and when 
 \ve are unquestionably out of passion, if then to a pure and 
 composed reason the deed do appear to be wicked, we ought 
 to animadvert, and no longer neglect or abstain from pun- 
 ishment, as if we had lost our appetite for it. For there is 
 nothing to which we can more justly impute men's punish-
 
 -10 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 ing others in their anger, than to a habit of not punishing 
 them when their anger is over, but growing remiss, and 
 doing like lazy mariners, who in fair weather keep loiter- 
 ing within the haven, and then put themselves in danger 
 by setting sail when the wind blows strong. So we like- 
 wise, condemning the remissness and over-calmness of our 
 reason in punishing, make haste to do it while our angor is 
 up, pushing us forward like a dangerous wind. 
 
 He that useth food doth it to gratify his hunger, which 
 is natural ; but he that inflicts punishment should do it 
 without either hungering or thirsting after it, not needing 
 anger, like sauce, to whet him on to punish ; but when 
 he is farthest off from desiring it, then he should do it 
 as a deed of necessity under the guidance of reason. 
 And though Aristotle reports, that in his time servants 
 in Etruria were wont to be scourged while the music 
 played, yet they who punish others ought not to be carried 
 on with a desire of punishing, as of a thing they delight in, 
 nor to rejoice when they punish, and then repent of it when 
 they have done, whereof the first is savage, the last 
 womanish ; but, without either sorrow or pleasure, they 
 should inflict just punishment when reason is free to judge, 
 leaving no pretence for anger to intermeddle. 
 
 12. But this perhaps may seem to be not a cure of 
 anger, but only a thrusting by and avoiding of such mis- 
 carriages as some men fall into when they are angry. And 
 yet, as Hieronymus tells us, although the swelling of the 
 spleen is but a symptom of the fever, the assuaging thereof 
 abates the disease. But, considering well the origin of 
 anger itself, I have observed that divers men fall into 
 anger for different causes ; and yet in the minds of all 
 of them was probably an opinion of being despised and 
 neglected. We mut therefore assist those who would 
 avoid anger, by removing the act which roused their anger 
 as far as possible from all suspicion of contempt or insult,
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 19 
 
 and by imputing it rather to folly or necessity or disorder 
 of mind, or to the misadventure of those that did it. Thus 
 Sophocles in Antigone : 
 
 The best resolved mind in misery 
 Can't keep its ground, but suffers ecstasy.* 
 
 And so Agamemnon, ascribing to Ate the taking away of 
 Briseis, adds : 
 
 Since I so foolish was as thee to wrong, 
 
 I'll please thee now, and give thee splendid gifts.t 
 
 For supplication is an act of one who is far from con- 
 temning ; and when he that hath done an injury appears 
 submissive, he thereby removes all suspicion of contempt. 
 But he that is moved to anger must not expect or wait for 
 such a submission, but must rather take to himself the 
 saying of Diogenes, who, when one said to him, They de- 
 ride thee, O Diogenes, made answer, But I am not derided ; 
 and he must not think himself contemned, but rather him- 
 self contemn that man that offends him, as one acting out 
 of weakness or error, rashness or carelessness, rudeness or 
 dotage, or childishness. But, above all, we must bear with 
 our servants and friends herein ; for surely they do not 
 despise us as being impotent or slothful, but they think less 
 of us by reason of our very moderation or good-will 
 towards them, some because we are gentle, others be- 
 cause we are loving towards them. But now, alas ! 
 out of a surmise that we are contemned, we not only 
 become exasperated against our wives, our servants, and 
 friends, but we oftentimes fall out also with drunken inn- 
 keepers, and mariners and ostlers, and all out of a suspicion 
 that they despise us. Yea, we quarrel with dogs because 
 they bark at us, and asses if they chance to rush against 
 us ; like him who was going to beat a driver of asses, but 
 
 * Soph. Antig. 663. t 11. XIX. 188.
 
 .20 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 when the latter cried out, I am an Athenian, fell to beating 
 the ass, saying, Thou surely art not an Athenian too, and 
 so accosted him with many a bastinado. 
 
 13. And especially self-love and morosity, together with 
 luxury and effeminacy, breed in us long and frequent fits of 
 anuer, which by little and little are gathered together into 
 our souls, like a swarm of bees or wasps. Wherefore there 
 is nothing more conducing to a gentle behavior towards our 
 wife and servants and friends than contentedness and sim- 
 plicity, if we can be satisfied with what we have, and not 
 stand in need of many superfluities. Whereas the man 
 described in the poet, 
 
 Who never is content with boiled or roast, 
 Nor likes his meat, what way soever drest, 
 
 who can never drink unless he have snow by him, or eat 
 bread if it be bought in the market, or taste victuals out of 
 a mean or earthen vessel, or sleep on a bed unless it be 
 swelled and puffed up with feathers, like to the sea when it is 
 heaved up from the bottom ; but who with cudgels and 
 blows, with running, calling, and sweating doth hasten his 
 servitors that wait at table, as if they were sent for plasters 
 for some inflamed ulcer, he being slave to a weak, morose, 
 and fault-finding style of life, doth, as it were by a contin- 
 ual cough or many buffetings, breed in himself, before he is 
 aware, an ulcerous and defluxive disposition unto anger. 
 And therefore the body is to be accustomed to contentment 
 by frugality, and so be made sufficient for itself. For they 
 who need but few things are not disappointed of many ; and 
 it is no hard matter, beginning with our food, to accept 
 quietly whatever is sent to us, and not by being angry and 
 querulous at every thing, to entertain ourselves and our 
 friends with the most unpleasant dish of all, which is 
 anger. And surely 
 
 Than that supper nought can more unpleasant be,* 
 Odyu. XX. 892.
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 21 
 
 where the servants are beaten and the wife railed at, because 
 something is burnt or smoked or not salt enough, or 
 because the bread is too cold. Arcesilaus was once enter- 
 taining his friends and some strangers at a feast ; the 
 supper was set on the board, but there wanted bread, the 
 servants having, it seems, neglected to buy any. Now, on 
 such an occasion, which of us would not have rent the very 
 walls with outcries ? But he smiling said only : What a 
 fine thing it is for a philosopher to be a jolly feaster! 
 Once also when Socrates took Euthydemus from the wrest- 
 ling-house home with him to supper, his wife Xanthippe 
 fell upon him in a pelting chase, scolding him, and in con- 
 clusion overthrew the table. . Whereupon Euthydemus rose 
 up and went his way, being very much troubled at what 
 had happened. But Socrates said to him : Did not a hen 
 at your house the other day come flying in, and do the like ? 
 and yet I was not troubled at it. For friends are to be 
 entertained by good-nature, by smiles, and by a hospitable 
 welcome ; not by knitting brows, or by striking horror and 
 trembling into those that serve. 
 
 We must also accustom ourselves to the use of any cups 
 indifferently, and not to use one rather than another, as 
 some are wont to single some one cup out of many (as they 
 say Marius used to do) or else a drinking-horn, and to 
 drink out of none but that ; and they do the same with 
 oil-glasses and brushes, affecting one above all the rest, and 
 when any one of these chances to be broken or lost, then 
 they take it heinously, and punish severely those that did it. 
 And therefore he that is prone to be angry should refrain 
 from such tilings as are rare and curiously wrought, such 
 aa cups and seals and precious stones ; for such things dis- 
 tract a man by their loss more than cheap and ordinary 
 things are apt to do. Wherefore when Nero had made an 
 octagonal tent, a wonderful spectacle for cost and beauty, 
 Seneca said to him: You have proved yourself to be a
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGCR. 
 
 poor man ; for if you chance to lose this, you cannot tell 
 where to get such another. And indeed it so fell out that 
 the ship was sunk, and this tent was lost with it. But Nero, 
 remembering the words of Seneca, bore the loss of it with 
 greater moderation. 
 
 But this contentedness in other matters doth make a 
 man good-tempered and gentle towards his servants ; and 
 if towards servants, then doubtless towards friends and sub- 
 jects also. We see also that newly bought servants enquire 
 concerning him that bought them, not whether he be su- 
 perstitious or envious, but whether he be an angry man or 
 not ; and that universally, neither men can endure their 
 wives, though chaste, nor women their husbands, though 
 kind, if they be ill-tempered withal ; nor friends the con- 
 versation of one another. And so neither wedlock nor 
 friendship with anger is to be endured ; but if anger be 
 away, even drunkenness itself is counted a light matter 
 For the ferule of Bacchus is a sufficient chastiser of a 
 drunken man, if the addition of anger do not change the 
 God of wine from Lyaeus and Choraeus (the looser of cares 
 and the leader of dances) to the savage and furious deity. 
 And Anticyra (with its hellebore) is of itself able to cure 
 simple madness ; but madness mixed with anger furnishes 
 matter for tragedies and dismal stories. 
 
 14. Neither ought any, even in their playing and jestiinj, 
 to give way to their anger, for it turns good-will into hatred ; 
 nor when they are disputing, for it turns a desire of know- 
 ing truth into a love of contention ; nor when they sit in 
 judgment, for it adds violence to authority ; nor when they 
 are teaching, for it dulls the learner, and breeds in him a 
 hatred of all learning ; nor if they be in prosperity, for it 
 increases envy ; nor if in adversity, for it makes them to be 
 unpitied, if they are morose and apt to quarrel with those 
 who commiserate them, as Priam- did:
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 23 
 
 f 
 
 Be gone, ye upbraiding scoundrels, haven't ye at home 
 Enough, that to help bear my grief ye come ? * 
 
 On the other hand, good temper doth remedy some 
 things, put an ornament upon others, and sweeten others ; 
 and it wholly overcomes all anger and moroseness, by gen- 
 tleness. As may be seen in that excellent example of 
 Euclid, who, when his brother had said in a quarrel, 
 Let me perish if I be not avenged of you, replied, And 
 let me perish if I do not persuade you into a better mind ; 
 and by so saying he straightway diverted him from his 
 purpose, and changed his mind. And Polemon, being 
 reviled by one that loved precious stones well and was even 
 sick with the love of costly signets, answered nothing, but 
 noticed one of the signets which the man wore, and looked 
 wistfully upon it. Whereat the man being pleased said : 
 Not so, Polemon, but look upon it in the sunshine, and 
 it will appear much better to you. And Aristippus, 
 when there happened to be a falling out between him and 
 Aeschines, and one said to him, O Aristippus, what is 
 now become of the friendship that was between you two] 
 answered, It is asleep, but I will go and awaken it. 
 Then coming to Aeschines, he said to him, What? dost 
 thou take me to be so utterly wretched and incurable 
 as not to be worth thy admonition] No wonder, said 
 Aeschines, if thou, by nature so excelling me in every 
 thing, didst here also discern before me what was right 
 and fitting to be done. 
 
 A woman's, nay a little child's soft hand, 
 With gentle stroking easier doth command, 
 And make the bristling boar to couch and fall, 
 Thau any boisterous wrestler of them all. 
 
 ikit we that can tame wild beasts and make them gentle, 
 currying young wolves and the whelps of lions in our 
 arms, do in a fit of anger cast our own children, friends, 
 and companions out of our embraces ; and we let loose our 
 
 u. xxiv. 239.
 
 24 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 wrath like a wild beast upon our servants and follow citi- 
 zens. And we but poorly disguise our rage wheu we give 
 it the specious name of zeal against wickedness ; and it is 
 with this, I suppose, as with other passions and diseases of 
 the soul, although we call one forethought, another liber- 
 ality, another piety, we cannot so acquit and clear ourselves 
 of any of them. 
 
 15. And as Zeno has said that the seed was a mixture 
 drawn from all the powers of the soul, hi like manner an- 
 ger seems to be a kind of universal seed extracted from all 
 the passions. For it is taken from grief and pleasure and 
 insolence ; and then from envy it hath the evil property of 
 rejoicing at another's adversity ; and it is even worse than 
 murder itself, for it doth not strive to free itself from suf- 
 fering, but to bring mischief to itself, if it may thereby but 
 do another man an evil turn. And it hath the most odious 
 kind of desire inbred in it, if the appetite for grieving and 
 hurting another may be called a desire. 
 
 Wherefore, when we go to the houses of drunkards, we 
 may hear a wench playing the flute betimes in the morn- 
 ing, and behold there, as one said, the muddy dregs of 
 wine, and scattered fragments of garlands, and servants 
 drunk at the door ; and the marks of angry and surly men 
 may be read in the faces, brands, and fetters of the servants. 
 " But lamentation is the only bard that is always to be heard 
 beneath the roof" of the angry man, while his stewards are 
 beaten and his maid-servants tormented ; so that the spec- 
 tators, in the midst of their mirth and delight, cannot but 
 pity those sad effects of anger. 
 
 16. And even those who, out of a real hatred of wicked- 
 ness, often happen to be surprised with anger, can abate 
 the excess and vehemence of it so soon as they give up 
 their excessive confidence in those with whom they con- 
 verse. For of all causes this doth most increase anger, 
 when one proves to be wicked whom we took for a good
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 25 
 
 man, or when one who we thought had loved us falls into 
 some difference and chiding with us. 
 
 As for my own disposition, thou knowest very well with 
 how strong inclinations it is carried to show kindness to 
 men and to confide in them ; and therefore, like those who 
 miss their step and tread on nothing, when I most of all 
 trust to men's love and, as it were, prop myself up with it, 
 I do then most of all miscarry, and, finding myself disap- 
 pointed, am troubled at it. And indeed I should never 
 succeed in freeing myself 'from this too great eagerness 
 and forwardness in my love ; but against excessive confi- 
 dence perhaps I can make use of Plato's caution for a 
 bridle. For he said that he so commended Helicon, the 
 mathematician, because hp thought him a naturally versa- 
 tile animal ; but that he had a jealousy of those who had 
 been well educated in the city, lest, being men and the 
 offspring of men, they should in something or other dis- 
 cover the infirmity of their nature. But when Sophocles 
 says, If you search the deeds of mortals, you will find 
 the most are base, he seems to insult and disparage us 
 over much. Still even such a harsh and censorious judg- 
 ment as this may make us more moderate in our anger ; 
 for it is the sudden and the unexpected which do most 
 drive us to frenzy. But we ought, as Panaetius somewhere 
 said, to imitate Anaxagoras ; and as he said upon the death 
 of his son, I knew before that I had begotten but a mortal, 
 so should every one of us use expressions like these of 
 those offences which stir up to anger : I knew, when I 
 bought my servant, that I was not buying a philosopher ; 
 I knew that I did not get a friend that had no passions ; I 
 knew that I had a wife that was but a woman. But if 
 every one would always repeat the question of Plato to 
 himself, But am not I perhaps such a one myself? and 
 turn his reason from abroad to look into himself, and put 
 restraint upon his reprehension of others, he would not
 
 20 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 
 
 make so much use of his hatred of evil in reprovh g other 
 men. seeing himself to stand in need of great indulgence. 
 But now every one of us, when he is angry and punishing, 
 can bring the words of Aristides and of Cato : Do not steal, 
 Do not lie, and Why are ye so slothful ? And, what is 
 most truly shameful of all, we do in our anger reprove 
 others for being angry, and what was done amiss through 
 anger we punish in our passion, therein not acting like 
 physicians, who 
 
 Purge bitter choler with a bitter pill,* 
 
 but rather increasing and exasperating the disease which 
 we pretend to cure. 
 
 While therefore I am thus reasoning with myself, I en- 
 deavor also to abate something of my curiosity ; because 
 for any one over curiously to enquire and pry into every 
 thing, and to make a public business of every employment 
 of a servant, every action of a friend, every pastime of a 
 son, every whispering of a wife, causes great and long smd 
 daily fits of anger, whereof the product and issue is a 
 peevish and morose disposition. Wherefore God, as Euri- 
 pides says, 
 
 Affairs of greatest weight himself directeth, 
 But matters small to Fortune he committeth.t 
 
 But I think a prudent man ought not to commit any thing 
 at all to Fortune, nor to neglect any thing, but to trust and 
 commit some things to his wife, some things to his servants, 
 and some things to his friends (as a prince to certain vice- 
 gerents and accountants and administrators), while he him- 
 self is employing his reason about the weightiest matters, 
 and those of greatest concern. 
 
 For as small letters hurt the sight, so do small matters 
 him that is too much intent upon them ; they vex and stir 
 
 Sophocles, Frag. 769 t Euripides, Frag. 964.
 
 CONCERNING THE CURE OF ANGER. 27 
 
 up anger, which begets an evil habit in him in reference 
 to greater affairs. But above all the rest, I look on that 
 of Empedocles as a divine thing, " To fast from evil." 
 And I commended also those vows and professions made 
 in prayers, as things neither indecent in themselves nor 
 unbecoming a philosopher, for a whole year to abstain 
 from venery and wine, serving God with temperance all 
 the while ; or else again, for a certain time to abstain from 
 lying, minding arid watching over ourselves, that we speak 
 nothing but what is true, either hi earnest or in jest. After 
 the manner of these vows then I made my own, supposing 
 it would be no less acceptable to God and sacred than 
 theirs ; and I set myself first to observe a few sacred days 
 also, wherein I would abstain from being angry, as if it 
 were from being drunk or from drinking wine, celebrating 
 a kind of Nephalia and Melisponda * with respect to my 
 anger. Then, making trial of myself little by little for a 
 month or two, I by this means in time made some good 
 progress unto further patience in bearing evils, diligently 
 observing and keeping myself courteous in language and 
 behavior, free from anger, and pure from all wicked words 
 and absurd actions, and from passion, which for a little 
 (and that no grateful) pleasure brings with itself great 
 perturbations and shameful repentance. Whence experi- 
 ence, not without some divine assistance, hath, I suppose, 
 made it evident that that was a very true judgment and 
 assertion, that this courteous, gentle, and kindly disposition 
 and behavior is not so acceptable, so pleasing, and so de- 
 lightful to any of those with whom we converse, as it is to 
 those that have it. 
 
 * Nephalia (vrjijiu, to be sober) were wineless offerings, like those to the Eumen 
 ides. See Aesch. Eumen. 107 : Xouf r* uoivovf, vqy&ia /jctAiy/iara. Mvlisponda 
 were offerings of honey. (G.)
 
 OF SUPERSTITION OR INDISCREET DEVOTION. 
 
 1 . OUR great ignorance of the Divine Beings most natu- 
 rally runs in two streams ; whereof the one in harsh and coarse 
 tempers, as in dry and stubborn soils, produces atheism, 
 and the other in the more tender and flexible, as in moist 
 and yielding grounds, produces superstition. Indeed, every 
 wrong judgment, in matters of this nature especially, is 
 a great unhappiness to us ; but it is here attended with a 
 passion, or disorder of the mind, of a worse consequence 
 than itself. For every such passion is, as it were, an error 
 inflamed. And as a dislocation is the more painful when 
 it is attended with a bruise, so are the perversions of our 
 understandings, when attended with passion. Is a man of 
 opinion that atoms and a void were the first origins of 
 things? It is indeed a mistaken conceit, but makes no 
 ulcer, no shooting, no searching pain. But is a man of 
 opinion that wealth is his last good? This error contains 
 in it a canker ; it preys upon a man's spirits, it transports 
 him, it suffers him not to sleep, it makes him horn-mad, it 
 carries him over headlong precipices, strangles him, and 
 makes him unable to speak his mind. Are there some 
 ai^ain, that take virtue and vice for substantial bodies? 
 This may be sottish conceit indeed, but yet it bo-]> 
 neither lamentations nor groans. But such opinions and 
 conceits as these, 
 
 Poor virtue ! thou wnt but a name, and mere jest, 
 Ami I, choust fool, did practise thee in earnest,
 
 OF SUPERSTITION. 29 
 
 and for thee have I quitted injustice, thelvay to wealth, and 
 excess, the parent of all true pleasure, these are the 
 thoughts that call at once for our pity and indignation ; for 
 . they will engender swarms of diseases, like fly-blows and 
 vermin, in our minds. 
 
 2. To return then to our subject, atheism, which is 
 a false persuasion that there are no blessed and incorrupti- 
 ble beings, tends yet, by its disbelief of a Divinity, to bring 
 men to a sort of unconcernedness and indifferency of temper ; 
 for the design of those that deny a God is to ease themselves 
 of his fear. But superstition appears by its appellation 
 to be a distempered opinion and conceit, productive of 
 such mean and abject apprehensions as debase and break 
 a man's spirit, while he thinks there are divine powers in- 
 deed, but withal sour and vindictive ones. So that the 
 atheist is not at all, and the superstitious is perversely, affected 
 with the thoughts of God ; ignorance depriving the one of 
 the sense of his goodness, and superadding to the other a 
 persuasion of his cruelty. Atheism then is but false reason- 
 ing single, but superstition is a disorder of the mind pro- 
 duced by this false reasoning. 
 
 3. Every distemper of our minds is truly base and igno- 
 ble ; yet some passions are accompanied with a sort of levity, 
 that makes men appear gay, prompt, and erect ; but none, 
 we may say, are wholly destitute of force for action. But 
 the common charge upon all sorts of passions is, that they 
 excite and urge the reason, forcing it by their violent stings. 
 Fear alone, being equally destitute of reason and audacity, 
 renders our whole irrational part stupid, distracted, and un- 
 serviceable. Therefore it is called deTpa because it binds, 
 and T()(3o 5 - because it distracts the mind.* But of all fears, 
 none so dozes and confounds as that of superstition. He 
 fears not the sea that never goes to sea ; nor a battle, that 
 
 * Plutarch derives klpa from 6eu, to bind, and rapdof from rapuaau, to diffract or 
 confuse. (G.)
 
 30 OF SUPERSTITION 
 
 follows not the camp ; nor robbers, that stirs not abroad ; 
 nor malicious informers, that is a poor man ; nor emulation, 
 that leads a private life ; nor earthquakes, that dwells in 
 Gaul ; nor thunderbolts, that dwells in Ethiopia : but he 
 that dreads divine powers dreads every thing, the land, the 
 sea, the air, the sky, the dark, the light, a sound, a silence, 
 a dream. Even slaves forget their masters in their sleep ; 
 sleep lightens the irons of the fettered ; their angry sores, 
 mortified gangrenes, and pinching pains allow them some 
 intermission at night. 
 
 Dear sleep, sweet easer of my irksome grief, 
 Pleasant thoif art ! how welcome thy relief! * 
 
 Superstition will not permit a man to say this. That 
 alone will give no truce at night, nor suffer the poor soul 
 so much as to breathe or look up, or respite her sour and 
 dismal thoughts of God a moment ; but raises in the sleep 
 of the superstitious, as in the place of the damned, certain 
 prodigious forms and ghastly spectres, and perpetually 
 tortures the unhappy soul, chasing her out of sleep into 
 dreams, lashed and tormented by her own self, as by some 
 other, and charged by herself with dire and portentous 
 injunctions. Neither have they, when awake, enough sense* 
 to slight and smile at all this, or to be pleased with the 
 thought that nothing of all that terrified them was real ; 
 but they still fear an empty shadow, that could never mean 
 them any ill, and cheat themselves afresh at noonday, and 
 keep a bustle, and are at expense upon the next fortune- 
 teller or vagrant that shall but tell them : 
 
 If in a dream hobgoblin thou hast seen, 
 
 Or felt'st the rambling guards o' th' Fairy Queen, 
 
 send for some old witch who can purify thee, go dip thy- 
 self in the sea, and then sit down upon the bare ground the 
 rest of the day. 
 
 O that our Greeks should found such barbarous rites.t 
 Eurip. Orestes, 211. t Eurip. Troad. 769.
 
 OR INDISCREET DEVOTION. 31 
 
 as tumbling in mire, rolling themselves in dunghills, keep- 
 ing of Sabbaths, monstrous prostrations, long and obstinate 
 sittings in a place, and vile and abject adorations, and all 
 for vain superstition ! They that were careful to preserve 
 good singing used to direct the practisers of that science to 
 sing with their mouths in their true and proper postures. 
 Should not we then admonish those that would address 
 themselves to the heavenly powers to do that also with a 
 true and natural mouth, lest, while we are so solicitous that 
 the tongue of a sacrifice be pure and right, we distort and 
 abuse our own with silly and canting language, and there- 
 by expose the dignity of our divine and ancient piety to 
 contempt and raillery ? It was not unpleasantly said some- 
 where by the comedian to those that adorned their beds with 
 the needless ornaments of silver and gold : Since the Gods 
 have given us nothing gratis except sleep, why will you 
 make that so costly] It might as well be said to the 
 superstitious bigot : Since the Gods have bestowed sleep on 
 us, to the intent we may take some rest and forget our 
 sorrows, why will you needs make it a continual irksome 
 tormentor, when you know your poor soul hath ne'er 
 another sleep to betake herself to ? Heraclitus saith : They 
 who are awake have a world in common amongst them ; but 
 they that are asleep are retired each to his own private 
 world. But the frightful visionary hath ne'er a world at 
 all, either in common with others or in private to himself; 
 for neither can he use his reason when awake, nor be free 
 from his fears when asleep ; but he hath his reason always 
 asleep, and his fears always awake ; nor hath he either an 
 hiding-place or refuge. 
 
 4. Polycrates was formidable at Samos, and so was 
 Periander at Corinth ; but no man ever feared either of 
 them that had made his escape to an equal and free 
 government. But he that dreads the divine government, 
 as a sort of inexorable and implacable tyranny, whither
 
 32 OF SUPERSTITION 
 
 can he remove? Whither can he fly? What land, what 
 sea can he find where God is not ? Wretched and miser- 
 able man ! in what corner of the world canst thou so hide 
 thyself, as to think thou hast now escaped him? Sl;m -; 
 are allowed by the laws, when they despair of obtaining 
 their freedom, to demand a second sale, in hopes of kinder 
 masters. But superstition allows of no change of Gods ; 
 nor could he indeed find a God he would not fear, that 
 dreads his own and his ancestors' guardians, that quivers at 
 his preservers and benign patrons, and that trembles and 
 shakes at those of whom we ask wealth, plenty, concord, 
 peace, and direction to the best words and actions. Slaves 
 again account it their misfortune to become such, and can 
 say, 
 
 Both man and wife in direful slavery, 
 
 And with ill masters too ! Fate's worst decree ! 
 
 But how much less tolerable, think you, is their condition, 
 that can never possibly run away, escape, or desert? A 
 slave may fly to an altar, and many temples afford sanctuary 
 to thieves ; and they that are pursued by an enemy think 
 themselves safe if they can catch hold on a statue or a 
 shrine. But the superstitious fears, quivers, and dreads 
 most of all there, where others when fearfullest take 
 greatest courage. Never hale a superstitious man from 
 the altar. It is his place of torment ; he is there chas- 
 tised. In one word, death itself, the end of life, puts no 
 period to this vain and foolish dread ; but it transcends 
 those limits, and extends its fears beyond the grave, adding 
 to it the imagination of immortal ills ; and after respite from 
 past sorrows, it fancies it shall next enter upon never-end- 
 ing ones. I know not what gates of hell open themselves 
 from beneath, rivers of fire together with Stygian torrents 
 present themselves to view ; a gloomy darkness appears 
 full of ghastly spectres and horrid shapes, with dreadful 
 aspects and doleful groans, together with judges and tor-
 
 OR INDISCREET DEVOTION. 33 
 
 mentors, pits and caverns, full of millions of miseries and 
 woes. Thus does wretched superstition bring inevitably 
 upon itself by its fancies even those calamities which it has 
 once escaped. 
 
 5. Atheism is attended with none of this. True indeed, 
 the ignorance is very lamentable and sad. For to be blind 
 or to see amiss in matters of this consequence oannot but 
 be a fatal unhappiness to the mind, it being then deprived 
 of the fairest and brightest of its many eyes, the knowledge 
 of God. Yet this opinion (as hath been said) is not neces- 
 sarily accompanied with any disordering, ulcerous, frightful, 
 or slavish passion. Plato thinks the Gods never gave men 
 music, the science of melody and harmony, for mere 
 delectation or to tickle the ear, but in order that the 
 confusion and disorder in the periods and harmonies of 
 the soul, which often for want of the Muses and of grace 
 break forth into extravagance through intemperance and 
 license, might be sweetly recalled, and artfully wound up 
 to their former consent and agreement. 
 
 No animal accurst by Jove 
 
 Music's sweet charms can ever love,* 
 
 saith Pindar. For all such will rave and grow outrageous 
 straight. Of this we have an instance in tigers, which 
 (as they say), if they hear but a tabor beat near them, will 
 rage immediately and run stark mad, and in fine tear 
 themselves in pieces. They certainly suffer the less 
 inconvenience of the two, who either through defect of 
 hearing or utter deafness are wholly insensible of music, 
 and therefore unmoved by it. It was a great misfortune 
 indeed to Tiresias, that he wanted sight to see his friends 
 and children ; but a far greater to Athamas and Agave, to 
 see them in the shape of lions and bucks. And it had 
 been happier for Hercules, Avhen he was distracted, if he 
 could have neither seen nor known his children, than to 
 
 Pindar, Pytli. I. 26.
 
 34 OF SUPERSTITION 
 
 have used like the worst of enemies those he so tenderly 
 loved. 
 
 6. Well then, is not this the very case of the atheist, 
 compared with the superstitious ? The former sees not 
 the Gods at all, the latter believes that he really sees them ; 
 the former wholly overlooks them, but the latter mistakes 
 their benignity for terror, their paternal affection for 
 tyranny, their providence for cruelty, and their frank sim- 
 plicity for savageness and brutality. 
 
 Again, the workman in copper, stone, and wax can per- 
 suade such that the Gods are in human shape ; for so they 
 make them, so they draw them, and so they worship them. 
 But they will not hear either philosophers or statesmen 
 that describe the majesty of the Divinity as accompanied 
 by goodness, magnanimity, benignity, and beneficence. 
 The one therefore hath neither a sense nor belief of that 
 divine good he might participate of ; and the other dreads 
 and fears it. In a word, atheism is an absolute insensi- 
 bility to God (or want of passion), which does not 
 recognize goodness ; while superstition is a blind heap 
 of passions, which imagine the good to be evil. They are 
 afraid of their Gods, and yet run to them ; they fawn upon 
 them, and reproach them ; they invoke them, and accuse 
 them. It is the common destiny of humanity not to enjoy 
 uninterrupted felicity. 
 
 Nor pains, nor age, nor labor they e'er bore, 
 Nor visited rough Acheron's hoarse shore, 
 
 saith Pindar of the Gods ; but human passions and affairs 
 are liable to a strange multiplicity of uncertain accidents 
 and contingencies. 
 
 7. Consider well the atheist, and observe his behavior 
 first in things not under the disposal of his will. If he be 
 otherwise a man of good temper, he is silent under his 
 present circumstances, and is providing himself with cither 
 remedies or palliatives for his misfortunes. But if he be a
 
 OR INDISCREET DEVOTION. 35 
 
 fretful and impatient man, his whole complaint is against 
 Fortune. He cries out, that nothing is managed here 
 below either after the rules of a strict justice or the orderly 
 course of a providence, and that all human affairs are hur- 
 ried and driven without either premeditation or distinction. 
 This is not the demeanor of the superstitious ; if the least 
 thing do but happen amiss to him, he sits him down 
 plunged in sorrow, and raises himself a vast tempest of 
 intolerable and incurable passions, and presents his fancy 
 with nothing but terrors, fears, surmises, and distractions, 
 until he hath overwhelmed himself with groans and fears. 
 He blames neither man, nor Fortune, nor the times, nor 
 himself; but charges all upon God, from whom he fancies 
 a whole deluge of vengeance to be pouring down upon 
 him ; and, as if he were not only unfortunate but in open 
 hostility with Heaven, he imagines that he is punished by 
 God and is now making satisfaction for his past crimes, 
 and saith that his sufferings are all just and owing to him- 
 self. Again, when the atheist falls sick, he reckons up 
 and calls to his remembrance his several surfeits and 
 debauches, his irregular course of living, excessive labors, 
 or unaccustomed changes of air or climate. Likewise, 
 when he miscarries in any public administration, and either 
 falls into popular disgrace or comes to be ill presented to 
 his prince, he searches for the causes in himself and those 
 about him, and asks, 
 
 Where have I erred ? What have I done amiss ? 
 What should be done by me that undone is ? * 
 
 But the fanciful superstitionist accounts every little dis- 
 temper in his body or decay in his estate, the death of his 
 children, and crosses and disappointments in matters relat- 
 ing to the public, as the immediate strokes of God and 
 the incursions of some vindictive daemon. And therefore 
 he dares not attempt to remove or relieve his disasters, or 
 
 * Pythagoras, Carmen Aur. 41.
 
 36 OF SUPERSTITION 
 
 to use the least remedy or to oppose himself to them, for fear 
 he should seem to struggle with God and to make resist- 
 ance under correction. If. he be sick, he thrusts away the 
 physician ; if he be in any grief, he shuts out the philoso- 
 pher that would comfort and advise him. Let me alone, 
 saith he, to pay for my sins : I am a cursed and vile offen- 
 der, and detestable both to God and angels. Now suppose 
 a man unpersuaded of a Divinity in never so great sorrow 
 and trouble, you may yet possibly wipe away his tears, cut 
 his hair, and force away his mourning ; but how will you 
 come at this superstitious penitentiary, either to speak to 
 him or to bring him any relief? He sits him down with- 
 out doors in sackcloth, or wrapped up in foul and nasty 
 rags ; yea, many times rolls himself naked in mire, repeat- 
 ing over I know not what sins and transgressions of his 
 own ; as, how he did eat this thing and drink the other 
 thing, or went some way prohibited by his Genius. But 
 suppose he be now at his best, and laboring under only a 
 mild attack of superstition ; you shall even then find him 
 sitting down in the midst of his house all becharmed and 
 bespelled, with a parcel of old women about him, tugging 
 all they can light on, and hanging it upon him as (to use 
 an expression of Bion's) upon some nail or peg. 
 
 8. It is reported of Teribazus that, being seized by the 
 Persians, he drew out his scimitar, and being a very stout 
 person, defended himself bravely ; but when they cried 
 out and told him he was apprehended by the king's order, he 
 immediately put up his sword, and presented his hands to 
 be bound. Is not this the very case of the superstitious ? 
 Others can oppose their misfortunes, repel their troubles, 
 and furnish themselves with retreats, or means of avoiding 
 the stroke of things not under the disposal of their wills ; 
 but the superstitious person, without anybody's speaking 
 to him, but merely upon his own saying to himself, This 
 thou undergoest, vile wretch, by the direction of Providence,
 
 OR INDISCREET DEVOTION. 37 
 
 and by Heaven's just appointment, immediately casts 
 away all hope, surrenders himself up, and shuns and 
 affronts his friends that would relieve him. Thus do these 
 sottish fears oftentimes convert tolerable evils into fatal and 
 insupportable ones. The ancient Midas (as the story goes 
 of him), being much troubled and disquieted by certain 
 dreams, grew so melancholy thereupon, that he made him- 
 self away by drinking bull's blood. Aristodemus, king of 
 Messenia, when a war broke out betwixt the Lacedaemo- 
 nians and the Messenians, upon some dogs howling like 
 wolves, and grass coming up about his ancestors' domestic 
 altar, and his divines presaging ill upon it, fell into such a 
 fit of sullenness and despair that he slew himself. And 
 perhaps it had been better if the Athenian general, Nicias, 
 had been eased of his folly the same way that Midas and 
 Aristodemus were, than for him to sit still for fear of a 
 lunar eclipse, while he was invested by an enemy, and so 
 be himself made a prisoner, together with an army of forty 
 thousand men (that were all either slain or taken), and die 
 iugloriously. There was nothing formidable in the inter- 
 position of the earth betwixt the sun and the moon, neither 
 was there any thing dreadful in the shadow's meeting the 
 moon at the proper time : no, the dreadfulness lay here, 
 that the darkness of ignorance should blind and befool 
 a man's reason at a time when he had most occasion to 
 use it. 
 
 Glaucus, behold ! 
 
 The sea with billows deep begins to roll ; 
 
 The seas begin in azure rods to lie ; 
 
 A teeming cloud of pitch hangs on the sky 
 
 Right o'er Gyre rocks ; there is a tempest nigh ; * 
 
 which as soon as the pilot sees, he falls to his prayers and 
 invokes his tutelar daemons, but neglects not in the mean 
 time to hold to the rudder and let down the mainyard ; 
 and so, 
 
 Archilochus, Frag. 66. 
 
 299432
 
 38 OF SUPERSTITION 
 
 BT gathering in his sails, with mighty pain, 
 Escapes the hell-pita of the raging main. 
 
 Hesiod* directs his husbandman, before he either 
 plough or sow, to pray to the infernal Jove and the vener- 
 able Ceres, but with his hand upon the plough-tail. 1 Tomer 
 acquaints us how Ajax, being to engage in a single combat 
 with Hector, bade the Grecians pray to the Gods for him ; 
 and while they were at their devotions, he was putting on 
 his armor. Likewise, after Agamemnon had thus prepared 
 his soldiers for the fight, 
 
 Each make his spear to glitter as the sun, 
 Each see his warlike target well hung on, 
 
 he then prayed, 
 
 Grant me, great Jove, to throw down Priam's roof.t 
 
 For God is the brave man's hope, and not the coward's 
 excuse. The Jews indeed once sat on their tails, it be- 
 ing forsooth their Sabbath day, and suffered their enemies 
 to rear their scaling-ladders and make themselves masters 
 of their walls, and so lay still until they were caught 
 like so many trout in the drag-net of their own supersti- 
 tion.^: 
 
 9. Such then is the behavior of superstition in times of 
 adversity, and in things out of the power of man's will. 
 Nor doth it a jot excel atheism in the more agreeable and 
 pleasurable part of our lives. Now what we esteem the 
 most agreeable things in human life are our holidays, 
 temple-feasts, initiatings, processionings, with our public 
 j) ravers and solemn devotions. Mark we now the atheist's 
 behavior here. Tis true, he laughs at all that is done, 
 with a frantic and sardonic laughter, and now and then 
 whispers to a confidant of his, The devil is in these people 
 sure, that can imagine God can be taken with these foole- 
 
 Hesiod, Works and Days, 463. t See II. VII. 193 ; II. 882, 414. 
 
 | See Maccabees, I. 2, 27-38, cited by Wyttenbach. (G.)
 
 OR INDISCREET DEVOTION. 39 
 
 ries : but this is the worst of his disasters. But now the 
 superstitious man would fain be pleasant and gay, but can- 
 not for his heart. The whole town is filled with odors of 
 incense and perfumes, and at the same time a mixture of 
 hymns and sighs fills his poor soul.* He looks pale with 
 a garland on his head, he sacrifices and fears, prays with a 
 faltering tongue, and offers incense with a trembling hand. 
 In a word, he utterly baffles that saying of Pythagoras, 
 that we are then best when we come near the Gods. For 
 the superstitious person is then in his worst and most piti- 
 ful condition, when he approaches the shrines and temples 
 of the Gods. 
 
 10. So that I cannot but wonder at those that charge 
 atheism with impiety, and in the mean time acquit super- 
 stition. Anaxagoras was indicted of blasphemy for having 
 affirmed the sun to be a red-hot stone ; yet the Cimmerians 
 were never much blamed for denying his being. What ? 
 Is he that holds there is no God guilty of impiety, and is 
 not he that describes him as the superstitious do much 
 more guilty? I, for my own part, had much rather 
 people should say of me, that there neither is nor ever 
 was such a man as Plutarch, than they should say: 
 " Plutarch is an unsteady, fickle, froward, vindictive, 
 and touchy fellow ; if you invite others to sup with you, 
 and chance to leave out Plutarch, or if some business 
 falls out that you cannot wait at his door with the morn- 
 ing salute, or if when you meet with him you don't 
 speak to him, he'll fasten upon you somewhere with his 
 teeth and bite the part through, or catch one of your 
 children and cane him, or turn his beast into your corn 
 and spoil your crop." When Timotheus the musician 
 was one day singing at Athens an hymn to Diana, in 
 which among other things was this, 
 
 Mad, raving, tearing, foaming Deity, 
 Sophocles, Oed. Tyr. 4.
 
 40 OF SUPERSTITION 
 
 f 
 
 Cinesias, the lyric poet, stood up from the midst of the 
 spectators, and spoke aloud : I wish thee with all my heart 
 such a Goddess to thy daughter, Timotheus. Such like, 
 nay worse, are the conceits of the superstitious about this 
 Goddess Diana : 
 
 Thou do8t on the bed-clothes jump, 
 And then- liest like a lump. 
 Thou dost tantalize the bride, 
 When love's charms by thee are tied. 
 Thou look'st grim and full of dread, 
 When thou walk'st to find the dead. 
 Thou down chairs and tables rumbl'st, 
 When with Oberon thou tumbl't.* 
 
 Nor have they any milder sentiments of Apollo, Juno, or 
 Venus ; for they are equally scared with them all. Alas ! 
 what could poor Niobe ever say that could be so reflecting 
 upon the honor of Latona, as that which superstition 
 makes fools believe of her ? Niobe, it seems, had given 
 her some hard words, for which she fairly shot her 
 
 Six daughters, and six sons full in their prime ; t 
 
 so impatient was she, and insatiate with the calamities of 
 another. Now if the Goddess was really thus choleric 
 and vindictive and so highly incensed with bad language, 
 and if she had not the wisdom to smile at human frailty 
 and ignorance, but suffered herself to be thus transported 
 with passion, I much marvel she did not shoot them too 
 that told this cruel story of her, and charged her both in 
 speech and writing with so much spleen and rancor. We 
 oft accuse Queen Hecuba of barbarous and savage bitter- 
 ness, for having once said in Homer, 
 
 Would God I had his liver 'twixt my teeth ;| 
 
 yet the superstitious believe, if a man taste of a minnow or 
 
 * I leave Mr. Baxter's conjectural version of this corrupt passage, instead of 
 inserting another equally conjectural. As to the original Greek, hardly a word can 
 be made out with certainty. (G). 
 
 t II. XXIV. 604. * II. XXIV. 212.
 
 OB INDISCREET DEVOTION. 41 
 
 bleak, the Syrian Goddess will eat his shins through, fill 
 his body with sores, and dissolve his liver. 
 
 11. Is it a sin then to speak amiss of the Gods, and is 
 it not to think amiss of them ? And is not thinking the 
 cause of speaking ill 1 For the only reason of our dislike 
 to detraction is that we look upon it as a token of ill-will 
 to us ; and we therefore take those for our enemies that 
 misrepresent us, because we look upon them as untrusty 
 and disaffected. You see then what the superstitious 
 think of the divinity, while they fancy the Gods such 
 heady, faithless, fickle, revengeful, cruel, and fretful things. 
 The consequence of which is that the superstitious person 
 must needs both fear and hate them at once. And indeed, 
 how can he otherwise choose, while he thinks the greatest 
 calamities he either doth now or must hereafter undergo 
 are wholly owing to them ? Now he that both hates and 
 fears the Gods must of necessity be their enemy. And if 
 he trembles, fears, prostrates, sacrifices, and sits perpetually 
 in their temples, that is no marvel at all. For the very 
 worst of tyrants are complimented and attended, yea, have 
 statues of gold erected to them, by those who in private 
 hate them and wag their heads. Hermolaus waited on 
 Alexander, and Pausanias was of Philip's guard, and so 
 was Chaerea of Caligula's ; yet every one of these said, I 
 warrant you, in his heart as he went along, 
 
 Had I a power as my will is good, 
 
 Know this, bold tyrant, I would have thy blood.* 
 
 The atheist believes there are no Gods ; the superstitious 
 would have none, but is a believer against his will, and 
 would be an infidel if he durst. He would be as glad to 
 ease himself of the burthen of his fear, as Tantalus would 
 be to slip his head from under the great stone that hangs 
 over him, and would bless the condition of the atheist as 
 
 II. XXII. 20. '
 
 42 OF SUPERSTITION 
 
 absolute freedom, compared with his own. The atheist 
 now has nothing to do with superstition ; while the super- 
 stitious is an atheist in his heart, but is too much a coward 
 to think as he is inclined. 
 
 12. Moreover, atheism hath no hand at all in causing 
 superstition ; but superstition not only gave atheism its 
 first birth, but serves it ever since by giving it its best 
 apology for existing, which, although it be neither a good 
 nor a fair one, is yet the most specious and colorable. For 
 men were not at first made atheists by any fault they found 
 in the heavens or stars, or in the seasons of the year, or in 
 those revolutions or motions of the sun about the earth 
 that make the day and night ; nor yet by observing any 
 mistake or disorder either in the breeding of animals or 
 the production of fruits. No, it was the uncouth actions 
 and ridiculous and senseless passions of superstition, her 
 canting words, her foolish gestures, her charms, her magic, 
 her freakish processions, her taborings, her foul expiations, 
 her vile methods of purgation, and her barbarous and in- 
 human penances, and bemirings at the temples, it was 
 these, I say, that gave occasion to many to affirm, it would 
 be far happier there were no Gods at all than for them 
 to be pleased and delighted with such fantastic toys, and to 
 thus abuse their votaries, and to be incensed and pacified 
 with trifles. 
 
 13. Had it not been much better for the so much famed 
 Gauls and Scythians to have neither thought nor imagined 
 nor heard any thing of their Gods, than to have believed 
 them such as would be pleased with the blood of human 
 sacrifices, and would account such for the most complete 
 and meritorious of expiations ? How much better had it 
 been for the Carthaginians to have had either a Critias or 
 a Diagoras for their first lawmaker, that so they might 
 have believed in neither God nor spirits, than to make such 
 offerings to Saturn as they made ? not such as Empedo-
 
 OR INDISCREET DEVOTION. 43 
 
 cles speaks of, where he thus touches the sacrifices of 
 beasts : 
 
 The sire liftt up his dear beloved son, 
 
 Who first some other form and shape did take ; 
 
 He doth turn slay and sacrifice anon, 
 
 And therewith vows and foolish prayers doth make. 
 
 But they knowingly and wittingly themselves devoted their 
 own children ; and they that had none of their own 
 bought of some poor people, and then sacrificed them like 
 lambs or pigeons, the poor mother standing by the while 
 without either a sigh or tear ; and if by chance she fetched 
 a sigh or let fall a tear, she lost the price of her child, 
 but it was nevertheless sacrificed. All the places round 
 the image were in the mean time filled with the noise of 
 hautboys and tabors, to drown the poor infants' crying. 
 Suppose we now the Typhons and Giants should depose 
 the Gods and make themselves masters of mankind, what 
 sort of sacrifices, think you, would they expect ? Or what 
 other expiations would they require ? The queen of King 
 Xerxes, Amestris, buried twelve men alive, as a sacrifice to 
 Pluto to prolong her own life ; and yet Plato saith, This 
 God is called in Greek Hades, because he is placid, wise, 
 and wealthy, and retains the souls of men by persuasion 
 and oratory. That great naturalist Xenophanes, seeing 
 the Egyptians beating their breasts and lamenting at the 
 solemn times of their devotions, gave them this pertinent 
 and seasonable admonition : If they are Gods (said he), 
 don't cry for them ; and if they are men, don't sacrifice to 
 them. 
 
 14. There is certainly no infirmity belonging to us that 
 contains such a multiplicity of errors and fond passions, or 
 that consists of such incongruous and incoherent opinions, 
 as this of superstition doth. It behooves us therefore to 
 do our utmost to escape it ; but withal, we must see 
 we do it safely and prudently, and not rashly and iiicon-
 
 44 OF SUPERSTITION. 
 
 siderately, as people run from the incursions of robbers 
 or from fire, and fall into bewildered and untrodden 
 paths full of pits and precipices. For so some, while 
 they would avoid superstition, leap over the golden 
 mean of true piety into the harsh and coarse extreme 
 of atheism.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 1. As soon, Apollonius, as I heard the news of the un- 
 timely death of your son, who was very dear to us all, I 
 fell sick of the same grief with you, and shared your misfor- 
 tune with all the tenderness of sympathy. For he was a 
 sweet and modest young man, devout towards the Gods, 
 obedient to his parents, and obliging to his friends ; indeed 
 doing all things that were just. But when the tears of his 
 funeral were scarcely dry, I thought it a time very improper 
 to call upon you and put you in mind that you should bear 
 this accident like a man ; for when this unexpected afflic- 
 tion made you languish both in body and mind, I considered 
 then that compassion was more seasonable than advice. For 
 the most skilful physicians do not put a sudden stop to a 
 flux of humors, but give them time to settle, and then fo- 
 ment the swelling by softening and bringing it to a head 
 with medicines outwardly applied. 
 
 2. So now that a competent time is past time which 
 brings all things to maturity since the first surprise of 
 your calamity, I believed I should do an acceptable piece 
 of friendship, if I should now comfort you with those 
 reasons which may lessen your grief and silence your 
 complaints. 
 
 Soft words alleviate a wounded heart, 
 If you la time will mitigate the smart.* 
 
 Aesch. Prom. 878. *
 
 46 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 Euripides hath said wisely to this purpose : 
 
 Our applications should suited be 
 
 Unto the nature of the malady ; 
 
 Of sorrow we should wipe the tender eyes, 
 
 But the immoderate weeper should chastise 
 
 For of all the passions which move and afflict the mind of 
 man, sorrow in its nature is the most grievous ; in some 
 they say it hath produced madness, others have contracted 
 incurable diseases, and some out of the vehemence of it 
 have laid violent hands upon themselves. 
 
 3. Therefore to be sad, even to an indisposition, for the 
 death of a son proceeds from a principle of nature, and it is 
 out of our power to prevent it. I dislike those who boast 
 so much of hard and inflexible temper which they call apa- 
 thy, it being a disposition which never happens and never 
 could be of use to us ; for it would extinguish that soci- 
 able love we ought to have for one another, and which it is 
 so necessary above all things to preserve. But to mourn 
 excessively and to accumulate grief I do affirm to be 
 altogether unnatural, and to result from a depraved opinion 
 we have of things ; therefore we ought to shun it as de- 
 structive in itself, and unworthy of a virtuous man ; but to 
 be moderately affected by grief we cannot condemn. It 
 were to be wished, saith Grantor the Academic, that we 
 could not be sick at all ; but when a distemper seizeth 
 us, it is requisite we should have sense and feeling hi case 
 any of our members be plucked or cut off. For that talked- 
 of apathy can never happen to a man without great detri- 
 ment ; for as now the body, so soon the very mind would 
 be wild and savage. 
 
 4. Therefore in such accidents, it is but reasonable that 
 they who are in their right senses should avoid both ex- 
 tremes, of being without any passion at all and of having 
 too much ; for as the one argues a mind that is obstinate 
 and fierce, so the other doth one that is soft and effeminate.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 47 
 
 He therefore hath cast up his accounts the best, who, con- 
 fining himself within due bounds, hath such ascendant over 
 his temper, as to bear prosperous and adverse fortune with 
 the same equality, whichsoever it is that happens to him 
 in this life. He puts on those resolutions as if he were in 
 a popular government where magistracy is decided by lot ; 
 if it luckily falls to his share, he obeys his fortune, but if 
 it passeth him, he doth not repine at it. So we must sub- 
 mit to the dispensation of human affairs, without being 
 uneasy and querulous. Those who cannot do this want 
 prudence and steadiness of mind to bear more happy cir- 
 cumstances ; for amongst other things which are prettily 
 said, this is one remarkable precept of Euripides : 
 
 If Fortune prove extravagantly kind, 
 Above its lemper do not raise thy mind ; 
 If she disclaims thee like a jilting dame, 
 Be not dejected, but be still the same, 
 Like gold unchanged amidst the hottest flame. 
 
 For it is the part of a wise and well-educated man, not 
 to be transported beyond himself with any prosperous 
 events, and so, when the scene of fortune changeth, to 
 observe still the comeliness and decency of his morals. For 
 it is the business of a man that lives by rule, either to pre- 
 vent an evil that threatens him, or, when it is come, to 
 qualify its malignity and make it as little as he can, or put 
 on a masculine brave spirit and so resolve to endure it. 
 For there are four ways that prudence concerns herself 
 about any thing that is good ; she is either industrious to 
 acquire or careful to preserve, she either augments or 
 useth it well. These are the measures of prudence, and 
 consequently those of all other virtues, by which we ought 
 to square ourselves in either fortune. 
 
 For no man lives who always happy is.* 
 
 And, by Jove, you should not hinder what ought to be 
 done, 
 
 * From the Stheneboea of Euripides, Frag. G J2.
 
 48 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 Those things which in their nature ought to be.* 
 
 5. For, as amongst trees some are very thick with fruit, 
 and some bear none at all ; amongst living creatures some 
 are very prolific, and some barren ; and as in the sea there 
 is alternate vicissitude of calms and tempests, so in human 
 life there are many and various circumstances which dis- 
 tract a man into divers changes of fortune. One consider- 
 ing this matter hath not said much from the purpose : 
 
 Think not thyself, O Atreus' son, forlorn ; 
 Thou always to be happy wast not born. 
 Even Agamemnon's self must be a shade, 
 For thou of frail materials art made. 
 Sorrow and joy alternately succeed ; 
 'Spite of thy teeth, the Gods have so decreed.! 
 
 These verses are Menander's. 
 
 If thou, O Trophimus, of all mankind, 
 Uninterrupted happiness couldst find ; 
 If when thy mother brought thee forth with pain, 
 Didst this condition of thy life obtain, 
 That only prosperous gales thy sails should fill, 
 And all things happen 'cording to thy will ; 
 If any of the Gods did so engage, 
 Sucli usage justly might provoke thy rage, 
 Matter for smart resentment might afford, 
 For the false Deity did break his word. 
 But if thou unexccpted saw'st the light, 
 Without a promise of the least delight, 
 I say to thee (gravely in tragic style) 
 Thou ought to be more patient all the while. 
 In short, and to say more there's no one can, 
 . Which is a name of frailty, thou'rt a man ; 
 A creature more rejoicing is not found, 
 None more dejected creeps upon the ground. 
 Though weak, yet he in politics refines, 
 Involves himself in intricate designs ; 
 With nauseous business he himself doth cloy, 
 And BO the pleasure of his life destroy. 
 In great pursuits thou never hast been cross'd 
 No disappointments have thy projects lost ; 
 Nay, such hath been the mildness of thy fate, 
 Hast no misfortune had of any rate ; 
 If Fortune is at any time severe, 
 Serene and undisturbed thou must appear. 
 
 From Euripides, t Eurip. Iph. Aul. 29.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 49 
 
 But though this be the state of all sublunary things, yet 
 such is the extravagant pride and folly of some men, that if 
 they are raised above the common by the greatness of their 
 riches or functions of magistracy, or if they arrive to any 
 eminent charge in the commonwealth, they presently swell 
 with the titles of their honor, and threaten and insult over 
 their inferiors ; never considering what a treacherous God- 
 dess Fortune is, and how easy a revolution it is for things 
 that are uppermost to be thrown down from their height and 
 for humble things to be exalted, and that these changes of 
 Fortune are performed quickly and in the swiftest moments 
 of time. To seek for any certainty therefore in that which 
 is uncertain is the part of those who judge not aright of 
 things : 
 
 Like to a wheel that constantly goes round, 
 One part is up whilst t'other's on the ground. 
 
 6. But the most sovereign remedy against sorrow is our 
 reason, and out of this arsenal we may arm ourselves with 
 defence against all the casualties of life ; for every one ought 
 to lay down this as a maxim, that not only is he himself 
 mortal in his nature, but life itself decays, and things are 
 easily changed into quite the contrary to what they are ; 
 for our bodies are made up of perishing ingredients. Our 
 fortunes and our passions too are subject to the same mortal- 
 ity ; indeed all things in this world are in perpetual flux, 
 
 Which no man can avoid with all his care.* 
 
 It is an expression of Pindar, that we are held to the 
 dark bottom of hell by necessities as hard as iron. And 
 Euripides says : 
 
 No worldly wealth is firm and sure ; 
 But for a day it doth endure.t 
 
 And also : 
 
 From small beginnings our misfortunes grow, 
 
 And little rubs our feet do overthrow ; 
 
 A single day is able down to cast 
 
 Some things from height, and others raise as fast . J 
 
 B. XII. 327. t Eurip. Phoeniss. 558. | From the Ino of Euripidee.
 
 50 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 Demetrius Phalereus affirms that this was truly said, but 
 that the poet had been more in the right if for a single day 
 he had put only a moment of time. 
 
 For earthly fruits and mortal men's estate 
 Turn round about in one and selfsame rate ; 
 Some live, wax strong, and prosper day by day, 
 While others are cast down and fade away.* 
 
 And Pindar hath it in another place, 
 
 What are we, what are we not ? 
 Man is but a shadow's dream. t 
 
 He used an artificial and very perspicuous hyperbole to 
 draw human life in its genuine colors ; for what is weaker 
 than a shadow ? Or what words can be found out whereby 
 to express a shadow's dream ? Grantor hath something 
 consonant to this, when, condoling Ilippocles upon the loss 
 of his children, he speaks after this manner: 
 
 " These are the things which all the old philosophers 
 talk of and have instructed us in ; which though we do 
 not agree to in every particular, yet this hath too sharp a 
 truth in it, that our life is painful and full of difficulties ; 
 and if it doth not labor with them in its own nature, yet 
 we ourselves have infected it with that corruption. For 
 the inconstancy of Fortune joined us at the beginning of 
 our journey, and hath accompanied us ever since ; so that 
 it can produce nothing that is sound or comfortable unto us ; 
 and the bitter potion was mingled for us as soon as we were 
 born. For the principles of our nature being mortal is the 
 cause that our judgment is depraved, that diseases, cares, 
 and all those fatal inconveniences afflict mankind." 
 
 But what need of this digression ? Only that we may 
 be made sensible that it is no unusual thing if a man be 
 unfortunate ;' but we are all subject to the same calamity. 
 For as Theophrastus saith, Fortune surpriseth us unawares, 
 robs us of those things we have got by the sweat of our 
 
 From the Ino of Euripides. t Pindar, Pyth. VIII. 136.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 51 
 
 industry, and spoils the gaudy appearance of a prosperous 
 condition ; and this she doth when she pleaseth, not being 
 stinted to any periods of time. These and things of the like 
 nature it is easy for a man to ponder with himself, and to 
 hearken to the sayings of ancient and wise men; among 
 whom divine Homer is the chief, who sung after this 
 manner : 
 
 Of all that breathes or grovelling creeps on earth, 
 Most man is vain ! calamitous by birth : * 
 
 To-day, with power elate, in strength he blooms ; 
 The haughty creature on that power presumes : 
 Anon from Heaven a sad reverse he feels ; 
 Untaught to bear, 'gainst Heaven the wretch rebels. 
 For man is changeful, as his bliss or woe ; 
 Too high when prosperous, when distress'd too'low.* 
 
 And in another place : 
 
 What or from whence I am, or who my sire 
 (Replied the chief), can Tydeus' son enquire ? 
 Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, 
 Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; 
 Another race the following spring supplies ; 
 They fall successive, and successive rise. 
 So generations in their course decay ; 
 So flourish these, when those are past away.f 
 
 How prettily he managed this image of human life 
 appears from what he hath said in another place : 
 
 For what is man ? Calamitous by birth, 
 They owe their life and nourishment to earth ; 
 Like yearly leaves, that now with beauty crown'd, 
 Smile on the sun, now wither on the ground.J 
 
 When Pausanias the king of Sparta was frequently brag- 
 ging of his performances, and bidding Simonides the lyric 
 poet in raillery to give him some wise precept, he, know- 
 ing the vain-glory of him that spoke, admonished him to 
 remember that he was a man. Philip the king of Mace- 
 don, when he had received three despatches of good news 
 at the same time, of which the first was that his chariots 
 
 Odyss. XVIII. 130. t D. VI. 146. 
 
 | II. XXI. 463.
 
 52 CONSOLATION TO APOLLON1US. 
 
 had won the victory in the Olympic games, the second, that 
 his general Parmenio had overcome the Dardanians in fight, 
 and the third, that his wife Olympias had brought him forth 
 an heir, lifting up his eyes to heaven, he passionately cried 
 out, Propitious Daemon ! let the affliction be moderate by 
 which thou intendest to be even with me for this compli- 
 cated happiness. Theramenes, one of the thirty tyrants 
 of Athens, when he alone was preserved from the ruins of 
 a house that fell upon the rest of his friends as they were 
 sitting at supper, and all came about him to congratulate 
 him on his escape, broke out in an emphatical accent, 
 Fortune ! for what calamity dost thou reserve me ? And 
 not long after, by the command of his fellow-tyrants, he was 
 tormented to death. 
 
 7. But Homer seems to indicate a particular praise to 
 himself, when he brings in Achilles speaking thus to 
 Priam, who was come forth to ransom the body of 
 Hector : 
 
 Rise then ; let reason mitigate oar care : 
 To mourn avails not : man is born to bear. 
 Such is, alas ! the Gods' severe decree : 
 They, only they, are blest, and only free. 
 Two urns by Jove's high throne have ever stood, 
 The source of evil one, and one of good ; 
 From thence the cup of mortal man he fills, 
 Blessings to these, to these distributes ills ; 
 To most he mingles both ; the wretch decreed 
 To taste the bad unmix'd is cursed indeed ; 
 Pursued by wrongs, by meagre famine driven, 
 He wanders, outcast both of earth and heaven.* 
 
 Hesiod, who was the next to Homer both in respect of 
 time and reputation, and who professed to be a disciple of 
 the Muses, fancied that all evils were shut up in a box, 
 and that Pandora opening it scattered all sorts of mischiefs 
 through both'the earth and seas : 
 
 The cover of the box she did remove, 
 
 And to fly out the crowding mischief strove ; 
 
 But slender hope upon the brims did stay, 
 
 11. XXIV. 622.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 53 
 
 Ready to vanish into air away ; 
 She with retrieve the haggard in did put, 
 And on the prisoner close the box did shut ; 
 But plagues innumerable abroad did fly, 
 Infecting all the earth, the seas, and sky. 
 Diseases now with silent feet do creep, 
 Torment us waking, and afflict our sleep. 
 These midnight evils steal without a noise, 
 For Jupiter deprived them of their voice.* 
 
 8. After these the comedian, talking of those who bear 
 afflictions uneasily, speaks consonantly to this purpose : 
 
 If we in wet complaints could quench our grief, 
 
 At any rate we'd purchase our relief; 
 
 With proffered gold would bribe off all our fears, 
 
 And make our eyes distil in precious tears. 
 
 But the Gods mind not mortals here below, 
 
 Nor the least thought on our affairs bestow ; 
 
 But with an unregarding air pass by, 
 
 Whether our cheeks be moist, or whether dry. 
 
 Unhappiness is always sorrow's root, 
 
 And tears do hang from them like crystal fruit. 
 
 And Dictys comforts Danae, who was bitterly taking on, 
 after this manner : 
 
 Dost think that thy repinings move the grave, 
 
 Or from its jaws thy dying son can save ? 
 
 If thou would'st lessen it, thy grief compare ; 
 
 Consider how unhappy others are ; 
 
 How many bonds of slavery do hold ; 
 
 How many of their children robbed grow old ; 
 
 How sudden Fate throws off th' usurped crown, 
 
 And in the dirt doth tread the tyrant down. 
 
 Let this with deep impression in thee sink, 
 
 And on these revolutions often think. t 
 
 He bids her consider the condition of those who have 
 suffered equal or greater afflictions, and by such a parallel 
 to comfort up her own distempered mind. 
 
 9. And here that opinion of Socrates comes in very perti- 
 nently, who thought that if all our misfortunes were laid 
 in one common heap, whence every one must take an equal 
 portion, most people would be contented to take their own 
 and depart. After this manner Antimachus the poet allayed 
 
 * * Hesiod, Works and Days, 94. t From the Danae of Euripides.
 
 54 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 his grief when he lost his wife Lyde, whom he tenderly 
 loved ; for he writ an elegy upon her, which he called by 
 her own name, and in it he numbered up all the calamities 
 which have befallen great men ; and so by the remembrance 
 of other men's sorrows he assuaged his own. By this it 
 may appear, that he who comforts another who is macerat- 
 ing himself with grief, and demonstrates to him, by reck- 
 oning up their several misfortunes, that he suffers nothing 
 but what is common to him with other men, takes the surest 
 way to lessen the opinion he had of his condition, and 
 brings him to believe that it is not altogether so bad as he 
 took it to be. 
 
 10. Aeschylus also doth justly reprimand those who 
 think death to be an evil, declaring after this manner : 
 
 Some as a thing injurious death do fly ; 
 But of all mischiefs 'tis the remedy. 
 
 And he who spoke thus very nicely imitated him : 
 
 Come, with impatience I expect thee, Death ; 
 And stop with thy obliging hand my breath : 
 To thee as a physician all resort, 
 And we through tempests sail into thy port. 
 
 And it is great to speak this sentence with courage : 
 
 Where is the slave who never fears to die ? * 
 
 Or this : 
 
 And shadows never scare me, thanks to hell. 
 
 But what is it at length in death, that is so grievous and 
 troublesome ? For I know not how it comes to pass that, 
 when it is so familiar and as it were related to us, it should 
 seem so terrible. How can it be rational to wonder, if that 
 cleaves asunder which is divisible, if that melts whose 
 nature is liquefaction, if that burns which is combustible, 
 and so, by a parity of reason, if that perisheth which by 
 nature is perishable ? For when is it that death is not in 
 us ? For, as Heraclitus saith, it is the same thing to be 
 
 From Euripides. %
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 55 
 
 dead and alive, asleep and awake, a young man and de- 
 crepit ; for these alternately are changed one into another. 
 For as a potter can form the shape of an animal out of his 
 clay and then as easily deface it, and can repeat this back- 
 wards and forwards as often as he pleaseth, so Nature too 
 out of the same materials fashioned first our grandfathers, 
 next our fathers, then us, and in process of time will en- 
 gender others, and again others upon these. For as the 
 flood of our generation glides on without any intermission 
 and will never stop, so in the other direction the stream 
 of our corruption flows eternally on, whether it be called 
 Acheron or Cocytus by the poets. So that the same cause 
 which first showed us the light of the sun carries us down 
 to infernal darkness. And in my mind, the air which en- 
 compasseth us seems to be a lively image of the thing ; for 
 it brings on the vicissitudes of night and day, life and 
 death, sleeping and waking. For this cause iUis that life 
 is called a fatal debt, which our fathers contracted and we 
 are bound to pay ; which is to be done calmly and without 
 any complaint, when the creditor demands it ; and by this 
 means we shall show ourselves men of sedate passions. 
 
 11. And I believe Nature, knowing the confusion and 
 shortness of our life, hath industriously concealed the end 
 of it from us, this making for our advantage. For if we 
 were sensible of it beforehand, some would pine away with 
 untimely sorrow, and would die before their death came. 
 For she saw the woes of this life, and with what a torrent 
 of cares it is overflowed, which if thou didst undertake 
 to number, thou wouldst grow angry with it, and confirm 
 that opinion which hath a vogue amongst some, that death 
 is more desirable than life. Simonides hath glossed upon 
 it after this manner : 
 
 Our time is of a short and tender length, 
 Cares we have many, and hut little strength ; 
 Labors in crowds push one another on, 
 And cruel destiny we cannot shun.
 
 56 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 The casting of these lots is verj just, 
 For good and bad lie in one common dust 
 
 Pindar hath it so : 
 
 The Gods unequal hare us mortals rexed, 
 For to one good, two evils are annexed : 
 They pay a single joy with double care, 
 And fools such dispensations cannot bear.* 
 
 Sophocles so : 
 
 Why at a mortal's death dost thou complain ? 
 Thou know'st not what may be his future gain. 
 
 And Euripides so : 
 
 Dost thou not know the state of human things ? 
 A faithful monitor thy instruction brings. 
 Inevitable death hangs o'er our head, 
 And threatens falling by a doubtful thread. 
 There's no man can be certain over night, 
 If he shall live to see to-morrow's light. 
 Life without any interruption flows, 
 And the results of fate there's no man knows. f 
 
 If then the condition of human life is such as they speak 
 of, why do we not rather applaud their good fortunes who 
 are freed from the drudgery of it, than pity and deplore 
 them, as some men's folly prompts them to do ? 
 
 12. Socrates said that death was like either to a very 
 deep sleep, or to a journey taken a great way and for a 
 long time, or else to the utter extinction of soul and body ; 
 and if we examine each of these comparisons, he said, we 
 shall find that death is not an evil upon any account. For 
 if death is sleep, and no hurt happens to those who are in 
 that innocent condition, it is manifest that neither are the 
 dead ill dealt with. To what purpose should I talk of that 
 which is so tritely known amongst all, that the most pro- 
 found sleep is always the sweetest ? Homer J particularly 
 attests it : % 
 
 Hit sense* all becalmed, he drew his breath, 
 His sleep was sound, and quiet like to death. 
 
 Pindar, Pyth. III. 145. t Eurip. Aloestis, 792. 
 
 J See Odyw. XIII. 80; and II. XIV. 231; XVI. 672; XI. 24L
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 57 
 
 And in many places he saith thus, 
 
 She met Death's brother, Sleep. 
 
 And again, 
 
 Twin brothers, Sleep and Death, 
 
 thereby representing the similitude "(as it were) to the 
 sight, for twins especially indicate similarity. And in 
 another place he saith, Death is brazen sleep, thereby 
 intimating to us that it is insensible. Neither hath he 
 spoken much amiss who calls sleep the lesser mysteries 
 of death ; for sleep is really the first initiation into the 
 mysteries of death. 
 
 Diogenes the Cynic, when a little before his death he fell 
 into a slumber, and his physician rousing him out of it 
 asked him whether any thing ailed him, wisely answered, 
 Nothing; sir, only one brother anticipates another, Sleep 
 before Death. 
 
 13. If death be like a journey, neither upon this account 
 is it an evil, but rather the contrary ; for certainly it is the 
 emphasis of happiness to be freed from the incumbrances 
 of the flesh and all those troublesome passions which attend 
 it, which serve only to darken the understanding, and over- 
 spread it with all the folly that is incident to human 
 nature. 
 
 " The very body," saith Plato, " procures us infinite dis- 
 quiet only to supply its daily necessities with food ; but if any 
 diseases are coincident, they hinder our contemplations, and 
 stop us in our researches after truth. Besides, it distracts 
 us with irregular desires, fears, and vain amours, setting 
 before us so many fantastic images of things, that the com- 
 mon saying is here most true, that on account of the body 
 we can never become wise. For wars, popular seditions, 
 and shedding of blood by the sword are owing to no other 
 original than this care of the body and gratifying its licen- 
 tious appetites ; for we fight only to get riches, and these
 
 58 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 we acquire only to please the body ; so that those who are 
 thus employed have not leisure to be philosophers. And 
 after all, when we have retrieved an interval of time to 
 seek after truth, the body officiously interrupts us, is so 
 troublesome and importune, that we can by no means dis- 
 cern its nature. Therefore it is evident that, if we will 
 clearly know any thing, we must divest ourselves of the 
 body, and behold things as they are in themselves with the 
 mind itself, that at last we may attain what we so much 
 desire, and what we do profess ourselves the most partial 
 admirers of, which is wisdom. And this we cannot con- 
 summately enjoy till after death, as reason teacheth us. 
 For if so be that we can understand nothing clearly as long 
 as we are clogged with flesh, one of these things must 
 needs be, either that we shall never arrive at that knowl- 
 edge at all, or only when we die ; for then the soul will 
 exist by itself, separate from the body ; and whilst we are 
 in this life, we shall make the nearest advances towards it, 
 if we have no more to do with the body than what decency 
 and necessity require, if we break off all commerce witli it, 
 and keep ourselves pure from its contagion, till God shall 
 give us a final release, and then being pure and freed from 
 all its follies, we shall converse (it is likely) with intelli- 
 gences as pure as ourselves, with our unaided vision be- 
 holding perfect purity, and this is truth itself. For it is 
 not fit that what is pure should be apprehended by what is 
 impure." * 
 
 Therefore, if death only transports us to another place, 
 it is not to be looked upon as an evil, but rather as an ex- 
 ceeding good, as Plato hath demonstrated. The words of 
 Socrates to his judges seem to me to be spoken even with 
 inspiration : " To fear death, gentlemen, is nothing else than 
 to counterfeit the being wise, whrn we are not so. For 
 he that fears death pretends to know what he is ignorant 
 
 Flat. Pbaed. pp. 66 B 67 B.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIU8. 59 
 
 of; for no man is certain whether death be not the greatest 
 good that can befall a man, but they positively dread it as 
 if they were sure it was the greatest of evils." Agreeably 
 to this said one after this manner : 
 
 Let no man fear what doth his labors end ; 
 
 and death sets us free even from the greatest evils. 
 
 14. The Gods themselves bear witness to the truth of 
 this, for many have obtained death as a gratuity from them. 
 The less famous instances I will pass by, that I may not be 
 prolix, and only mention those who are the most celebrated 
 and in all men's mouths. And in the first place, I will re- 
 late what befell Biton and Cleobis, two young men of 
 Argos. They report that their mother being the priestess 
 of Juno, and the time being come that she was to go up to 
 the temple to perform the rites of the Goddess, and those 
 whose office it was to draw her chariot tarrying longer than 
 usual, these two young men harnessed themselves and took 
 it up, and so carried their mother to the temple. She, be- 
 ing extremely taken with the piety of her sons, petitioned 
 the Goddess that she would bestow upon them the best 
 present that could be given to men ; accordingly she cast 
 them into that deep sleep out of which they never awoke, 
 taking this way to recompense their filial zeal with death. 
 Pindar writes of Agamedes and Trophonius, that after they 
 had built a temple at Delphi, they requested of Apollo a 
 reward for their work. It was answered them that they 
 should have it within seven days, but in the mean while 
 they were commanded to live freely and indulge their 
 genius ; accordingly they obeyed the dictate, and the 
 seventh night they died in their beds. It is said also of 
 Pindar, that when the deputies of the Boeotians were sent 
 to consult the oracle, he desired them to enquire of it 
 which was the best thing amongst men, and that the 
 Priestess of the tripod gave them this answer, that he
 
 60 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 could not be ignorant of it, if he was the author of those 
 writings concerning Agamedes and Trophonius ; but if he 
 desired personally to know, it should in a little time be 
 made manifest to him ; and that Pindar hearing this pre- 
 pared himself for the stroke of Fate, and died in a short 
 time after. Of Euthynous the Italian there is this memo- 
 rable story, that he died suddenly, without anybody's 
 knowing the cause of his death. His father was Elysius 
 the Terinean, who was a man of the first condition for his 
 estate and virtue, being rich and honorable, and this being 
 his only son and heir to all his fortune, which was very 
 great, he had a strong jealousy upon him that he was 
 poisoned, and not knowing how he should come to the in- 
 formation of it, he went into the vault where they invoke 
 the dead, and after having offered sacrifice, as it is enjoined 
 by the law, he slept in the place ; when all things were in 
 a midnight silence, he had this vision. His father appeared 
 to him, to whom after having related his lamentable mis- 
 fortune, he earnestly desired the ghost that he would assist 
 him in finding out the cause. He answered that he was 
 come on purpose to do it. But first, saith he, receive from 
 this one what he hath brought thee, and thereby thou wilt 
 understand the reason of all thy sorrow. The person that 
 the father meant was very like to Euthynous both for years 
 and stature ; and the question being put to him who he 
 was, he answered, I am the genius of thy son ; and at the 
 same time he reached out a book to him, which he opened 
 and found these verses written therein : 
 
 Tit ignorance makes wretched men to err ; 
 Fate did to happiness thy son prefer. 
 By destined death Euthynous seized we see ; 
 So 'twas the better both for him and thee. 
 
 These are the stories which the ancients tell us. 
 
 15. But lastly, if death be the entire dissipation of soul 
 and body (which was the third part of Socrates's compari-
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 61 
 
 son), even then it cannot be an evil. For this would 
 produce a privation of sense, and consequently a complete 
 freedom from all solicitude and care ; and if no good, so no 
 evil would befall us. For good and evil alike must by 
 nature inhere in that which has existence and essence ; 
 but to that which is nothing, and wholly abolished out of 
 the nature of things, neither of the two can belong. There- 
 fore, when men die, they return to the same condition they 
 were in before they were born. For as, before we came 
 into the world, we were neither -sensible of good nor afflict- 
 ed with evil, so it will be when we leave it ; and as those 
 things which preceded our birth did not concern us, so 
 neither will those things which are subsequent to our 
 death : 
 
 The dead secure from sorrow safe do lie, 
 'Tis the same thing not to be born and die.* 
 
 For it is the same state of existence after death as it was 
 before we were bom. Unless perhaps you will make a 
 difference between having no being at all and the utter ex- 
 tinction of it, after the same manner that you make a 
 distinction between an house and a garment after they are 
 ruined and worn out, and at the time before the one was 
 built and the other made. And if in this case there is no 
 difference, it is plain that there is none between the state be- 
 fore we were born and that after we are dead. It is elegantly 
 said by Arcesilaus, that death, which is called an evil, hath 
 this peculiarly distinct from all that are thought so, that 
 when it is present it gives us no disturbance, but when 
 remote and in expectation only, it is then that it afflicts us. 
 And indeed many out of the poorness of their spirit, having 
 entertained most injurious opinions of it, have died even 
 to prevent death. Epicharmus hath said excellently to this 
 purpose : " It was united, it is now dissolved ; it returns 
 back whence it came, earth to earth, the spirit to re- 
 
 * From Aeschylus.
 
 62 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 gions above. What in all this is grievous? Nothing at 
 all." But that which Cresphontes in Euripides saith of 
 Hercules, 
 
 For if he dwells below, beneath the earth, 
 
 With those whose life is gone, his strength is nought, 
 
 I would have changed into these words, 
 
 For if he dwells below, beneath the earth, 
 With those whose life is gone, his woes are o'er. 
 
 This Laconic too is very noble : 
 
 Others before and after us will be, 
 Whose age we're not permitted e'er to see. 
 
 And again : 
 
 These neither did live handsomely nor die, 
 Though both should have been done with decency. 
 
 But Euripides hath spoken incomparably well of those who 
 labor under daily indispositions : 
 
 I hate the man who studies to defeat 
 The power of death with artificial meat, 
 To baffle and prevent his fate does think, 
 And lengthens out his life with magic drink. 
 Whereas, when he a burden doth become, 
 Then he should die, because lie's troublesome. 
 Old age in modesty should then give place, 
 And so make way unto a brisker race.* 
 
 But Merope moved the passion of the theatre with these 
 masculine expressions : 
 
 My sons by death are ravished from my side, 
 And I'm a widow, who was once a bride. 
 I am not thus selected to be crossed, 
 Others their sons and husbands too have lost.t 
 
 And we may not incongruously add these : 
 
 What is become of that magnificence ? 
 Where is King Croesus with his opulence 1 
 Or where is Xerxes with his mighty pride, 
 Who with a bridge did curb the raging tide f 
 Inhabitants of darkness they became, 
 And now are living only in their fame. 
 
 Their riches have perished with their bodies. 
 
 Eurip. Suppliant*, 1109. t From the Cresphontes of Euripide*.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 63 
 
 16. Yes, we may say, but an untimely death from many 
 doth extort groans and passionate complaints. But the way 
 to dry up these sorrows is so expedite and easy, that every 
 vulgar poet hath prescribed it. Consider what consolation 
 a comedian puts in the mouth of one who comforts another 
 upon so sad an occasion : 
 
 If this with certainty thou could'st have known, 
 That Fortune always would have kindness shown. 
 That nothing but what's good would him befall, 
 His death thou justly might'st untimely call. 
 But if calamities were imminent, 
 And Death the fatal mischief did prevent, 
 To give to things the character that's due, 
 Death was the most obliging of the two. 
 
 It therefore being uncertain whether it was for his ad- 
 vantage that he departed this life and was freed from all 
 the miseries that attend it, we had thereby lost all that we 
 fancied we could enjoy in him whilst he was living. And 
 Amphiaraus in the poet doth not do amiss when he consoles 
 the mother of Archemorus, who was even sick with grief 
 for the untimely death of her infant son. He speaks : 
 
 There is no man whom sorrow doth not seize ; 
 Our children die while others we beget. 
 At last we die ourselves, and mortals grieve 
 As they give dust to dust; but human life 
 Must needs be reaped like a full crop of corn. 
 One man must live, another die : why weep 
 For this, which by necessity must be ? 
 There is no hardship in necessity.* 
 
 17. In general, every one should meditate seriously with 
 himself, and have the concurrence of other men's opinions 
 with his own, that it is not the longest life which is the best, 
 but that which is the most virtuous. For that musician is 
 not to be commended who plays upon variety of instruments, 
 nor that orator that makes multiplicity of speeches, nor the 
 pilot that conducts many ships, but he of each faculty that 
 doth one of them well ; for the beauty of a thing doth not 
 
 * From the Hypsipyle of Euripides.
 
 64 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 consist in length of time, but in the virtue and seasonable 
 moderation wherewith it is transacted. This is that which 
 is called happy and grateful to the Gods. And for this reason 
 it is that poets celebrate those who have died before they 
 have become old, and propose them for examples, as the most 
 excellent men and of divine extraction, as him for instance, 
 
 Beloved by Jore and him who gilds the skies, 
 Yet short his date of life.* 
 
 And we see in every thing that preference is not given 
 so much to age as to maturity. For amongst trees and 
 plants, those are accounted the most generous which bring 
 forth abundance of fruit, and that early ripe. And amongst 
 living creatures too, those are the most valued which supply 
 us with the accommodations of life in a short time. Be 
 sides, if we compare the space of our life with eternity, 
 we shall find no difference betwixt long and short; for 
 according to Simonides, thousands and millions of years are 
 but as a point to what is infinite, or rather the smallest part 
 of that point. They report that about Pontus there are 
 some creatures of such an extempore being that the whole 
 term of their life is confined within the space of a day ; 
 for they are brought forth in the morning, are in the prime 
 of their existence at noon, grow old at night, and then die. 
 Dost thou not think that if these had the soul and reason 
 of a man, they would be so affected, and that things would 
 happen to them after the same manner as to us? that 
 those who died before the meridian would be lamented 
 with tears and groans ? and that we should call them 
 happy who lived their day out? For the measure of a 
 man's life is the well spending of it, and not the length. 
 
 18. But such exclamations as this, " the young man ou^ht 
 not to be taken off so abruptly in the vigor of his years," 
 are very frivolous, and proceed from a great weakness of 
 mind ; for who is it that can say what a thing ought to be ? 
 
 OdjM. XV. 246.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLON1US. 65 
 
 But things have been, are, and will be done, which some- 
 body, or other will say ought not to be done. But we do 
 not come into this life to be dogmatical and prescribe to it ; 
 but we must obey the dictates of the Gods who govern the 
 world, and submit to the establishments of Fate and 
 Providence. 
 
 19. But when they mourn over those who die so untimely, 
 do they do it upon their own account, or upon that of the 
 deceased \ If upon their own, because they have lost that 
 pleasure they thought they should have enjoyed in them, or 
 are deprived of that profit they expected or that relief they 
 flattered themselves they should receive from them in their 
 old age, then self-love and personal interest prescribe the 
 measures of their sorrow ; so that upon the result they do 
 net love the dead so much as themselves and their own 
 interest. But if they lament upon the account of the de- 
 ceased, that is a grief easily to be shaken off, if they only 
 consider that by their very death they will be out of the 
 sphere of any evil that can reach them, and believe the 
 wise and ancient saying, that we should always augment 
 what is good, and extenuate the evil. Therefore if grief 
 is a good thing,- let us enlarge and make it as great as we 
 can ; but if it is numbered amongst the evils, as in truth it 
 ought to be, let us endeavor all we can to suppress it, make 
 it as inconsiderable as we can, and at last utterly efface it 
 How easy this is to be done, I will make appear by an il- 
 lustrious example of consolation. They say that an ancient 
 philosopher came to the Queen Arsinoe, who was then sor- 
 rowful for the death of her son, and discoursed her after 
 this manner : " At the time that Jupiter distributed hon- 
 ors amongst his under-deities, it happened that Grief was 
 absent ; but he came at last when all the dignities were 
 disposed of. and then desired that he might have some 
 share in the promotions. Jupiter, having no better vacan- 
 cies left, bestowed upon him sorrow and funeral tears." He
 
 66 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 made this inference from the story: "Therefore," saith 
 he, " as other daemons love and frequent those who give 
 them hospitable reception, so sadness will never come near 
 you, if you do not give it encouragement ; but if you 
 caress it with those particular honors which it challengeth 
 as its due, which are sighs and tears, it will have an unlucky 
 affection for you, and will always supply you with fresh 
 occasion that the observance may be continued." By this 
 plausible speech he seems in a wonderful manner to have 
 buoyed this great woman out of her tears, and to have made 
 her cast off her veil. 
 
 20. In short, I would ask the mourner whether he 
 designs to put an end to his grief, or to allow the anguish 
 to have the same duration with his life. If this thou hast 
 resolved, I must say thou hast cut out for thyself the most 
 bitter infelicity in the world, and all through the stupidity 
 and softness of thy mind ; but if thou wilt ever make a 
 change, why dost thou not make it now, and so free thyself 
 from misery ? Apply now the same reasons thou must use 
 u great while hence, to unburden thy mind and ease thy 
 afflictions ; and as in bodily distempers the quickest remedy 
 is the best, so bestow the advantage thou must otherwise 
 allow to time upon reason and instruction, and so cease to 
 l>r unhappy. 
 
 21. But it is objected, the calamity was sudden, and I did 
 not expect it. But thou oughtest to have done it, and con- 
 sidered the vanity and uncertainty of human affairs, that thy 
 enemies might not have come suddenly upon thee and taken 
 thee unawares. Theseus in Euripides seems to be excel- 
 lently well prepared for events of this nature, for he saith 
 thus : 
 
 Thii wholesome precept from the wise I learn, 
 To think of misery without conct-rn. 
 My meditating thought* are always spent 
 Either on death or else on banishment. 
 Foresight of evils doth employ my mind.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 67 
 
 That me without defence they may not find ; 
 And though in ambuscade the mischief lies, 
 Kill me it may, but shall not me surprise.* 
 
 But those who are of a degenerate and thoughtless spirit 
 never apply their mind to any thing that is either useful or 
 becoming ; but they grow exorbitant in their sorrows, and 
 afflict the innocent body, making it sick for company, as 
 Achaeus expresseth it. 
 
 22. Therefore Platof doth rightly instruct us to acqui- 
 esce in cases of this nature, when it is not manifest whether 
 they be good or evil, and when we get nothing by being 
 uneasy under them ; for grief is the greatest obstacle to 
 deliberation as to what is best to be done. Therefore he 
 commands us, as in the casting of dice, to accommodate 
 ourselves to what befalls us, in the way which reason shows 
 us to be best ; and whpn any thing ails us, not to imitate 
 the folly of children, who presently cry out and clap their 
 hands to the place affected, but to accustom our minds 
 to seek at once for remedies which may restore the part 
 that is diseased to its first tone of health, making lamenta- 
 tion give place to the healing art. He that instituted laws 
 for the Lycians commanded the citizens that when they 
 mourned they should. put on women's apparel, intimating 
 thereby that sorrow was an effeminate thing, and therefore 
 was not fit for men of temper and liberal education. For 
 it is indeed a weak and unmanly passion, and women are 
 more subject to it than men, the barbarians more than the 
 Greeks, and the dregs of mankind more than the refined 
 purt of them ; and even amongst the barbarians, the brave- 
 spirited Celts and Gauls have not a propensity to it, or any 
 that have generous sentiments ; but the Egyptians, the 
 Syrians, and the Lydians, and those who resemble them 
 in the softness of their disposition. They report that some 
 of these will hide themselves in retirements under ground, 
 
 * See the Latin version in Cicero, Tusc. IIL 14, 29. 
 t Plato, Kepub. X. p. 604 B.
 
 68 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 and refuse to behold that sun of which their lamented 
 friend is deprived. Ion, the tragedian, who heard some- 
 thing of this extravagance, introduceth a person speaking 
 after this manner : 
 
 Your blooming children's nurse, I have come forth 
 A suppliant from the caves where I have mourned. 
 
 Some of these barbarians have deformed their bodies by 
 cutting off their noses, ears, and other parts of themselves, 
 thinking to gratify the dead by these mutilations, when in 
 doing so they deviated excessively from that moderation 
 which Nature prescribes us. 
 
 23. And, by Jove, we meet with some persons who affirm 
 that the death of every one is not to be lamented, but only 
 of those who die untimely ; for they have not tasted of 
 those things which we call enjoyments in the world, as a 
 nuptial bed, proficiency in learning, the coming up to an 
 height in any thing, the honor of magistracy and charges 
 in the government. It is for the sake of these things that 
 we condole with those who lose friends by untimely death, 
 because they were frustrated of their hopes ; but in the 
 meanwhile we are ignorant that a sudden death doth not 
 at all differ from any other, considering the condition of 
 human nature. For as when*a journey is enjoined into a 
 remote country, and there is a necessity for every one to 
 undertake it. and none hath liberty to refuse, though some 
 go before and others follow, yet all must arrive at the same 
 stage at last ; so when we all lie under an obligation of 
 discharging the same debt, it is not material whether we 
 pay sooner or later. But if any one's death may be called 
 untimely, and consequently an evil, that appellation suits 
 only with that of children and infants, and especially of 
 those who are newly born. But this we bear steadfastly 
 and with patience ; but when those that are grown up die, 
 we take on heavily, because we fondly hoped that when 
 their years were full blown they would then have an unin-
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 69 
 
 terrupted state of health. Now if the age of man were 
 limited to the space of twenty years, we should not think 
 that he who had arrived to fifteen died an untimely death, 
 but that he had filled up a just measure of living ; but one 
 that had attained twenty, or at least had approached very 
 near it, we should applaud for his good fortune, as if he had 
 enjoyed the most happy and perfect life in the world. So 
 if life were prolonged to two hundred years as its fixed 
 period, and any one died at a hundred, we should howl 
 over him as if he had been hastily cut off. 
 
 24. It is manifest then, by what hath been said now and 
 what hath been mentioned before, that the death we call 
 untimely is capable of consolation ; and the saying is true, 
 that " Troilus wept less than Priam," * perishing as he did in 
 his youth, while his father's kingdom flourished and his 
 riches abounded, which Priam afterwards laments as most 
 deplorably lost For observe what he saith to his son 
 Hector, when he entreats him to decline the battle he was 
 going to fight against Achilles : 
 
 Yet shun Achilles ! enter yet the wall ; 
 And spare thyself, thy father, spare us all ! 
 Save thy dear life ; or, if a soul so brave 
 Neglect that thought, thy dearer glory save. 
 Pity, while yet I live, these silver hairs ; 
 While yet thy father feels the woes he bean, 
 Yet curst with sense ! a wretch whom in his rage 
 All trembling on the verge of helpless age 
 Great Jove has placed, sad spectacle of pain ! 
 The bitter dregs of Fortune's cup to drain : 
 To nil with scenes of death his closing eyes, 
 And number all his days by miseries ! 
 My heroes slain, my bridal bed o'erturn'd, 
 My daughters ravish'd, and my city burn'd, 
 My bleeding infants dash'd against the floor; 
 These I have yet to see, perhaps yet more I 
 Perhaps even I, reserv'd by angry Fate, 
 The last sad relic of my ruin'd state, 
 (Dire pomp of sovereign wretchedness !) must fall, 
 
 * Mriov Tpu&of e&uxpvaev % Hpittfiof is a saying of Callimachus, as we learn from 
 Cicero, Tusu. I. 39 : Quanquam uon male ait Callimachus, mulio saepius lacrimcutt 
 Priamum quam Troilum. (G.)
 
 70 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIDS. 
 
 And stain the pavement of my regal hall ; 
 Where famish M dogs, late guardians of my door, 
 Shall lick their mangled master's spatter'd gore. 
 But when the Fates, in fulness of their rage, 
 Spurn the hoar head of unresisting age, 
 In dust the reverend lineaments deform, 
 And pour to dogs the life-blood scarcely warm : 
 This, this is misery ! the last, the worst, 
 That man can feel, man, fated to be cursed ! 
 He said, and acting what no words can say, 
 Rent from his head the silver locks away. 
 With him the mournful mother bears a part ; 
 Yet all her sorrows turn not Hector's heart.* 
 
 Having then so many examples of this kind before thine 
 eyes, thou oughtest to make thyself sensible that not a few 
 have been saved by death from those calamities they would 
 certainly have fallen into had they lived longer. Content- 
 ing myself with those I have related already, 1 will omit 
 the rest, that I may not seem tedious ; and these are suffi- 
 cient to show that we ought not to abandon ourselves to 
 violent sorrow, beyond temper and the bounds of nature. 
 
 25. Grantor saith, To be innocent is the greatest comfort 
 in afflictions. I assent to him, and affirm that it is the 
 noblest remedy. Besides, the indication of our love to the 
 deceased consists not in grieving ourselves for him, but in 
 paying respect to his fame by honorable remembrance. 
 For no good man deserves elegies, but panegyrics ; and we 
 should rather celebrate his loss by an honorable remem- 
 brance, than lament it ; and offer up rather first-fruits of 
 joy to the Gods, and not tears which sorrow extorts from 
 us. For he who ceaseth to be amongst men becomes par- 
 taker of a divine life, is free from the servitude of the body, 
 and all those 'solicitous cares which they who are embar- 
 rassed with a mortal life of necessity must undergo till they 
 have finished the course which Providence hath marked 
 out for them ; and this life Nature hath not given us as a 
 perpetual possession, but hath clogged it with restrictions 
 
 and conditions of fate. 
 
 n. xxn. 66
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS.' 71 
 
 26. Those therefore who are the masters of their reason 
 ought not to be transported by the death of friends beyond 
 the limits of nature and a just moderation unto unprofit- 
 able and barbarous complaints, and so wait till that comes 
 upon them which hath happened to many, to have their 
 vital moisture exhausted before their tears, and to be car- 
 ried to their own graves in those mourning weeds they put 
 on for others, where their sorrow must lie buried with 
 those evils they provoked upon themselves by their own 
 imprudence. To whom that of Homer may be appositelv 
 applied : 
 
 Whilst others they lament with weeping eyes, 
 The darkness of the night doth them surprise.* 
 
 Wherefore in this case we should often thus reason with 
 ourselves : Shall we put an end to our sorrow, or shall we 
 grieve all the days of our life ? To make it infinite is the 
 last degree of infatuation ; for we have seen those who 
 have been in the deepest circumstances of dejection to be 
 so mitigated by time, that they have banqueted upon those 
 tombs which before they could not endure the sight of 
 without screeching out and beating their breasts, but which 
 they can now dance round with music and all the postures 
 of jollity. Therefore to be obstinate in our grief is the 
 resolution of madness. If then thou hast purposed within 
 thyself that it shall have an end, join this consideration 
 with it, that time will assuage it too ; for what is once 
 done even the Deity himself cannot unravel ; therefore that 
 which hath happened to us beyond our hope and contrary 
 to our opinion hath palpably shown us what is wont from 
 the same causes to befall others. What's the result then ? 
 Cannot any discipline teach us, nor cannot we reason with 
 ourselves, that 
 
 The earth with evils doth abound ; 
 As many in the sea are found ? t 
 
 * See n. XXIII. 109 ; Odyss. 1. 423. t Hesiod, Works and Days, 94.
 
 72 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS 
 
 And thus likewise : 
 
 The Fates hare so encompassed men with ill*, 
 That even the wind can find no entrance ? 
 
 27. For many, as Grantor tells us, and those very wise 
 men, not now but long ago have deplored the condition of 
 human nature, esteeming life a punishment, and to be born 
 a man the highest pitch of calamity ; this, Aristotle tells us, 
 Silenus declared when he was brought captive to Midas. 
 I think it best to quote the expressions of the philosopher 
 himself, in his book entitled Eudemus, or Of the Soul, 
 wherein he speaks after this manner : 
 
 " Wherefore, thou best and happiest of mankind, if we 
 think those blessed and happy who have departed this life, 
 then it is not only unlawful but even blasphemy to speak 
 any thing that is false or contumelious of them, since they 
 are now changed into a better and more refined nature. 
 And this my opinion is so old, that the original and author 
 of it is utterly unknown ; but it hath been derived down 
 to us even from eternity, so established is the truth of it. 
 Besides, thou seest what is so familiar in men's mouths, 
 and hath been for many years a trite expression. What is 
 that, saith he ? He answered him : It is best not to be 
 born at all ; and next to that, it is more eligible to die 
 than to live ; and this is confirmed even by divine testi- 
 mony. Pertinently to this they say that Midas, after 
 hunting, asked his captive Silenus somewhat urgently, 
 what was the most desirable thing amongst men. At first 
 he would return no answer, but was obstinately silent. At 
 last, when Midas would not give over importuning him, he 
 broke out into these words, though very unwillingly : 4 Thou 
 seed of an evil genius and precarious offspring of hard 
 fortune, whose life is but for a day, why dost thou compel 
 me to tell thee those things it is better thou wcrt ignorant 
 of ? For those live the least disturbed who know not their 
 misfortunes ; but for men, the best for them is not to be
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 73 
 
 born at all, nor to be made partakers of the most excellent 
 nature ; not to be is best for both sexes. This should 
 have the first plane in our choice ; and the next to this is, 
 when we are born, to die as soon as we can.' It is plain 
 therefore, that he declared the condition of the dead to be 
 better than that of the living." 
 
 I could bring millions of examples to justify this topic, 
 but I will not be long. 
 
 28. We are not therefore to lament those who die in 
 the bloom of their years, as if they were spoiled, of things 
 which we call enjoyments in a longer life ; for it is uncer- 
 tain, as we have often said, whether they are deprived of 
 good or evil, for the evil in the world far exceeds the good. 
 The good we obtain hardly and with anxious endeavor, but 
 the evil easily befalls us ; for they say evils are linked to- 
 gether, and by a mutual dependence of causes follow one 
 another, but the good lie scattered and disjoined, and with 
 great difficulty are brought within the compass of our life. 
 Therefore we seem to have forgot our condition ; for not 
 only is it true, as Euripides hath it, that 
 
 The tilings we do possess are not our own ; 
 
 but in general no man can claim a strict propriety in any 
 thing he hath : 
 
 When Gods do riches lend, it is but just 
 
 That when they please we should resign our trust. 
 
 "We ought not therefore to take it amiss if they demand 
 those things which they lent us only for a small time ; for 
 even your common brokers, unless they are unjust, will not 
 be displeased if they are called upon to refund their pawns, 
 and if one of them is not altogether so ready to deliver 
 them, thou mayst say to him without any injury, Hast thou 
 forgot that thou receivedst them upon the condition to re- 
 store them ? The same parity of reason holds amongst all 
 men. The Gods have put life into our hands by a fatal 
 
 * Eurip. Phoeniss. 556.
 
 74 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 necessity, and there is no prefixed time when what is so 
 deposited will be required of us, as the brokers know not 
 when their pawns will be demanded. If therefore any one 
 is angry when he is dying himself, or resents the death of 
 his children, is it not very plain, that he hath forgot that 
 he himself is a man and that he hath begotten children as 
 frail as himself? For a man that is in his wits cannot be 
 ignorant that he is a mortal creature, and born to this very 
 end that he must die. If Niobe, as it is in the fable, had 
 had this sentence always at hand, that she must at length 
 die, and could not 
 
 In the ever-flowering bloom of youth remain, 
 Nor loaded with children, like a fruitful tree, 
 Behold the sun's sweet light, 
 
 she would never have sunk to such a degree of desperation 
 as to desire to throw off her life to ease the burthen of her 
 sorrow, and call upon the Gods to hurry her into the ut- 
 most destruction. There are two sentences inscribed upon 
 the Delphic oracle, hugely accommodated to the usages of 
 man's life, KNOW THYSELF, and NOTHING TOO MUCH ; and upon 
 these all other precepts depend. And they themselves 
 accord and harmonize with each other, and each seems to 
 illustrate the energy of the other ; for in Know thyself is 
 included Nothing too much ; and so again in the latter is 
 comprised Know thyself. And Ion hath spoken of it 
 thus : 
 
 This sentence, Know thyself, ia but a word ; 
 But only Jove himself could do the thing. 
 
 And thus Pindar : 
 
 This sentence brief, Do nothing to excess, 
 Wise men have always praised exceedingly. 
 
 29. He therefore that hath these impressed upon his 
 mind as the precepts of the Pythian oracle, can easily 
 conform himself to all the affairs of life, and bear them 
 handsomely ; considering his nature, so that he is neither 
 lifted up to arrogance upon a prosperous event, nor when
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. . 75 
 
 an adverse happens, is dejected into complaint through 
 pusillanimity and that fear of death which is so congenial 
 to us ; both which proceed from the ignorance of those 
 things which fall out in human life by necessity and fatal 
 decree. The Pythagoreans speak handsomely to this pur- 
 pose : 
 
 Against those evils them shouldest not repine, 
 Which are inflicted by the powers divine. 
 
 Thus the tragedian Aeschylus : 
 
 He store of wisdom and of virtue hath, 
 
 Whom nothing from the Gods provokes to wrath. 
 
 Euripides thus : 
 
 He that is passive when the Fates command 
 Is wise, and all the Gods doth understand. 
 
 In another place so : 
 
 He that can bear those things which men befall, 
 Him wise and modest we may justly call. 
 
 30. But many there are who blame all things ; and 
 whatsoever unexpectedly happens to them, they think is 
 procured them by the malignity of Fortune and the spite 
 of some evil genius. Wherefore they are querulous and 
 cry out upon every occasion, inveighing against the bitter- 
 ness of their mishaps. Their complaints we may not 
 unfitly obviate with this expression, 
 
 The Gods do hurt thee not, but thou thyself, 
 
 even thou thyself through perverseness and want of good 
 instruction. And by reason of this false and deceiving 
 opinion they accuse any kind of death ; for if one die 
 upon his travel, they exclaim after this manner : 
 
 The wretch, his father being absent, dies; 
 Nor did his aged mother close his eyes.* 
 
 If he die in his own country, with his parents about 
 him, 'they lament that he is ravished out of their hands, 
 and hath left them nothing but regret for his loss. If he 
 
 * u. XL 452.
 
 76 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 die silent, giving them no instructions at parting, they 
 complain thus : 
 
 His tender dying words I did not hear, 
 Which I in ray remembrance still should bear.* 
 
 If he spoke any thing before he breathed out his soul, 
 they keep those last accents as fuel to maintain their 
 sorrow still kindled. If he die a sudden death, they cry 
 out that he is snatched away ; if chronical pains waste him, 
 they will tell you that the slow distemper hath emaciated 
 him to death. Thus every appearance, take it which way 
 you will, is sufficient to stir up your complaints. These 
 things the poets have introduced, and the chiefest among 
 them, Homer, who sung after this manner : 
 
 As a poor father, helpless and undone, 
 Mourns o'er the ashes of an only son, 
 Takes a sad pleasure the last bones to burn, 
 And pours in tears ere yet they close the urn.t 
 
 And whether these things are justly lamented doth not yet 
 appear. But see what he elsewhere sings : 
 
 Born in his elder years, his only boy, 
 Who was designed his riches to enjoy.) 
 
 31. Who knows but that the Deity, with a fatherly prov- 
 idence and out of tenderness to mankind, foreseeing what 
 would happen, hath taken some purposely out of this life 
 by an untimely death I So we should think that nothing 
 has befallen them which they should have sought to shun, 
 
 For nought that cometh by necessity is hard, || 
 
 neither of those things which fall out by a precedent 
 ratiocination or a subsequent. And many by a timely 
 death have been withdrawn from greater calamities ; so 
 that it hath been good for some never to have been born 
 at all ; for others, that as soon as life hath been blown in it 
 should be extinguished ; for some, that they should live a 
 little longer; and for others again, that they should be 
 
 II. XXIV. 744. t II. XXIII. 222; XVIL 37 
 
 t II. IX, 482. fl From Euripides.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 77 
 
 cropped in the prime of their youth. These several sorts 
 of deaths should be taken in good part, since Fate is 
 inevitable. Therefore it becomes men well educated to 
 consider that those who have paid their debt to mortality 
 have only gone before us a little time ; that the longest life 
 is but as a point in respect of eternity, and that many who 
 have indulged their sorrow to excess have themselves fol- 
 lowed in a small while those that they have lamented, 
 having reaped no profit out of their complaints, but mace- 
 rated themselves with voluntary afflictions. Since then 
 the time of our pilgrimage in this life is but short, we 
 ought not to consume ourselves with sordid grief, and so 
 render ourselves unhappy by afflicting our minds and 
 tormenting our bodies ; but we should endeavor after a 
 more manly and rational sort of life, and not associate our- 
 selves with those who will be companions in grief and by 
 flattering our tears will only excite them the more, but 
 rather with those who will diminish our grief by solemn 
 and generous consolation. And we ought to hear and 
 keep in our remembrance those words of Homer where- 
 with Hector answers Andromache, comforting her after 
 this manner : 
 
 Andromache, my soul's far better part, 
 Why with untimely sorrows heaves thy heart 1 
 No hostile hand can antedate my doom, 
 Till Fate condemns me to the silent tomb. 
 Fix'd is the term to all the race of earth, 
 And such the hard condition of our birth : 
 No force can then resist, no flight can save, 
 All sink alike, the fearful and the brave.* 
 
 Which the poet expresseth in another place thus : 
 
 The thread which at his birth for him was spun.f 
 
 32. Having these things fixed in our minds, all vain and 
 fruitless sorrow will be superseded ; the time that we have 
 all to live being but very short, we ought to spare and 
 
 II. VI. 486. t II. XX. 128.
 
 78 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 husband it, and not lay it out too prodigally upon sorrow, 
 but rather spend it in tranquillity, deserting the mournful 
 colors, and so take care of our own bodies, and consult the 
 safety of those who live with us. It is requisite that we 
 should call to mind what reasons we urged to our kinsmen 
 and friends when they were in the like calamities, when we 
 exhorted them to suffer these usual accidents of life with a 
 common patience, and bear mortal things with humanity ; 
 lest being prepared with instructions for other men's mis- 
 fortunes, we reap no benefit ourselves out of the remem- 
 brance of those consolations, and so do not cure our minds 
 by the sovereign application of reason. For in any thing 
 a delay is less dangerous than in sorrow ; and when by 
 every one it is so tritely said, that he that procrastinates in 
 an affair contests with destruction, I think the character 
 will more fitly sit upon him who defers the removing his 
 troubles and the perturbations of his mind. 
 
 33. We ought also to cast our eyes upon those conspic- 
 uous examples who have borne the deaths of their sons 
 generously and with a great spirit; such as were Anaxa- 
 goras of Clazomenae, Demosthenes of Athens, Dion of 
 Syracuse, King Antigonus, and many others who have lived 
 either in our times or in the memory of our fathers. They 
 report of Anaxagoras that, when he was reading natural 
 philosophy to his pupils and reasoning with them, sudden 
 news was brought him of the death of his son. He pres- 
 ently stopped short in his lecture, and said this to his 
 auditors, I knew that I begot my son mortal. And of 
 Pericles, who was surnamed Olympius for his wisdom and 
 the strength of his eloquence, when he heard Jthat both his 
 sons were dead, Paralus and Xanthippus, how he behaved 
 himself upon this accident Protagoras tells us in these 
 words. " When his sons," saith he, " being in the first ver- 
 dure of their youth and handsome lads, died within eight 
 days, he bore the calamity without any repining ; for he was
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 79 
 
 of a pacific temper, from whence there was every day an 
 accession of advantages towards the making him happy, the 
 being free from grief, and thereby acquiring a great repu- 
 tation amongst his fellow-citizens. For every one that saw 
 him bear this calamity with so brave a resolution thought 
 him magnanimous, and indeed entertained an higher opin- 
 ion of him than he strictly deserved ; fqr he was conscious 
 to himself of some weakness and defects in cases of this 
 nature." Now after he had received the news of the death 
 of his sons, he put on a garland according to the custom 
 of his country, and being clothed in white, he made an 
 harangue to the people, was the author of safe and rational 
 counsels, and stirred up the courage of his Athenians to 
 warlike expeditions. Chronicles tell us, that when an ex- 
 press came out of the field to Xenophon the Socratic as he 
 was sacrificing, which acquainted him that his son perished 
 in the fight, he pulled the garland from his head, and 
 enquired after what manner he fell ; and it being told 
 him that he died gallantly, making a great slaughter of 
 his enemies, after he had paused awhile to recollect his 
 thoughts and quiet his first emotion of concern with reason, 
 he adorned his head again, finished the sacrifice, and spoke 
 thus to the messengers : I did not make it my request to 
 the Gods, that my son might be immortal or long-lived, for 
 it is not manifest whether this was convenient for him or 
 not, but that he might have integrity in his principles and 
 be a lover of his country ; and now I have my desire. Dion 
 of Syracuse, as he was consulting with his friends concern- 
 ing some affairs, heard a great noise ; and crying out and 
 asking what was the matter, he was told the accident, that 
 his son was killed with a fall from the top of the house. 
 He was not at all surprised or astonished at the disaster, 
 but commanded the dead body to be delivered to the women, 
 that they might bury it according to custom. But he went 
 on with his first deliberations, and re-assumed his discourse
 
 80 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 in that part where this accident had broken it off. It is 
 sail that Demosthenes the orator imitated him upon the 
 loss of his only and dearest daughter ; about which Aes- 
 chines, thinking to upbraid him, spoke after this manner : 
 Within seven days after the death of his daughter, before 
 he had performed the decencies of sorrow, and paid those 
 common rites to tliQ memory of the deceased, he put on a 
 garland, clothed himself in white, and sacrificed, thereby 
 outraging decency, though he had lost his only daughter, 
 the one which had first called him father.* Thus did 
 Aeschines with the strokes of his oratory accuse Demos- 
 thenes, not knowing that he rather deserved a panegyric 
 upon this occasion, when he rejected his sorrow and pre- 
 ferred the love of his country to the tenderness and com- 
 passion he ought to have for his relations. King Antigonus, 
 when he heard the death of his son Alcyoneus who was 
 slain in battle, looking steadily upon the messengers of 
 these sad tidings, after a little interval of silence and with 
 a modest countenance, spoke thus : O Alcyoneus, thou 
 hast fallen later than I thought thou wouldst, so brisk wn-t 
 thou to run upon the thickest of thy enemies, having no 
 regard either to thy own safety or to my admonitions. 
 Every one praiseth these men for the bravery of their spirit, 
 but none can imitate what they have, done, through the 
 weakness of their minds which proceeds from want of 
 good instruction. But although there are many examples 
 extant, both in the Greek and Roman stories, of those who 
 have borne the death of their relations not only with de- 
 cency but courage, I think these that I have related to be 
 a sufficient motive to thee to keep tormenting grief at a 
 distance, and so ease thyself of that labor which hath no 
 profit in it and is all in vain. 
 
 34. For that virtuous men die in the prime of their 
 years by the kindness of the Gods, to whom they are pecu- 
 
 Aeschines against Ctesiphon, 77.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 81 
 
 liarly dear, I have already told thee in the former part of 
 my discourse, and will give a short hint of it now, bearing 
 witness to that which is so prettily said by Menander : 
 
 He whom the Gods do love dies young. 
 
 But perhaps, my dear Apollonius, thou wilt thus object 
 to 'me: My young Apollonius was blessed by fortune in 
 his life, and I ought first to have died that he might bury 
 me ; for this is according to nature. According to our 
 human nature, I confess ; but Providence hath other meas- 
 ures, and that supreme order which governs the world is 
 very different ; for thy son being now made happy, it was 
 not requisite according to nature that he should tarry in 
 this life longer than the time prefixed him, but that, having 
 consummated the term of his duration, he should perform 
 his fatal journey, Nature recalling him to herself. But he 
 died untimely, you may say. Upon that account he is the 
 happier, not having been sensible of those evils which are 
 incident to life. For Euripides said truly : 
 
 The time of being here we style amiss ; 
 We call it life, but truly labor 'tis. 
 
 Thy Apollonius died in the beautiful flower of his years, 
 a youth in all points perfect, who gained the love, and pro- 
 voked the emulation of all his contemporaries He was 
 dutiful to his father and mother, obliging to his domestics, 
 was a scholar, and (to comprehend all in a word) he was a 
 lover of mankind. He had a veneration for the old men 
 that were his friends, as if they had been his parents, had 
 an affection for his companions and equals, reverenced his 
 instructors, was hospitable and mild to his guests and 
 strangers, gracious to all, and beloved by all, as well 
 for his attractive countenance as for his lovely affability. 
 Therefore, being accompanied with the applauses of thy 
 piety and his own, he hath only made a digression from 
 this mortal life to eternity, as if he had withdrawn from the 
 entertainment before he grew absurd, and before the stag-
 
 82 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 Borings of drunkenness came upon him, which are incident 
 to a long old age. Now if the sayings of the old philoso- 
 phers and poets are true, as there is probability to think, 
 that honors and high seats of dignity are conferred upon 
 the righteous after they are departed this life, and if, as it 
 is said, a particular region is appointed for their souls to 
 dwell in, you ought to cherish very fair hopes that your 
 son stands numbered amongst those blest inhabitants. 
 
 35. Of the state of the pious after death, Pindar dis- 
 courseth after this manner : 
 
 There the sun shines with an unsullied light, 
 When all the world below is thick with night 
 There all the richly scented plants do grow, 
 And there the crimson-colored roses blow ; 
 Each flower blooming on its tender stalk, 
 And all these meadows are their evening walk. 
 There trees peculiarly delight the sense, 
 With their exhaled perfumes of frankincense. 
 The boughs their noble burdens cannot hold, 
 The weight must sink them when the fruit is gold. 
 Some do the horse unto the manege bring, 
 Others unto the tuneful lute do sing ; 
 There's plenty to excess of every thing. 
 The region always doth serene appear, 
 The sun and pious flames do make it clear, 
 Where fragrant gums do from the altars rise, 
 When to the Gods they offer sacrifice. 
 
 And proceeding farther, in another lamentation he spake 
 thus concerning the soul : 
 
 Just we that distribution may call, 
 Which to each man impartially doth fall. 
 It doth decide the dull contentious strife, 
 And easeth the calamities of life. 
 Death doth its efforts on the body spend ; 
 But the aspiring soul doth upwards tend. 
 Nothing can damp that bright and subtile flame, 
 Immortal as the Gods from whence it came. 
 But this sometimes a drowsy nap will take, 
 When all the other members are awake. 
 Fancy in various dreams doth to it show, 
 What punishments unto each crime is due ; 
 What pleasures are reserved for pious deeds, 
 And with what scourges the incestuous bleeds.
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLOXIUS. 83 
 
 36. Divine Plato hath spoken many things of the immor- 
 tality of the soul in that book which he calls his Phaedo ; 
 not a few in his Republic, his Menon, and his Gorgias ; 
 and hath some scattered expressions in the rest of his dia- 
 logues. The things which are written by him in his Dia- 
 logue concerning the Soul I will send you by themselves, 
 illustrated with my commentaries upon them, according to 
 your request. I will now only quote those which are op- 
 portune and to the present purpose, and they are the words 
 of Socrates to Callicles the Athenian, who was the compan- 
 ion and scholar of Gorgias the rhetorician. For so saith 
 Socrates in Plato : 
 
 " Hear then," saith he, " a most elegant story, which you, 
 1 fancy, will think to be a fable, but I take it to be a truth, 
 for the things which I shall tell you have nothing but real- 
 ity in them. Jupiter, Neptune, and Pluto, as Homer tells 
 us, divided amongst themselves the kingdom which they 
 received by inheritance from their father ; but there was a 
 law established concerning men in the reign of Saturn, 
 which was then valid and still remains in force amongst 
 the Gods, that that mortal which had led a just and pious 
 life should go, when he died, into the fortunate islands of 
 the blest, and there dwell in happiness, free from all mis- 
 ery ; but he that had lived impiously and in contempt of 
 the Gods should be shackled with vengeance, and be thrust 
 into that prison which they call Tartarus. In the time of 
 Saturn, and in the first beginning of Jove's empire, the 
 living judged the living, and that the same day that they 
 were to die ; whereupon the decisions of the bench were 
 not rightly managed. Therefore Pluto and his curators 
 under him came out of these fortunate islands, and com- 
 plained to Jupiter that men were sent to both places who 
 were not worthy. I, saith Jupiter, will take care that this 
 thing be not practised for the future ; for the reason that 
 the sentences are now unjustly passed is that the guilty come
 
 84 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 
 
 clothed to the tribunal, and whilst they are yet alive. For 
 some of profligate dispositions are yet palliated with a 
 beautiful outside, with riches, and titles of nobility ; and so 
 when they come to be arraigned, many will offer themselves 
 as witnesses to swear that they have lived very pious lives. 
 The judges are dazzled with these appearances, and they 
 sit upon them too in their robes ; so that their minds are 
 (as it were) covered and obscured with eyes and ears, and 
 indeed with the encumbrance of the whole body. The 
 judges and the prisoners being clothed is thus a very great 
 impediment. Therefore in the first place the foreknowl- 
 edge of death is to be taken away ; for now they see the 
 end of their line, and Prometheus has been commanded to 
 see that this be no longer allowed. Next they ought to be 
 divested of all dress and ornament, and come dead to the 
 tribunal. The judge himself is to be naked and dead too, 
 that with his own soul he may view the naked soul of cadi 
 one so soon as he is dead, when he is now forsaken of his 
 relations, and has left behind him all his gayeties in the 
 other world ; and so justice will be impartially pronounced. 
 Deliberating on this with myself before I received your 
 advice, I have constituted my sons judges, Minos and 
 Rhadamanthus from Asia, and Aeacus from Europe ; these 
 therefore, after they have departed this life, shall assume 
 their character, and exercise it in the field, and in the road 
 where two ways divide themselves, the one leading to the 
 fortunate islands, and the other to the deep abyss ; so 
 Rhadamanthus shall judge the Asians, and Aeacus the 
 Europeans. But to Minos I will grant the authority of a 
 final appeal, that if any thing hath escaped the notice of 
 the others, it shall be subjected to his cognizance, as to the 
 last resort of a supreme judge ; that so it may be rightly 
 decided what journey every one ought to take. These are 
 the things, Callicles, which I have heard and think to be 
 true ; and I draw this rational inference from them, that
 
 CONSOLATION TO APOLLONIUS. 85 
 
 death in my opinion is nothing else but the separation of 
 two things nearly united, which are soul and body " * 
 
 37. These collections, my dear Apollonius, I have joined 
 together with all the accuracy I could, and out of them com- 
 posed this consolatory letter I now send thee, which is very 
 necessary to dispel thy melancholy humor and put a period 
 to thy sighs. I have paid likewise that deference which 
 became me to the ashes of thy son, who is the darling of 
 the Gods, such an honor being most acceptable to those 
 whom fame hath consecrated to immortality. Thou wilt 
 therefore do handsomely to believe the reasons I have 
 urged to thee, and gratify thy deceased son, by shaking off 
 this unprofitable sorrow, which eats into thy mind and af- 
 flicts thy body, and again returning to that course of humor 
 which nature hath chalked out and the former customs of 
 thy life have made familiar to thee. For as, when thy son 
 lived amongst us, he could not without the deepest regret 
 see thee or his mother sad, so now that he is amongst the 
 Gods enjoying the intimacy of their conversation, such a 
 prospect from thence must be 'much more displeasing. 
 Therefore take up the resolutions of a good and generous 
 man and of one who loved his son, and so extricate thyself, 
 the mother of the lad, thy kinsmen and friends at once from 
 this great infelicity. Betake thyself to a more tranquil sort* 
 of life ; which, as it will be acceptable to thy son, will also 
 be extremely pleasing to all of us who have that concern 
 for thee that we ought to have. 
 
 Plat Gorg 523 A 524 B.
 
 OF LARGE ACQUAINTANCE ; OR, AN ESSAY TO PROVE 
 THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 
 
 1. MENON the Thessalian, a person who had no mean 
 opinion of his own parts, who thought himself well accom- 
 plished in all the arts of discourse and to have reached (as 
 Empedocles words it) the highest pitch of wisdom, was 
 asked by Socrates, What is virtue? And he answered 
 readily enough, and as impertinently, that there is one 
 virtue belonging to childhood, another to old age ; that 
 there are distinct virtues in men and women, magistrates 
 and private persons, masters and servants. Excellently 
 well ! replied Socrates in raillery, when you were asked 
 about one virtue, you have raised, as it were, a whole 
 swarm ; conjecturing, not without reason, that the man 
 therefore named many because he knew the nature of 
 none. And may not we ourselves expect and deserve as 
 justly to be scoffed and rallied, who having not yet con- 
 tracted one firm friendship seem nevertheless exceeding 
 cautious of too many? It is almost the same thing as if 
 one maimed and blind should appear solicitous lest like 
 Briareus he may chance to be furnished with a hundred 
 hands, and become all over eyes like Argus. However, 
 we cannot but extol the sense of that young man in Me- 
 nander the poet, who said that Ije counted every man 
 wonderfully honest and happy who had found even the 
 shadow of a friend.
 
 OF THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 87 
 
 2. But all the difficulty lies in finding him ; and the 
 chiefest reason is that, instead of one choice true friend, 
 nothing under a multitude will content us ; like women of 
 the town who admit the embraces of all gallants that 
 come, at the gay appearance of the last which comes we 
 neglect and slight the former, and so are unable to hold 
 them. Or rather, like the foster-child of Hypsipyle, who 
 " in a green meadow sat cropping the flowers one after 
 another, snatching each prize with delighted heart, in- 
 satiable in his childish joy," * so we of riper years, from 
 an inbred affection of novelty and disdain of things already 
 possessed, take up presently with the first promising aspect 
 of every fresh and new-blooming friend, and lay all at 
 once the foundations of several acquaintances ; but we 
 leave each unfinished, and when we have scarce fixed on 
 one, our love immediately palls there, while we passion- 
 ately pursue some other. 
 
 Wherefore, in this affair, to begin at the beginning 
 (at the domestic altar, as the saying is), let us ask the 
 opinion and counsel of our forefathers, and consider what 
 report the records of antiquity make concerning true 
 friends. They are, we find, always reckoned in pairs ; as 
 Theseus and Pirithous, Achilles and Patroclus, Orestes 
 and Pylades, Phintias and Damon, Epaminondas and 
 Pelopidas. Friendship (so to speak) is a creature sociable, 
 but affects not a herd or a flock ; and that we usually 
 esteem a friend another self, and call him m<rp<v (companion) 
 as much as to say moo? (the other one), is a convincing 
 argument that the number two is the adequate and com- 
 plete measure of friendship. And in truth, a great 
 
 * Elf rdv faifujva KaOioaf 
 tdpcirev irtpov 1$' irtpv 
 alpoftevof (iyprv/ia uvOiuv 
 
 From the Hypsipyle of Euripides.
 
 88 OF THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 
 
 number of friends or servants is not to be purchased at an 
 easy rate. That which procures love and friendship in the 
 world is a sweet and obliging temper of mind, a lively 
 readiness in doing good offices, together with a constant 
 habit of virtue ; than which qualifications nothing is more 
 rarely found in nature. Therefore to love and to be be- 
 loved much can have no place in a multitude ; but the 
 most eager affection, if divided among numerous objects, 
 like a river divided into several channels, must needs flow 
 at length very weak and languid. Upon this score, those 
 animals love their young most whrch generate but one ; 
 and Homer, describing a beloved child, calls it the only- 
 begotten and born in old age, that is, at such a time 
 when the parents neither have nor hope for another.* 
 
 3. Yet I do not assert we ought to confine ourselves to 
 one only friend ; but among the rest, there should be one 
 eminently so, like a well-beloved and only son, not casually 
 picked up at a tavern or eating-house or in a tennis-court, 
 nor at a game of hazard, nor at an accidental meeting in 
 the wrestling-place or the market, as is too common nowa- 
 days, but one chosen upon long and mature deliberation, 
 with whom (according to that celebrated proverb) we have 
 eaten a bushel of salt. 
 
 The palaces of noble men and princes appear guarded 
 with splendid retinues of diligent obsequious servants, and 
 every room is crowded with a throng of visitors, who 
 caress the great man with all the endearing gestures and 
 expressions that wit and breeding can invent ; and it may 
 be thought, I confess, at first sight, that such are very for- 
 tunate in having so many cordial, real friends at their com- 
 mand ; whereas it is all bare pageantry and show. Change 
 the scene, and you may observe a far greater number of 
 flies as industriously busy in their kitchens ; and as these 
 would vanish, were the dishes empty and clean, so neither 
 
 D. IX. 482.
 
 OF THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 89 
 
 would that other sort of insect pay any farther respect, 
 were nothing to be got by it. 
 
 There are chiefly these requisites to a true friendship: 
 virtue, as a thing lovely and desirable ; familiarity, as pleas- 
 ant ; and advantage, as necessary. For we must first choose 
 a friend upon a right judgment made of his excellent 
 qualities ; having chosen him, we must perceive a pleasure 
 in his conversation, and upon occasion he must be useful 
 to us in our concerns. All which (especially judgment in 
 our choice, the main point of all) are inconsistent with a 
 numerous acquaintance. 
 
 And first of all (to draw a parallel in other matters), if 
 there is no small time required to select a great many per- 
 sons together who can dance and sing in exact tim.e to the 
 same tune, manage oars with a like strength and vigor, be 
 fit stewards of our estates or tutors of our children, cer- 
 tainly we must acknowledge it much more difficult to meet 
 with a considerable number of friends, ready to enter with 
 us the trial of all manner of fortune, of whom every one 
 will 
 
 Of his good fortune yield thy part to tliee, 
 And bear like part of thy calamity. 
 
 Even a ship at sea runs not the risk of so many storms, 
 nor are any castles, forts, and havens secured with walls, 
 ramparts, and dams against the apprehension of so many 
 dangers, as are the misfortunes against which a constant 
 approved friendship mutually undertakes to afford a de- 
 fence and refuge. Whoever without due trial put them- 
 selves upon us for friends we examine as bad money ; and 
 the cheat being discovered, we are glad if of their own 
 accord they withdraw ; or if they persist, at least we wish 
 with great impatience fairly to get rid of them.* Yet we 
 must own it is a hard and troublesome task to cast off a dis- 
 agreeable acquaintance ; for as unwholesome meats which 
 
 * Sophocles, Frag. 778.
 
 90 OF THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 
 
 nauseate the stomach can neither be retained without haz- 
 ard of health, nor yet ejected sincere as they were taken, 
 but wholly disguised and defiled with other humors ; so a 
 mistaken false friend must either be still entertained, and 
 remain a mere vexation to us as well as uneasy to himself, 
 or else by a kind of convulsion be thrown up like bile, 
 leaving behind the continual torment of private grudgings 
 and hatred. 
 
 4. Therefore it highly concerns us not to be too rash in 
 fastening on the next that may accidentally offer, nor pres- 
 ently to affect every one that pretends to be fond of our 
 friendship. Let the search rather begin on our own part, 
 and our choice fix on those who approve themselves really 
 worthy of our respect. What is cheap and with ease ob- 
 tained is below our notice ; and we trample under foot 
 bushes and brambles that readily catch hold of us, while 
 we diligently clear our way to the vine and olive ; so it is 
 always best not to admit to our familiarity persons who 
 officiously stick and twist themselves about us, but we 
 ought rather of our own accord to court the friendship of 
 those who are worthy of our regard, and who prove ad- 
 vantageous to ourselves. 
 
 5. Therefore, as Zeuxis replied to some who blamed the 
 slowness of his pencil, that he therefore spent a long 
 time in painting, because he designed his work should last 
 for a long eternity, so he that would secure a lasting 
 friendship and acquaintance must first deliberately judge 
 and thoroughly try its worth, before he settles it. Suppose 
 then it is hard to make a right judgment in choosing many 
 friends together, it may still be asked whether we may not 
 maintain a familiarity with many persons, or whether that 
 too is impossible. Now familiarity and converse are the 
 genuine products and enjoyments of true friendship, and 
 the highest pleasure the best friends aim at is continual 
 intercourse and the daily frequenting one another's com- 
 pany.
 
 OF THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 91 
 
 No more shall meet Achilles and his friend ; 
 
 No more our thoughts to those we loved make known, 
 
 Or quit the dearest, to converse alone.* 
 
 And, as Menelaus says of Ulysses : 
 
 There with commutual zeal we both had strove 
 In acts of dear benevolence and love, 
 Brothers in peace, not rivals in command, 
 And death alone dissolved the friendly band.t 
 
 Now much acquaintance has a clear contrary effect ; and 
 whereas single friendship by kind discourses and good 
 offices cements, unites, and condenses as it were two par- 
 ties, 
 
 As when the fig-tree's juice curdles and binds white milk, J 
 
 as Empedocles says ; this on the other hand unties, rends, and 
 breaks the bond, distracts our inclinations with too much 
 variety ; and the agreeable just mixture of affection, the 
 very cement of true friends, is wholly lost in so loose and 
 confused a conversation. Hence at once arises great ine- 
 quality with respect to the services of friendship, and a 
 foolish diffidence in the performance of them. For multi- 
 plicity of friends renders those very parts of friendship 
 vain and useless whence advantage was most expected ; 
 neither can we hope it should be otherwise, if we consider 
 how " one man is acted upon by his nature and another by 
 his cares and anxieties." Nature hath not bestowed the 
 same inclinations on all, nor are we all born to the same 
 fortune ; and the occasions of our actions, like the wind, 
 may often favor one of our acquaintance while they stand 
 cross to another. 
 
 6. However, suppose by great chance all should agree 
 to crave assistance in the same affair, whether at a consult, 
 exercise of a public trust in the government, canvassing 
 for preferment, entertaining guests, or the like ; yet it is 
 exceeding hard to satisfy all. But now if they are engaged 
 in diverse concerns at the very same moment of time, and 
 
 II. XXIII. 77. t See Odyss. IV. 178. J See IL V. 902.
 
 92 OF THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 
 
 every one should make his particular request to you, one 
 to take a voyage with him, another to assist in pleading his 
 cause, a third to prosecute a criminal, a fourth to help in 
 managing his trade, another to celebrate his wedding, and 
 another to attend a funeral, 
 
 And the whole city's filled with incense smoke, 
 And songs of triumph mixt with groans resound ; * 
 
 I say, in this case, it is utterly impossible to answer the 
 requests of all, to gratify none is absurd, and to serve only 
 one and disoblige the rest is a thing grievous and intoler- 
 ably rude ; " for no one, when he loves a friend, will bear 
 to be neglected." t If indeed you could persuade that 
 inadvertency was the cause of the omission, you might 
 more easily hope a pardon ; and to plead forgetfulness is*a 
 sort of excuse which perhaps might pass without much 
 angering your friend ; but to allege 4i I could not be advo- 
 cate in your cause, being of counsel for another," or " I 
 could not visit you in a fever, because I was invited to a 
 feast elsewhere," while it is thus confessed that we neglect 
 one friend to pay our respects to another, is so far from 
 extenuating the offence, that it highly aggravates it, and 
 adds all the jealousies of rivalry. 
 
 But commonly men overlook these and such like incon- 
 veniences of a numerous acquaintance, and take only a 
 prospect of its advantages, not in the least reflecting that 
 whoever employs many assistants in his affairs must in 
 gratitude repay his service to as many when they need it ; 
 and as Briareus, who with his hundred hands was daily 
 obliged for his bare subsistence to feed fifty stomachs, could 
 thrive no better than ourselves, who supply a single one 
 with two hands, so a man of many friends cannot boast any 
 other privilege but that of being a slave to many, and of 
 sharing in all the business, cares, and disquiet that may 
 befall them. Nor can Euripides help him by advising that 
 
 Sophocles, Oed. Tyr. 4. t From Menander.
 
 OF THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 93 
 
 Best suited to the state 
 Of mortal life are mutual friendships formed 
 With moderation, such as take not root 
 Deep in the soul , affections that with ease 
 May be relaxed, or closer bound at will,* 
 
 that is, we may pull in and let out our friendships like a sail, 
 as the wind happens to blow. Let us rather, good Eurip- 
 ides, turn this saying of yours to enmity ; for heats and ani- 
 mosities ought to be moderate, and never reach the inmost 
 recesses of the soul ; hatred, anger, complaints, and jealousies 
 may with good reason be readily appeased and forgotten. 
 Therefore it is far more advisable, as Pythagoras directs, 
 "not to shake hands with too many," that is, not to make 
 many friends, nor to affect that popular kind of easiness 
 which courts and embraces every acquaintance that occurs, 
 but carries with it on the reverse a thousand mischiefs ; 
 among which (as was before hinted) to bear part of the 
 same cares, to be affected with the same sorrows, and to be 
 embroiled in the same enterprises and dangers with any 
 great number of friends will be a sort of life hardly toler- 
 able even to the most ingenuous and generous tempers. 
 What Chilon the wise man remarked to one who said he 
 had no enemies, namely, " Thou seemest rather to have no 
 friends," has a, great deal of truth; for enmities always 
 keep pace and are interwoven with friendships. 
 
 7. And it is impossible any should be friends that resent 
 not mutually the affronts and injuries offered unto either, 
 and that do not hate alike and in common. They also who 
 aue enemies to yourself will presently suspect and hate 
 your friend ; nay, your other friends too will often envy, 
 calumniate, and undermine him. Wherefore what the 
 oracle foretold Timesias concerning his planting a colony, 
 that an hive of bees should be changed into a nest of wasps, 
 may not impertinently be applied to those who seek after 
 a hive of friends, but light before they know it upon a 
 wasps-nest of enemies. 
 
 * Eurip. Hippol. 263.
 
 94 OP THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 
 
 Besides, we should do well to consider that the kindest 
 affections of friends seldom compensate for the misfortunes 
 that befall us from the malice of enemies. It is well known 
 how Alexander treated the familiars of Philotas and Par- 
 menio ; Dionysius, those of Dion ; Nero, those of Plautus ; 
 and Tiberius, those of Sejanus ; all shared the same hard 
 fate of being racked and tortured to death. For ,as the 
 gold and riches Creon's daughter was adorned with could 
 not secure the good old father from being consumed in her 
 flames, endeavoring too officiously to rescue her ; so not a 
 few partake of the calamities and ruin of their friends, 
 before they have reaped the least advantage from their pros- 
 perity ; a misfortune to which philosophers and the best- 
 natured men are the most liable. This was the case of 
 Theseus, who for the sake of his dear Pirithous shared his 
 punishment, and was bound with him in the same eternal 
 chains.* Thus .in the plague of Athens, says Thucydides,f 
 the most generous and virtuous citizens, while without 
 regard to their own safety they visited their sick, frequently 
 perished with their friends. 
 
 8. Such accidents as these ought to admonish us not to 
 be too prodigal of our virtue, nor inconsiderately to prosti- 
 tute our perfections to the enjoyment of every little thing 
 that pretends to be our humble admirer ; rather let us re- 
 serve them for the worthy, for those who can love and share 
 another's joys and sorrows like ourselves. And truly, this 
 alone renders it most unlikely that many men should remain 
 friends, that real friendship has always its origin from like- 
 ness. For, we may observe, even brute and inanimate 
 beings affect their like, very readily mixing and uniting 
 with those of their own nature ; while with great reluctance 
 and a kind of indignation they shrink from and avoid wliat- 
 cv< T differs from themselves, and force can scarce oblige 
 them to the loathed embraces. By what motive then can 
 
 Eurip. Pirith. Frag. 698. t Thucyd. II. 6L
 
 OF THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 95 
 
 we imagine any league of amity can be kept inviolable 
 amidst a multitude, where manners admit of so much vari- 
 ety, where desires and humors will be perpetually jarring, 
 where the several courses of life must needs be almost as 
 unlike as constitutions and faces 1 A musical concord con- 
 sists of contrary sounds, and a due composition of flat and 
 'sharp notes makes a delightful tune ; but as for friendship, 
 that is a sort of harmony all of a piece, and admits not the 
 least inequality, unlikeness, or discords of parts, but here 
 all discourses, opinions, inclinations, and designs serve one 
 common interest, as if several bodies were acted and in- 
 formed by the same soul. 
 
 9. Now is there any 'person living of that industrious, 
 pliant, and universal humor, who can take the pains exactly 
 to imitate all shapes, and will not rather deride the advice 
 of Theognis * as absurd and impossible, namely, to learn 
 the craft of the polypus, which puts on the hue of every 
 stone it sticks to 1 However, the changes of this fish are 
 only superficial, and the colors are produced in the skin, 
 which by its closeness or its laxity receives various impres- 
 sions from neighboring objects ; whereas the resemblance 
 betwixt friends must be far more than skin-deep, must be 
 substantial, such as may be traced in every action of their 
 lives, in all their affections, dispositions, words and pur- 
 poses, even to their most retired thoughts. To follow the 
 advice of Theognis would be a task worthy of a Proteus, 
 who was neither very fortunate nor very honest, but could 
 by enchantment transform himself in an instant from one 
 shape to another. Even so, he that entertains many friends 
 must be learned and bookish among the learned, go into 
 the arena with wrestlers, drudge cheerfully after a pack of 
 hounds with gentlemen that love hunting, drink with de- 
 bauchees, and sue for office with politicians ; in fine, he 
 must have no proper principles of actions and humors of 
 
 * Theognis, vs. 215.
 
 96 OF THE FOLLY OF SEEKING MANY FRIENDS. 
 
 his own, but those of the present company he converses 
 with. Thus, as the first matter of the philosophers is 
 originally without shape or color, yet being the subject of 
 all natural changes takes by its own inherent forces the 
 forms of fire, water, air, and solid earth ; so a person that 
 affects a numerous friendship must possess a mind full of 
 folds and windings, subject to many passions, inconstant as 
 water, and easy to be transformed into an infinite variety 
 of shapes. But real friendship requires a sedate, stable, 
 and unalterable temper ; so that it is a rare thing and next 
 a miracle to find a constant and sure friend.
 
 OF ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 1. ENVY and hatred are passions so like each other that 
 they are often taken for the same. And generally, vice has 
 (as it were) many hooks, whereby it gives unto those pas- 
 sions that hang thereto many opportunities to be twisted 
 and entangled with one another ; for as differing diseases 
 of the body agree in many like causes and effects, so do the 
 disturbances of the mind. He who is in prosperity is 
 equally an occasion of grief to the envious and to the mali- 
 cious man ; therefore we look upon benevolence, which is 
 a willing our neighbor's good, as an opposite to both envy 
 and hatred, and fancy these two to be the same because 
 they have a contrary purpose to that of love. But their 
 resemblances make them not so much one as their unlike- 
 ness makes them distinct. Therefore we endeavor to describe 
 each of them apart, beginning at the original of either 
 passion. 
 
 2. Hatred proceeds from an opinion that the person we 
 hate is evil, if not generally so, at least in particular to us. 
 For they who think themselves injured are apt to hate the 
 author of their wrong ; yea, even those who are reputed 
 injurious or malicious to others than ourselves we usually 
 nauseate and abhor. But envy has only one sort of object, 
 the felicity of others. Whence it becomes infinite, and, 
 like an evil or diseased eye, is offended with every thing 
 that is bright. On the other hand, hatred is always deter- 
 mined by the subject it adheres to.
 
 98 OF ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 3. Secondly, hatred maybe conceived even against brutes; 
 for there are some men who have an antipathy to cats or 
 beetles or toads or serpents. Germanicus could endure 
 neither the crowing nor the sight of a cock ; and the Per- 
 sian Magi were killers of mice, as creatures which they 
 both hated themselves and accounted odious to God. In 
 like manner also all the Arabians and Ethiopians abhor 
 them. But envy is purely a human passion, and directed 
 only against man. 
 
 4. Envy is not likely to be found among brutes, whose 
 fancies are not moved by the apprehensions of each other's 
 good or evil ; neither can they be spirited with the notions 
 of glorious or dishonorable, by which envy is chiefly stirred 
 up. Yet they have mutual hatred ; they kill each other, 
 and wage most incredible wars. The eagles and the 
 dragons fight, the crows and the owls, yea, the little tit- 
 mouse and linnet ; insomuch that it is said, the very blood 
 of these creatures, when slain, will by no means be mixed ; 
 but though you would temper them together, they will 
 immediately separate again. The lion also vehemently 
 hates the cock, and the elephant the hog ; but this proba- 
 bly proceeds from fear ; for what they fear, the same are 
 they inclined to hate. 
 
 We see then herein a great difference betwixt envy and 
 hate, that the one is natural to brutes, but they are not at 
 all capable of the other. 
 
 5. Further, envy is always unjust; for none wrong by 
 being happy, and upon this sole account they are envied. 
 Bat hatred is often just ; for there are some men so much 
 to be avoided and disliked, that we should judge those 
 worthy to be hated themselves who do not shun and detest 
 them. And of this it is no weak evidence, that many will 
 acknowledge they hate, but none will confess they envy ; 
 and hatred of the evil is registered amongst laudable 
 things.
 
 OF ENVY AND HATRED. 99 
 
 Therefore, as some were commending Charillus, the 
 nephew of Lycurgus and king of Sparta, for his univer- 
 sally mild and gentle disposition, How, answered his 
 colleague, can Charillus be a virtuous person, who is pleas- 
 ing even to the vicious ? So the poet too, when he had 
 variously and with an infinite curiosity described the defor- 
 mities of Thersites's body, easily couched all the baseness 
 of his manners in a word, 
 
 Most hateful to Achilles and Ulysses too ; 
 
 for to be an enemy to the good is the greatest extravagance 
 of vice. 
 
 Men will deny the envy ; and when it is alleged, will 
 feign a thousand excuses, pretending they were angry, or 
 that they feared or hated the person, cloaking envy with 
 the name of any passion they can think of, and concealing 
 it as the most loathsome sickness of the soul. 
 
 6. Moreover, these disturbances of the mind, like plants, 
 must be nourished and augmented by the same roots from 
 which they spring ; therefore hatred increases as the per- 
 sons hated grow worse, while envy swells bigger as the 
 envied rise higher in the true braveries of virtue. Upon 
 this consideration Themistocles, whilst he was yet young, 
 said that he had done nothing gallant, for he was not yet 
 envied. And we know that, as the cantharis is most busy 
 with ripe fruits and roses in their beauty, so envy is most 
 employed about the eminently good and those who are 
 glorious in their places and esteem. 
 
 Again, extreme badness makes hatred more vehement 
 and bitter. The Athenians therefore had so utter an ab- 
 horrence of those who accused Socrates, that they would 
 neither lend them fire, nor answer them any question, nor 
 wash with them in the same water, but commanded the 
 servants to pour it out as polluted ; till these sycophants,
 
 100 OF ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 no longer able to bear up under the pressure of this hatred, 
 put an end to their own lives. 
 
 Yet envy often gives place to the splendor of a matchless 
 prosperity. For it is not likely that any envied Alexander 
 or Cyrus, when they arrived at the height of their conquests 
 and became lords of all. But as the sun, where he passes 
 highest and sends down his beams most directly, has none 
 or very little shadow, so they who are exalted to the meri- 
 dian of fortune, shining aloof over the head of envy, have 
 scarce any thing of their brightness eclipsed, while envy 
 retires, being driven away by the brightness overspread- 
 ing it. 
 
 On the contrary, hatred is not vanquished by the great- 
 ness and glory of its objects. For though Alexander had 
 not one to envy him, yet he had many haters, by whose 
 treacheries at last he fell. So, on the other side, misfor- 
 tunes cause envy to cease, but take not enmity away ; for 
 men will be malicious even toward abject enemies, but none 
 envy the distressed. However, what was said by one of 
 our Sophists, that the envious are tenderly inclinable to 
 pity, is true ; and in this appears a great unlikeness of 
 these passions, that hatred leaves neither the happy nor 
 the miserable, but envy becomes languid when its object 
 has either prosperity or adversity in excess. 
 
 7. We shall better understand this from the poising 
 them together. 
 
 Men let go their enmity and hatred, when either they 
 are persuaded' they were not injured at all, or if they now 
 believe them to be good whom before they hated as evil, 
 or, lastly, when they are appeased by the insinuations of a 
 benefit received. For as Thucydides saith, A later service 
 or good turn, if it be done at the right moment, will take 
 away the ill resenting of a former fault, though this was 
 greater than the recompense.* 
 
 Thucyd. I. 42.
 
 OF ENVY AND HATRED. 
 
 Yet the first of these removes not envy, for men will 
 persist in this vice, though they know they are not wronged ; 
 and the two latter (the esteem or credit of a person, and 
 the bestowing a favor) do exasperate it more. For they 
 most envy the virtuous, as those who are in possession of 
 the chiefest good ; and when they receive a kindness from 
 any in prosperity, it is with reluctance, as though they 
 grudged them not only the power but the will of conferring 
 it ; the one of which comes from their happy fortune, the 
 other from their virtue. Both are good. Therefore envy 
 is an entirely distinct affection from hatred, since, as we see, 
 the very things that appease the one only rouse and exas- 
 perate the other. 
 
 8. Now let us consider a little the inclination and bent 
 of either passion. 
 
 The design of hatred is to endamage ; and hence they 
 define it, an insidious desire and purpose of doing hurt. 
 But envy aims not at this. Many envy their familiars and 
 kinsfolk, but have no thoughts of their ruin nor of so much 
 as bringing any troubles upon them ; only their felicity is 
 a burden. Though they will perhaps diminish their glory 
 and splendor what they can, yet they endeavor not their 
 utter subversion; being, as it were, content to pull down 
 so much only of an high stately house as hindered the 
 light and obscured them with too great a shade.
 
 HOW A MAN MAY INOFFENSIVELY PRAISE HIMSELF 
 WITHOUT BEING LIABLE TO ENVY. 
 
 1. HE that talks big and arrogantly of himself, Hercu- 
 lanus, is universally condemned as a troublesome and ill- 
 bred companion. But the most, even of those who in 
 words mightily declaim against him, seem to applaud him 
 in their actions. Euripides could say, 
 
 If speech grew scarce, and at great rates were sold. 
 Commend himself what lavish fellow would ? 
 But since the infinite treasure of the air 
 Praise gratis yields, none truth or falsehood spare ; 
 Suffering no damage, though they give their ware. 
 
 Yet he often brings in his heroes intolerably boasting, and 
 stuffs their most tragical adventures and passions with im- 
 proper discourses of themselves. So Pindar declares, 
 
 Unseasonably to glory 
 Makes harmony with fury ; 
 
 but he forbears not to extol his own raptures, which indeed, 
 by the confession of all men, are worthy of the noblest 
 praise. 
 
 But those who are crowned for mastery in the games or 
 in the learned combats have others to celebrate their vic- 
 tories, that the people's ears be not grated with the harsh 
 noises of self-applause. And Timotheus is justly censured 
 as unskilfully and irregularly setting forth his conquest of 
 
 Pindar, Olymp. IX. 68.
 
 HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF. 103 
 
 Phrynis, when he thus proudly boasted it in writing : Hap- 
 py man wast thou, Timotheus, when the crier proclaimed, 
 c The Milesian Timotheus hath vanquished the son of Carbo, 
 'the soft Ionian poet.' 
 
 It is true then, as Xenophon says, The most pleasant 
 sound that a man can hear is his own praise in another's 
 mouth ; but the most odious thing unto others is a man 
 commending himself. For we brand them as impudent 
 who commend themselves, it becoming them to be modest 
 though they were praised by others ; and we account them 
 unjust in arrogating that to themselves which another has 
 the sole propriety of bestowing on them. Besides, if we 
 then are silent, we seem either angry or envious ; but if 
 we second their discourse, we are presently entangled and 
 forced to contribute more than we intended, speaking to 
 men's faces what sounds well only behind their backs ; 
 and so we undertake rather the base work of drudging 
 flattery than any real offices of true honor. 
 
 2. Yet, however, there is a time when a statesman may 
 be the subject of his own discourse, and give a free rela- 
 tion of things he has worthily done or said, as well as 
 other truths ; taking care that it be not merely for favor 
 or reputation, but upon some emergent occasion, and espec- 
 ially, when the deeds achieved by him or the parts that be 
 in him be good and honest, then he is not to forbear and 
 say merely that he hath done so or else much like. There 
 is indeed a praise of this kind which bears very excellent and 
 lovely fruit, from whose seeds arise many of the same 
 species very much meliorated and improved. And there- 
 fore it is that the wise statesman seeks glory not as the 
 reward or solace of his virtue, nor embraces it merelv as 
 
 J 
 
 the companion of his achievements, but because the being 
 accounted an honorable person ami gallant man affords a 
 thousand opportunities of compassing many and more de- 
 sirable things. For it is easy and delightful to be of use
 
 104 HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF 
 
 to those who are apt to believe and love us ; whereas, if a 
 man lie under calumnies and suspicions, he cannot exert 
 his virtue to the benefit of others without committing a kind 
 of violence upon them. 
 
 There may also be more reasons than these, which we 
 must enquire into, that, while we endeavor to avert a frivo- 
 lous and nauseous applauding of ourselves, we chance not 
 to omit that sort which may be truly useful. 
 
 3. The praise therefore is vain which a man heaps on 
 himself to provoke others also to praise him, and is chiefly 
 contemptible, as proceeding from an importunate and un- 
 seasonable affectation of esteem. 
 
 For as they who are ready to die for food are compelled 
 against nature to gnaw off their own flesh, and thus put a 
 miserable end to their famine ; so they who mortally hun- 
 ger after praise, unless some one afford them a little scant- 
 ling alms of commendation, do violate the laws of decency, 
 shamelessly endeavoring to supply those wants by an un- 
 natural extolling of themselves. 
 
 But when they do not on the bare consideration of them- 
 selves hunt applause, but strive to obscure the worth of 
 others, by fighting against their praises and opposing their 
 own works and practices to theirs, they add to their vanity 
 an envious and abhorred baseness. He who thrusts his 
 foot into another's dance is stigmatized with a proverb as a 
 ridiculous and pragmatical clown ; but upon envy and jeal- 
 ousy to thrust ourselves between the praises of others, or 
 to interrupt the same with our own self praise, is a thing 
 that we ought equally to beware of. Neither should we 
 allow others to praise us at such a time, but frankly yield 
 the honor to those who are then celebrated, if their merit 
 be real ; and though the persons be vicious or unworthy, 
 yet must we not take from them by setting up ourselves ; 
 but rather on the other hand we must reprove the unskil- 
 ful applaudcrs, and demonstrate their encomiums to be
 
 WITHOUT BEING ENVIED. 105 
 
 improperly and dangerously conferred. It is plain that 
 these errors must be avoided. 
 
 4. But self-praise is not liable to disgrace or blame when 
 it is delicately handled by way of apology to remove a cal- 
 umny or accusation. Thus Pericles : But ye are angry at 
 me, a man inferior to none, whether it be in the understand 
 ing or interpreting of necessary things ; a man who am a 
 lover of my country, and above the meannesses of bribes. 
 For, in speaking with this gallantry of himself, he was not 
 only free from arrogance, vanity, and ambition, but he 
 demonstrated the greatness and spirit of that virtue which 
 could not be dejected itself, and even humbled and tamed 
 the haughtiness of envy. Such men as these will hardly 
 be condemned ; but those who would vote against them 
 are won over to their cause, do receive infinite satisfaction, 
 and are agreeably inspirited with this noble boasting, es- 
 pecially if that bravery be steady, and the ground firm on 
 which it stands. This history does frequently discover. 
 For, when the Theban generals accused Pelopidas and 
 Epaminondas that, the time for their office as Boeotarchs 
 being expired, they did not forthwith give up their power, 
 but made an incursion into Laconia and repaired and re- 
 peopled Messene, Pelopidas, submitting himself and making 
 many lowly entreaties, very hardly obtained his absolution ; 
 but Epaminondas loftily glorying in those actions, and at 
 last declaring he would willingly be put to death so that 
 they would set up his accusation, <; Epaminondas hath wasted 
 Laconia, hath settled Messene, and happily united Arcadia 
 into one state, against our will," they admired him, and 
 the citizens, wondering at the cheerful greatness of his 
 courage, dismissed him with unspeakable pleasantness and 
 satisfaction. 
 
 Therefore, when Agamemnon thus reproached Diomedes, 
 
 O son of Tydeus ! he whose itrength could tame 
 The bounding steeds, in arms a mighty name,
 
 106 HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF 
 
 Canst thou remote the mingling hosts descry, 
 With han Is inactive and a careless eye? 
 
 Sthenelus is not to be much condemned for saying, 
 
 Ourselves much greater than our ancestors 
 We boast;* 
 
 for Sthenelus had not been calumniated himself, but he 
 only patronized his abused friend ; and so the cause ex- 
 cused that freedom of speech, which seemed otherwise to 
 have something of the glorioso. 
 
 But Cicero's magnifying his diligence and prudence in 
 Catiline's trial was not very pleasing to the Romans ; yet 
 when Scipio said, they ought not to judge Scipio, who had 
 enstated them in the power of judging all men, they as 
 cended crowned to the Capitol, and sacrificed with him. 
 For Cicero was not necessitated to this, but merely spurred 
 by the desire of glory ; while the danger wherein Scipio 
 stood delivered him from envy. 
 
 5. Now talking after an high and glorious manner proves 
 advantageous, not only to persons in danger of the law or 
 such like eminent distress, but to those also who are clouded 
 in a dull series of misfortunes ; and that more properly 
 than when they appear splendid in the world. For what 
 addition can words make to those who already seem pos- 
 sessed of real glory, and do lie indulging and basking in 
 her beams 1 But those who at present are incapable of 
 ambition, if they express themselves loftily, seem only to 
 bear up against the storms of Fortune, to undergird the 
 greatness of their souls, and to shun that pity and commis- 
 eration which supposes^a shipwrecked and forlorn condition. 
 As therefore those who in walking affect a stiffness of body 
 and a stretched-out neck are accounted effeminate and fop- 
 pish, but are commended if in fencing and fighting they 
 keep themselves erect and steady ; so the man grappling 
 with ill fortune, if he raise himself to resist her, 
 
 IL IV. 870 and 405.
 
 WITHOUT BEING ENVIED. 107 
 
 Like some stout boxer, ready with his blow,* 
 
 and by a bravery of speech transform himself from abject 
 and miserable to bold and noble, is not to be censured as 
 obstinate and audacious, but honored as invincible and great. 
 So, although Homer described Patroclus in the happinesses 
 of his life as smooth and without envy, yet in death he 
 makes him have something of the bravo, and a soldier's 
 gallant roughness : 
 
 Had twenty mortals, each thy match in might, 
 Opposed me fairly, they had sunk in fight.t 
 
 So Phocion, though otherwise very mild, after the sen- 
 tence passed on him, showed the greatness of his mind in 
 many respects ; particularly to one of his fellow-sufferers, 
 who miserably cried out and bewailed his misfortune, What, 
 says he, is it not a pleasure to thee to die with Phocion 1 
 
 6. Further, a man of state has not less but greater lib- 
 erty to speak any thing of himself when his merits are 
 rewarded with injurious and unkind returns. Achilles 
 usually gave the Gods their glory, and spoke modestly in 
 this manner : 
 
 Whene'er, by Jove's decree, our conquering powers 
 Shall humble to the dust Troy's lofty towers. 
 
 But when he was unhandsomely reproached and aspersed 
 with contumelies, he added swelling words to his anger, 
 and these in his own applause : 
 
 I sacked twelve ample cities on the main ; 
 
 and also these : 
 
 It was not thus, when, at my sight amazed, 
 Troy saw and trembled, as this helmet blazed. | 
 
 For apologies claim a great liberty of speech and boasting, 
 as considerable parts of their defence. 
 
 Themistocles also, having been guilty of nothing dis- 
 
 Soph. Trachin. 442. t IL XVI. 847. 
 
 | II. I. 128; IX. 328; XVI. 70.
 
 108 HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF 
 
 tasteful either in his words or actions, yet perceiving the 
 Athenians glutted with him and beginning to neglect him, 
 forbore not to say : Why, O ye happy people, do ye weary 
 out yourselves by still receiving benefits from the same 
 hands! Upon every storm you fly to the same tree for 
 shelter ; yet, when it is fair again, you despoil it of its leaves 
 as you go away. 
 
 7. They therefore who are injured usually recount their 
 good actions to the ingrate. And, if they also praise those 
 excellences which others are pleased to condemn, they are 
 not only pardonable but altogether without blame. For it 
 is evident they do not reproach others, but apologize for 
 themselves. 
 
 This gave Demosthenes a glorious freedom, yet allayed 
 the offensive brightness of his own praises, which almost 
 everywhere shine through his whole Oration on the Crown, 
 in which he extols those embassies and decrees which were 
 so much objected against him. 
 
 8. Not much unlike this is the insinuating delicacy of an 
 antithesis, when a person, being accused for any thing as 
 a crime, demonstrates its opposite to be base and vicious. 
 So Lycurgus, being upbraided by the Athenians for stop- 
 ping a sycophant's mouth with money, said : And what kind 
 of citizen do you then take me to be, who, having so long 
 managed the affairs of the republic amongst you, am at last 
 found rather to have given than to have received money 
 unjustly] And Cicero, Metellus objecting he had cast 
 more by his evidence against them than ever he had ac- 
 quitted by his pleading for them, replies : Who therefore 
 will not freely declare that Cicero has more honesty and 
 faith than eloquence ? Many expressions of this nature 
 are in Demosthenes ; particularly, But who might not justly 
 have slain me, if I had endeavored in word only to sully 
 the honors and glorious titles which the city hath ? Or, 
 What, think you, would those vile fellows have said, if,
 
 WITHOUT BEING ENVIED. 109 
 
 whilst I had been curiously poring on other things, the 
 cities had rejected our alliance ? * And all his foremen- 
 tioned oration ingeniously dresses these antitheses and solu- 
 tions of cases with the subtle ornaments of his own praise. 
 
 9. But this may very profitably be learned therein, that, 
 delicately tempering the encomiums of his auditors with 
 the things relating to himself, he secures himself from 
 being liable to envy, nor becomes suspected of self-love. 
 There he relates in what manner the Athenians behaved 
 themselves to the Euboeans, in what manner to the T he- 
 bans, and what benefits they conferred upon those of 
 Byzantium and Chersonesus ; in all which he confesses his 
 part was only that of their minister or steward. Thus by 
 a rhetorical deceit, he finely and insensibly instils his own 
 praises into his hearers, who pleasingly hang upon his 
 words, and rejoice at the commemoration of those worthy 
 deeds. Now this joy is immediately seconded by admira- 
 tion, and admiration is succeeded by a liking and love of 
 that person who so wisely administered the affairs. This 
 Epaminondas seems to have considered, when reviled by 
 Meneclidas, as though he had an higher opinion of him- 
 self than ever Agamemnon had. If it be so, says he, 
 Thebans, 'tis you have puffed me up ; you, by whose help 
 alone I overthrew the Lacedaemonian empire in one day. 
 
 10. But since for the most part men are exceedingly 
 displeased with those who are the trumpeters of their own 
 fame, but if they sound forth another's, are delighted and 
 give them cheerful acclamations ; it is hence grown a fre- 
 quent custom amongst orators, by a seasonable extolling 
 those who have like purposes, actions, and manner of 
 life with theirs, to assure and wheedle over the auditory 
 to themselves. For the hearers know that, though the 
 panegyrist solemnizes another's worth, he has yet the same 
 endowments of virtue, so that his encomiums will redound 
 
 * Demosthenes on the Crown, p. 200, 1 ; p. 307, 9.
 
 110 HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF 
 
 to himself. For as he who reproaches any man for 
 faults of which he himself is guilty cannot but perceive 
 he principally upbraids himself, so the virtuous, by giving 
 applauses to the virtuous, offer their own praises to the 
 apprehensive, who will presently cry out, And are not you 
 one of these 1 Therefore Alexander honoring Hercules, 
 and Androcottus again honoring Alexander, in effect pro- 
 posed themselves to be in like manner honored by 
 others. So Dionysius scoffing Gelon, and calling him the 
 Gelos (or laughing-stock) of Sicily, was not aware that 
 through envy he had happened to infringe the greatness 
 of his own authority and power. 
 
 11. These things the man of state must know and ob- 
 serve. Now those who are forced upon their own praises 
 are the more excusable, if they arrogate not the causes 
 wholly to themselves, but ascribe them hi part to Fortune 
 and in part to God. Achilles therefore said : 
 
 Since now at length the powerful will of heaven 
 The dire destroyer to our arm has given.* 
 
 And Timoleon did well, who erected a fane to Fortune, 
 and dedicated his house to the Good Genius, to whom he 
 referred the felicity of his attempts. But best of all, Py- 
 thon of Aenos, after he had slain Cotys, coming to Athens 
 and perceiving the orators very busy in applauding him to 
 the people, which displeased many and stirred them up 
 to envy, thus speaks : These things, ye Athenians, some of 
 the Gods have done ; our hands were only the instruments 
 of their work. Sylla also prevented envy by perpetually 
 I>i,iising Fortune, not his own prowess; and at last sur- 
 named himself Epaphroditus, in acknowledgment that his 
 success proceeded from the care of Venus. For men will 
 more readily impute a defeat to chance or the pleasure of 
 some God than to the virtue of the conqueror ; for the one 
 they think to be a good not pertinent to the conqueror, but 
 
 * II. XXll. 879.
 
 WITHOUT BEING ENVIED. 
 
 the other to be a proper defect of their own, which pro- 
 ceedeth from themselves. The laws therefore of Zaleucus 
 were received by the Locrians with the more willingness 
 and delight, because he had told them Minerva constantly 
 appeared to him and dictated and instructed him in those 
 laws, and that they were none of them his own inventions. 
 12. This kind of excuses may be framed as convenient 
 remedies or preventions when we have to do with persons 
 of a ditlicult or envious humor. But it is not amiss to use 
 some little revocations or corrections of what may seem 
 spoken to our praise, before those who are of a sedate and 
 composed temper. If any commend us as those who have 
 learning, riches, or authority, we should hinder them from 
 choosing such topics, and rather desire of them, if they 
 can, to take notice of us as innocent, good, and useful. 
 Thus we do not so much confer as transfer praises, and 
 seem not to be puffed up with our applauders, but rather 
 to be offended that they have not praised conveniently and 
 for truly meritorious things. We hide also inferior with 
 better qualifications ; yet not as desiring to be commended, 
 but as teaching to commend aright. Such forms as these 
 may be referred hither : It is true, I have not walled the 
 city with stones or brick ; but if you will view my fortifi- 
 cations, you shall find armor, and horses, and confederates.* 
 But more apt is that of Pericles. When his friends be- 
 wailed him in the extremities of death, they put him in 
 mind of his authority and the great offices he had dis- 
 charged, as also what victories, trophies, and cities he had 
 left the Athenians ; but he, raising himself a little, reproved 
 them as fixing only upon common encomiums, and en- 
 larging rather on those of fortune than on those of virtue, 
 whereas they neglected the greatest matter, which was 
 more peculiar to himself, that he had never been the 
 occasion of any Athenian's wearing black. And hence 
 
 * Demosthenes on the Crown, p. 325, 22.
 
 112 HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF 
 
 the orator may learn, if he be a good man, to transfer the 
 eulogiums of his eloquence to his virtuous life and man- 
 ners ; and the commander who is admired and applauded 
 for his conduct and happy fortune in the wars may freely 
 propose his clemency or, justice as more worthy to be 
 praised. Nay, further, it becomes even an emperor, upon 
 a profusion of such glutting praises as flatterers are com- 
 monly guilty of, to say something of this nature : 
 
 No God am I. Why do ye equal me 
 Thus to th' immortal powers.* 
 
 If you know me well, let my justice or temperance, my 
 equanimity or humanity, be rather spoken of. For even 
 envy herself can easily concede the lesser honors to him 
 who refuses the greater ; nor will it rob any of true en- 
 comiums, not to expect false and vain ones. Therefore 
 several princes, who permitted not themselves to be called 
 Gods or the offspring of the Gods, have yet assumed the 
 titles Philadelphus, Philometor, Evergetes, or Theophilus ; 
 and were never offended when they were honored with 
 those glorious yet human appellations. 
 
 Again, they who in their writings and sayings are abso- 
 lute votaries to wisdom by no means will be called coyoi (or 
 wise men), but can presently swallow the epithet of philos- 
 ophers (or lovers of wisdom), or that of proficients, or any 
 other easy name which sounds not big nor exposes them to 
 envy ; and so they beget and preserve a good esteem. But 
 your rhetorical sophisters, whilst in their orations they 
 gape for the extraordinary acclamations of divine, angel- 
 ical, wonderful, lose even those common ones of manly or 
 pretty well. 
 
 13. Now as skilful painters, that they may not offend 
 those that have weak eyes, allay their over-bright and 
 gaudy colors by tempering them with darker ; so there are 
 some who will not represent their own praises altogether 
 
 Odyw. XVL 187.
 
 WITHOUT BEING ENVIED. 113 
 
 glaring and immoderately splendid, but cast 'in some de- 
 fects, some scapes or slight faults, to take away the danger 
 of displeasure or envy. Epeus intolerably brags of his 
 skill in boxing, 
 
 I'll crush my adversary's body, break his bones ; 
 
 yet he would seem to qualify all with this, 
 
 Is 't not enough that I'm in fight unskilled ? * 
 
 But, to say truth, to excuse his arrogance with so base a 
 confession is ridiculous. He then who would be an exact 
 man corrects himself for his forgetfulness, ignorance, am- 
 bition, or eagerness for certain knowledge and discourses. 
 So does Ulysses when he says of the Sirens, 
 
 Thus the sweet charmers warbled o'er the main , 
 My soul takes wing to meet the heavenly strain ; 
 I give the sign, and struggle to be free ; 
 
 and again, when he sang of his visit to the Cyclops, 
 
 Their wholesome counsel rashly I declined, 
 Curious to view the man of monstrous kind, 
 And try what social rites a savage lends.t 
 
 And for the most part it is a good antidote against envy, 
 to mix amongst our praises those faults that are not al- 
 together ungenerous and base. Therefore many temper 
 them not only with confessions of poverty or unskilfulness, 
 but even of vile descent. So Agathocles, carousing amongst 
 the Sicilian youth in golden bowls very curiously wrought, 
 commanded earthen pots to be brought in. See (says he) 
 what diligence, laboriousness, and fortitude can do ! Once 
 we made muggen jugs, but now vessels of gold. For his 
 original was so mean and contemptible, that it was thought 
 he had served in a potter's shop who at last governed 
 almost all Sicily. 
 
 14. These are the outward preventions or remedies 
 against diseases that may arise from the speaking of one's 
 
 II. XXIII. 673 and 670. t Odyss. XII. 192 ; IX. 228.
 
 114 HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF 
 
 self. There are some others inward, which Cato has re- 
 course to when he tells us he was envied for neglecting 
 his domestic affairs and being vigilant whole nights in those 
 of his country. So with this : 
 
 How shall I boast, who grew so easily, 
 
 Though mustered 'mongst the common soldiery ; 
 
 Great in my fortune as the bravest be 1 
 
 And this : 
 
 But I am loath to lose past labor's gains ; 
 Nor will retreat from a fresh troop of pains.* 
 
 For as they who obtain great possessions of houses or 
 lands gratis and with little difficulty are under the eye of 
 envy, but not if their purchases were troublesome and dear, 
 so it is with them who arrive at honor and applause. 
 
 15. Well then, since it is evident we may praise our- 
 selves not only inoffensively and without being liable to 
 envy, but with great advantage too ; that we may seem not 
 to do this for itself, but for a further and better end, first 
 consider whether it may prove for the instruction of the 
 company, by exciting them to a virtuous emulation. For 
 so Nestor's relation of his own achievements inflamed 
 Patroclus and nine others with a vehement desire of single 
 combat ; and we know the counsel that brings persuasive 
 deeds as well as words, a lively exemplar, and an imme- 
 diate familiar incentive, insouls a man with courage, 
 moves, yea, vehemently spurs him up to such a resolution 
 of mind as cannot doubt the possibility and success of 
 the attempt. This was the reason of that chorus in Lace- 
 daemon consisting of boys, young men, and old men, which 
 thus sang in parts : 
 
 OLD MKX. Once we were young, and bold and strong. 
 
 BOYS. And we shall be no less ere long. 
 
 YODNO ME*. We now are such ; behold us, if you will.t 
 
 Well and politicly in this public entertainment did the 
 legislator propose to the youth obvious and domestic ex 
 
 From the Philoctetes of Euripides, Frag. 785 and 787. t See Vol. 1. p. 91.
 
 WITHOUT BEING ENVIED. 115 
 
 amples of such as had already performed the things he 
 exhorted them to. 
 
 16. Moreover, it is not only available for the exciting of 
 a generous emulation, but sometimes requisite for the 
 silencing and taming an insolent and audacious man, to 
 talk a little gloriously of one's self. As Nestor in this : 
 
 I have conversed with men more gallant far 
 
 Than you ; much your superiors they in all things were, 
 
 Nor did they ever to contemn me dare.* 
 
 And Aristotle writes to Alexander, that not only those 
 who have mighty empires may think highly of themselves, 
 but they also who have worthy thoughts and notions of the 
 Gods. Such a remark as this is also profitable against 
 enemies, and recalls the spirits : 
 
 Weak sons of misery our strength oppose.t 
 
 And such a reflection as that of Agesilaus, who said 
 concerning the king of Persia, when he heard him called 
 the Great : And who is greater than I, unless he be more 
 just? So Epaminondas answered the Lacedaemonians, 
 when they had spun out a long accusation against the 
 Thebans : I see then we have forced you out of your wonted 
 humor of short speech. 
 
 The like to these are proper against adversaries ; but 
 amongst our friends and fellow-citizens a seasonable glory- 
 ing is good not only to humble ,and throw down their 
 haughtiness, but if they be fearful or astonished, to fetch 
 back their courage and teach them to rally up themselves 
 again. Therefore Cyrus in perils and battles talked at a 
 thundering rate, but otherwise was mild and gentle in dis- 
 course. And Antigonus the Second generally was modest 
 and free from blustering ; but at the sea-fight at Cos, 
 one of his friends saying, See you not how much greater 
 the number of the enemy's ships is than ours ? he answers, 
 And for how many ships dost thou reckon me ? 
 
 * II. I. 260. t II. VL 127.
 
 116 HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF 
 
 This Homer seems to have considered, who makes 
 Ulysses, when his friends were dismayed at the noise and 
 horrible waves of Charybdis, immind them of his former 
 stratagems and valor : 
 
 O friends ! O often tried in adverse storms 1 
 With ills familiar in more dreadful forms 1 
 Deep in the dire Cyclopean den you lay, 
 Yet safe retum'd, Ulysses led the way.* 
 
 For this kind of praise is not such as the haranguers to 
 the people or sophistical beggars use, nor those who affect 
 popular humming and applause ; but a necessary pledge 
 of that courage and conduct which must be given to 
 hearten up our friends. For we know that opinion and 
 confidence in him whom we esteem endued with the forti- 
 tude and experience of a complete captain is, in the crisis 
 of a battle, no small advantage to the obtaining of the 
 day. 
 
 17. We have before declared the opposing of himself to 
 the reputation and credit of another to be altogether unbe- 
 fitting a worthy man ; but where a vicious praise becomes 
 hurtful and corruptive, creating an earnestness after evil 
 things or an evil purpose in great matters, it is not un- 
 profitable to refuse it ; but it becomes us to direct the 
 minds of the company towards better sentiments of things, 
 showing them the difference. For certainly any one will 
 be pleased when he see's many voluntarily abstaining from 
 the vices they heard cried down and reproved ; but if base- 
 ness be well accounted of, and honor be made to attend on 
 him who pursues pleasure or avarice, where is the nature 
 so happily strong that can resist, much less conquer, the 
 temptation 1 Therefore a generous and discreet person 
 must set himself against the praises, not of evil men, but 
 of evil actions ; for this kind of commendation perverts 
 the judgments of men, and miserably leads them to imitate 
 
 Odyss. XII. 209.
 
 WITHOUT BEING ENVIED. 117 
 
 and emulate unworthy practices as laudable. But they 
 may be easily bewrayed by confronting them with opposite 
 truths. Theodorus the tragedian is reported to have said 
 to Satyrus the comedian, It is not so wonderful an art to 
 move the theatre's laughter as to force its tears. But if 
 some philosopher should have retorted, Aye ; but, friend, 
 it is not so fit and seemly to make men weep, as to remove 
 and free them from their sorrows, it is likely by this odd 
 way ot commending himself he would have delighted his 
 hearer, and endeavored to alter or secure his judgment. 
 So Zeno knew how to speak for himself, when the great 
 number of Theophrastus's scholars was opposed to the 
 fewness of his, saying, His chorus is indeed greater than 
 mine, but mine is sweeter. And Phocion, while Leosthenes 
 yet prospered, being asked by the orators what good he 
 had done the city, replies : Nothing but this, that in my 
 government of you there have been no funeral orations, 
 but all the deceased were buried in the sepulchres of their 
 ancestors. So Crates, by way of antithesis to this epitaph 
 of the glutton, 
 
 What I have eat is mine ; in words my will 
 I've had, and of my lust have took my fill, 
 
 well opposes these, 
 
 What I have learnt is mine ; I've had my thought, 
 And me the Muses noble truths have taught. 
 
 This kind of praise is amiable and advantageous, teach- 
 ing to admire and love convenient and profitable things 
 instead of the superfluous and vain. Thus much for the 
 stating of the question, in what cases and how far self- 
 praise may be inoffensive. 
 
 18. Now the order of the discourse requires to show 
 how an uncomely and unseasonable affectation of praise 
 may be avoided. Discourse of a man's self usually sallies 
 from self-love, as from its fort, and is there observed to 
 lay wait, even in those who are vulgarly thought free
 
 118 HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF 
 
 enough from ambition. Therefore, as it is one of the 
 rules of health to avoid dangerous and unwholesome 
 places, or being in them to take the greater care, so 
 ought there to be a like rule concerning converse and 
 speaking of one's self. For this kind of talk has slip- 
 pery occasions, into which we unawares and indiscernibly 
 are apt to fall. 
 
 For first (as is above said), ambition usually intrudes 
 into the praises of others with some flourishing remarks 
 to adorn herself. For let a person be commended by his 
 equal or inferior, the mind of the ambitious is tickled and 
 rubbed at the hearing of his praise, and immediately he 
 is hurried by an intemperate desire and precipitation after 
 the like ; as the appetite of the hungry is sharpened by 
 seeing others eat. 
 
 19. In the second place, the story of men's prosperous 
 actions naturally carries them into the humor of boasting; 
 and joy so far transports them, that they swell with their 
 own words when they would give you a relation of their 
 victories or their success in the business of the state, or 
 of their other publicly applauded actions or orations, and 
 find it difficult to contain themselves and preserve a mean. 
 In which kind of error it is observable that soldiers and 
 mariners are most entangled. Nor is it infrequent with 
 those who return from the government of provinces and 
 the management of great affairs. Such as these, when 
 mention is once made of illustrious and royal personages, 
 presently thrust in some eulogies of themselves, as pro- 
 ceeding from the favor and kind opinion of those princes ; 
 and then they fancy they seem not at all to have praised 
 themselves, but to have given only a bare account what 
 ^n-ut men have said honorably of them. So another sort, 
 little different from these, think they are not discerned 
 when they tell you all the familiarities of kings and em- 
 perors with them and their particular applying themselves
 
 WITHOUT BEING ENVIED. 119 
 
 to them in discourse, and appear to recount them, not as 
 thereby intending their 'own honor, but as bringing in con- 
 siderable evidences of singular affability and humanity in 
 persons so exceeding great. 
 
 We see then what reason we have to look narrowly to 
 ourselves, that, whilst we confer praises on others, we 
 give no ground for suspicion that we make them but the 
 vehicles of our own, and that, " in pretending to celebrate 
 Patroclus," under his name we mean romantically ourselves. 
 
 20. Further, that kind of discourse which consists in 
 dispraising and finding fault is dangerous, and yields op- 
 portunity to those that watch it for the magnifying their 
 own little worth. Of this old men are inclinable to be 
 guilty, when, by chastising and debasing others for their 
 vices, they exalt themselves as wonderfully great in the 
 opposite virtues. Indeed to these there must be a very 
 large concession, if they be reverend not only in age, but 
 in virtue and place ; for it is not altogether an unprofit- 
 able way, since it may sometimes create an extraordinary 
 zeal and emulation of honor in those who are thus spurred 
 up. But otherwise that sort of humor is carefully to be 
 shunned ; for reproof is often bitter, and wants a great 
 deal of caution to sweeten and correct it. Now this is 
 not done by the tempering our own praises with the rep- 
 rehension of another ; for he is an unworthy and odious 
 fellow who seeks his own credit through any man's dis- 
 grace, basely endeavoring to build a slight reputation of 
 his virtue upon the discovery of another's crimes. 
 
 21. Lastly, as they who are naturally inclined to a dan- 
 gerous sort of laughter, which is a kind of violent pas- 
 sion or disease, must preserve especially the smooth 
 parts of the body from tickling incentives, which cause 
 these parts to yield and relent, thus provoking the pas- 
 sion ; so they whose minds are soft and prepense to the 
 desires of reputation must carefully beware that they be
 
 120 HOW A MAN MAY PRAISE HIMSELF 
 
 not precipitated by the ticklings of another's praises into 
 a vaporing of themselves. They ought rather to blush, 
 if they hear themselves commended, and not put on a 
 brazen face. They ought modestly and handsomely to 
 reprove their applauders as having honored them too 
 much, and not chide them for having been too sparing in 
 their praise. Yet in this many offend, putting those who 
 speak advantageously of them in mind of more things of 
 the same nature ; endeavoring to make a huge heap of 
 creditable actions, till by what they themselves add they 
 spoil all that their friends have conferred to the promot- 
 ing their esteem. 
 
 Some there are who flatter themselves, till they are stu- 
 pidly puffed up ; others allure a man to talk of himself, 
 and take him by casting some little gilded temptation in 
 his way ; and another sort for a little sport will be putting 
 questions, as those in Menander to the silly braggadocio 
 soldier : 
 
 How did you get this wound f 
 
 By a furious dart. 
 
 For heaven's sake, how 1 
 
 As from my scaling ladder 
 I mounted the proud walls. See here ! Behold I 
 f Then I proceed to show my wound 
 
 With earnest look ; but they spoiled all with laughter. 
 
 22. We must be watchful in all these cases, that we 
 neither of ourselves drop into our own inconvenient 
 praises, nor be hooked into them by others. Now the 
 best and most certain way of security is to look back 
 upon such as we can remember guilty of this fault, and 
 to consider how absurd and ugly it is accounted by all 
 men, and that hardly any thing is in converse a greater 
 disturbance than this. 
 
 Hence it is that, though there be no other quality in 
 such persons unpleasing, yet, as if Nature had taught us 
 to abhor and fly it, we hasten out to get a little fresh air ;
 
 WITHOUT BEING ENVIED. 121 
 
 and even the very parasite and indigent flatterers are un- 
 easy, when the wealthy and great men by whose scraps 
 they live begin to admire and extol themselves ; nay, 
 they give out that they pay the greatest portion of the 
 shot, when they must give ear to such vanities. There- 
 fore he in Menander cries out, 
 
 They kill me lam a macerated guest 
 
 With their wise sayings and their soldier's brags; 
 
 How base these gloriosos are ! 
 
 But these faults are not only to be objected against 
 common soldiers and upstarts who detain others with 
 gaudy and proud relations of their own actions, but also 
 against sophists, philosophers, and commanders who grow 
 full of themselves and talk at a fastuous rate. Therefore 
 it is fit we still remember that another's dispraise always 
 accompanies the indiscreet praises of ourselves ; that the 
 end of vain-glory is disgrace ; and that, as Demosthenes 
 tells us, the company will both be offended and judge 
 otherwise of us than we would have them.* Let us then 
 forbear to talk of ourselves, unless the profit that we or 
 our hearers may thence probably reap be considerably 
 great. 
 
 See Demosthenes on the Crown, p. 270, 3.
 
 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 
 
 CAPHISIAS, TIMOTHEUS, ARCHIDAMUS, CHILDREN OF ARCHINDS, 
 LYSITHIDES, OTHER COMPANIONS. 
 
 1. I HEARD lately, Caphisias, a neat saying of a painter, 
 comprised in a similitude upon those that came to view his 
 pictures. For he said, the ignorant and unskilful were like 
 those that saluted a whole company together, but the 
 curious and knowing like those that complimented each 
 single person ; for the former take no exact, but only one 
 general view of the performance ; but those that with 
 judgment examine part by part take notice of every stroke 
 that is either well or ill done in the whole picture. The 
 duller and lazy sort are abundantly satisfied with a short 
 account and upshot of any business. But he that is of a 
 generous and noble temper, that is fitted to be a spectator 
 of virtue, as of a curious piece of art, is more delighted 
 with the particulars. For, upon a general view, much of 
 fortune is discovered; but when the particulars are ex- 
 amined, then appear the art and contrivance, the boldness 
 in conquering intervening accidents, and the reason that 
 was mixed with and tempered the heat and fury of the 
 undertakers. Suppose us to be of this sort, and give us 
 an account of the whole design, how from the very begin- 
 ning it was carried on, what company you kept, and what 
 particular discourse you had that day ; a thing so much 
 desired, that I protest I would willingly go to Thebes to be
 
 CONCERNING SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 123 
 
 informed, did not the Athenians already suspect me to lean 
 too much to the Boeotian interest. 
 
 CAPHISIAS. Indeed Archidamus, your kind eagerness 
 after this story is so obliging, that, putting myself above all 
 business (as Pindar says), I should have come on purpose 
 to give you a relation. But since I am now come upon an 
 embassy, and have nothing to do until I receive an answer 
 to my memorial, to be uncivil and not to satisfy the request 
 of an obliging friend would revive the old reproach that 
 hath been cast upon the Boeotians for morose sullenness and 
 hating good discourse, a reproach which began to die in 
 the time of Socrates. But as for the rest of the company, 
 pray sir, are they at leisure to hear such a story ? for I 
 must be very long, since you enjoin me to add the particu- 
 lar discourses that passed between us. 
 
 ARCH. You do not know the men, Caphisias, though 
 they are worthy your acquaintance ; men of good families, 
 and no enemies to you. This is Lysithides, Thrasybulus's 
 nephew ; this Timotheus, the son of Conon ; these 
 Archinus's sons ; and all the rest my very good acquaint- 
 ance, so that you need not doubt a favorable and obliging 
 audience. 
 
 CAPH. Very well ; but where shall I begin the story ? 
 How much of these affairs are you acquainted with 
 already 1 
 
 ARCH. We know, Caphisias, how matters stood at 
 Thebes before the exiles returned, how Archias, Leon- 
 tidas, and their associates, having persuaded Phoebidas the 
 Spartan in the time of peace to surprise that castle, ban- 
 ished some of the citizens, awed others, took the power 
 into their own hands, and tyrannized against all equity and 
 law. We understood Melon's and Pelopidas's designs, 
 having (as you know) entertained them, and having con- 
 versed with them ever since they were banished. We 
 knew likewise that the Spartans fined Phoebidas for taking
 
 124 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 the Cadmea, and in their expedition to Olynthus cashiered 
 him ; but sent a stronger garrison, under Lysinoridas and 
 two more, to command the castle ; and further, that Isme- 
 nias presently after his trial was basely murdered. For 
 Gorgidus wrote constantly to the exiles, and sent them all 
 the news ; so that you have nothing to do but only to in- 
 form us in the particulars of your friends' return and the 
 seizing of the tyrants. 
 
 2. CAPH. In those days, Archidamus, all that were con- 
 cerned in the design, as often as our business required, 
 used to meet at Simmias's house, who then lay lame of a 
 blow upon his shin. This we covered with a pretence of 
 meeting for improvement and philosophical discourse, and, 
 to take off all suspicion, we many times invited Archias 
 and Leontidas, who .were not altogether averse to such con- 
 versation. Besides, Simmias, having been a long time 
 abroad and conversant with different nations, was lately 
 returned to Thebes, full of all sorts of stories and strange 
 relations. To him Archias, when free from business, 
 would resort with the youth of Thebes, and sit and hear 
 with a great deal of delight ; being better pleased to see 
 us mind philosophy and learning than their illegal actions. 
 Now the same day in which it was agreed that about night 
 the exiles should come privately to town, a messenger, 
 whom none of us all but Charon knew, came from them 
 by Pherenicus's order, and told us that twelve of the 
 youngest of the exiles were now hunting on the mountain 
 Citlmeron, and designed to come at night, and that he was 
 sent to deliver this and to know in whose house they should 
 bo received, that as soon as they entered they might go di- 
 rectly thither. This startling us, Charon put an end to all 
 our doubts by offering to receive them in his house. With 
 this answer the messenger returned. 
 
 3. But Theocritus the soothsayer, grasping me by the 
 band, and looking on Charon that went just before us, said :
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 125 
 
 That Charon, Caphisias, is no philosopher, nor so general 
 nor so acute a scholar as thy brother Epaminondas, and yet 
 you see that, Nature leading him, under the direction of 
 the law, to noble actions, he willingly ventures on the great- 
 est danger for the benefit of his country ; but Epami- 
 nondas, who thinks he knows more of virtue than any of 
 the- Boeotians, is dull and inactive ; and though opportunity 
 presents, though there cannot be a fairer occasion, and 
 though he is fitted to embrace it, yet he refuseth to join, 
 and will not make one in this generous attempt. And I 
 replied : Courageous Theocritus, we do what upon mature 
 deliberation we have approved, but Epaminondas, being of 
 a contrary opinion and thinking it better not to take this 
 course, rationally complies with his judgment, whilst he 
 refuseth to meddle in those matters which his reason upon 
 our desire cannot approve, and to which his nature is 
 averse. Nor can I think it prudent to force a physician to 
 use fire and a lancet, that promiseth to cure the disease 
 without them. What, said Theocritus, doth he not ap- 
 prove of our method ? No, I replied, he would have no 
 citizens put to death without a trial at law ; but if we 
 would endeavor to free our country without slaughter and 
 bloodshed, none would more readily comply ; but since we 
 slight his reasons and follow our own course, he desires to 
 be excused, to be guiltless of the blood and slaughter of 
 his citizens, and to be permitted to watch an opportunity 
 when he may deliver his country according to equity and 
 right. For this action may go too far, Pherenicus, it is 
 true, and Pelopidas may assault the bad men and the op 
 pressors of the people ; but Eumolpidas and Samidas, men 
 of extraordinary heat and violence, prevailing in the night, 
 will hardly sheathe their swords until they have filled the 
 whole city with slaughter and cut in pieces many of the 
 chief men. 
 
 4. Anaxidorus, overhearing this discourse of mine to
 
 126 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 Theocritus (for he was just by), bade us be cautious, for 
 Archias with Lysanoridas the Spartan were coming from 
 the castle directly towards us. Upon this advice we left 
 off ; and Archias, calling Theocritus aside together with 
 Lysanoridas, privately discoursed him a long while, so that 
 we were very much afraid lest they had some suspicion or 
 notice of our design, and examined Theocritus about it. 
 In the mean time Phyllidas (you know him, Archidamus) 
 who was then secretary to Archias the general, who knew 
 of the exiles coming and was one of the associates, taking 
 me by the hand, as he used to do, before the company, 
 found fault with the late exercises and wrestling he had 
 seen ; but afterwards leading me aside, he enquired after 
 the exiles, and asked whether they were resolved to be 
 punctual to the day. And upon my assuring that they 
 were, then he replied, I have very luckily provided a feast 
 to-day to treat Archias, make him drunk, and then deliver 
 him an easy prey to the invaders. Excellently contrived, 
 Phyllidas, said I, and prithee endeavor to draw all or most 
 of our enemies together. That, said he, is very hard, nay, 
 rather impossible ; for Archias, being in hopes of the com- 
 pany of some noble women there, will not yield that 
 Leontidas should be present, so that it will be necessary to 
 divide the associates into two companies, that we may sur- 
 prise both the houses. For, Archias and Leontidas being 
 taken off, I suppose the others will presently fly, or staying 
 make no stir, being very well satisfied if they can be per- 
 mitted to be safe and quiet. So, said I, we will order it ; 
 but about what, I wonder, are they discoursing with Theo- 
 critus? And Phyllidas replied, 1 cannot certainly tell, but 
 I have heard that some omens and oracles portend great 
 disasters and calamities to Sparta ; and perhaps they con- 
 sult him about those matters. Theocritus had just left 
 them, when Phidolaus the Haliartian meeting us said: 
 Simmias would have you stay here a little while, for he is
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 127 
 
 interceding with Leontidas for Amphitheus, and begs that 
 instead of dying, according to the sentence, he may be 
 banished. 
 
 5. Well, said Theocritus, this happens very oppor 
 timely, for I had a mind to ask what was seen and what 
 found in Alcmena's tomb lately opened amongst you, for 
 perhaps, sir, you were present when Agesilaus sent to 
 fetch the relics to Sparta. And Phidolaus replied : Indeed 
 I was not present at the opening of the grave, for I was 
 not delegated, being extremely concerned and very angry 
 with my fellow-citizens for permitting it to be done. There 
 were found no relics of a body ; but a small brazen brace- 
 let, and two earthen pipkins full of earth, which now by 
 length of time was grown very hard and petrified. Upon 
 the monument there was a brazen plate full of strange, 
 because very ancient, letters ; for though, when the plate 
 was washed, all the strokes were very easily perceived, 
 yet nobody could make any thing of them ; for they were 
 a particular, barbarous, and very like the Egyptian charac- 
 ter. And therefore Agesilaus, as the story goes, sent a 
 transcript of them to the king of Egypt, desiring him to 
 show them to the priests, and if they understood them, to 
 send him the meaning and interpretation. But perhaps 
 in this matter Simmias can inform us, for at that time he 
 studied their philosophy and frequently conversed with 
 the priests upon that account. The Haliartii believe the 
 great scarcity and overflowing of the pool that followed 
 were not effects of chance, but a particular judgment upon 
 them for permitting the grave to be opened. And The- 
 ocritus, after a little pause, said : Nay, there seem some 
 judgments to hang over the Lacedaemonian? themselves, 
 as those omens about which Lysanoridas just now dis- 
 coursed me portend. And now he is gone to Haliartus to 
 fill up the grave again, and, as the oracle directs, to make 
 some oblations to Alcmena and Aleus ; but who this Aleus
 
 128 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 is, he cannot tell. And as soon as he returns, he must 
 endeavor to find the sepulchre of Dirce, which not one of 
 the Thebans themselves, besides the captains of the horse, 
 knows ; for he that goes out of his office leads his successor 
 to the place alone, and in the dark ; there they offer some 
 sacrifices, but without fire, and leaving no mark behind 
 them, they separate from one another, and come home 
 again in the dark. So that I believe, Phidolaus, it will be 
 no easy matter for him to discover it. For most^of those 
 that have been duly elected to that office are now in exile ; 
 nay, all besides Gorgidas and Plato ; and they will never 
 ask those, for they are afraid of them. And our present 
 officers are invested in the castle with the spear only and 
 the seal, but know nothing of the tomb, and cannot direct 
 him. 
 
 6. "Whilst Theocritus was speaking, Leontidas and his 
 friends went out ; and we going in saluted Simmias, sitting 
 upon his couch, very much troubled because his petition 
 was denied. He, looking up upon us, cried out : Good 
 God ! The savage barbarity of these men ! And was it 
 not an excellent remark of Thales, who, when his friends 
 asked him, upon his return from his long travels, what 
 strange news he brought home, replied, " I have seen a 
 tyrant an old man." For even he that hath received no 
 particular injury, yet disliking their stiff pride and haughty 
 carriage, becomes an enemy to all lawless and unaccount- 
 able powers. But Heaven perhaps will take these things 
 into consideration. But, Caphisias, do you know that 
 stranger that came lately hither, who he is ? And I re- 
 plied, I do not know whom you mean. Why, said he, 
 Leontidas told me that there was a man at night seen to 
 rise out of Lysis's tomb, with great pomp and a long train 
 of attendants, and that he had lodged there all night upon 
 beds made of leaves and boughs ; for the next morning 
 such were discovered there, with some relics of burnt
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 129 
 
 sacrifices and some milk-oblations ; and that in the morn- 
 ing he enquired of every one he met, whether he should 
 find Polymnis's sons at home. I wonder, said I, who it is, 
 for by your description I guess him to be no mean man. 
 
 7. Well, said Phidolaus, when he comes we will enter- 
 tain him ; but at the present, Simmias, if you know any 
 thing more of those letters about which we were talking, 
 pray let us have it ; for it is said that the Egyptian priests 
 took into consideration the writing of a certain table which 
 Agesilaus had from us when he opened Alcmena's tomb. 
 As for the table, replied Simmias, I know nothing of it ; 
 but Agetoridas the Spartan came to Memphis with letters 
 from Agesilaus to Chonouphis the priest, whilst I, Plato, 
 and Ellopio the Peparethian, studied together at his house. 
 He came by order of the king, who enjoined Chonouphis, 
 if he understood the writing, to send him the interpreta- 
 tion with all speed. And he in three days' study, having 
 collected all the different sorts of characters that could be 
 found in the old books, wrote back to the king and like- 
 wise told us, that the writing enjoined the Greeks to 
 institute games in honor of the Muses ; that the charac- 
 ters were such as were used in the time of Proteus, and 
 that Hercules, the son of Amphitryo, then learned them ; 
 and that the Gods by this admonished the Greeks to live 
 peaceably and at quiet, to contend in philosophy to the 
 honor of the Muses, and, laying aside their arms, to deter- 
 mine what is right and just by reason and discourse. 
 We then thought that Chonouphis spoke right ; and that 
 opinion was confirmed when, as we were sailing from 
 Egypt, about Caria some Delians met us, who desired 
 Plato, being well skilled in geometry, to solve an odd 
 oracle lately delivered by Apollo. The oracle was this : 
 " Then the Delians and all the other Greeks should enjoy 
 some respite from their present evils, when they had 
 doubled the altar at Delos." They, not comprehending
 
 130 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 the meaning of the words, after many ridiculous endeavors 
 (for each of the sides being doubled, they had framed a 
 body, instead of twice, eight times as big) made applica- 
 tion to Plato to clear the difficulty. He, calling to mind 
 what the Egyptian had told him, said that the God was 
 merry upon the Greeks, who despised learning ; that he 
 severely reflected on their ignorance, and admonished them 
 to apply themselves to the deepest parts of geometry ; for 
 this was not to be done by a dull short-sighted intellect, 
 but one exactly skilled in the natures and properties of 
 lines; it required skill to find the true proportion by 
 which alone a body of a cubic figure can be doubled, 
 all its dimensions being equally increased. He said that 
 Eudoxus the Cnidian or Helico the Cyzicenian might do 
 this for them ; but that was not the thing desired by the 
 God ; for by this oracle he enjoined all the Greeks to 
 leave off war and contention, and apply themselves to 
 study, and, by learning and arts moderating the passions, 
 to live peaceably with one another, and profit the com- 
 munity. 
 
 8. Whilst Simmias was speaking, my father Polymnis 
 came in, and sitting down by him said : Epaminondas de- 
 sires you and the rest of the company, unless some urgent 
 business requires your attendance, to stay for him here a 
 little while, designing to bring you acquainted with this 
 stranger, who is a very worthy man ; and the design upon 
 which he comes is very genteel and honorable. He is a 
 Pythagorean of the Italian sect, and comes hither to make 
 some offerings to old Lysis at his tomb, according to divers 
 dreams and very notable appearances that he hath seen. 
 He hath brought a good sum of money with him, and 
 thinks himself bound to satisfy Epaminondas for keeping 
 Lysis in his old age ; and is very eager, though we are 
 neither willing nor desire him, to relieve his poverty. 
 And Simmias, glad at this news, replied : You tell me, sir,
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 131 
 
 of a wonderful man and worthy professor of philosophy ; 
 but why doth he not come directly to us ? I think, said my 
 father, he lay all night at Lysis's tomb ; and therefore 
 Epaminondas hath now led him to the Ismenus to wash ; 
 and when that is done, they will be here. For before he 
 came to our house, he lodged at the tomb, intending to 
 take up the relics of the body and transport them into 
 Italy, if some genius at night should not advise him 
 to forbear. 
 
 9. As soon as my father had ended this discourse, Galaxi- 
 dorus cried out : Good Gods ! how hard a matter is it to 
 find a man pure from vanity and superstition ! For some 
 are betrayed into those fooleries by their ignorance and 
 weakness ; others, that they may be thought extraordinary 
 men and favorites of Heaven, refer all their actions to some 
 divine admonition pretending dreams, visions, and the like 
 surprising fooleries for every thing they do. This method 
 indeed is advantageous to those that intend to settle a com 
 monwealth, or are forced to keep themselves up against a 
 rude and ungovernable multitude ; for by this bridle of 
 superstition they might manage and reform the vulgar ; 
 but these pretences seem not only unbecoming philosophy, 
 but quite opposite to all those fine promises she makes. 
 For having promised to teach us by reason what is good 
 and profitable, falling back again to the Gods as the princi- 
 ple of all our actions, she seems to despise reason, and dis- 
 grace that demonstration which is her peculiar glory ; and 
 she relies on dreams and visions, in which the worst of 
 men are oftentimes as happy as the best. And therefore 
 your Socrates, Simmias, in my opinion followed the most 
 philosophical and rational method of instructions, choosing 
 that plain and easy way as the most genteel and friendly 
 unto truth, and scattering to the sophisters of the age all 
 those vain pretences which are as it were the smoke of 
 philosophy. And Theocritus taking him up said : What,
 
 132 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 Galaxidorus, and hath Meletus persuaded you that Socrates 
 contemned all divine things ] for that was part of his 
 accusation. Divine things ! by no means, replied Galaxi- 
 dorus ; but having received philosophy from Pythagoras 
 and Empedocles, full of dreams, fables, superstitions, and 
 perfect raving, he endeavored to bring wisdom and things 
 together, and make truth consist with sober sense. 
 
 10. Be it so, rejoined Theocritus, but what shall we 
 think of his Daemon ? Was it a mere juggle 1 Indeed, 
 nothing that is told of Pythagoras regarding divination 
 seems to me so great and divine. For, in my mind, as 
 Homer makes Minerva to stand by Ulysses in all dangers, 
 so the Daemon joined to Socrates even from his cradle 
 some vision to guide him in all the actions of his life ; 
 which going before him, shed a light upon hidden and 
 obscure matters and such as could not be discovered by 
 unassisted human understanding ; of such things the Dae 
 mon often discoursed with him, presiding over and by 
 divine instinct directing his intentions. More and greater 
 things perhaps you may learn from Simmias and other 
 companions of Socrates ; but once when I was present, as 
 I went to Euthyphron the soothsayer's, it happened, Sim- 
 mias, for you remember it, that Socrates walked up 
 to Symbolum and the house of Andocides, all the way ask- 
 ing questions and jocosely perplexing Euthyphron. When 
 standing still upon a sudden and persuading us to do the 
 like, he mused a pretty while, and then turning about 
 walked through Trunk-makers' Street, calling back his 
 friends that walked before him, affirming that it was his 
 Daemon's will and admonition. Many turned back, amongst 
 whom I, holding Euthyphron, was one ; but some of the 
 youths keeping on the straight way, on purpose (as it were] 
 to confute Socrates's Daemon, took along with them Char- 
 illus the piper, who came in my company to Athens to see 
 Cebes. Now as they were walking through Gravers' Row,
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 133 
 
 near the court-houses, a herd of dirty swine met them ; 
 and being too many for the street and running against one 
 another, they overthrew some that could not get out of the 
 way, and dirted others ; and Charillus came home with his 
 legs and clothes very dirty ; so that now and then in mer- 
 riment they would think on Socrates's Daemon, wondering 
 that it never forsook the man, and that Heaven took such 
 particular care of him. 
 
 11. Then Galaxidorus: And do you think, Theocritus, 
 that Socrates's Daemon had some peculiar and extraordi- 
 nary power ? And was it not that this man had by experi- 
 ence confirmed some part of the common necessity which 
 made him, in all obscure and inevident matters, add some 
 weight to the reason that was on one side ? For as one 
 grain doth not incline the balance by itself, yet added to 
 one of two weights that are of equal poise, makes the 
 whole incline to that part ; 'thus an omen or the like sign 
 may of itself be too light to draw a grave and settled reso- 
 lution to any action, yet when two equal reasons draw on 
 either side, if that is added to one, the doubt together with 
 the equality is taken off, so that a motion and inclination 
 to that side is presently produced. Then my father continu- 
 ing the discourse said : You yourself, Galaxidorus, have heard 
 a Megarian, who had it from Terpsion, say that Socrates's 
 Daemon was nothing else but the sneezing either of him- 
 self or others ; for if another sneezed, either before, behind 
 him, or on his right hand, then he pursued his design and 
 went on to action ; but if on the left hand, he desisted. 
 One sort of sneezing confirmed him whilst deliberating 
 and not fully resolved ; another stopped him when al- 
 ready upon action. But indeed it seems strange that, if 
 sneezing was his only sign, he should not acquaint his fam- 
 iliars with it, but pretend that it was a Daemon that en- 
 couraged or forbade him. For that this should proceed 
 from vanity or conceit is not agreeable to the veracity and
 
 134 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 simplicity of the man ; for in those we knew him to be 
 truly great, and far above the generality of mankind. Nor 
 is it likely so grave and wise a man should be disturbed at 
 a casual sound or sneezing, and upon that account leave 
 off what he was about, and give over his premeditated res- 
 olutions. Besides all, Socrates's resolution seems to be 
 altogether vigorous and steady, as begun upon right princi- 
 ples and mature judgment. Thus he voluntarily lived poor 
 all his life, though he had friends that would have been 
 very glad and very willing to relieve him ; he still kept 
 close to philosophy, notwithstanding all the discourage- 
 ments he met with ; and at last, when his friends endeav- 
 ored and very ingeniously contrived his escape, he would 
 not yield to their entreaties, but met death with mirth and 
 cheerfulness, and appeared a man of a steady reason in the 
 greatest extremity. And sure these are not the actions of 
 a man whose designs, when once fixed, could be altered by 
 an omen or a sneeze ; but of one who, by some more con- 
 siderable guidance and impulse, is directed to practise 
 things good and excellent. Besides, I have heard that to 
 some of his friends he foretold the overthrow of the 
 Athenians in Sicily. And before that time, Perilampes 
 the son of Antiphon, being wounded and taken prisoner by 
 us in that pursuit at Delium, as soon as he heard from the 
 ambassadors who came from Athens that Socrates with 
 Alcibiades and Laches fled by Rhegiste and returned safe, 
 blamed himself very much, and blamed also some of his 
 friends and captains of the companies who together 
 with him were overtaken in their flight about Panics by 
 our cavalry and slain there for not obeying Socrates's 
 Daemon and retreating that way which he led. And this 
 I believe Simmias hath heard as well as I. Yes, replied 
 Simmias, many times, and from many persons ; for upon 
 this, Socrates's Daemon was very much talked of at 
 Athens.
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 135 
 
 12. Why then, pray, Simmias, said Phidolaus, shall we 
 suffer Galaxidorus drollingly to degrade so considerable 
 a prophetic spirit into an omen or a sneeze ; which the 
 vulgar and ignorant, it is true, merrily use about small 
 matters ; but when any danger appears, then we find that 
 of Euripides verified, 
 
 None near the edge of swords will mind such toys.* 
 
 To this Galaxidorus rejoined : Sir, if Simmias hath 
 heard Socrates himself speak any thing about this matter, 
 I am very ready to hear and believe it with you ; but yet 
 what you and Polymnis have delivered I could easily 
 demonstrate to be weak and insignificant. For as in 
 physic the pulse or a whelk is itself but a small thing, 
 yet is a sign of no small things to the physicians ; and as 
 the murmuring of the waves or of a bird, or the driving 
 of a thin cloud, is a sign to the pilot of a stormy heaven 
 and troubled sea ; thus to a prophetic soul, a sneeze or an 
 omen, though no great matter simply considered in itself, 
 yet may be the sign and token of considerable impending 
 accidents. For every art and science takes care to collect 
 many things from few, and great from small. And as if 
 one that doth not know the power of, letters, when he 
 sees a few ill-shapen strokes, should not believe that a 
 man skilled in letters could read in them the famous 
 battles of the ancients, the rise of cities, the acts and 
 calamities of kings, and should assert that some divine 
 power told him the particulars, he would by this igno- 
 rance of his raise a great deal of mirth and laughter in 
 the company ; so let us consider whether or no we our- 
 selves, being altogether ignorant of every one's power 
 of divination by which he guesseth at what is to come, 
 are not foolishly concerned when it is asserted that a wise 
 man by that discovers some things obscure and inevident 
 
 * From the Autolycus, a lost Satyrdrama of Euripides, Frag. 284, vs. 22. (G.)
 
 136 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 in themselves, and moreover himself declares that it is not 
 a sneeze or voice, but a Daemon, that leads him on to 
 action. This, Polymnis, particularly respects you, who 
 cannot but wonder that Socrates, who by his meekness 
 and humility hath humanized philosophy, should not call 
 this sign a sneeze or a voice, but very pretendingly a 
 Daemon ; when, on the contrary, I should have wondered 
 if a man so critical and exact in discourse, and so good at 
 names as Socrates, should have said that it was a sneeze, 
 and not a Daemon, that gave him intimation ; as much as 
 if any one should say that he is wounded by a dart, and 
 not with a dart by him that threw it ; or as if any one 
 should say that a weight was weighed by the balance, 
 and not with the balance by the one who holds it. For 
 any effect is not the effect of the instrument, but of him 
 whose the instrument is, and who useth it to that effect ; 
 and a sign is an instrument, which he that signifies any 
 thing thereby useth to that effect. But, as I said before, 
 if Simmias hath any thing about this matter, let us quietly 
 attend ; for no doubt he must have a more perfect knowl- 
 edge of the thing. 
 
 13. Content, said Theocritus ; but let us first see who 
 these are that are coming, for I think I see Epaminon- 
 das bringing in the stranger. Upon this motion, looking 
 toward the door, we saw Epaminondas with his friends 
 Ismenidorus and Bacchylidas and Melissus the musician 
 leading the way, and the stranger following, a man of no 
 mean presence ; his meekness and good-nature appeared 
 in his looks, and his dress was grave and becoming. He 
 being seated next Simmias, my brother next me, and the 
 rest as they pleased, and all silent, Simmias speaking to 
 my brother said : Well, Epaminondas, by what name and 
 title must I salute this stranger? for those are commonly 
 our first compliments, and the beginning of our better 
 acquaintance. And my brother replied : His name, Sim-
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 137 
 
 mias, is Theanor ; by birth he is a Crotonian, a philoso- 
 pher by profession, no disgrace to Pythagoras's fame ; for 
 he hath taken a long voyage from Italy hither, to evi- 
 dence by generous actions his eminent proficiency in that 
 school. 
 
 The stranger subjoined : But you, Epaminondas, hinder 
 the performance of the best action ; for if it is commend- 
 able to oblige friends, it is not discommendable to be 
 obliged ; for a benefit requires a receiver as well as a 
 giver ; by both it is perfected, and becomes a good work. 
 For he that refuseth to receive a favor, as a ball that is 
 struck fairly to him, disgraceth it by letting it fall short of 
 the designed mark ; and what mark are we so much 
 pleased to hit or vexed to miss, as our kind intentions 
 of obliging a person that deserves a favor? It is true, 
 when the mark is fixed, he that misseth can blame nobody 
 but himself; but he that refuseth or flies a kindness is 
 injurious to the favor in not letting it attain the desired 
 end. I have told you already what was the occasion of 
 my voyage ; the same I would discover to all present, and 
 make them judges in the case. For after the opposite 
 faction had expelled the Pythagoreans, and the Cylonians 
 had burned the remains of that society in their school at 
 Metapontum, and destroyed all but Philolaus and Lysis, 
 who being young and nimble escaped the flame, Philo- 
 laus flying to the Lucanians was there protected by his 
 friends, who rose for his defence and overpowered the 
 Cylonians ; but where Lysis was, for a long time nobody 
 could tell ; at last Gorgias the Leontine, sailing from 
 Greece to Italy, seriously told Arcesus that he met and 
 discoursed Lysis at Thebes. Arcesus, being very desirous 
 to see the man, as soon as he could get a passage, designed 
 to put to sea himself; but age and weakness coming on, 
 he took care that Lysis should be brought to Italy alive, if 
 possible ; but if not, the relics of his body. The inter
 
 138 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 vening wars, usurpations, and seditions hindered his friends 
 from doing it whilst lie lived ; but since his death, Lysis's 
 Daemon hath made very frequent and very plain discov- 
 eries to us of his death ; and many that were very well 
 acquainted with the matter have told us how courteously 
 you received and civilly entertained him, how in your poor 
 family he was allowed a plentiful subsistence for his age, 
 counted a father of your sons, and died in peace. I there- 
 fore, although a young man and but one single person, 
 have been sent by many who are my elders, and who, 
 having store of money, offer it gladly to you who need it, 
 in return for the gracious friendship bestowed upon Lysis. 
 Lysis, it is true, is buried nobly, and your respect, which 
 is more honorable than a monument, must be acknowl- 
 edged and requited by his familiars and his friends. 
 
 14. When the stranger had said this, my father wept a 
 considerable time, in memory of Lysis ; but my brother, 
 smiling upon me, as he used to do, said : What do we do, 
 Caphisias 1 Are we to give up our poverty to wealth, and yet 
 be silent? By no means, I replied, let us part with our 
 old friend and the excellent breeder of our youth ; but 
 defend her cause, for you are to manage it. My dear 
 father, said he, I have never feared that wealth would 
 take possession of our house, except on account of Caphi- 
 sias's body ; for that wants fine attire, that he may appear 
 gay and gaudy to his numerous company of lovers, and 
 great supplies of food, that he may be strong to endure 
 tling and other exercises of the ring. But since he 
 doth not give up poverty, since he holds fast his hereditary 
 want, like a color, since he, a youth, prides himself in 
 frugality, and is very well content with his present state, 
 what need have we, and what shall we do with wealth ] 
 Shall we gild our arms 1 Shall we, like Nicias the Athe- 
 nian, adorn our shield with gold, purple, and other gaudy 
 variety of colors, and buy for you, sir, a Milesian cloak,
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 139' 
 
 and for my mother a purple gown? For I suppose we 
 ehall not consume any upon our belly, or feast more sump- 
 tuously than we did before, treating this wealth as a guest 
 of quality and honor ! Away, away, son, replied my father ; 
 let me never see such a change in our course of living. 
 Well, said my brother, we would not lie lazily at home, 
 and watch over our unemployed riches ; for then the 
 bestower's kindness would be a trouble, and the possession 
 infamous. What need then, said my father, have we of 
 wealth? Upon this account, said Epaminondas, when 
 Jason, the Thessalian general, lately sent me a great 
 sum of money and desired me to accept it, I was thought 
 rude and unmannerly for telling him that he was a knave 
 for endeavoring, whilst he himself loved monarchy, to 
 bribe one of democratical principles and a member of 
 a free state. Your good will, sir (addressing the stranger), 
 which is generous and worthy a philosopher, I accept and 
 passionately admire ; but you offer physic to your friends 
 who are in perfect health ! If, upon a report that we 
 were distressed and overpowered, you had brought men 
 and arms to our assistance, but being arrived had found 
 all in quietness and peace, I am certain you would not 
 have thought it necessary to leave those supplies which 
 we did not then stand in need of. Thus, since now you 
 came to assist us against poverty as if we had been dis- 
 tressed by it, and find it very peaceable and our familiar 
 inmate, there is no need to leave any money or arms to 
 suppress that which gives us no trouble or disturbance. 
 But tell your acquaintance that they use riches well, and 
 have friends here that use poverty as well. What was 
 spent in keeping and burying Lysis, Lysis himself hath 
 sufficiently repaid, by many profitable instructions, and by 
 teaching us not to think poverty a grievance. 
 
 15. What then, said Theanor, is it mean to think pov- 
 erty a grievance ? Is it not absurd to fly and be afraid of
 
 140 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 riches, if no reason, but an hypocritical pretence, narrow- 
 ness of mind, or pride, prompts one to reject the offer? 
 And what reason, I wonder, would refuse such advan- 
 tageous and creditable enjoyments as Epaminondas now 
 doth ? But, sir, for your answer to the Thessalian about 
 this matter shows you very ready, pray answer me, do 
 you think it commendable in some cases to give money, 
 but always unlawful to receive it ? Or are the givers and 
 receivers equally guilty of a fault? By no means, replied 
 Epaminondas ; but, as of any thing else, so the giving and 
 receiving of money is sometimes commendable and some- 
 times base. Well then, said Theanor, if a man gives 
 willingly what he ought to give, is not that action com- 
 mendable in him? Yes. And when it is commendable 
 in one to give, is it not as commendable in another to 
 receive ? Or can a man more honestly accept a gift from 
 any one, than from him that honestly bestows ? No. Well 
 then, Epaminondas, suppose of two friends, one hath a 
 mind to present, the other must accept. It is true, in a 
 battle we should avoid that enemy who is skilful in hurling 
 his weapon ; but in civilities we should neither fly nor 
 thrust back that friend that makes a kind and genteel 
 offer. And though poverty is not so grievous, yet on the 
 other side, wealth is not so mean and despicable a thing. 
 Very true, replied Epaminondas ; but you must consider 
 that sometimes, even when a gift is honestly bestowed, he 
 is more commendable who refuses it For we have many 
 lusts and desires, and the objects of those desires are many. 
 Some are called natural ; these proceed from the very con- 
 stitution of our body, and tend to natural pleasures ; others 
 are acquired, and rise from vain opinions and mistaken 
 notions ; yet these by the length of time, ill habits, and 
 bad education are usually improved, get strength, and 
 debase the soul more than the other natural and necessary 
 passions. By custom and care any one, with the assistance
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 141 
 
 of reason, may free himself from many of his natural 
 desires. But, sir, all our arts, all our force of discipline, 
 must be employed against the superfluous and acquired 
 appetites ; and they must be restrained or cut off by the 
 guidance or edge of reason. For if the contrary appli- 
 cations of reason can make us forbear meat and drink, 
 when hungry or thirsty, how much more easy is it to 
 conquer covetousness or ambition, which will be destroyed 
 by a bare restraint from their proper objects, and a non- 
 attainment of their desired end? And pray, sir, are you 
 not of the same opinion ? Yes, replied the stranger. Then, 
 sir, continued Epaminondas, do you not perceive a differ- 
 ence between the exercise itself and the work to which 
 the exercise relates? For instance, in a wrestler, the 
 work is the striving with his adversary for the crown, the 
 exercise is the preparation of his body by diet, wrestling, 
 or the like. So in virtue, you must confess the work to 
 be one thing and the exercise another. Veiy well, replied 
 the stranger. Then, continued Epaminondas, let us first 
 examine whether to abstain from the base unlawful pleas- 
 ures is the exercise of continence, or the work and evi- 
 dence of that exercise ? The work and evidence, replied 
 the stranger. But is not the exercise of it such as you 
 practise, when after wrestling, where you have raised your 
 appetites like ravenous beasts, you stand a long while at a 
 table covered with plenty and variety of meats, and then 
 give it to your servants to feast on, whilst you offer mean 
 and spare diet to your subdued appetites ? For abstinence 
 from lawful pleasure is exercise against unlawful. Very 
 well, replied the stranger. So, continued Epaminondas, 
 justice is exercise against covetousness and love of money ; 
 .but so is not a mere cessation from stealing or robbing 
 our neighbor. So he that doth not betray his country or 
 friends for gold doth not exercise against covetousness, 
 for the law perhaps deters, and fear restrains him ; but he
 
 142 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 that refuseth just gain and such as the law allows, volun- 
 tarily exercises, and secures himself from being bribed or 
 receiving any unlawful present. For when great, hurtful, 
 and base pleasures are proposed, it is very hard for any 
 one to contain himself, who hath not often despised those 
 which he had power and opportunity to enjoy. Thus, 
 when base bribes and considerable advantages are offered, 
 it will be difficult to refuse, unless he hath long ago rooted 
 out all thoughts of gain and love of money ; for other 
 desires will nourish and increase that appetite, and he will 
 easily be drawn to any unjust action who can scarce for- 
 bear reaching out his hand to a proffered present. But 
 he that will not lay himself open to the favors of friends 
 and the gifts of kings, but refuseth even what Fortune prof- 
 fers, and keeps off his appetite, that is eager after and (as 
 it were) leaps forward to an appearing treasure, is never 
 disturbed or tempted to unlawful actions, but hath great 
 and brave thoughts, and hath command over himself, being 
 conscious of none but generous designs. 1 and Caphisias, 
 dear Simmias, being passionate admirers of such men, beg 
 the stranger to suffer us to be taught and exercised by 
 poverty to attain that height of virtue and perfection. 
 
 16. My brother having finished this discourse, Simmias, 
 nodding twice or thrice, said: Epaminondas is a great 
 man, but this Polymnis is the cause of his greatness, who 
 gave his children the best education, and bred them phi- 
 losophers. But, sir. you may end this dispute at leisure 
 among yourselves. As for Lysis (if it is lawful to discover 
 it), pray, sir, do you design to take him out of his tomb 
 and transport him into Italy, or leave him here amongst 
 his friends and acquaintance, who shall be glad to lie by 
 him in the grave ? And Theanor with a smile answered : 
 Lysis, good Simmias, no doubt is very well pleased with 
 the place, for Epaminondas supplied him with all things 
 necessary and fitting. But the Pythagoreans have some
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 143 
 
 particular funeral ceremonies, which if any one wants, 
 we conclude he did not make a proper and happy exit. 
 Therefore, as soon as we learned from some dreams that 
 Lysis was dead (for we have certain marks to know the 
 apparitions of the living from images of the dead), most 
 began to think that Lysis, dying in a strange country, was 
 not interred with the due ceremonies, and therefore ought 
 to be removed to Italy that he might receive them there. 
 I coming upon this design, and being by the people of 
 the country directed to the tomb, in the evening poured 
 out my oblations, and called upon the soul of Lysis to 
 come out and direct me in this affair. The night draw- 
 ing on, I saw nothing indeed, but thought I heard a voice 
 saying : Move not those relics that ought not to be moved, 
 for Lysis's body was duly and religiously interred ; and his 
 soul is sent to inform another body, and committed to the 
 care of another Daemon. And early this morning, asking 
 Epaminondas about the manner of Lysis's burial, I found 
 that Lysis had taught him as far as the incommunicable 
 mysteries of our sect ; and that the same Daemon that 
 waited on Lysis presided over him, if I can guess at the 
 pilot from the sailing of the ship. The paths of life are 
 large, but in few are men directed by the Daemons. 
 When Theanor had said this, he looked attentively on 
 Epaminondas, as if he designed a fresh search into his 
 nature and inclinations. 
 
 17. At the same instant the chirurgeon coming in un 
 bound Simmias's leg and prepared to dress it ; and Phyl- 
 lidas entering with Hipposthenides, extremely concerned, 
 as his very countenance discovered, desired me, Charon, 
 and Theocritus to withdraw into a private corner of the 
 porch. And I asking, Phyllidas, hath any new thing hap- 
 pened ? Nothing new to me, he replied, for I knew and 
 told you that Hipposthenides was a coward, and there- 
 fore begged you not to communicate the matter to him or
 
 144 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 make him an associate. We seeming all surprised, Hip- 
 posthenides cried out : For Heaven's sake, Phyllidas, don't 
 say so, don't think rashness to be bravery, and blinded by 
 that mistake ruin both us and the commonwealth ; but, if 
 it must be so, let the exiles return again in peace. And 
 Phyllidas in a passion replied, How many, Hipposthe- 
 nides, do you think are privy to this design? Thirty I 
 know engaged. And why then, continued Phyllidas, 
 would you singly oppose your judgment to them all, and 
 ruin those measures they have all taken and agreed to 1 
 What had you to do to send a messenger to desire them 
 to return and not approach to-day, when even chance 
 encouraged and all things conspired to promote the 
 design 1 
 
 These words of Phyllidas troubled every one ; and Cha- 
 ron, looking very angrily upon Hipposthenides, said : 
 Thou coward ! what hast thou done ? No harm, replied 
 Hipposthenides, as I will make appear if you will mod- 
 erate your passion and hear what your gray-headed equal 
 can allege. If, Phyllidas, we were minded to show our 
 citizens a bravery that sought danger, and a heart that 
 contemned life, there is day enough before us ; why should 
 we wait till the evening? Let us take our swords pres- 
 ently, and assault the tyrants. Let us kill, let us be 
 killed, and be prodigal of our blood. If this may be 
 easily performed or endured, and if it is no easy matter 
 by the loss of two or three men to free Thebes from so 
 great an armed power as possesses it, and to beat out the 
 Spartan garrison, for I suppose Phyllidas hath not pro- 
 vided wine enough at his entertainment to make all Ar- 
 chias's guard of fifteen hundred men drunk ; or if we 
 despatch him, yet Arccsus and Herippidas will be sober, 
 and upon the watch, why are we so eager to bring our 
 friends and families into certain destruction, especially 
 since the enemy hath some notice of their return ? For
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 145 
 
 why else should the Thespians for these three days be 
 commanded to be in arms and follow the orders of the 
 Spartan general "? And I hear that to-day, after examina- 
 tion before Archias when he returns, they design to put 
 Amphithens to death ; and are not these strong proofs 
 that our conspiracy is discovered ? Is it not the best way 
 to stay a little, until an atonement is made and the Gods 
 reconciled I For the diviners, having sacrificed an ox to 
 Ceres, said that the burnt offering portended a great se- 
 dition and danger to the commonwealth. And besides, 
 Charon, there is another thing which particularly concerns 
 you ; for yesterday Hypatodorus, the son of Erianthes, a 
 very honest man and my good acquaintance, but altogether 
 ignorant of our design, coming out of the country in my 
 company, accosted me thus : Charon is an acquaintance 
 of yours, Hipposthenides, but no great crony of mine ; 
 yet, if you please, advise him to take heed of some immi- 
 nent danger, for I had a very odd dream relating to some 
 such matter. Last night methought I saw his house in 
 travail ; and he and his friends, extremely perplexed, fell 
 to their prayers round about the house. The house 
 groaned, and sent out some inarticulate sounds ; at last a 
 raging fire broke out of it, and consumed the greatest part 
 of the city ; and the castle Cadmea was covered all over 
 with smoke, but not fired. This was the dream, Charon, 
 that he told me. I was startled at the present, and that 
 fear increased when I heard that the exiles intended to 
 'come to-day to your house, and I am very much afraid 
 that we shall bring mighty mischiefs on ourselves, yet do 
 our enemies no proportionable harm, but only give them 
 a little disturbance ; for I think the city signifies us, and 
 the castle (as it is now in their power) them. 
 
 18. Then Theocritus putting in, and enjoining silence 
 on Charon, who was eager to reply, said : As for my part, 
 Hipposthenides, though all my sacrifices were of good
 
 146 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING. 
 
 omen to the exiles, yet I never found any greater induce- 
 ment to go on than the dream you mentioned ; for you say 
 that a <jreat and bright fire, rising out of a friend's house, 
 caught the city, and that the habitation of the enemies 
 was blackened with smoke, which never brings any thing 
 better than tears and disturbance ; that inarticulate sounds 
 broke out from us shows that none shall make any clear 
 and full discovery ; only a blind suspicion shall arise, and 
 our design shall appear and have its desired effect at the 
 same time. And it is very natural that the diviners should 
 find the sacrifices ill-omened ; for both their office and 
 their victims belong not to the public, but to the men in 
 power. Whilst Theocritus was speaking, I said to Hip 
 posthenides, Whom did you send with this message? for 
 if it was not long ago, we will follow him. Indeed, Ca- 
 phisias, he replied, it is unlikely (for I must tell the truth) 
 that you should overtake him, for he is upon the best 
 horse in Thebes. You all know the man, he is master of 
 the horse to Melon, and Melon from the very beginning 
 hath made him privy to the design. And I, observing 
 him to be at the door, said: What, Hipposthenides, is 
 it Clido, he that last year at Juno's feast won the single 
 horse-race], Yes, the very same. Who then, continued 
 I, is he that hath stood a pretty while at the court-gate 
 and gazed upon us? At this Hipposthenides turning 
 about cried out : Clido, by Hercules ! I'll lay my life some 
 unlucky accident hath happened. Clido, observing that 
 we took notice of him, came softly from the gate towards 
 us ; and Hipposthenides giving him a nod and bidding 
 him deliver his message to the company, for they were all 
 sure friends and privy to the whole plot, he began: Sir, 
 I know the men very well, and not finding you either at 
 home or in the market-place, I guessed you were with 
 them, and came directly hither to give you a full account 
 of the present posture of affairs. You commanded me
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 147 
 
 with all possible speed to meet the exiles upon the moun- 
 tain, and accordingly I went home to take horse, and 
 called for my bridle ; my wife said it was mislaid, and 
 stayed a long time in the hostry, tumbling about the things 
 and pretending to look carefully after it ; at last, when she 
 had tired my patience, she confessed that her neighbor's 
 wife had borrowed it last night ; this raised my passion 
 and I chid her, and she began to curse, and wished me a 
 bad journey and as bad a return ; all which curses, pray 
 God, may fall upon her own head. At last my passion 
 grew high, and I began to cudgel her, and presently the 
 neighbors and women coming in, there was fine work ; I 
 am so bruised that it was as much as I could do to come 
 hither to desire you to employ another man, for I protest 
 I am amazed and in a very bad condition. 
 
 19. Upon this news we were strangely altered. Just 
 before we were angry with the man that endeavored to put 
 it off; and now the time approaching, the very minute just 
 upon us, and it being impossible to defer the matter, we 
 found ourselves in great anxiety and perplexity. But I, 
 speaking to Hipposthenides and taking him by the hand, 
 bade him be of good courage, for the Gods themselves 
 seemed to invite us to action. Presently we parted. Phyl- 
 lidas went home to prepare his entertainment, and to make 
 Archias drunk as soon as conveniently he could ; Charon 
 went to his house to receive the exiles ; and I and Theo- 
 critus went back to Simmias again, that having now a good 
 opportunity, we might discourse with Epaminondas. 
 
 20. We found them engaged in a notable dispute, which 
 Galaxidorus and Phidolaus had touched upon before ; the 
 subject of the enquiry was this, What kind of substance 
 or power was the famed Daemon of Socrates ? Simmias's 
 reply to Galaxidorus's discourse we did not hear ; but he 
 said that, having once asked Socrates about it and received 
 no answer, he never repeated the same question ; but he
 
 1 IS A DISCOURSE CONCERNING" 
 
 had often heard him declare those to be vain pretenders 
 who said they had seen any divine apparition, while to 
 those who affirmed that they heard a voice he would 
 gladly hearken, and would eagerly enquire into the par- 
 ticulars. And this upon consideration gave us probable 
 reasons to conjecture that this Daemon of Socrates was not 
 an apparition, but rather a sensible perception of a voice, 
 or an apprehension of some words, which after an unac- 
 countable manner affected him ; as in a dream there is no 
 real voice, yet we have fancies and apprehensions of words 
 which make us imagine that we hear some speak. This 
 perception in dreams is usual, because the body whilst we 
 are asleep is quiet and undisturbed ; but when we are 
 awake, meaner thoughts creep in, and we can hardly bring 
 our souls to observe better advertisements. For being in 
 a hurry of tumultuous passions and distracting business, 
 we cannot compose our mind or make it listen to the dis- 
 coveries. But Socrates's understanding being pure, free 
 from passion, and mixing itself with the body no more than 
 necessity required, was easy to be moved and apt ' to take 
 an impression from every thing that was applied to it ; now 
 that which was applied was not a voice, but more probably a 
 declaration of a Daemon, by which the very thing that it 
 would declare was immediately and without audible voice 
 represented to his mind. Voice is like a stroke given to 
 the soul, which receives speech forcibly entering at the 
 ears whilst we discourse ? but the understanding of a more 
 excellent nature affects a capable soul, by applying the very 
 thing to be understood to it, so that there is no need of 
 another stroke. And the soul obeys, as it stretches or 
 slackens her affections, not forcibly, as if it wrought by 
 contrary passions, but smoothly and gently, as if it moved 
 flexible and loose reins. And sure nobody can wonder at 
 this, that hath observed what great ships of burden are 
 turned by a small helm, or seen a potter's wheel move
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 149 
 
 round by the gentle touch of one finger. These are life- 
 less things, it is true ; but being of a frame fit for motion, 
 by reason of their smoothness, they yield to the least im- 
 pulse. The soul of man, being stretched with a thousand 
 inclinations, as with cords, is the most tractable instrument 
 that is, and if once rationally excited, easy to be moved to 
 the object that is to be conceived ; for here the beginnings 
 of the passions and appetites spread to the understanding 
 mind, and that being once agitated, they are drawn back 
 again, and so stretch and raise the whole man. Hence 
 you may guess how great is the force of a conception when 
 it hath entered the mind ; for the bones that are insensible, 
 the nerves, the flesh that is full of humors, and the heavy 
 mass composed of all these, lying quiet and at rest, as 
 soon as the soul gives the impulse and raiseth an appetite 
 to move towards any object, are all roused and invigorated, 
 and every member seems a wing to carry it forward to 
 action. Nor is it impossible or even very difficult to con- 
 ceive the manner of this motion and stirring, by which the 
 soul having conceived any thing draweth after her, by means 
 of appetites, the whole mass of the body. But inasmuch 
 as language, apprehended without any sensible voice, easily 
 excites ; so, in my opinion, the understanding of a supe- 
 rior nature and a more divine soul may excite an inferior 
 soul, touching it from without, like as one speech may 
 touch and rouse another, and as light causes its own re- 
 flection. We, it is true, as it were groping in the dark, 
 find out one another's conceptions by the voice ; but the 
 conceptions of the Daemons carry a light with them, and 
 shine to those that are able to perceive them, so that there 
 is no need of words such as men use as signs to one 
 another, seeing thereby only the images of the concep- 
 tions, and being unable to see the conceptions themselves 
 unless they enjoy a peculiar and (as I said before) a divine 
 light. This may be illustrated from the nature and effect
 
 150 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 of voice ; for the air being formed into articulate sounds, 
 and made all voice, transmits the conception of the soul 
 to the hearer ; so that it is no wonder if the air, that is 
 very apt to take impressions, being fashioned according to 
 the object conceived by a more excellent nature, signifies 
 that conception to some divine and extraordinary men. 
 For as a stroke upon a brazen shield, when the noise 
 ariseth out of a hollow, is heard only by those who are in 
 a convenient position, and is not perceived by others ; so 
 the speeches of the Daemon, though indifferently applied 
 to all, yet sound only to those who are of a quiet temper 
 and sedate mind, and such as we call holy and divine men. 
 Most believe that Daemons communicate some illumina- 
 tions to men asleep, but think it strange and incredible 
 that they should communicate the like to them whilst they 
 are awake and have their senses and reason vigorous ; as 
 wise a fancy as it is to imagine that a musician can use his 
 harp when the strings are slack, but cannot play when 
 they are screwed up and in tune. For they do not con- 
 sider that the effect is hindered by the unquietncss and 
 incapacity of their own minds ; from which inconveniences 
 our friend Socrates was free, as the oracle assured his 
 father whilst he was a boy. For that commanded him to 
 let young Socrates do what he would, not to force or draw 
 him from his inclinations, but let the boy's humor have its 
 free course ; to beg Jupiter's and the Muses' blessing upon 
 him, and take no farther care, intimating that he had a 
 good guide to direct him, that was better than ten thousand 
 tutors and instructors. 
 
 21. This, Phidolaus, was my notion of Socrates's Daemon, 
 whilst he lived and since his death ; and T look upon all 
 they mention about omens, sneezings, or the like, to be 
 dreams and fooleries. But what I heard Timarchus dis- 
 course upon the same subject, lest some should think I 
 delight in fables, perhaps it is best to conceal. By no
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 151 
 
 means, cried Theocritus, let's have it ; for though they do 
 not perfectly agree with it, yet I know many fables that 
 border upon truth ; but pray first tell us who this Timar- 
 chus was, for I never was acquainted with the man. Very 
 likely, Theocritus, said Simmias ; for he died when he was 
 very young, and desired Socrates to bury him by Lampo- 
 cles, the son of Socrates, who was his dear friend, of the 
 same age, and died not many days before him. He being 
 eager to know (for he was a fine youth, and a beginner in 
 philosophy) what Socrates's Daemon was, acquainting none 
 but Cebes and me with his design, went down into Tro- 
 phonius's cave, and performed all the ceremonies that were 
 requisite to gain an oracle. There he stayed two nights 
 and one day, so that his friends despaired of his return 
 and lamented him as lost ; but the next morning he came 
 out with a very cheerful countenance, and having adored 
 the God, and freed himself from the thronging inquisitive 
 crowd, he told us many wonderful things that he had seen 
 and heard ; for this was his relation. 
 
 22. As soon as he entered, a thick darkness surrounded 
 him ; then, after he had prayed, he lay a long while upon 
 the ground, but was not certain whether awake or in a 
 dream, only he imagined that a smart stroke fell upon his 
 head, and that through the parted sutures of his skull his 
 soul fled out ; which being now loose, and mixed with a 
 purer and more lightsome air, was very jocund and well 
 pleased ; it seemed to begin to breathe, as if till then it 
 had been almost choked, and grew bigger than before, like 
 a sail swollen by the wind ; then he heard a small noise 
 whirling round his head, very sweet and ravishing, and 
 looking up he saw no earth, but certain islands shining with 
 a gentle fire, which interchanged colors according to the 
 different variation of the light, innumerable and very large, 
 unequal, but all round. These whirling, it is likely, agi- 
 tated the ether, and made that sound ; for the ravishing soft-
 
 152 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 ness of it was very agreeable to their even motions. Be- 
 tween these islands there was a large sea or hike which 
 shone very gloriously, being adorned with a gay variety of 
 colors mixed with blue ; some few of the islands swam in 
 this sea, and were carried to the other side of the current ; 
 others, and those the most, were carried up and down, 
 tossed, whirled, and almost overwhelmed. 
 
 The sea in some places seemed very deep, especially 
 toward the south, in other parts very shallow ; it ebbed and 
 flowed, but the tides were neither high nor strong ; in some 
 parts its color was pure and sea-green, in others it looked 
 muddy and as troubled as a pool. The current brings 
 those islands that were earned over to the other side back 
 again ; but not to the same point, so that their motions are 
 not exactly circular, but winding. About the middle of 
 these islands, the ambient sea seemed to bend into a hol- 
 low, a little less, as it appeared to him, than eight parts 
 of the whole. Into this sea were two entrances, by which 
 it received two opposite fiery rivers, running in with so 
 strong a current, that it spread a fiery white over a great 
 part of the blue sea. This sight pleased him very much ; 
 but when he looked downward, there appeared a vast 
 chasm, round, as if he had looked into a divided sphere, 
 very deep and frightful, full of thick darkness, which was 
 every now and then troubled and disturbed. Thence a 
 thousand bowlings and bellowings of beasts, cries of chil- 
 dren, groans of men and women, and all sorts of terrible 
 noises reached his ears ; but faintly, as being far off and 
 rising through the vast hollow ; and this terrified him ex- 
 ceedingly. 
 
 A little while after, an invisible thing spoke thus to him : 
 Tiraarchus, what dost thou desire to understand! And 
 he replied, Every thing ; for what is there that is not won- 
 derful and surprising? We have little to do with those 
 things above, they belong to other Gods ; but as for Pro-
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 153 
 
 serpina's quarter, which is one of the four (as Styx di- 
 vides them) that we govern, you may visit it if you please. 
 But what is Styx ? The way to hell, which reaches to the 
 contrary quarter, and with its head divides the light ; for, 
 as you see, it rises from hell below, and as it rolls oil 
 touches also the light, and is the limit of the extremest 
 part of the universe. There are four divisions of all 
 things ; the first is of life, the second of motion, the third 
 of generation, and the fourth of corruption. The first is 
 coupled to the second by a unit, in the substance invisible ; 
 the second to the third by understanding, in the Sun ; and 
 the third to the fourth by nature, in the Moon. Over every 
 one of these ties a Fate, daughter of Necessity, presides ; 
 over the first, Atropos ; over the second, Clotho ; and 
 Lachesis over the third, which is in the Moon, and about 
 which is the whole whirl of generation. All the other 
 islands have Gods in them ; but the Moon, belonging to 
 earthly Daemons, is raised but a little above Styx. Styx 
 seizes on her once in a hundred and seventy-seven second 
 revolutions ; and when it approaches, the souls are startled, 
 and cry out for fear ; for hell swallows up a great many, 
 and the Moon receives some swimming up from below 
 which have run through their whole course of generation, 
 unless they are wicked and impure. For against such she 
 throws flashes of lightning, makes horrible noises, and 
 frights them away ; so that, missing their desired happiness 
 and bewailing their condition, they are carried down again 
 (as you see) to undergo another generation. But, said 
 Timarchus, I see nothing but stars leaping about the hol- 
 low, some carried into it, and some darting out of it again. 
 These, said the voice, are Daemons ; for thus it is. Every 
 soul hath some portion of reason ; a man cannot be a man 
 without it ; but as much of each soul as is mixed with flesh 
 and appetite is changed, and through pain or pleasure 
 becomes irrational. Every soul doth not mix herself after
 
 154 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 one sort ; for some plunge themselves into the body, and 
 so in this life their whole frame is corrupted by appetite 
 and passion ; others are mixed as to some part, but the 
 purer part still remains without the body, it is not drawn 
 down into it, but it swims above, and touches the extremest 
 part of the man's head ; it is like a cord to hold up and 
 direct the subsiding part of the soul, as long as it proves 
 obedient and is not overcome by the appetites of the flesh. 
 That part that is plunged into the body is called the soul, 
 but the uncorrupted part is called the mind, and the vulgar 
 think it is within them, as likewise they imagine the image 
 reflected from a glass to be in that. But the more intelli- 
 gent, who know it to be without, call it a Daemon. There- 
 fore those stars which you see extinguished imagine to be 
 souls whose whole substances are plunged into bodies ; and 
 those that recover their light and rise from below, that 
 shake off the ambient mist and darkness, as if it were 
 clay and dirt, to be such as retire from their bodies after 
 death ; and those that are carried up on high are the 
 Daemons of wise men and philosophers. But pray pry 
 narrowly, and endeavor to discover the tie by which every 
 one is united to a soul. Upon this, Timarchus looked as 
 steadfastly as he could, and saw some of the stars very 
 much agitated, and some less, as the corks upon a net ; 
 and some whirled round like a spindle, having a very irreg- 
 ular and uneven motion, and not being able to run in a 
 straight line. And thus the voice said : Those that have a 
 straight and regular motion belong to souls which are very 
 manageable, by reason of their genteel breeding and phil- 
 osophical education, and which upon earth do not plunge 
 themselves into the foul clay and become irrational. 
 But those that move irregularly, sometimes upwards, some- 
 times downwards, as striving to break loose from a vexing 
 chain, are yoked to and strive with very untractable condi- 
 tions, which ignorance and want of learning make head-
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 155 
 
 strong and ungovernable. Sometimes they get the better 
 of the passions, and draw them to the right side ; some- 
 times they are drawn away by them, and sink into sin and 
 folly, and then again endeavor to get out. For the tie, as 
 it were a bridle on the irrational part of the soul, when it 
 is pulled back, draws in repentance for past sins, and 
 shame for loose and unlawful pleasures, which is a pain 
 and stroke inflicted on the soul by a governing and pre- 
 vailing power ; till by this means it becomes gentle and 
 manageable, and like a tamed beast, without blows or tor- 
 ment, it understands the minutest direction of the Daemon. 
 Such indeed are but very slowly and very hardly brought to a 
 right temper ; but of that sort which from the very begin- 
 ning are governable and obedient to the direction of the 
 Daemon, are those prophetic souls, those intimates of the 
 Gods. Such was the soul of Hermodorus the Clazomenian, 
 of which it is reported that for several nights and days it 
 would leave his body, travel over many countries, and re- 
 turn after it had viewed things and discoursed with persons 
 at a great distance ; till at last, by the treachery of his 
 wife, his body was delivered to his enemies, and they burnt 
 the house while the inhabitant was abroad. It is certain, 
 this is a mere fable. The soul never went out of the 
 body, but it loosened the tie that held the Daemon, and 
 permitted it to wander ; so that this, seeing and hearing 
 the various external occurrences, brough^ in the news to 
 it ; yet those that burnt his body are even till this time 
 severely tormented in the deepest pit of hell. But this, 
 youth, you shall more clearly perceive three months hence ; 
 now depart. The voice continuing no longer, Timarchus 
 (as he said) turned about to discover who it was that spoke ; 
 but a violent pain, as if his skull had been pressed together, 
 seized his head, so that he lost all sense and understanding ; 
 but in a little while recovering, he found himself in the 
 entrance of the cave, where he at first lay down.
 
 15G A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 23. This was Timarchus's story ; and when at Athens, 
 in the third month after he had heard the voice, he died. 
 We, amazed at the event, told Socrates the whole talr. 
 Socrates was angry with us for not discovering it whilst 
 Timarchus was alive ; for he would very gladly have had 
 a more full discovery from his own mouth. I have done, 
 Theocritus, with the story and discourse ; but pray, shall 
 we not entreat the stranger to discuss this point ] For it is 
 a very proper subject for excellent and divine men. What 
 then, said Theanor, shall we not have the opinion of Epa- 
 minondas, who is of the same school, and as well learned 
 as myself in these matters ] But my father with a smile 
 said : Sir, that is his humor ; he loves to be silent, he is 
 very cautious how he proposeth any thing, but will hear 
 eternally, and is never weary of an instinctive story ; so 
 that Spintharus the Tarentine. who lived with him a long 
 time, would often say that he never met a man that knew 
 more, or spake less. Therefore, pray sir, let us have your 
 thoughts. 
 
 24. Then, said Theanor, in my opinion, that story of 
 Timarchus should be accounted sacred and inviolable, and 
 consecrated to God ; and I wonder that any one should 
 disbelieve his report, as Simmias has related it. Swans, 
 horses, dogs, and dragons we sometimes call sacred ; and 
 yet we cannot believe that men are sacred and favorites of 
 Heaven, though we confess the love of man and not the 
 love of birds to be an attribute of the Deity. Now as one 
 that loves horses doth not take an equal care of the whole 
 kind, but always choosing out some one excellent, rides, 
 trains, feeds, and loves him above the rest ; so amongst 
 men, the superior powers, choosing, as it were, the best out 
 of the whole herd, breed them more carefully and nicely ; 
 not directing them, it is true, by reins and bridles, but by 
 reason imparted by certain notices and signs, which the 
 vulgar and common sort do not understand. For neither
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 157 
 
 do all dogs know the huntsman's, nor all horses the jockey's 
 signs ; but those that are bred to it are easily directed by a 
 whistle or a hollow, and very readily obey. And Homer 
 seems to have understood the difference I mention ; for 
 some of the prophets he calls augurs, some priests, some 
 such as understood the voice of the very Gods, were of the 
 same mind with them, and could foretell things ; thus, 
 
 Hclenus Priam's son the same decreed, 
 On which consulting Gods before agreed. 
 
 And in another place, 
 
 As I heard lately from th' immortal Gods.* 
 
 For as those that are not near the persons of kings or com- 
 manders understand their minds by fire-signals, proclamation, 
 sound of trumpet, or the like, but their favorites receive it 
 from their own mouth ; so the Deity converses immediately 
 but with very few, and very seldom ; but to most he gives 
 signs, from which the art of divination is gathered. So 
 that the Gods direct the lives of very few, and of such only 
 whom they intend to raise to the highest degree of per- 
 fection and happiness. Those souls (as Hesiod sings) that 
 are not to be put into another body, but are freed from all 
 union with flesh, turn guardian Daemons and preside over 
 others. For as wrestlers, when old age makes them unfit 
 for exercise, have some love for it still left, delight to see 
 others wrestle, and encourage them ; so souls that have 
 passed all the stages of life, and by their virtue are exalted 
 into Daemons, do not slight the endeavors of man, but be- 
 ing kind to those that strive for the same attainments, and 
 in some sort banding and siding with them, encourage and 
 help them on, when they see them near their hope and ready 
 to catch the desired prize. For the Daemon doth not go 
 along with every one ; but as in a shipwreck, those that 
 are far from land their friends standing on the shore only 
 
 D. VII. 44 and 63.
 
 158 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 look upon and pity, but those that are near they encourage 
 and wade in to save ; so the Daemon deals with mankind. 
 Whilst we are immersed in worldly affairs, and are changing 
 bodies, as fit vehicles for our conveyance, he lets us alone 
 to try our strength, patiently to stem the tide and get into 
 the haven by ourselves ; but if a soul hath gone through 
 the trials of a thousand generations, and now, when her 
 course is almost finished, strives bravely, and with a great 
 deal of labor endeavors to ascend, the Deity permits her 
 proper Genius to aid her, and even gives leave to any other 
 that is willing to assist. The Daemon, thus permitted, 
 presently sets about the work ; and upon his approach, if 
 the soul obevs and hearkens to his directions, she is saved ; 
 
 9 
 
 if not, the Daemon leaves her, and she lies in a miserable 
 condition. 
 
 25. This discourse was just ended, when Epaminondas 
 looking upon me, said : Caphisias, it is time for you to be 
 at the ring, your usual company will expect you ; we, as 
 soon as we break company, will take care of Theanor. 
 And I replied : Sir, I'll go presently, but I think Theocritus 
 here hath something to say to you and me and Galaxidorus. 
 Let's hear it in God's name, said he ; and rising up, he led 
 us into a corner of the porch. When we had him in the 
 midst of us, we all began to desire him to make one in the 
 conspiracy. He replied that he knew the day appointed 
 for the exiles' return, and that he and Gorgidas had their 
 friends ready upon occasion ; but that he was not for killing 
 any of the citizens without due process of law, unless some 
 grave necessity seemed to warrant the execution. Besides, 
 it was requisite that there should be some unconcerned in 
 the design ; for such the multitude would not be jealous 
 of, but would think what they advised was for the good of 
 the commonwealth, that their counsels proceeded from the 
 love they had for their country, and not from any design of 
 procuring their own safety. This motion we liked; he
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 159 
 
 returned to Simmias and his company, and we went to the 
 ring, where we met our friends, and as we wrestled together, 
 communicated our thoughts to one another, and put things 
 in order for action. There we saw Philip and Archias very 
 spruce, anointed and perfumed, going away to the prepared 
 feast ; for Phyllidas, fearing they would execute Amphi- 
 theus before supper, as soon as he had brought Lysanoridas 
 going, went to Archias, and putting him in hopes of the 
 woman's company he desired, and assuring him she would 
 be at the place appointed, soon trepanned him into stupid 
 carelessness and sensuality with his fellow-wantons. 
 
 26. About the night, the wind rising, the sharpness of 
 the weather increased, and that forced most to keep within 
 doors ; we meeting with Damoclides, Pelopidas, and The- 
 opompus received them, and others met other of the exiles ; 
 for as soon as they were come over Cithaeron, they separated, 
 and the stormy weather obliged them to walk with their 
 faces covered, so that without any fear or danger they passed 
 through the city. Some as they entered had a flash of 
 lightning on their right-hand, without a clap of thunder, 
 and that portended safety and glory ; intimating that their 
 actions should be splendid and without danger. 
 
 27. When we were all together in the house (eight and 
 forty in number), and Theocritus in a little room by himself 
 offering sacrifice, there was heard on a sudden a loud 
 knocking at the gate ; and presently one came and told us 
 that two of Archias's guard, who had some earnest busi- 
 ness with Charon, knocked at the gate, demanding entrance, 
 and were very angry that they were not admitted sooner. 
 Charon surprised commanded the doors to be opened pres- 
 ently, and going to meet them with a garland on his head, 
 as if he had been sacrificing or making merry, asked their 
 business. One of them replied, Philip and Archias sent 
 us to tell you that you must come before them presently. 
 And Charon demanding why they sent for him in such
 
 ICO A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 haste, and if all was well ; We know nothing more, the 
 messenger returned, but what answer shall we carry back ? 
 That, replied Charon, putting off his garland and putting 
 on his cloak, I follow you ; for should I go along with you, 
 my friends would be concerned, imagining that I am taken 
 into custody. Do so, said they, for we must go and carry 
 the governor's orders to the city guard. "With this they 
 departed, but Charon coming in and telling us the story, 
 we were all very much surprised, imagining the design had 
 been discovered ; and most suspected Hipposthenides, and 
 thought that he, having endeavored to hinder their coming 
 through Chido and failed, now the time for the dangerous 
 attempt unavoidably approached, grew faint-hearted and 
 made a discovery of the plot. And this seemed probable, 
 for he did not appear at Charon's house with the rest, and 
 so was looked upon by every one to be a rascal and a turn 
 coat ; yet we all were of opinion that Charon ought to 
 obey the governor's orders and go to them. Then he, 
 commanding his son to be brought to him, the prettiest 
 youth, Archidamus, in all Thebes, skilled in most exercises, 
 scarce fifteen years old, but very strong and lusty for his 
 age, thus said : Friends, this is my only and my beloved 
 son, and him I put into your hands, conjuring you by all 
 that's good, if you find me treacherous, to kill him and 
 have no mercy upon him for my sake ; but as for your 
 parts, sirs, be provided against the worst that can come ; do 
 not yield your bodies tamely to be butchered by base fel- 
 lows, but behave yourselves bravely, and preserve your 
 souls invincible for the good and glory of your country. 
 When Charon had ended, we admired the honesty and 
 bravery of the man, but were angry at his suspicion, and 
 bade him take away his son. Charon, said Pelopidas, we 
 should have taken it more kindly, if you had removed your 
 son into another house, for why should he suffer for being 
 in our company ? Nay, let us send him away now, that,
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 161 
 
 if we fall, he may live, and grow up. to punish the tyrants 
 and be a brave revenger of our deaths. By no means, re- 
 plied Charon, he shall stay here, and run the same danger 
 with you all, for it is not best that he should fall into the 
 power of his enemies ; and you, my boy, be daring above 
 thy age, and with these brave citizens venture upon neces- 
 sary dangers for the defence of liberty and virtue ; for we 
 have good hopes still left, and perhaps some God will pro- 
 tect us in this just and generous undertaking. 
 
 28. These words of his, Archidamus, drew tears from 
 many ; but he not shedding so much as one, and deliver- 
 ing his son to Pelopidas, went out of the door, saluting 
 and encouraging every one as he went. But you would 
 have been exceedingly surprised at the serene and fearless 
 temper of the boy, with a soul as great as that of Achil- 
 les's son ; for he did not change color or seem concerned, 
 but drew out and tried the goodness of Pelopidas's sword. 
 In the mean time Diotonus, one of Cephisodorus's friends, 
 came to us with his sword girt and breastplate on ; and 
 understanding that Archias had sent for Charon, he chid 
 our delay, and urged us to go and set upon the house 
 presently ; for so we should be too quick for them, and 
 take them unprovided. Or, if we did not like that pro- 
 posal, he said, it was better to go out and fall upon them 
 while they were scattered and in confusion, than to coop 
 ourselves up altogether in one room, and like a hive of 
 bees be taken off by our enemies. Theocritus likewise 
 pressed us to go on, affirming that the sacrifices were 
 lucky, and promised safety and success. 
 
 29. Upon this, whilst we were arming and setting our- 
 selves in order, Charon came in, looking very merrily and 
 jocund, and with a smile said : Courage, sirs, there is no 
 danger, but the design goes on very well ; for Archias 
 and Philip, as soon as they heard that according to their 
 order I was come, being very drunk and weakened in
 
 162 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 body and understanding, with much ado came out to me ; 
 and Archias said, I hear that the exiles are returned, and 
 lurk privately in town. At this I was very much surpiised, 
 hut recovering myself asked, Who are they, sir, and where ? 
 We don't know, said Archias, and therefore sent for you, 
 to enquire whether you had heard any clear discovery ; 
 and I, as it were surprised, considering a little with my- 
 self, imagined that what they heard was only uncertain 
 report, and that none of the associates had made this dis- 
 cover}' (for then they would have known the house), but 
 that it was a groundless suspicion and rumor about town 
 that came to their ears, and therefore said : I remember, 
 whilst Androclidas was alive, that a great many idle lying 
 stories were spread abroad, to trouble and amuse us ; 
 but, sir, I have not heard one word of this, yet if you 
 please, I will enquire what ground there is for it, and if I 
 find any thing considerable, I shall give you notice. Yes, 
 pray, said Phyllidas, examine this matter very narrowly ; 
 slight no particular, be very diligent and careful, foresight 
 is very commendable and safe. When he had said this, 
 he led back Archias into the room, where they are now 
 drinking. But, sirs, let us not delay, but begging the 
 God's assistance, put ourselves presently upon action. 
 Upon this, we went to prayers, and encouraged one an- 
 other. 
 
 30. It was now full supper-time, the wind was high, 
 and snow and small ram fell, so that the streets and nar- 
 row lanes we passed were all empty. They that were to 
 assault Leontidas and Hypates, whose houses joined, went 
 out in their usual clothes, having no arms besides their 
 swords ; amongst those were Pelopidas, Democlides, and 
 Cephisodorus. Charon, Melon, and the rest that were to 
 set upon Archias, put on breastplates, and shady fir or 
 pine garlands upon their heads ; some dressed themselves in 
 women's clothes, so that they looked like a drunken com-
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 163 
 
 pany of mummers. But our enemies' unlucky Fortune, 
 Archidamus, resolving to make their folly and carelessness 
 as conspicuous as our eagerness and courage, and having, 
 as in a play, intermixed a great many dangerous underplots 
 into our plan, now, at the very point of its execution, 
 presented to us a most unexpected and hazardous adven- 
 ture. For whilst Charon, as soon as ever he parted from 
 Archias and Philip, was come back and was setting us 
 forward to execute the design, a letter from Archias, the 
 chief-priest of Athens, was sent to Archias our governor, 
 which contained a full discovery of the plot, in what 
 house the exiles met, and who were the associates. Ar- 
 chias being now dead drunk, and quite beside himself 
 with expectation of the desired women, took the letter ; 
 and the bearer saying, " Sir, it contains matter of concern," 
 " Matters of concern to-morrow," he replied, and clapped it 
 under his cushion ; and calling for the glass, he bade the 
 servant fill a brimmer, and sent Phyllidas often to the 
 door to see if the women were coming. 
 
 31. The hopes of this company made them sit long ; and 
 we coming opportunely quickly forced our way through 
 the servants to the hall, and stood a little at the door, to 
 take notice of every one at table ; our shady garlands and 
 apparel disguising our intentions, all sat silent, in expecta- 
 tion of what would follow. But as soon as Melon, laying 
 his hand upon his sword, was making through the midst 
 of them, Cabirichus (who was the archon chosen by lot) 
 catching him by the arm cried out to Phyllidas, Is not this 
 Melon"? Melon loosed his hold presently, and drawing 
 out his sword, made at staggering Archias, and laid him 
 dead on the floor ; Charon wounded Philip in the neck, 
 and whilst he endeavored to defend himself with the cups 
 that were about him, Lysitheus threw him off his seat, 
 and ran him through. We persuaded Cabirichus to be 
 quiet, not to assist the tyrants, but to join with us to free
 
 164 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 his country, for whose good he was consecrated governor 
 and dcvqted to the Gods. But when being drunk he 
 would not harken to reason, but grew high, began to 
 bustle, and turned the point of his spear upon us (for 
 our governors always carry a spear with them), I catching 
 it in the midst, and raising it higher than my head, de- 
 sired him to let it go and consult his own safety, for else 
 he would be killed. But Theopompus, standing on his 
 right side and smiting him with his sword, said : Lie 
 there, with those whose interest you espoused ; thou shalt 
 not wear the garland in freed Thebes, nor sacrifice to the 
 Gods any more, by whom thou hast so often curst thy 
 country, by making prayers so many times for the pros- 
 perity of her enemies. Cabirichus falling, Theocritus 
 standing by snatched up the sacred spear, and kept it 
 from being stained ; and some few of the servants that 
 dared to resist we presently despatched ; the others that 
 were quiet we shut up in the hall, being very unwilling 
 that they should get abroad and make any discovery, till 
 we knew whether the other company had succeeded in 
 their attempt. 
 
 32. They managed their business thus : Pelopidas and 
 those with him went softly and knocked at Lcontidas's gate ; 
 and a servant coming to demand their business, they said, 
 they came from Athens, and brought a letter from Callis- 
 tratus to Leontidas. The servant went and acquainted his 
 master, and was ordered to open the door ; as soon as it 
 was unbarred, they all violently rushed in, and overturn- 
 ing the servant ran through the hall directly to Leontidas's 
 chamber. He, presently suspecting what was the matter, 
 drew his dagger and stood upon his guard ; an unjust man, 
 it is true, and a tyrant, but courageous and strong of his 
 hands ; but he forgot to put out the candle and get 
 amongst the invaders in the dark, and so appearing in the 
 light, as soon as they opened the door, he ran Cephisodorus
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 165 
 
 through the belly. Next he engaged Pelopidas, and cried out 
 to the servants to come and help ; but those Samidas and 
 his men secured, nor did they dare to come to handy blows 
 with the strongest and most valiant of the citizens. There 
 was a smart encounter between Pelopidas and Leontidas, 
 for the passage was very narrow, and Cephisodorus falling 
 and dying in the midst, nobody else could come to strike 
 one blow. At last Pelopidas, receiving a slight wound in 
 the head, with repeated thrusts overthrew Leontidas, and 
 killed him upon Cephisodorus, who was yet breathing ; for 
 he saw his enemy fall, and shaking Pelopidas by the hand, 
 and saluting all the rest, he died with a smile upon his 
 face. This done, they went to the house of Hy pates, and 
 entering after the same manner, they pursued Hypates, 
 flying over the roof into a neighbor's house, and caught 
 and killed him. 
 
 33. From thence they marched directly to us, and 
 we met in the piazza ; and having saluted and told one 
 another our success, we went all to the prison. And 
 Phyllidas, calling out the keeper, said : Philip and Archias 
 command you to bring Amphitheus presently before them. 
 But he, considering the unseasonableness of the time, and 
 that Phyllidas, as being yet hot and out of breath, spoke 
 with more than ordinary concern, suspected the cheat, and 
 replied to Phyllidas : Pray, sir, did ever the governors send 
 for a prisoner at such a time before ? Or ever by you ? 
 What warrant do you bring? As he was prating thus, 
 Phyllidas ran him through, a base fellow, upon whose 
 carcass the next day many women spat and trampled. We, 
 breaking open the prison door, first called out Amphitheus 
 by name, and then others, as every one had a mind ; they, 
 knowing our voice, jocundly leaped out of their straw in 
 which they lay, with their chains upon their legs. The 
 others that were in the stocks held out their hands, and 
 begged us not to leave them behind. These being set
 
 166 A DISCOURSE CONCERNING 
 
 free, many of the neighbors came in to us, understanding 
 and rejoicing for what was done. The women too, as soon 
 as they were acquainted with the flying report, unmindful 
 of the Boeotian strictness, ran out to one another, and 
 enquired of every one they met how things went. Those 
 that found their fathers or their husbands followed them ; 
 for the tears and prayers of the modest women were a very 
 great incitement to all they met. 
 
 34. Our affairs being in this condition, understanding 
 that Epaminondas, Gorgidas, and their friends were draw- 
 ing into a body about Minerva's temple, I went to them. 
 Many honest worthy citizens at first joined, and their num- 
 ber continually increased. When I had informed them 
 in the particulars of what was done, and desired them to 
 march into the market-place to assist their friends, they 
 proclaimed liberty; and the multitude were furnished \\ith 
 arms out of the piazzas, that were stuffed with spoil, and 
 the neighboring armorers' shops. Then Hipposthenides 
 with his friends and servants appeared, having by chance 
 joined the trumpeters that were coming to Thebes, against 
 the feast of Hercules. Straight some gave the alarm in 
 the market-place, others hi other parts of the city, distract- 
 ing their enemies on all sides, as if the whole city was in 
 arms. Some, lighting smoky fire, concealed themselves in 
 the cloud and fled to the castle, drawing to them the select 
 band which used to keep guard about the castle all night. 
 The garrison of the castle, when these poured in among 
 them scattered and in disorder, though they saw us all in 
 confusion, and knew we had no standing compact body, 
 yet would not venture to make a descent, though they were 
 above five thousand strong. They were really afraid, but 
 pretended they dared not move without Lysanoridas's or- 
 ders, who, contrary to his usual custom, was absent from 
 the castle that day. For which neglect, the Spartans (as I 
 was told), having got Lysanoridas into their hands, fined
 
 SOCRATES'S DAEMON. 167 
 
 him heavily ; and having taken Hermippidas and Arcesus 
 at Corinth, they put them both to death without delay. 
 And surrendering the castle to us upon articles, they 
 marched out with their garrison.
 
 HOW A MAN MAY BE SENSIBLE OP HIS PROGRESS 
 
 IN VIRTUE. 
 
 MY FRIEND Sossius SENECIO, 
 
 1. Is it possible, do you think, that all the arguments in 
 the world can make a man sensibly assured that he is a 
 proficient in virtue, upon this supposition, that his pro- 
 ceedings do not in the least alleviate and abate his folly, 
 but that the vice in him, weighing in equal balance against 
 his good inclinations, holds him down, as 
 
 Heavy lead pulls down the yielding net 1 
 
 In the study of music or grammar, I am sure, such a 
 conclusion would be very absurd ; for the scholar could 
 never be certain that he had made any improvement in 
 those sciences, if all the while he is a learning he did not 
 exhaust by little and little his former ignorance about them, 
 but remained during the whole progress of his application 
 under the same degree of unskilfulness as at first setting 
 out. 
 
 The like may be said of those that are under the hands 
 of a physician. According to this assertion, if the patient 
 take physic which does not recruit his strength or give 
 him ease by abating the severity of the distemper, it is 
 absolutely impossible that he should discern any alteration 
 in himself, before the contrary habit is perfectly and in the 
 highest degree induced, and his body thoroughly sound and 
 well. As in these instances you cannot say the persons 
 have advanced any thing, so long as they perceive no sen-
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 169 
 
 sible change in themselves by the abatement of the con- 
 trary weight, and do not find that their minds are elevated, 
 as it were, in the opposite scale ; just so, in truth, is it with 
 those that profess philosophy. They cannot be assured of 
 any progress or improvement, if the soul do not gradually 
 advance and purge off the rest of its former imperfections, 
 but still lie under the like equal pressure and grievance of 
 pure, absolute, unmixed evil, till it have attained the state 
 of perfect, supreme good ; for the truth of it is, a wise man 
 cannot in a moment of time change from the lowest degree 
 of vice imaginable to the most heroic perfection of virtue, 
 if he only make a brisk attempt to throw off vice all at 
 once, and do not constantly and resolutely endeavor by little 
 and little to lighten the burthen and dispossess the evil 
 habit of it. 
 
 You know very well how much trouble those give them- 
 selves who maintain this assertion, and what strange ques- 
 tions they raise with regard to it, for instance, why a wise 
 virtuous man should never perceive how he became such, 
 but should either be quite ignorant, or at least doubt, that 
 ever by little and little, now adding something, now sub- 
 tracting and removing others, he advanced to the aggre- 
 gate perfection of virtue. Now if (as they affirm) the 
 change from bad to good were either so quick and sudden, 
 as that he that was extremely vicious in the morning may 
 become eminently virtuous at night, or that any one going 
 to bed wicked might chance to rise a virtuous man next 
 morning, and, having all the former day's errors and im- 
 perfections absolutely removed out of his mind, might say 
 to them, as it is in the poet, 
 
 Vain dreams ! farewell, like spectres haste away, 
 At the new light of virtue's glorious day ; * 
 
 do you think that any one in the world could be ignorant 
 of so extraordinary a conversion, and perfectly shut his 
 
 Eurip. Iph. Taur. 669.
 
 170 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 eyes upon the beams of virtue and wisdom so fully and 
 manifestly breaking in upon his soul? In my opinion, if 
 any person should have Caeneus's foolish wish, and be 
 changed (as it is reported he was) from one sex to the 
 other, it is more probable that such a one should be alto- 
 gether ignorant of the metamorphosis, than that any should, 
 from a lazy, unthinking, debauched fellow, commence a 
 wise, prudent, and valiant hero, and from a sottish besti- 
 ality advance to the perfection of divine life, and yet know 
 nothing at all of the change. 
 
 2. It is very good advice, Measure the stone by your 
 rule, and not your rule by the stone. But the Stoics have 
 not observed it ; for they, not applying principles to things, 
 but forcing things which have no foundation of agreement 
 in nature to agree to their principles, have filled philosophy 
 with a number of difficulties. One of the hardest to be 
 solved is this, that all men whatsoever (except him who 
 is absolutely perfect) are equally vicious. Hence is that 
 enigma, called progress or proficiency, which, though it has 
 puzzled the learned to solve, is in my opinion very foolish ; 
 for it represents those that have advanced a little, and are 
 partly free from inordinate passions and distempers of mind, 
 to be as unhappy as those that are guilty of the most hei- 
 nous enormities. And indeed the assertion is so absurd, 
 that their own actions are enough to confute it ; for while 
 they maintain in their schools that Aristides and Phalaris 
 are equally unjust, that Brasidas and Dolon are equal cow- 
 ards, and that Plato and Meletus are equally senseless, still 
 in all affairs of life they seem to reject and avoid the latter 
 of these, as too harsh and severe to be softened into com- 
 pliance, but credit and quote the former in all their writings, 
 as persons of extraordinary worth and esteem. This is 
 what the Stoics assert. 
 
 3. But we, who can better agree with Plato in this point, 
 finding by observation that in all kinds of evils, especially
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 171 
 
 that of a weak and unmanaged disposition of mind, there 
 are several degrees of more and less (for herein one ad- 
 vance differs from another, that the miserable darkness 
 which the soul lies under begins more sensibly to abate, 
 when reason by little and little illuminates and purges the 
 soul), may be bold to affirm that the change from bad to 
 good is very easily and manifestly discernible ; not as if 
 one were drawn out of a pit on a sudden, and could give 
 no account of the degrees of the ascent, but so plain that 
 the several steps and advances may be computed. 
 
 The first argument that comes in my mind is this, by 
 way of simile ; pray examine it. You know the art of 
 navigation ; when the seamen hoist sail for the main ocean, 
 they give judgment of their voyage by observing together 
 the space of time and the force of the wind that driveth 
 them, and compute that, in all probability, in so many 
 months, with such a gale, they have gone forward to such 
 or such a place. Just so it is in the study of philosophy ; 
 one may, if he mind it, give a probable conjecture of a 
 scholar's proceedings. He that is always at his business, 
 constantly upon the road, never makes any steps or halts, 
 nor meets with obstacles and lets in the way, but under 
 the conduct of right reason travels smoothly, securely, and 
 quietly along, may be assured that he has one true sign of 
 a proficient. This of the poet, 
 
 Add many lesser numbers in account, 
 Your total will to a vast sum amount,* 
 
 not only holds true as to the increase of money, but also 
 may serve as a rule to the knowledge of the advance of 
 every thing else, especially of proficiency in virtue. Rea- 
 son, besides its ordinary influence, requires the constancy 
 of application and address which is necessary and usual 
 in all other affairs. Whereas, on the contrary, the irregu- 
 lar proceedings and inconsistent silly assertions of some 
 
 * Heaiod, Works and Days, 861.
 
 172 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 philosophers do not only lay rubs in the way, and break 
 the measures of a virtuous improvement, but seem to give 
 great advantage to vice, during their lingering and idling 
 upon their journey, to tempt them into by-paths, or over 
 persuade them to return whence they set out. 
 
 Astronomers tell us that planets, after they have finished 
 their progressive motion, for some small time acquiesce 
 and become stationary, as they term it. Now in the study 
 of philosophy it is not so ; there is no point of rest or ac- 
 quiescence during the whole procedure, for the nature of 
 progress is to be always advancing, more or less. The 
 scales in which our actions are, as it were, weighed can- 
 not at all stand in equilibrio, but our soul is continually 
 either raised by the addition of good, or cast with the 
 counterpoise of evil. 
 
 Therefore, as the oracle told the Cirrhaeans that they 
 ought to fight continually, day and night ; so you and 
 every wise man ought to be perpetually upon your guard, 
 and if you can be assured that you maintain a constant 
 combat with vice, that you are always at enmity with it 
 and never so much as come to terms, or receive any diver- 
 sions, applications, or avocations, as so many heralds from 
 the enemies' camp, in order to a treaty with it ; then you 
 may, with a great deal of confidence and alacrity, go on 
 with the management of your warlike expedition, and very 
 reasonably at last expect a conquest, and enjoy a crown of 
 righteousness for your reward. 
 
 4. It is another very good argument to prove that by 
 labor and exercise you have shaken off all .stupidity and 
 sluggishness of temper, and that you are arrived at a 
 perfection of virtue, if for the future your resolutions be 
 more firm and your application more intense than they were 
 when you first set out This appears true, if you but ob- 
 serve its contrary ; for it is a very bad sign if, after a small 
 time spent in trial, you find many and repeated interims-
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 173 
 
 sions, or your affections yielding or cool in the pursuit. 
 This may be illustrated by what is observable in the growth 
 of a cane. At first it appears above ground with a full 
 and pleasing sprout, which by little and little, taper-wise, 
 by a continued and equal distribution of matter, rises to a 
 very great height. Towards the root you may observe that 
 there are formed certain steps and joints, which are at a 
 considerable distance from one another, because (there) 
 the juice is plentiful and strong. But toward the top the 
 nutrimentive particles vibrate and palpitate, as if they were 
 quite spent with the length of their journey, and there- 
 upon, you see, they form themselves many small, weak, and 
 tender joints, as so many supports and breathing- places. 
 So it happens with those that study philosophy : at first 
 setting out they take long steps and make great advances ; 
 but if, after some attempts, they perceive not in themselves 
 any alteration for the better, but meet with frequent checks 
 and avocations the further they go, ordinarily they faint, 
 make any excuses to be off from their engagement, 
 despond of ever going through with it, and thereupon 
 proceed no farther. But, on the contrary, he that is 
 winged with desire flies at the proposed advantage, and by 
 a stout and vigorous pursuit cuts off all pretences of 
 delay from crowding in upon him or hindering his 
 journey. 
 
 In love, it is a sign the passion is predominant, if the 
 lover be not only pleased in the enjoyment of the beloved 
 object (for that's ordinary), but also troubled and grieved 
 at the absence of it. After a manner not unlike this, many 
 youngsters (as I've observed) stand affected at the study of 
 philosophy. At first, they buckle to their work with the 
 greatest concern and emulation imaginable ; but as soon as 
 ever they are diverted, either by business or any little pre- 
 tences, the heat of their affection immediately flies off, and 
 they sit down ignorant and very well content. But
 
 174 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTU1 
 
 Ht that perceives the pleasing ftinjj of lore, 
 
 Whose poignant joy his trembling heart doth more,* 
 
 will not only show that he is a proficient by his virtu- 
 ous demeanor and agreeableness in all company and 
 discourse ; but if he be called from his business, you may 
 perceive him all on fire, in pain, and uneasy in whatsoever 
 he does, whether alone or in company, and so concerned 
 that he is unmindful of his best friends till he is restored 
 to the quest of his beloved philosophy. All of us ought 
 to imitate such a noble example in all our studies. We 
 must not be aifected with good discourse only while we are 
 in place, as we are with rich fragrant perfumes (which we 
 never mind, but while we are a smelling to them) ; but if 
 by chance marriage, an estate, love, or a campaign take us 
 from our business, we must still hunger and thirst #fter vir- 
 tue ; and the more our proficiency is advanced, by so much 
 the more ought our desire to know what we have not at- 
 tained disquiet and excite us to the further pursuit and 
 knowledge of it. 
 
 5. The grave account which Hesiod gives of proficiency 
 is, in my judgment, either the very same, or comes very 
 near to this which I have now set down. Proficiency is 
 (says he) when all difficulties are removed, all unevenness 
 smoothed and cleared, and the way made easy and passa- 
 ble. It must be smoothed by frequent exercise, cleared by 
 beams of divine light that guide the way to true philoso- 
 phy, nothing at all of the clouds of doubt, error, or 
 inconstancy in good resolutions remaining, which are as 
 usually incident to learners in their first attempts upon 
 philosophy, as distraction and solicitudes are to those who, 
 sailing from a known land, cannot yet discover the place 
 whither they are bound. Thus I have known impatient 
 sophisters skip over common and ordinary notions, before 
 they have learned or attained better, and lose themselves 
 
 From Sophocles, Frag. 757,
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 175 
 
 in the middle of their journey in so troublesome a maze, 
 that they would be willing to return (if they could) to 
 their primitive state of quiet, inactive ignorance. Sextius, 
 a nobleman of Home, may serve for an instance of this. 
 He quitted all offices and places of honor, that* he might 
 more freely and undisturbedly apply himself to the study 
 of philosophy. At first he met with many difficulties ; and 
 finding himself unable to encounter or conquer them, out 
 of very despair and despondency, he had thoughts of 
 throwing himself out of a little boat into the river Tiber. 
 Parallel to this is a merry story told of Diogenes of Sinope ; 
 when he first put on his gown, it happened to be at a time 
 when the Athenians celebrated a festival with extraordinary 
 banquets, night-drinking, sports, and pageantry usual at 
 great solemnities. The philosopher, as he lay in the holi- 
 days in the corner of the street, muffled up in his clothes, 
 to try if he could take a nap, had some running thoughts 
 in his head, which checked the resolutions he had taken as 
 to a philosophical life, and troubled him extremely. He 
 reasoned with himself, that there was no necessity for his 
 entering into so troublesome and singular a way of living, 
 that he thereby deprived himself of all the sweets and 
 pleasures of life, and the like. While he was thinking 
 thus with himself, he espied (as the story goes) a mouse 
 venturing toward him, and now and. then nibbling at a 
 mouldy crust that he had in his pouch. This sight (which 
 is much) turned his thoughts, and made him vexed and 
 troubled at himself as much on the other side. What 
 (says he) is the matter with thee, Diogenes 1 Thou seest 
 this tiny mouse lives well, and is very glad of thy scraps ; 
 but thou, who must needs be a person of quality, forsooth, 
 art extremely sorry and out of humor, because thou dost 
 not feast upon down-beds, and canst not have the gen- 
 teel privilege at this merry time to be drunk as well as 
 others.
 
 170 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 Another rational argument of gradual proficiency is when 
 avocations are not frequent upon us, and when they hap- 
 pen, very short; while the substantial rules and precepts of 
 wisdom, as if they had been violently driven out, presently 
 return upon our minds, and dispossess all empty trouble 
 and disconsolate thoughts. 
 
 6. And because scholars do not only fancy to themselves 
 difficulties big enough to divert their weak resolutions, but 
 also often meet with serious persuasions from their friends 
 to leave their studies, and because sometimes such smart 
 jests and drolls are put upon them as have often discour- 
 aged, frequently quite converted, the endeavors of some ; it 
 may seem to you a very good argument of a proficient, if 
 you find yourself indifferent and unconcerned in that point. 
 As, for example, not to be cut to the heart and repine, 
 when you are told that such and such persons by name, 
 your equals once, live splendidly at court, have married 
 great fortunes, or have appeared publicly at the head of 
 a great many freeholders, that are ready to vote for them 
 for some great office or representative's place. He that is 
 neither discomposed nor very much affected by such news 
 as this is manifestly in the right, and has philosophy by the 
 surer handle. For it is impossible we should leave admir- 
 ing things which most men esteem, if the habit of virtue 
 were not deeply rooted in us. To avoid passionately what 
 every one cries down may be in some persons the effect of 
 anger and ignorance ; but utterly to despise what is admired 
 abroad is a certain sign of true and solid wisdom and 
 resolution. "NVith what satisfaction and complacency many 
 persons advanced to such a height of virtue compare 
 themselves with others, and break out in these verses of 
 Solon ! 
 
 We will not change Virtue's immortal crown 
 For a whole mine of gold. 
 Gold is uncertain ; but what we posses* 
 la still our own, and never can be lea*.
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 177 
 
 None can deny but that it was very great in Diogenes to 
 compare his shifting from the city of Corinth to Athens, 
 and from Thebes to Corinth, to the king of Persia's taking 
 his progress in the spring to Susa, in winter to Babylon, 
 and to Media in summer. Nor was it an argument of a 
 much less spirit in Agesilaus, who, hearing this same king 
 of Persia styled the Great, presently asked, In what is he 
 greater than I, if he be not juster than I am ? Aristotle 
 himself had exactly such notions in the like case ; for, 
 writing to Antipater about his scholar Alexander, he says 
 of him, that he ought not to value himself in this respect, 
 that he was advanced above others ; for whoever had a 
 true notion of God was really as great as he. And Zeno 
 too deserves to be mentioned, who, hearing Theophrastus 
 commended above any of the philosophers for his number 
 of scholars, put it off thus : His choir is indeed larger 
 than mine, but mine has the sweeter voices. 
 
 7. From all these instances you may collect this great 
 truth, that whenever you do, by setting the comforts of vir- 
 tue and the difficulties and errors of study one against the 
 other, perceive that you have utterly expelled all emulation, 
 jealousy, and every thing else that uses to disturb or dis- 
 courage young men, you may then assuredly conclude with 
 yourself that you have made very laudable progress. 
 
 Another argument of proficiency in virtue is the altera- 
 tion of your very style of writing, and of your way of 
 managing any argument or discourse. Most of those that 
 nowadays design for scholars (in ordinary speaking) do 
 prosecute almost none but popular studies ; to furnish out 
 discourse, and make themselves, as the phrase is, plausible 
 men ; some few of them there are who, like silly larks, 
 are taken with the glaring light of natural philosophy, and, 
 measuring themselves by their own levity and conceit, think 
 they are able presently to attain the height of that science. 
 Others like young whelps ('tis Plato's simile) love to snap
 
 178 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 and bite at one another, only to gratify a contentious, scep- 
 tical, and sophistical humor, which they at first got by bad 
 tuition and ill-managed studies. Some again, as soon as 
 ever they are initiated in the principles of logic, presently 
 commence sophisters. Others spend their whole time in 
 collecting sentences and historical narrations. These (as 
 Anacharsis said of the Grecians, that he saw no occasion 
 they had for money, but only to count and tell it over) have 
 nothing at all to do, but go about singing and repeating 
 what they have collected into commonplace books, with- 
 out any other benefit or satisfaction from their labors. To 
 these you may apply that of Antiphanes, which one ingen- 
 iously turned to Plato's scholars. This Antiphanes said 
 merrily, that in a certain city the cold was so intense that 
 words were congealed as soon as spoken, but that after 
 some time they thawed and became audible, so that the 
 words spoken in winter were articulated next summer. 
 Even so, the many excellent precepts of Plato, which he 
 instilled into the tender ears of his scholars, were scarce 
 perceived and distinguished by many of them, till they 
 grew men and attained the warm vigorous summer of their 
 
 age- 
 Such a cool disposition to virtue and philosophy, as that 
 
 philosopher said was in Plato's scholars when young, often 
 lasts in the most of us (as was hinted before) till our judg- 
 ments grow to a solid firmness and maturity, and we begin 
 to value those precepts that are able to beget a composure 
 and greatness of mind, and diligently to trace and follow 
 those discourses and precepts whose tracks (as it is in 
 Aesop's fables) rather look inward than outward, to our- 
 selves rather than others. Sophocles said of himself, that 
 in writing his tragedies he first of all abated and pricked 
 the tumor of Aeschylus's invention, then corrected the 
 harshness and over artifice of his composition, and, last 
 of all, changed his very style and elocution, the thing
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 179 
 
 which is most considerably persuasive, and which most of 
 all conduces to good manners. Even so, young students, 
 when they pass from the fulness and luxuriancy of panegy- 
 ric and declamation to that more solid part of philosophy 
 that regulates manners and smooths all rugged and disor- 
 derly passions, tnen begin really to attain true and solid 
 proficiency. 
 
 8. Hereupon let me advise you this, whenever you 
 read the writings or hear the orations of the philosophers, 
 attend always things more than words, and be not taken 
 with what is curious and of a delicate thread and context- 
 ure, more than that which is strong, nervous, and benefi- 
 cial. So also, in perusing poems or histories, be sure that 
 nothing escape you that is appositely said, in relation to 
 the cultivating of manners or the calming turbulent, im- 
 moderate passions ; but always give it a note, and make it 
 surely your own. Simonides said that a student in philo- 
 sophy should be like a bee. ' That laborious creature, when 
 it is amongst flowers, makes it its business industriously to 
 extract the yellow honey out of them all ; while others 
 care and seek for nothing else except the smell and the 
 color. So, while some others employ their time in reading 
 the poets only for diversion, or for the wit and fancy which 
 usually adorn their works, you (my dear friend) like a bee 
 amongst a swarm of drones, observe and collect what is 
 sweet, palatable, and worthy your pains, and seem already, 
 by your constant custom and application, to have attained a 
 perfect knowledge of what is eminently good and proper. 
 
 As to those that peruse the works of Plato and Xeno- 
 phon only for the style's sake, and do cull out what is 
 elegant and Attic, as the cream and flower of those authors, 
 pray what do they do but as it were admire the fragrancy 
 and flavor of medicinal drugs, yet, at the same time, 
 neither understand nor enquire after their healing and 
 purgative qualities ? Whereas, those that have advanced
 
 180 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 to a higher degree of perfection can extract benefit, not 
 only from philosophical discourses, but also from every 
 thing they see or do, and thence draw something that may 
 be proper and fit for their purpose. I will give you some 
 examples of Aeschylus and other very eminent men, which 
 may bo very pat to this purpose. Aeschylus chanced to 
 be a spectator at the Isthmian games, where some were 
 engaged at sword play ; seeing one of the combatants 
 wounded, and observing that the theatre immediately made 
 a great shouting and hollowing upon it, he jogged one 
 Ion, an inhabitant of the island Chios, who sat next to 
 him, and whispered him thus, Do you see what exercise 
 can do ? He that is wounded holds his peace, and the 
 spectators cry out 
 
 Brasidas, the Lacedaemonian captain, by chance caught 
 a mouse among some dry figs ; and, being bit by her, let 
 her go, with this exclamation, By Hercules ! there is no 
 creature so little or so weak, that it cannot preserve its life 
 if it dares but defend it 
 
 Diogenes may serve for a thousand instances ; when he 
 saw a boy drink out of the palm of his hand, he threw 
 away his dish, which he used to carry always with him 
 in his wallet. Thus sedulity and application have a 
 singular virtue to make us knowing and able to extract 
 motives to virtue from every thing that we meet with. 
 
 Nor is it a difficult matter to attain such a temper of 
 mind, if the candidates for virtue intermix discourse and 
 reading with their actions ; not only " exercising them- 
 selves amidst dangers " (as Thucydides * said to some), but 
 also engaging pleasures, disputing hard questions, examin- 
 ing precedents, pleading causes, and so (to try themselves 
 thoroughly) undertaking some magistracy or public office, 
 giving thereby demonstration of their opinions and resolu- 
 tion, or rather establishing their resolution by exercise. 
 
 Thucyd. L 18.
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 181 
 
 Whereas, those that are not bred to it, but like novices spy 
 out and catch at any thing that is curious in books, and 
 pragmatically run away with it either to the Exchange, 
 the College, or some club or tavern, deserve no more the 
 name of philosophers, than those quacks that only truck 
 off vile drugs and potions merit the character and value 
 of physicians. Those sophisters seem to me not unlike 
 the bird mentioned in Homer, and to have something of 
 its quality. Whatsoever they catch abroad they presently 
 bring home with them, and cram it into their unfledged 
 chicks, their illiterate scholars, starving their own empty 
 crops the while, as the poet has it ; for they neither digest 
 nor convert what they take into true nourishment. 
 
 9. It is then indispensably our duty so to manage our 
 discourse, that it may be beneficial both to ourselves and 
 others, we not incurring the censure of being thought 
 vain-glorious or arrogant by any ; to be always readier to 
 hear than to teach ; and, especially, so to abate and mod- 
 erate all vehemency and passionate quarrelling about triv- 
 ial questions, as that we may cease to attend and manage 
 disputations with the same indifferency as you may have 
 seen some exercise hurlbats and cudgelling, that is, so 
 as to leave the stage with more satisfaction for having had 
 a true hit or coming off conqueror, than for having either 
 learned ourselves or taught our antagonist any manner of 
 skill by the engagement. 
 
 An evenness and mildness of temper in all such affairs, 
 which never will suffer us to enter the lists with vehe- 
 mency and passion, nor to be hot and concerned in settling 
 an argument, nor to scold and give bad words when we 
 have vanquished our adversary, nor to be very much de- 
 jected if we chance to be quite baffled, is (I think) a true 
 sign of a great proficient in virtue. Aristippus was a 
 great example of this ; for when in a set disputation he 
 was baffled by the sophistry and forehead of an impudent,
 
 182 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. ' 
 
 wild, and ignorant disputant, and observed him to be 
 flushed and high with the conquest ; Well ! says the 
 philosopher, I am certain, I shall sleep quieter to-night 
 than my antagonist. 
 
 Not only upon the close and event of our philosophical 
 contests, but even in the midst of disputation, we may 
 (privately) take an estimate of this good quality in us, 
 which is a sign of a true proficient ; for example, if, upon 
 a greater appearance of auditors than was expected, we 
 be not afraid nor in confusion ; if, at the thinness of the 
 congregation, when there are but a few to hear us, we be 
 not dejected and troubled; and lastly, if, when we are to 
 speak before a numerous or honorable assembly, we do 
 not, for want of fitting preparation, miss the opportunity 
 for ever. 
 
 It is reported that two as famous orators as ever were, 
 Demosthenes and Alcibiades, were somewhat weak and 
 faulty in this point. The timorousness of the former is 
 known to every school-boy ; and as for Alcibiades, though 
 he was (as must be confessed) as sagacious and happy in 
 his thoughts as any man whatever, yet, for want of a little 
 assurance in speaking a thing, he very often miserably lost 
 himself in his pleadings ; for he would falter and make 
 pauses in the very middle of his orations, purely for want 
 of a single word or some neat expression, that he had in 
 his papers but could not presently remember. To give 
 you another instance of the prince of poets, Homer ; he 
 was so blinded with an over-confidence of his abilities in 
 poetry, that he has slipped a false quantity, and left it on 
 record, in the very first verse of his Iliads. 
 
 Seeing then the learnedest men and greatest artists have 
 failed and may fail for want of caution or confidence, it 
 ought more nearly to concern those that earnestly follow 
 virtue, not to slip the least opportunity of improvement, 
 either by company or otherwise ; and not overmuch to
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 183 
 
 regard the throng or applause of the theatre, when they 
 do exercise or make any solemn harangue. 
 
 10. Nor is it enough that one take care of all his dis- 
 courses and orations ; but he ought also to observe that 
 the whole tenor of his actions be guided by profit rather 
 than vain pomp, and by truth rather than ostentation. 
 For if a passionate lover who has placed his affection 
 upon any beloved object seeks no witnesses to attest its 
 sincerity, but has such an eager desire when alone and in 
 private, that, like a covered flame, it burns more vigor- 
 ously and insensibly for being shut up ; much more ought 
 a moralist and a philosopher who has attained both the 
 habit and exercise of virtue sit down self-contented, and 
 applaud himself in private, neither needing nor desiring 
 encomiasts or auditors from abroad. 
 
 There is an humor in some of the poets, of xan old peev- 
 ish housekeeper, that calls to his maid aloud : Do you see, 
 Dionysia (that is his maid's name), I am now pleased, and 
 have laid by all choler and passion. Just such like is the 
 practice of some, who, as soon as they have done any thing 
 which is obliging and civil, presently blaze it abroad, and 
 turn their own heralds. Such men show plainly that they 
 look beyond themselves for satisfaction ; that they are de- 
 sirous of praise and applause ; and that they never were 
 admitted near spectators of virtue, never saw her in her 
 noble, royal dress, but only had some transient sight of her 
 in a dream or an empty airy phantasm ; and indeed, that 
 they expose their actions to the public, as painters do their 
 pictures, to be gazed at and admired by the gaping multi- 
 tude. 
 
 Another sign of a proficient in virtue is, when the pro- 
 ficient has given any thing to his friend or done any kind- 
 ness for any one, if he keeps it to himself and does not 
 blab it to anybody ; and (which is more) if he hath voted 
 right against a majority of biassed suffragans, withstood
 
 184 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 the dishonest attempts of some rich and powerful man, 
 generously rejected bribes when offered, abstained from 
 inordinate drinking when athirst and alone, or at night, 
 when none sees or knows what he does, lastly, if he hath 
 conquered the briskest attempts of love (as is said of 
 Agesilaus) ; if (I say) he contain himself from speaking 
 of such actions, and do not in company boast of his per- 
 formances. This I affirm, such a one as can prove and 
 try himself by himself, and be fully satisfied in the verdict 
 of his conscience, as of an unexceptionable witness and 
 spectator of what is right and good, shows plainly that 
 his reason looks inward and is well rooted within him, and 
 that the man (as Democritus said) is accustomed to take 
 satisfaction from himself. 
 
 To borrow a simile from .husbandmen and those that are 
 concerned in the business of the fields, they are always 
 best pleased to see those ears of corn which decline and 
 by reason of their fulness bend downwards to the earth, 
 but look upon those as empty, deceitful, and insignificant, 
 which, because they have nothing in them, grow bolt up- 
 right and appear above the rest. So it is amongst students 
 in philosophy ; those that are most empty-headed, and 
 have least firmness and solidity, have always the greatest 
 share of confidence, formality, and stiffness in their ad- 
 dress, look biggest, walk with the most state, and top upon 
 and condemn others, with the highest arrogance and se- 
 verity of any living. But when once their brains begin to 
 fill and become well poised with solid notions, they look 
 down into themselves, and quite lay aside that insolent and 
 arrogant humor, which is proper only to youngsters. 
 
 Give me leave to illustrate this by one simile more. 
 When you pour water into bottles or any other vessels, 
 upon its being instilled into them, the air that was in them 
 before presently flies out and gives place to the more sub- 
 stantial body. Even so it is with those that have had many
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 185 
 
 good precepts instilled into them, and their minds replen- 
 ished with solid truths. They presently find that all empty 
 vanity flies off ; that the imposthume of pride breaks ; that 
 they do not value themselves for beard and gown only, but 
 bend their actions and endeavors to the bettering of their 
 rational faculties ; and, lastly, that when they reprove they 
 begin at home, turning the edge of their satire and invec- 
 tive upon themselves, even when at the same time they are 
 civil and complaisant to all others beside. It is indeed an 
 argument of a generous and truly brave disposition in a 
 scholar, not to assume the name and character of one, and, 
 as some use to do, to put the philosopher amongst his 
 titles ; but if any out of respect chance to give him that 
 compellation, to be surprised, blush, and with a modest 
 smile answer him in that of the poet, 
 
 You compliment your friend ; he whom you so commend 
 Must needs be more than man, far more than I pretend.* 
 
 Aeschylus says of a young woman that, if ever she have 
 played the wanton, you may discover it in her eyes, and 
 read her affections in amorous glances which she cannot 
 conceal ; so a young scholar, if he be once entered iu 
 the mysteries and have tasted the sweets of philosophy, 
 cannot possibly suppress the passion and concern for it ; 
 as Sappho says, his tongue falters when he would speak 
 its praise ; his heart is warm with affection ; 
 
 A secret flame does run through every part. 
 
 You would admire and love the assurance and compos- 
 edness of his looks, the affection ateness of his eyes, and 
 especially the winning decency and agreeableness of his 
 words and expressions. 
 
 Those that are to be initiated in the ceremonies of the 
 Gods run to their temples at first with a great deal of 
 noise, clamor, and rudeness ; but as soon as the solemnity 
 
 Odyss. XVI. 187.
 
 186 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 is seen and over, they attend with a profound silence and 
 religious fear. So it is with the candidates in philosophy ; 
 you may perceive a throng, noise, and pother about the 
 school-doors, by reason that several press thither eagerly, 
 rudely, and violently for reputation, more than learning ; 
 but when you are once in, and manifestly see the great 
 light, as if some royal shrine were opened unto you, you 
 are presently possessed with a quite different notion of 
 things ; are struck with silence and admiration, and begin, 
 with humility and a reverend composure, to comply with 
 and follow the divine oracle. That which Menedemus 
 said in another case is very apposite to this sort of men. 
 Those that went to the school of Athens were first of 
 all (ao(fofy wise, next ((frf.oaoyoi) lovers of wisdom, then ora- 
 tors, and at last, in course of time, plain common men ; 
 for the longer they applied themselves to study and phi- 
 losophy, so much the more all vanity, pride, and pedantry 
 abated in them, and the nearer they came to plain, down- 
 right, honest men. 
 
 11. Again, as it is with those that are indisposed and 
 out of order, some, if a tooth or finger do but ache, 
 presently run to a physician ; others send for one to their 
 houses, if they find themselves but the least feverish and 
 desire his advice and assistance ; but those that are either 
 melancholical, or but any ways crazed in their heads, can- 
 not endure so much as the looks of a physician, but either 
 keep out of sight when he comes or command him to be 
 gone, being altogether insensible of their condition, 
 so, in persons that commit any heinous crime or fall into 
 any error, I look upon those as perfectly incurable, who 
 take it ill to be admonished of their fault and look upon 
 reproof and admonition as the greatest rudeness and inci- 
 vility in the world, whorons those that can quietly hearken 
 and submit to the advice of friends and superiors deserve 
 a more favorable opinion, and may be thought to be of a
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 187 
 
 much better disposition. But the greatest character of 
 hopeful men, and such as may be probably excellent pro- 
 ficients in time, belongs to those who, upon a commission 
 of a fault, immediately apply themselves to such as will 
 reprove and correct them ; who plainly disclose their grief 
 and open their malady ; who do not rejoice in concealing 
 their distemper, and are not content to have their troubles 
 unknown ; lastly, who make a full confession of what they 
 have done amiss, and desire the help of a friend to ex- 
 amine and direct them for the future. Diogenes, I am 
 sure, was of this opinion. He said, that whosoever would 
 be certainly and constantly in the right must get either a 
 virtuous good friend or an incensed ill-natured enemy to 
 his monitor ; the one by gentle admonition to reprove and 
 persuade him, the other to work upon him by severity, and 
 awe him into a virtuous course of life. 
 
 There is a sort of men in the world, that are so vain and 
 foolish as to take a pride hi being the first discoverers of 
 their own imperfections ; if they have but a rent or spot 
 in their clothes, or have got a torn pair of shoes on, they 
 are the most forward of any to tell it in company ; and 
 (which is more) they are very apt, out of a silly, empty, 
 arrogant humor, to make themselves the subject of their 
 drollery, if they are of a dwarfish stature or any way de- 
 formed ; yet (which is strange) these very men, at the very 
 same time, endeavor to excuse and palliate the internal im- 
 perfections of the mind and the more ugly deformities of 
 the soul, as envy, evil-custom, detraction, voluptuousness, 
 &c., and will not suffer any one either to see or probe them. 
 These are, as it were, so many sore places, and they cannot 
 endure to have them touched and meddled with. Such 
 men as these (I may be bold to say) have very few signs 
 of proficiency, or rather none at all. 
 
 Now, on the contrary, he that examines his own failings 
 with the greatest severity, that impartially blames or cor-
 
 188 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 rects himself as often as he does amiss, or (which is almost 
 as commendable) grows firmer and better by present ad- 
 vice, as well as more able and ready to endure a repri- 
 mand for the future, seems to me truly and sincerely to 
 have rejected and forsaken vice. 
 
 It is certainly our duty to avoid all appearance of evil, 
 and to be ashamed to give occasion even to be reputed 
 vicious; yet evil reports are so inconsiderable to a wise 
 man, that, if he have a greater aversion to the nature of 
 evil than to the infamy that attends it, he will not fear what 
 is said of him abroad, nor what calumnies are raised, if so 
 be he be made the better by them. It was handsomely 
 said of Diogenes, when he saw a young spark coming out 
 of a tavern, who at the sight of him drew back : Do not 
 retire, says he, for the more you go backward, the more 
 you will be in the tavern. Even so every vicious person, 
 the more he denies and palliates vice, the more aggravates 
 and confirms it, and with surer footing goes farther into 
 wickedness ; like some persons of ordinary rank and quality, 
 who, while they assume above themselves, and out of arro- 
 gance would be thought rich, are made really poor and 
 necessitous, by pretending to be otherwise. 
 
 Hippocrates, a man of wonderful skill in physic, was 
 very ingenuous in this point, and fit to be imitated by the 
 greatest proficients in philosophy. He confessed publicly, 
 that he had mistaken the nature of the sutures in the skull, 
 and has left an acknowledgment of his ignorance upon 
 record, under his own hand ; for he thought it very un- 
 worthy a man of his profession not to discover where he 
 was in the wrong, seeing others might suffer and err by 
 his authority. And, indeed, it had been very unreasona- 
 ble, if he, whose business and concern it was to save others 
 and to set them right, should not have had the courage to 
 cure himself, and to discover his weakness and imperfec- 
 tions in his own faculty.
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 189 
 
 Pyrrhon and Bion (two eminent philosophers) have given 
 rules of proficiency ; but they seem rather signs of a com- 
 plete habit of virtue, than a progressive disposition to it. 
 Bion told his friend, that they then might be assured of 
 their proficiency, when they could endure a reproof from 
 anybody with the same indifferency and unconcernedness 
 as they could hear the highest encomiums, even such a 
 one as this of the poet: 
 
 Sir, 
 
 Some heavenly flame inspires your breast ; 
 Live great, rejoice, and be for ever blest.* 
 
 The other, to wit, Pyrrhon, being at sea and in great 
 danger, by reason of a tempest that arose, took particular 
 notice (as the story goes) of a hog that was on board, 
 which all the while very unconcernedly fed upon some com 
 which lay scattered about ; he showed it to his companions, 
 and told them that they ought to acquire by reading and 
 philosophy such an apathy and unconcernedness in all 
 accidents and dangers as they saw that poor creature nat- 
 urally have. 
 
 12. The opinion which is said to be Zeno's may deserve 
 our consideration. He said that any one might give a 
 guess at his proficiency from the observation of his dreams, 
 if when asleep he fancied nothing that was immodest, nor 
 seemed to consent to any wicked actions or dishonest in- 
 tentions, but found his fancy and passions of his mind 
 undisturbed, in a constant calm, as it were, always serene, 
 and enlightened with the beams of divine reason. This 
 very notion was hinted by Plato f (as I interpret his words), 
 where he is describing and delineating the soul which is 
 tyrannical in its nature, and showing what manner of oper- 
 ations its fantasy and irrational appetite exert. When a 
 man is asleep, he says, a vicious person designs the sati>fy- 
 ing incestuous lust, has a longing for all sorts of meat in- 
 
 Odyss. VI. 187 ; XXIV. 402. t Republic, IX. p. 671 C-
 
 190 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 differently, whether allowed or prohibited, and satisfies his 
 appetite and desire in all manner of intemperance which 
 is loose and unregarded, which, in the day-time, either the 
 laws shame him out of, or fear to offend restrains 
 
 As now those brute beasts that are accustomed to labor 
 will not, if the reins be let loose, either turn aside or offer 
 to leave the track or stumble in it, so it is with the brutal 
 faculty of the mind ; when it is once made tame and man- 
 ageable by the strength of reason, then it is unwilling care- 
 lessly to transgress or saucily to disobey its sovereign's 
 commands or to comply with any inordinate lusts, either 
 in sleep or sickness ; but it carefully observes and main- 
 tains its dictates to which it is accustomed, and by fre- 
 quent exercise advances to perfect strength and intention 
 of virtue. 
 
 We find even in our own nature the strange effects of 
 custom. Man is naturally able, by much exercise and the 
 use of a stoical apathy, to bring the body and all its mem- 
 bers into subjection, so that not one organ shall perform its 
 operation, the eyes shall not burst out with tears upon 
 the sight of a lamentable object, the heart shall not palpi- 
 tate upon the apprehension of fear, and the passions shall 
 not be roused at the sight of any beautiful person, whether 
 man or woman. Now it is much more probable that the 
 faculties of the sense may be so brought in subjection by 
 undergoing such exercise as we speak of, that all its imag- 
 inations and motions may be smoothed and made agreeable 
 to right reason, even when we are asleep and keep not sen- 
 try. It is reported of Stilpo the philosopher, that he 
 thought he saw Neptune in his sleep, and that he seemed 
 very much displeased with him, because he had not (as was 
 usual with his priests) sacrificed an ox in honor of him. 
 Not in the least daunted at the apparition, he thus boldly 
 accosted it : Neptune ! what's this business you here com- 
 plain of? You come hither like a child, and are angry with
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 191 
 
 me, because I did not borrow money and run in debt to 
 please you, and fill the city with costly odors, but privately 
 sacrificed to you in my own house such ordinary victims as 
 1 could get. At this confident reply, Neptune smiled, and 
 (as the story goes) reached him his hand, as an assurance 
 of his good-will to him, and told him that for his sake he 
 would send the Megarians abundance of fish that season. 
 
 In the main we may conclude thus much, that those that 
 have clear and pleasant dreams, and are not troubled with 
 any frightful, strange, vicious, or irregular apparitions in 
 their sleep, may assure themselves that they have some 
 indications and dawnings of proficiency ; whereas, on the 
 contrary, those dreams which are mixed with any pain, 
 fear, cowardly aversions from good, childish exultation, or 
 silly grief, so that they are both frightful and unaccount- 
 able, are like the breaking waves or the billows of the 
 sea ; for the soul, not having attained a perfect evenness of 
 temper, but being under the formation of laws and precepts 
 from whose guidance and discovery it is free in time of 
 sleep, is then slacked from its usual intenseness, and laid 
 open to all passions whatever. 
 
 Whether this temper we speak of be an argument of 
 proficiency, or an indication of some other habit which has 
 taken deep root in the soul, grown strong and immovable 
 by all the power of reason, I leave to you to consider and 
 determine. 
 
 13. Seeing then an absolute apathy or freedom from all 
 passions whatsoever is a great and divine perfection, and, 
 withal, considering that progress seems to consist in a cer- 
 tain remission and moderation of those very passions we 
 carry about us, it unavoidably follows, that if we will ob- 
 serve our passions, with relation to one another and also to 
 themselves, we may easily find out their differences. For 
 example, first, we may observe from the passions compared 
 with themselves whether our desires be now more mod-
 
 192 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 erate than they used to be, fear and anger less and more 
 calm, and whether or no we are more able to quench the 
 heat and flame of our passions than we used to be. 
 
 Secondly, by comparing them with one another, we may 
 observe whether we now have a greater share of shame 
 than of fear, whether emulation be without any mixture of 
 envy, whether we have greater desire of glory than of 
 riches, whether we offend (as the musicians term it) in the 
 Dorian or base or in the Lydian or treble notes, that is, 
 whether we are more inured to abstinence and hardship 
 than otherwise, whether we are unwilling rather than 
 forward to appear in public, and, lastly, whether we are 
 undue admirers of the persons or performances of others, 
 or despisers both of them and what .they can do. 
 
 As it is a good sign of recovery of a sick person if the 
 distemper lie in the less principal parts of the body ; so in 
 proficiency, if vicious h:\bits be changed into more toler- 
 able passions, it is a symptom that they are going off and 
 ready to be quenched. Phrynis the musician, to his seven 
 strings adding two more, was asked by the magistrates, 
 whether he had rather they should cut the upper or lower 
 of them, the base or treble. Now it is our business to cut 
 off (as it were) both what is above and below, if we would 
 attain to the true medium and equality ; for proficiency in 
 the first place remits the excess, and sweetens the harmony 
 of the evil affections, which is (according to Sophocles) 
 
 The madman's greatest pleasure and disease. 
 
 14. We have already said that we ought to transfer our 
 judgment to action, and not to suffer our words to remain 
 bare and naked words, but to reduce them to deeds ; and 
 that this is the chiefest sign of a proficient. Now another 
 manifest indication is a desire of those things we commend, 
 and a readiness to perform those things which we admire, 
 but whatsoever we discommend, neither to will or endure 
 it. It is probable that all the Athenians highly extolled
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 193 
 
 the courage and valor of Miltiades. But Themistocles 
 (who professed that the trophies of Miltiades broke his 
 sleep, and often forced him out of his bed) did not only 
 praise and admire what he had done, but was manifestly 
 struck with a zeal and emulation of his performances. 
 Therefore we may be assured that we have profited little, 
 while we think it a vanity to admire those that have done 
 well, and cannot possibly be raised to an imitation of 
 them. 
 
 To love the person of any man is not sufficient, except 
 it have a mixture of emulation ; no more is that love of 
 virtue ardent and exciting, which does not put us forward, 
 and create in our breasts (instead of envy to them) a zeal- 
 ous affection for all good men, and a desire of equal per- 
 fection with them. For it is not enough (as Alcibiades 
 was wont to say) that the heart should be turned upside 
 down by hearing the discourses of a philosopher, and that 
 the tears should gush from the eyes ; but he that is a pro- 
 ficient indeed, comparing himself with the designs and 
 actions of a good perfect man, is pricked at the same with 
 the consciousness of his own weakness, and transported 
 with hope and desire, and big with irresistible assurance ; 
 and indeed such a one is (as Simonides says) like a little 
 sucking foal running by the mother's side, and desires to 
 be incorporated into the very same nature with a good 
 man. For this is an especial sign of true proficiency, to 
 love and affect their way of life whose actions we emulate, 
 and, upon account of an honorable opinion we always en- 
 tertain for them, to do as they do. But whosoever he is 
 that entertains a contentious or malicious design against 
 his betters, let him be assured that he is possessed with a 
 greedy desire of honor or greatness, but has neither a 
 true respect nor admiration for virtue. 
 
 15. When therefore we once begin so to love good 
 men, as not only (according to Plato) to esteem the wise
 
 194 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 man himself happy, and him who hears his discourses 
 sharer in his felicity, but also to admire and love his 
 habit, gait, look, and very smile, so as to wish ourselves 
 to be that very person, then we may be assured that we 
 have made very good proficiency. 
 
 This assurance will be advanced, if we do not only ad- 
 mire good men in prosperity, but like lovers, who are 
 taken ever with the lisping and pale looks of their mis- 
 tresses (as Araspes is said to have been smitten with the 
 tears and dejected looks of a mournful and afflicted Pan- 
 thea), have an affection for virtue in its most mournful 
 dress, so as not at all to dread the banishment of Aris- 
 tides, the imprisonment of Anaxagoras, the poverty of 
 Socrates, nor the hard fate of Phocion, but to embrace and 
 respect their virtues, even under such injustice, and upon 
 thoughts of it, to repeat this verse of Euripides, 
 
 How do all fortunes decently become 
 A generous, well-tuned soul ! 
 
 This is certain, if any one addresses himself to virtue 
 with this resolution, not to be dejected at the appearance 
 of difficulty, but heartily admires and prosecutes its divine 
 perfection, none of the evil we have spoken of can divert 
 his good intentions. To what I have said I may add this, 
 that when we go upon any business, undertake any office, 
 or chance upon any affair whatever, we must set before 
 our eyes some excellent person, either alive or dead ; and 
 consider with ourselves -what Plato for the purpose would 
 have done in this affair, what Epaminondas would have 
 said, how Lycurgus or Agesilaus would have behaved 
 themselves, that, addressing ourselves and adorning our 
 minus at these mirrors, we may correct every disagreeing 
 word and irregular passion. It is commonly said, that 
 those that have got by heart the names of the Idaei Dac- 
 tyli make use of them as charms to drive away fear, if they 
 can but confidently repeat them one by one ; so the con-
 
 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 195 
 
 sideration and remembrance of good men, being present 
 and entertained in our minds, do preserve our proficiency 
 in all affections and doubts regular and immovable ; where- 
 fore you may judge that this is also a token of a pro'ii- 
 cient in virtue. 
 
 16. You may observe further, that not to be in a con- 
 fusion, not to blush, not to hide or correct your clothes or 
 any thing about you, at the unexpected appearance of an 
 honorable and wise person, but to have an assurance as if 
 you were often conversant with such, is almost a perfect 
 demonstration of a vei-y intelligent person. 
 
 It is reported of Alexander, that one night seeing a 
 messenger joyfully running towards him and stretching 
 out his hand, as if he had something to deliver to him, 
 he said to the apparition, Friend, what news do you bring 
 me? Is Homer risen from the dead? That admirable 
 monarch thought that nothing was wanting to his great 
 exploits but such a herald as Homer. 
 
 Consider this, if a young man thrive in the world, it is 
 customary for him to desire nothing more than to be seen 
 in the company of virtuous and good men, to show them 
 his whole furniture, his table, his wife and children, his 
 study, his diary or collections ; and he is so pleased 
 with himself, that he wishes his father or tutor were alive, 
 that they might see him in so good a way of living ; and 
 he could heartily pray that they were alive, to be specta- 
 tors of his life and actions. But, on the contrary, those 
 that have neglected their business, or lost themselves in 
 the world, cannot endure the sight or company of their 
 relations without a great deal of fear and confusion. 
 
 17. Join this, if you please, to what we said before; 
 for it is no small sign, if the proficient thus esteem every 
 little fault a great one, and studiously observe and avoid 
 all. For, as those persons who despair of ever being rich 
 make little account of small expenses, thinking that little
 
 196 OF MAN'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE. 
 
 added to a little will never make any great sum, but when 
 they come once to have got a competency, and hope to be 
 at last very rich, it advances their desires, so it happens 
 in the affairs of virtue ; he that does not quiet his mind 
 by saying with himself, " "What matters it what comes 
 after ? if for the present it be so and so, yet better days 
 will come," but who attends every thing, and is not care- 
 less if the least vice pass uncondemned, but is troubled 
 and concerned at it, such a one makes it appear that he 
 has attained something that is pure, which he brightens 
 by use and will not suffer to corrupt. For a preconceived 
 opinion that nothing we have is valuable (according to 
 Aeschylus) makes us careless and indifferent about every 
 thing. 
 
 If any one be to make a dry wall or an ordinary hedge, 
 it matters not much if he makes use of ordinary wood 
 or common stone, any old gravestones, or the like ; so 
 wicked persons, who confusedly mix and blend all their 
 designs and actions in one heap, care not what materials 
 they put together. But the proficients in virtue, who 
 have already laid the golden solid foundation of a vir- 
 tuous life, as of a sacred and royal building, take especial 
 care of the whole work, examine and model every part 
 of it according to the rule of reason, believing that it was 
 well said by Polycletus, that the hardest work remained 
 for them to do whose nails must touch the clay ; that is, 
 to lay the top stone is the great business and masterpiece 
 of the work. The last stroke gives beauty and perfection, 
 to the whole piece.
 
 WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID, LIVE CON- 
 
 CEALED. 
 
 1. IT is sure, he that said it had no mind to live con- 
 cealed, for he spoke it out of a design of being taken 
 notice of for his very saying it, as if he saw deeper into 
 things than every vulgar eye, and of purchasing to him- 
 self a reputation, how unjustly soever, by inveigling others 
 into obscurity and retirement. But the poet says right : 
 
 I hate the man who makes pretence to wit, 
 Yet in his own concerns waives using it.* 
 
 For they tell us of one Philoxenus the son of Eryxis, 
 and Gnatho the Sicilian, who were so over greedy after 
 any dainties set before them, that they would blow their 
 nose in the dish, whereby, turning the stomachs of the 
 other guests, they themselves went away fuller crammed 
 with the rarities. Thus fares it with all those whose ap- 
 petite is always lusting and insatiate after glory. They 
 bespatter the repute of others, as their rivals in honor, 
 that they themselves may advance smoothly to it and 
 without a rub. They do like watermen, who look astern 
 while they row the boat ahead, still so managing the 
 strokes of the oar that the vessel may make on to its 
 port. So these men who recommend to us such kind of 
 precepts row hard after glory, but with their face another 
 way. To what purpose else need this have been said ? 
 why committed to writing and handed down to posterity ? 
 
 * From Euripides, Frag. 897.
 
 198 WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID, 
 
 Would he live incognito to his contemporaries, who is so 
 eager to be known to succeeding ages ? 
 
 2. But besides, doth not the thing itself sound ill, to 
 bid you keep all your lifetime out of the world's eye, as 
 if you had rifled the sepulchres of the dead, or done 
 such like detestable villany which you should hide for ? 
 "What! is it grown a crime to live, unless you can keep all 
 others from knowing you do so ] For my part, I should 
 pronounce that even an *ill-liver ought not to withdraw 
 himself from the converse of others. No ; let him be 
 known, let him be reclaimed, let him repent ; so that, if 
 you have any stock of virtue, let it not lie unemployed, or 
 if you have been viciously bent, do not by flying the means 
 continue unreclaimed and uncured. Point me out there- 
 fore and distinguish me the man to whom you adopt this 
 admonition. If to one devoid of sense, goodness, or wit, 
 it is like one that should caution a person under a fever or 
 raving madness not to let it be known where he is, for fear 
 the physicians should find him, but rather to skulk in 
 some dark corner, where he and his diseases may escape 
 discovery. So you who labor under that pernicious, that 
 scarce curable disease, wickedness, are by parity of reason 
 bid to conceal your vices, your envy ings, your superstitions, 
 like some disorderly or feverous pulse, for fear of falling 
 into the hands of them who might prescribe well to you 
 and set you to rights again. Whereas, alas ! in the days 
 of remote antiquity, men exhibited the sick to public view, 
 when every charitable passenger who had labored himself 
 under the like malady, or had experienced a remedy on them 
 that did, communicated to the diseased all the receipts he 
 knew ; thus, say they, skill in physic was patched up by 
 multiplied experiments, and grew to a mighty art. At the 
 same rate ought all the infirmities of a dissolute life, all 
 the irregular passions of the soul, to be laid open to the 
 view of all, and undergo the touch of every skilful hand,
 
 LIVE CONCEALED. 199 
 
 that all who examine into the temper may be able to 
 prescribe accordingly. For instance, doth anger trans- 
 port you ? The advice in that case is, Shun the occasions 
 of it. Doth jealousy torment you ? Take this or that 
 course. Art thou love-sick? It hath been my own case 
 and infirmity to be so too ; but I saw the folly of it, I re- 
 pented, I grew wiser. But for those that lie, denying, 
 hiding, mincing, and palliating their vices, it makes them 
 but take the deeper dye, it rivets their faults into them. 
 
 3. Again, if on the other hand this advice be calculated 
 for the owners of worth and virtue, if they must be con- 
 demned to privacy and live unknown to the world, you do 
 in effect bid Epaminondas lay down his arms, you bid Ly- 
 curgus rescind his laws, you bid Thrasybulus spare the 
 tyrants, in a word, you bid Pythagoras forbear his instruc- 
 tions, and Socrates his reasonings and * discourses ; nay, 
 you lay injunctions chiefly upon yourself, Epicurus, not 
 to maintain that epistolary correspondence with your Asiatic 
 friends, not to entertain your Egyptian visitants, not to be 
 tutor to the youth of Lampsacus, not to present and send 
 about your books to women as well as men, out of an 
 ostentation of some wisdom in yourself more than vulgar, 
 not to leave such particular directions about your funeral 
 And in fine, to what purpose, Epicurus, did you keep a 
 public table ? Why that concourse of friends, that resort 
 of fair young men, at your doors ? Why so many thou- 
 sand lines so elaborately composed and writ upon Metro- 
 dorus, Aristobulus, and Chaeredemus, that death itself 
 might not rob us of them ; if virtue must be doomed to ob- 
 livion, art to idleness and inactivity, philosophy to silence, 
 and all a man's happiness must be forgotten ? 
 
 4. But if indeed, in the state of life we are under, you 
 will needs seclude us from all knowledge and acquaintance 
 with the world (as men shut light from their entertainments 
 and drinking-bouts, for which they set the night apart), let
 
 200 WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLT SAID, 
 
 it be only such who make it the whole business of life to 
 heap pleasure upon pleasure ; let such live recluses all 
 their days. Were I, in truth, to wanton away my days in 
 the arms of your miss Hedeia, or spend them with Leon- 
 tium, another dear of yours, were T to bid defiance to 
 virtue, or to place all that's good in the gratification of 
 the flesh or the ticklings of a sensual pleasure, these 
 accursed actions and rites would need darkness and an 
 eternal night to veil them ; and may they ever be doomed 
 to oblivion and obscurity. But what should they hide their 
 heads for, who with regard to the works of nature own 
 and magnify a God, who celebrate his justice and provi- 
 dence, who in point of morality are due observers of the 
 law, promoters of society and community among all men, 
 and lovers of the public-weal, and who in the administration 
 thereof prefer the common good before private advantage ? 
 Why should such men cloister up themselves, and live re- 
 cluses from the world ? For would you have them out of 
 the way, for fear they should set a good example, and al- 
 lure others to virtue out of emulation of the precedent ? If 
 "fhemistocles's valor had been unknown at Athens, Greece 
 had never given Xerxes that repulse. Had not Camillus 
 shown himself in defence of the Romans, their city Rome 
 had no longer stood. Sicily had not recovered her liberty, 
 had Plato been a stranger to Dion. Truly (in my mind) 
 to be known to the world under some eminent character 
 not only carries a reputation with it, but makes the virtues 
 in us become practical like light, which renders us not 
 only visible but useful to others. Epaminondas, during the 
 first forty years of his life, in which no notice was taken of 
 him, was an useless citizen to Thebes ; but afterwards, when 
 he had once gained credit and the government amongst the 
 Thebans, he both rescued them from present destruction, 
 and freed even Greece herself from imminent slavery, ex- 
 hibiting (like light, which is in its own nature glorious, and
 
 LIVE CONCEALED. 201 
 
 to others beneficial at the same time) a valor seasonably 
 active and serviceable to his country, yet interwoven with 
 his own laurels. For 
 
 Virtue, like finest brass, by use grows bright* 
 
 And not our houses alone, when (as Sophocles has it) they 
 stand long untenanted, run the faster to ruin ; but men's 
 natural parts, lying unemployed for lack of acquaintance 
 with the world, contract a kind of filth or rust and crazi- 
 ness thereby. For sottish ease, and a life wholly sedentary 
 and given up to idleness, spoil and debilitate not only the 
 body but the soul too. And as close waters shadowed over 
 by bordering trees, and stagnated in default of springs to 
 supply current and motion to them, become foul and cor- 
 rupt ; so, methinks, is it with the innate faculties of a 
 dull unstirring soul, whatever usefulness, whatever seeds 
 of good she may have latent in her, yet when she puts 
 not these powers into action, when once they stagnate, 
 they lose their vigor and run to decay. 
 
 5. See you not how on night's approach a sluggish 
 drowsiness oft-times seizes the body, and sloth and inac 
 tiveness surprise the soul, and she finds herself heavy and 
 quite unfit for action ? Have you not then observed how 
 a man's reason (like fire scarce visible and just going out) 
 retires into itself, and how by reason of its inactivity and 
 dulness it is gently agitated by divers fantastical imagina- 
 tions, so that nothing remains but some obscure indications 
 that the man is alive. 
 
 But when the orient sun brings back the day, 
 It chases night and dreamy sleep away. 
 
 It doth, as it were, bring the world together again, and 
 with his returned light call up and excite all mankind to 
 thought and action ; and, as Democritus tells us, men set- 
 ting themselves every new-spring day to endeavors of 
 
 Sophocles, Frag. 779.
 
 202 WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID, 
 
 mutual beneficence and service one towards another, as if 
 they were fastened in the straitest tie together, do all of 
 them, some from one, some from another quarter of the 
 world, rouse up and awake to action. 
 
 6. For my own part, I am fully persuaded that life itself, 
 and our being bom at the rate we are, and the origin we 
 share in common with all mankind, were vouchsafed us by 
 God to the intent we should be known to one another. 
 It is true, whilst man, in that little part of him, his soul, 
 lies struggling and scattered in the vast womb of the 
 universe, he is an obscure and unknown being ; but, when 
 once he gets hither into this world and puts a body on, he 
 grows illustrious, and from an obscure becomes a conspic- 
 uous being ; from an hidden, an apparent one. For 
 knowledge does not lead to essence (or being), as some 
 maintain ; but the essence of things rather conducts us 
 into the knowledge and understanding thereof. For the 
 birth or generation of individuals gives not any being 
 to them which they had not before, but brings that in- 
 dividual into view ; as also the corruption or death of 
 any creature is not its annihilation or reduction into mere 
 nothing, but rather a sending the dissolved being into an 
 invisible state. Hence is it that many persons (conforma- 
 bly to their ancient country laws), taking the Sun to be 
 Apollo, gave him the names of Delius and Pythius (that is, 
 conspicuous and known). But for him, be he either God 
 or Daemon, who hath dominion over the opposite portion, 
 the infernal regions, they call him Hades (that is, invisible), 
 
 Emperor of gloomy night and lazy sleep, 
 
 for that at our death and dissolution we pass into a state 
 of invisibility and beyond the reach of mortal eyes. I am 
 indeed of opinion, that the ancients called man Phos (that 
 is, light), because from the affinity of their natures strong 
 desires are bred in mankind of continually seeing and
 
 LIVE CONCEALED. 203 
 
 being seen to each other. Nay, some philosophers hold 
 the soul itself to be essentially light ; which they would 
 prove by this among other arguments, that nothing is so 
 insupportable to the mind of man as ignorance and ob- 
 scurity. Whatever is destitute of light she avoids, and 
 darkness, the harbor of fears and suspicions, is uneasy to 
 her ; whereas, on the other hand, light is so delicious, so 
 desirable a thing, that without that, and wrapped in dark- 
 ness, none of the delectables in nature are pleasing to her. 
 This makes all our very pleasures, all our diversions and 
 enjoyments, charming and grateful to us, like some univer- 
 sal relishing ingredients mixed with the others to make 
 them palatable. But he that casts himself into obscure 
 retirements, he that sits surrounded in darkness and buries 
 himself alive, seems, in my mind, to repine at his own 
 birth and grudge he ever had a being. 
 
 7. And yet it is certain, in the regions prepared for 
 pious souls, they conserve not only an existence in (or 
 agreeable to) nature, but are encircled with glory. 
 
 There the sun with glorious ray, 
 Chasing shady night away, 
 Makes an everlasting day ; 
 Where souls in fields of purple roses play ; 
 Others in verdant plains disport, 
 Crowned with trees of every sort, 
 Trees that never fruit do bear, 
 But always in the blossom are.* 
 
 The rivers there without rude murmurs gently glide, and 
 there they meet and bear each other company, passing 
 away their time in commemorating and running over things 
 past and present. 
 
 A third state there is of them who have led vicious and 
 wicked lives, which precipitates souls into a kind of hell 
 and miserable abyss, 
 
 Where sluggish streams of sable night 
 Spout floods of darkness infinite.* 
 
 This is the receptacle of the tormented ; here lie they hid 
 
 * From Pindar.
 
 204 WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID, LIVE CONCEALED. 
 
 under the veils of eternal ignorance and oblivion. For 
 vultures do not everlastingly gorge themselves upon the 
 liver of a wicked man, exposed by angry Gods upon the. 
 earth, as poets fondly feign of Prometheus. For either 
 rottenness or the funeral pile hath consumed that long ago. 
 Nor do the bodies of the tormented undergo (as Sisyphus 
 is fabled to do) the toil and pressure of weighty burdens ; 
 
 For strength no longer flesh and bone sustains.* 
 
 There are no reliques of the body in dead men which 
 stripes and tortures can make impressions on ; but in very 
 truth the sole punishment of ill-livers is an inglorious 
 obscurity, or a final abolition, which through oblivion hurls 
 and plunges them into deplorable rivers, bottomless seas, 
 and a dark abyss, involving all in uselessness and inactivity, 
 absolute ignorance and obscurity, as their last and eternal 
 doom. 
 
 * Odyu. XL 219.
 
 OF BANISHMENT, OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 
 
 1. ONE may say of discourses what they use to say of 
 friends, that they are the best and firmest that afford their 
 useful presence and help in calamities. Many indeed pre- 
 sent themselves and discourse with those that are fallen 
 into misfortunes, who yet do them more harm than good. 
 Like men that attempt to succor drowning persons and 
 have themselves no skill in diving under water, they en- 
 tangle one another, and sink together to the bottom. The 
 discourses of friends, such as would help an afflicted person, 
 ought to be directed to the consolation, and not to the pa- 
 tronage of his sorrows. For we have no need in our dis- 
 tresses of such as may bear us company in weeping and 
 howling, like a chorus in a tragedy, but of such as will 
 deal freely with us, and will convince us that, as it is in 
 all cases vain and foolish and to no purpose to grieve and 
 cast down one's self, so, when the things themselves that 
 afflict us, after a rational examination and discovery of what 
 they are, give a man leave to say to himself thus, 
 
 Thou fecl'st but little pain and smart, 
 Unless thou'lt feign and act a part, 
 
 it would be extremely ridiculous for him not to put the 
 question to his body, and ask it what it has suffered, nor to 
 his soul, and ask how much worse it is become by this 
 accident, but only to make use of those teachers of grief 
 from abroad, who come to bear a part with him in his sor- 
 row, or to express indignation at what has happened.
 
 206 OF BANISHMENT, 
 
 2. Let us therefore, when we are alone, question with 
 ourselves concerning the things that have befallen us, con- 
 sidering them as heavy loads. The body, we know, is 
 under pressure by a burden lying upon it; but the soul 
 oft-times adds a further weight of her own to things. A 
 stone is hard and ice is cold by nature, not by any thing 
 from without happening to make such qualities and impres- 
 sions upon them. But as for banishment and disgraces and 
 Joss of honors (and so for their contraries, crowns, chief 
 rule, and precedency of place), our opinion prescribing the 
 measure of our joys or sorrows and not the nature of the 
 things themselves, every man makes them to himself light 
 or heavy, easy to be borne or grievous. You may hear 
 Polynices's answer to this question, 
 
 JOCAST. But say, is't so deplorable a case 
 
 To live in exile from one's native place ? 
 POLTW. It's sad indeed ; and whatsoe'er you guess, 
 
 'Tia worse to endure than any can express.* 
 
 But you may hear Alcman in quite another strain, as 
 the epigrammatist has brought him in saying : 
 
 Sardis, my ancient fatherland, 
 Hadst tliou, by Fate's supreme command. 
 My helpless childhood nourished, 
 I must have begg'd my daily bread, 
 Or else, a beardless priest become, 
 Have toss'd Cybcle frantic down. 
 Now Alcman I am call'd a name 
 Inscribed in Sparta's lists of fame, 
 Whose many tripods record bear 
 Of solemn wreaths and tripods rare, 
 Achieved in worship at the shrine 
 . Of Heliconian maids divine, 
 
 By whose great aid I'm mounted higher 
 Than Gyges or his wealthy sire, t 
 
 Thus one man's opinion makes the same thing commo- 
 dious, like current money, and another man's unserviceable 
 and hurtful. 
 
 Eurip. Phoen!s. 888 and 889. 
 
 f T]\\ translation ia taken from Burges'i Greek Anthology, p. 470. It U them 
 igncd J. II. M. (G.)
 
 OK FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 207 
 
 3. But let us grant (as many say and sing) that it is a 
 grievous thing to be banished. So there are also many 
 things that we eat, of a bitter, sharp, and biting taste, which 
 yet by a mixture of other things more mild and sweet have 
 all their unpleasantness taken off. There are also some 
 colors troublesome to look upon, which bear so hard and 
 strike so piercingly upon the sight, that they confound and 
 dazzle it ; if now by mixing shadows with them, or by turn- 
 ing our eyes upon some green and pleasant color, we rem 
 edy this inconvenience, thou mayst also do the same to the 
 afflictions that befall thee, considering them with a mixture 
 of those advantages and benefits thou still enjoyest, as wealth, 
 friends, vacancy from business, and a supply of all things 
 necessary to human life. For I think there are few Sar- 
 dians but would desire to be in your condition, though ban- 
 ished, and would choose to live as you may do, though in a 
 strange country, rather than like snails that grow to their 
 shells enjoy no other good, saving only what they have 
 at home without trouble. 
 
 4. As he therefore in the comedy that advised his unfor- 
 tunate friend to take heart and to revenge himself of For- 
 tune, being asked which way, answered, By the help of 
 philosophy ; so we also may be revenged of her, by acting 
 worthily like philosophers. For what course do we take 
 when it is rainy weather, or a cold north wind blows ? We 
 creep to the fireside, or go into a bath, put on more clothes, 
 or go into a dry house ; and do not sit still in a shower and 
 cry. It is in thy power above most men's to revive and 
 cherish that part of thy life which seems to be chill and 
 benumbed, not needing any other helps, but only according 
 to thy best judgment and prudence making use of the 
 things that thou possessest. The cupping-glasses physi- 
 cians use, by drawing the worst humors out of the body, 
 alleviate and preserve the rest ; but they that are prone to 
 grieve and make sad complaints, by mustering together
 
 208 OF BANISHMENT, 
 
 alway the worst of their afflictive circumstances, by de- 
 bating these things over and over, being fastened (as it 
 were) to their troubles, make the most advantageous things 
 to be wholly useless to themselves, and especially when 
 their case requires most help and assistance. As for those 
 two hogsheads, my friend, which Homer says lie in heaven, 
 full, the one of the good, the other of the ill fates of men, 
 it is not Jupiter that sits to draw out and transmit to some 
 a moderate share of evils mixed with good, but to others 
 only unqualified streams of evil ; but it is we ourselves who 
 do it. Those of us that are wise, drawing out of the good 
 to temper with our evils, make our lives pleasant and pota- 
 ble ; but the greater part (which are fools) are like sieves, 
 which let the best pass through, but the worst and the very 
 dregs of misfortune stick to them and remain behind. 
 
 5. Wherefore, if we fall into any real evil or calamity, 
 we must bring in what is pleasant and delightful of the 
 remaining good things in our possession, and thus, by what 
 we enjoy at home, mitigate the sense of those evils that 
 befall us from abroad. But where there is no evil in the 
 nature of the things, but the whole of that which afflicts 
 us is framed by imagination and false opinion, in this case 
 we must do just as we deal with children that are apt to 
 be frighted with false faces and vizards ; by bringing them 
 nearer, and making them handle and turn them on every 
 side, they are brought at last to despise them ; so we, by 
 a nearer touching and fixing our consideration upon our 
 feigned evils, may be able to detect and discover the weak- 
 ness and vanity of what we fear and so tragically deplore. 
 
 Such is your present condition of being banished out of 
 that which you account your country ; for nature has given 
 us no country, as it has given us no house or field, no smith's 
 or apothecary's shop, as Ariston said ; but every one of 
 them is always made or rather called such a man's by his 
 'dwelling in it or making use of it. For man (as Plato says)
 
 OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 209 
 
 is not an earthly and immovable, but a heavenly plant, the 
 head raising the body erect as from a root, and directed 
 upwards toward heaven.* Hence is that saying of Her- 
 cules : 
 
 Am I of Thebes or Argos ? Whether 
 You please, for I'm content with either; 
 But to determine one, 'tis pity, 
 In Greece my country's every city. 
 
 But Socrates expressed it better, when he said, he was 
 not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world 
 (just as a man calls himself a citizen of Khodes or Cor 
 -inth), because he did not enclose himself within the limits 
 of Sunium, Taenarum, or the Ceraunian mountains. 
 
 Behold how yonder azure sky, 
 Extending vastly wide and high 
 To infinitely distant spaces, 
 In her soft arms our earth embraces.t 
 
 These are the boundaries of our country, and no man is 
 an exile or a stranger or foreigner in these, where there is 
 the same fire, water, air, the same rulers, administrators, 
 and presidents, the same sun, moon, and daystar ; where 
 there are the same laws to all, and where, under one or- 
 derly disposition and government, are the summer and 
 winter solstices, the equinoxes, Pleiades, Arcturus, times 
 of sowing and planting ; where there is one king and su- 
 preme ruler, which is God, who comprehends the beginning, 
 the middle, and end of the universe ; who passes through 
 all things in a straight course, compassing all things accord- 
 ing to nature : justice follows him to take vengeance on 
 those that transgress the divine law, which justice we 
 naturally all make use of towards all men, as being citizens 
 of the same community. 
 
 6. But for thee to complain that thou dost not dwell at 
 Sardis is no objection ; for all the Athenians do not inhabit 
 Collytus, nor do all the men of Corinth live in the Cran- 
 ium, nor all of Lacedaemon in Pitane. 
 
 Plato, Timaeus, p. 90 A. t Euripides, Frag. 936.
 
 210 OF BANISHMENT, 
 
 Do you look upon those Athenians as strangers and ban- 
 ished persons who removed from Melite to Diomea, 
 whence they called the month Metageitnion, and the sacri- 
 fices they offered in memory of their removal Metageitnia, 
 being pleased with and cheerfully accepting this new 
 neighborhood to another people ? Surely you will not say 
 so. What parts of the inhabited earth or of the whole 
 earth can be said to be far distant one from another, when 
 mathematicians demonstrate that the whole earth is to be 
 accounted as an indivisible point, compared with the heav- 
 ens ? But we, like pismires or bees, when we are cast out 
 of one ant-hill or hive, are in great anxiety, and take on as 
 if we were strangers and undone, not knowing how to 
 make and account all things our own, as indeed they are. 
 We shall certainly laugh at his folly who shall affirm there 
 was a better moon at Athens than at Corinth ; and yet we 
 in a sort commit the same error, when being in a strange 
 country we look upon the earth, the sea, the air, the heav- 
 ens doubtfully, as if they were not the same, but quite 
 different from those we have been accustomed to. Nature 
 in our first production sent us out free and loose ; we bind 
 and straiten and pin up ourselves in houses, and reduce 
 ourselves into a scant and little room. 
 
 Moreover, we laugh at the kings of Persia, who (if the 
 story be true) will drink only the water of the River Choas- 
 pes, by this means making the rest of the habitable world 
 to be without water, as to themselves ; but we, when we 
 remove to other countries, and retain our longings after 
 Cephissus and Eurotas, and are pleased with nothing so 
 much as the hills Taygetus and Parnassus, we make the 
 whole earth unhabitable to ourselves, and are without a 
 house or city where we can dwell. 
 
 7. When certain Egyptians, not enduring the anger and 
 hard usage of their king, went to dwell in Ethiopia, and 
 some earnestly entreated them to return to their wives
 
 OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 211 
 
 and children they had left behind them, they very impu- 
 dently showed them their privy parts, saying they should 
 never want wives or children whilst they carried those 
 about them. But it is more grave and becoming to say 
 that, whosoever happens to be provided with a competency 
 of the necessaries to life, wheresoever he is, is not without 
 a city or a dwelling, nor need reckon himself a stranger 
 there ; only he ought to have besides these prudence and 
 consideration, like a governing anchor, that he may be able 
 to make advantage of any port at which he arrives. It is 
 not easy indeed for him that has lost his wealth quickly to 
 gather it up again ; but every city becomes presently that 
 man's country who has the skill to use it, and who has 
 those roots which can live and thrive, cling and grow to 
 every place. Such had Themistocles, and such had Deme- 
 trius Phalareus ; for this last named, after his banishment, 
 being the prime friend of King Ptolemy in Alexandria, not 
 only was abundantly provided for himself, but also sent 
 presents to the Athenians. As for Themistocles, he was 
 maintained by an allowance suitable to his quality at the 
 King's charge, and is reported to have said to his wife and 
 children, We had been undone, if we had not been undone. 
 Diogenes the Cynic also, when one told him, The Sinopians 
 have condemned thee to fly from Pontus, replied, And I 
 have condemned them to stay in Pontus, 
 
 Close prisoners there to be, 
 At th' utmost shore of the fierce Euzine Sea.* 
 
 Stratonicus enquiring of his host in the isle of Seriphus 
 what crime among them was punished with banishment, 
 and being told forgery was so punished, he asked him why 
 he did not commit that crime that he might be removed 
 out of that strait place ; and yet there, as the comedian 
 expresses it, they reap down their figs with slings, and 
 that island is provided with all things that it wants. 
 
 Eurip. Iph. Taur. 263.
 
 212 OF BANISHMENT, 
 
 8. For if you consider the truth of things, setting aside 
 vain fancy and opinion, he that has got an agreeable city 
 to dwell in is a stranger and foreigner to all the rest, for it 
 seems not reasonable and just, that leaving his own he 
 should go to dwell in another city. As the proverb is, 
 " Sparta is the province fallen to your lot, adorn it," though 
 it should be in no credit or prove unhealthful, though dis- 
 turbed with seditions, and its affairs in distemper and out 
 of order. But as for him whom Fortune has deprived of 
 his own habitation, it gives him leave to go and dwell 
 where he pleases. That good precept of the Pythago- 
 reans, " Make choice of the best life you can, and custom 
 will make it pleasant," is here also wise and useful. Choose 
 the best and pleasantest place to live in, and time will 
 make it thy country, and such a country as will not en- 
 cumber and distract thee, not laying on thee such com 
 mands as these, Bring in so much money; Go on such 
 an embassy to Rome ; Entertain such a governor ; Bear 
 such a public office. If a prudent person and no way 
 conceited, calls these things to mind, he will choose to live 
 in exile in such a sorry island as Gyarus, or in Cynarus 
 that is " so hard and barren and unfit for plantation," and 
 do this without reluctancy, not making such sorrowful com- 
 plaints as the women do in the poet Simonides : 
 
 The troubled sea's dark waves surround me, 
 And with their horrid noise confound me ; 
 
 but will rather remind himself of that saying of King 
 Philip, who receiving a fall in a place of wrestling, when 
 he turned himself in rising and saw the print of his body 
 in the dust, exclaimed, Good God ! what a small portion 
 of earth has Nature assigned us, and yet we covet the 
 whole world. 
 
 9. I presume you have seen the island of Naxos, or at 
 least the town of Hyria here hard by ; in the former of 
 which Ephialtes and Otus made their abode, and in the
 
 OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 213 
 
 latter Orion dwelt. Alcmaeon's seat was on the newly 
 hardened mud which the river Achelous had cast up, 
 when he fled from the Furies, as the poets tell us, but 1 
 guess it was when he fled from the rulers of the state and 
 from seditions, and to avoid those furies, the sycophants 
 and informers, that he chose that little spot of ground to 
 dwell on, where he was free from business and lived in ease 
 and quiet. Tiberius Caesar passed the last seven years of 
 his life in the island of Capreae ; and that sacred governing 
 spirit that swayed the whole world, and was enclosed as it 
 were in his breast, yet for so long time never removed nor 
 changed place. And yet the thoughts and cares of the 
 empire, that were poured in upon him and invaded him on 
 every side, made that island's repose and retirement to be 
 less pure and undisturbed to him. But he that by re- 
 treating to a small island can free himself from great evils 
 is a miserable man, if he does not often say and sing those 
 verses of Pindar to himself, 
 
 Where slender cypress grows I'd have a seat, 
 But care not for the shady woods of Crete ! 
 I've little land and so not many trees, 
 But free from sorrow I enjoy much ease, 
 
 not being disquieted with seditions or the edicts of princes, 
 nor with administering affairs when the public is in straits, 
 nor undergoing officers that are hard to be put by and 
 denied. 
 
 10. For if that be a good saying of Callimachus, that 
 we ought not to measure wisdom by a Persian cord, much 
 less should we measure happiness by cords of furlongs, 
 or, if we chance to inhabit an island of two hundred fur- 
 longs and not (like Sicily) of four days' sail in compass, 
 think that we ought to disquiet ourselves and lament as if 
 we were very miserable and unfortunate. For what does a 
 place of large extent contribute to the tranquillity of one's 
 life ] Do you not hear Tantalus saying in the tragedy :
 
 214 OF BANISHMENT, 
 
 I BOW the Berecyntian ground, 
 
 A field of twelve days' journey round f 
 
 But he says a little after : 
 
 My mind, that used to mount the skies, 
 Fallen to the earth dejected lies, 
 And now this friendly counsel brings, 
 Less to admire all earthly things.* 
 
 Nausithous, forsaking the spacious country of Hyperia 
 because the Cyclops bordered upon it, and removing to an 
 island far distant from all other people, chose there, 
 
 Remote from all commerce t' abide, 
 By sea's surrounding waves denied ; t 
 
 and yet he procured a very pleasant way of living to his 
 own citizens. 
 
 The Cyclades islands were formerly inhabited by the 
 children of Minos, and afterwards by the children of Codrus 
 and Neleus ; in which now fools that are banished thither 
 think they are punished. And indeed, what island is there 
 to which men are wont to be banished that is not larger 
 than the land that lies about Scillus, in which Xenophon 
 after his military expedition passed delicately his old age ? 
 The Academy near Athens, that was purchased for three 
 thousand drachmas, was the place where Plato, Xeno- 
 crates, and Polemo dwelt; there they held their schools, 
 and there they lived all their lifetime, except one day every 
 year, when Xenocrates came into the city at the time of 
 the Bacchanals and the new tragedies, to grace the feast, 
 as they say. Theocritus of Chios reproached Aristotle, 
 who affected a court-life with Philip and Alexander, that 
 he chose instead of the Academy rather to dwell at the 
 mouth of Borborus. For there is a river by Fella, which 
 the Macedonians call by that name. 
 
 But as for islands, Homer sets himself as it were stu- 
 diously to commend them in these verses : 
 
 From the Niobe of Aeschylus, Frag. 153 and 154. t Odyss. VI. 204.
 
 OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 215 
 
 He comes to the isle of Lemnos, and the town 
 Where divine Thoas dwelt, of great renown ; 
 
 and 
 
 As much as fruitful Lesbos does contain, 
 A seat which Gods above do not disdain ; 
 
 and 
 
 When he to th' lofty hills of Scyros came, 
 And took the town that boasts Enyeus's name ; 
 
 and 
 
 These from Dulichium and th' Echinades, 
 Blest isles, that lie 'gainst Elis, o'er the seas.* 
 
 And among the famous men that dwelt in islands they 
 reckon Aeolus, a great favorite of the Gods, the most pru- 
 dent Ulysses, the most valiant Ajax, and Alcinous, the most 
 courteous entertainer of strangers. 
 
 11. When Zeno was told that the only ship he had 
 remaining was cast away at sea with all her lading, he 
 replied : Well done Fortune, that hast reduced me to the 
 habit and life of a philosopher. And, indeed, a man that 
 is not puffed up with conceit nor madly in love with a 
 crowd will not, I suppose, have any reason to accuse 
 Fortune for constraining him to live in an island, but will 
 rather commend her for removing so much anxiety and 
 agitation of his mind, for putting a stop to his rambles in 
 foreign countries, to his dangers at sea, and the noise and 
 tumult of the exchange, and for giving him a fixed, vacant, 
 undisturbed life, such a life as he may truly call his own, 
 describing as it were a circle about him, in which is con- 
 tained the use of all things necessary. For what island is 
 there that has not a horse, a walk, and a bath in it ; that 
 has not fishes and hares for such as delight in hunting and 
 angling and such like sports ? But the chiefest of all is, 
 that the quiet which others thirst so much after thou com- 
 monly mayst have here without seeking. For those that 
 are gamesters at dice, shutting up themselves at homo, 
 there are sycophants and busy spies that hunt them out, 
 and prosecute them from their houses of pleasure and 
 
 II. XIV. 230; XXIV. 644 ; IX. 668 ; II 626,
 
 216 OP BANISHMENT, 
 
 gardens in the suburbs, and hale them by violence before 
 the judges or the court. But none sails to an island to 
 give a man any disturbance, no petitioner, no borrower, no 
 urger to suretyship, no one that comes to beg his voice 
 when he stands candidate for an office ; only the best 
 friends and familiars, out of good-will and desire to see 
 him, may come over thither; and the rest of his life is 
 safe and inviolable to him, if he has the will and the skill 
 to live at ease. But he that cries up the happiness of 
 those that run about in other countries, or spend the most 
 of their life in inns and passage-boats, is no wiser than he 
 is that thinks the planets in a better estate than the fixed 
 stars. .And yet every planet rolling about in its proper 
 sphere, as in an island, keeps its order. For the sun never 
 transgresses its limited measures, as Heraclitus says ; if it 
 did do so, the Furies, which are the attendants of Justice, 
 would find it out and punish it. 
 
 12. These things, my friend, and such like we say and 
 sing to those who, by being banished into an island, have 
 no correspondence or commerce with other people, 
 
 Hindered by waves of the surrounding deep, , 
 
 Which many 'gainst their mind close prisoners keep.* 
 
 But as for thee, who art not assigned to one place only, 
 but forbidden only to live in one, the prohibiting thee one 
 is the giving thee leave to dwell anywhere else besides. 
 If on one hand it is urged thus against you : You are in 
 no office, you are not of the senate, nor preside as moder- 
 ator at the public games, you may oppose on the other 
 band thus : We head no factions, we make no expensive 
 treats, nor give long attendance at the governor's gates ; 
 we care not at all who is chosen into our province, though 
 he be choleric or unsufferably vexatious. 
 
 But just as Archilochus disparaged the island of Thasos 
 because of its asperity and inequality in some places, 
 
 11. xxi. w.
 
 OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 217 
 
 overlooking its fruitful fields and vineyards, saying thus 
 of it, 
 
 Like ridge of ass's back it stood, 
 Full of wild plants, for nothing good ; 
 
 so we, whilst we pore upon one part of banishment which 
 is ignominious, overlook its vacancy from business, and 
 that leisure and freedom it affords us. 
 
 Men admired the happiness of the Persian kings, that 
 passed their winter in Babylon, their summer in Media, 
 and the pleasant spring-time at Susa. And he that is an 
 exile may, if he pleases, when the mysteries of Ceres are 
 celebrated, go and live at Eleusis ; and he may keep the 
 feasts of Bacchus at Argos ; at the time of the Pythian 
 games, he may pass over to Delphi, and of the Isthmian, 
 to Corinth, if public spectacles and shows are the things 
 he admires ; if not, then he may be idle, or walk, or read, 
 or sleep quietly ; and you may add that privilege Diogenes 
 bragged of when he said, " Aristotle dines when it seems 
 good to King Philip, but Diogenes when he himself pleases," 
 having no business, no magistrate, no prefect to interrupt 
 and disturb his customary way of living. 
 
 13. For this reason, you will find that very few of the 
 most prudent and wise men were buried in their own 
 country, but the most of them, when none forced them 
 to it, weighed anchor and steered their course to live 
 in another port, removing some to Athens, and others 
 from it. 
 
 Who ever gave a greater encomium of his own country 
 than Euripides in the following verses ? 
 
 We are all of this country's native race, 
 Not brought-in strangers from another place, 
 As some, like dice hither and thither thrown, 
 Remove in haste from this to t'other town. 
 And, if a woman may have leave to boast, 
 A temperate air breathes here in every coast ; 
 We neither curse summer's immoderate heat, 
 Nor yet complain the winter's cold's too great
 
 218 OF BANISHMENT, 
 
 If aught there be that noble Greece doth yield, 
 
 Or Asia rich, by river or by field, 
 
 We seek it out and bring it to our doors. 
 
 And yet he that wrote all this went himself into Mace- 
 donia, and passed the rest of his days in the court of 
 Archelaus. I suppose you have also heard of this short 
 epigram : 
 
 Here lieth buried Aeschylus, the son 
 Of the Athenian Euphorion ; 
 In Sicily his latest breath did yield, 
 And buried lies by Gela's fruitful field. 
 
 For both he and Simonidcs before him went into Sicily. 
 And whereas we meet with this title, " This publication 
 of the History of Herodotus of Halicarnassus," many have 
 changed it into Herodotus of Thurii, for he dwelt at 
 Thurii, and was a member of that colony. And that 
 sacred and divine poet Homer, that adorned the Trojan 
 war. why was he a controversy to so many cities (every 
 one pleading he was theirs) but because he did not cry up 
 any one of them to the disparagement of the rest ? Many 
 also and great are the honors that are paid to Jupiter 
 Hospitalis. 
 
 14. If any one object, that these men hunted ambi- 
 tiously after glory and honor, let him go to the philoso- 
 phers and the schools and nurseries of wisdom at Athens, 
 those in the Lyceum, the Academy, the Stoa, the Palla- 
 dium, the Odeum. If he admires and prefers the Peri- 
 patetic philosophy before the rest, Aristotle was a native 
 of Stagira, Theophrastus of Ephesus, Straton of Lamp- 
 sacus, Glycon of Troas, Ariston of Ceus, Critolaus of 
 Phaselis. If thou art for the Stoic philosophy, Zeno was 
 of Citium, Cleanthes of Assus, Chrysippus of Soli, Diogenes 
 of Babylon, Antipater of Tarsus, and Archedemus who was 
 of Athens went over to the Partisans, and left a succes- 
 sion of Stoic philosophers in Babylon. And who, I pray, 
 persecuted and chased these men out of their country?
 
 OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 219 
 
 Nobody at all ; but they pursued their own quiet, which 
 men cannot easily enjoy at home that are in any reputa- 
 tion or have any power ; other things they taught us by 
 what they said, but this by what they did. For even now 
 the most approved and excellent persons live abroad out 
 of their own country, not being transported, but departing 
 voluntarily, not being driven thence, but flying from busi- 
 ness and from the disquiets and molestations which they 
 are sure to meet with at home. 
 
 It seems to me that the Muses helped the ancient 
 writers to finish their choicest and most approved compo- 
 sitions, by calling in, as it were, banishment to their as- 
 sistance. Thucydides the Athenian wrote the Peloponne- 
 sian and Athenian War in Thrace, hard by the forest of 
 Scapte ; Xenophon wrote his history in Scillus belonging 
 to Elis ; Philistus in Epirus, Timaeus of Tauromenum at 
 Athens, Androtion the Athenian in Megara, Bacchylides 
 the poet in Peloponnesus. These and many more,' after 
 they had lost their country, did not lose all hope nor were 
 dejected in their minds, but took occasion thereupon to 
 express the vivacity of their spirit and the dexterity of 
 their wit, receiving their banishment at the hands of For- 
 tune as a viaticum that she had sent them ; whereby they 
 became renowned everywhere after death, whereas there 
 is no remaining mention of those factious persons that 
 expelled them. 
 
 15. He therefore is ridiculous that looks upon it as an 
 ignominious thing to be banished. For what is it that thou 
 sayest 1 ? Was Diogenes ignominious, when Alexander, 
 who saw him sitting and sunning himself, came and asked 
 him whether he wanted any thing, and he answered him, 
 that he lacked nothing but that he would go a little aside 
 and not stand in his light \ The king, admiring the pres- 
 ence of his mind, turned to his followers and said : If I 
 were not Alexander, I would be Diogenes. Was Camillus
 
 
 220 OF BANISHMENT, 
 
 inglorious because he was expelled Rome, considering 
 he has got the reputation of being its second founder ? 
 Neither did Themistocles by his banishment lose any of 
 the renown he had gained in Greece, but added to it that 
 which he had acquired among the barbarians ; neither is 
 there any so without all sense of honor, or of such an ab- 
 ject mind, that had not rather be Themistocles the ban- 
 ished, than Leobates that indicted him ; or be Cicero that 
 had the same fate, than Clodius that expelled him Rome ; 
 or be Timotheus that abandoned his country, than Aristo- 
 phon that was his accuser. 
 
 16. But because the words of Euripides move many, who 
 seems to frame a heavy charge against banishment and to 
 urge it home, let us see what he says more particularly in 
 his questions and answers about it. 
 
 JOCASTA. But is't so sad one's country to forego, 
 
 And live in exile ? Pray, son, let me know. 
 POL. Some ills when told are great, when tried are less ; 
 
 But this is saddest felt, though sad t' express. 
 Joe. What is't, I pray, afflicts the banished most ? 
 POL. That liberty to speak one's mind is lost. 
 Joe. He is indeed a slave that dares not utter 
 
 His thoughts, nor 'gainst his cruel masters mutter. 
 POL. But all their insolencies must o'erpass, 
 
 And bear their follies tamely like an ass.* 
 
 These assertions of his are neither good nor true. For 
 first, not to speak what one thinks is not a piece of slavery ; 
 but it is the part of a prudent man to hold one's peace and 
 be silent when time and the circumstances of affairs re- 
 quire it ; as he himself says better elsewhere, that a wise 
 man knows 
 
 Both when it's best no tongue to find, 
 And when it's safe to speak his mind. 
 
 Again, as for the rudeness and insolency of such as have 
 power in their hands, they that stay in their country are 
 no less forced to bear and endure it than those that are 
 driven out of it ; nay, commonly the former stand more in 
 
 Eurip. Phoeniss. 888.
 
 , OB FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 221 
 
 fear of false informations and the violence of unjust rulers 
 in cities than the latter. But his greatest mistake and 
 absurdity is his taking away all freedom of speech from, 
 exiles. It is wonderful indeed if Theodorus had no free- 
 dom of this kind, who, when King Lysimachus said to 
 him : Thou being such a criminal, the country cast thee 
 forth, did it not? replied: Yes, not being able to bear 
 me ; just as Semele cast out Bacchus, when she could bear 
 him no longer. And when the king showed him Teles- 
 phorus in an iron cage, with his eyes digged out of their 
 holes, his nose and ears and tongue cut off, and said : So I 
 deal with those that injure me, he was not abashed. 
 What! did not Diogenes retain his wonted freedom of 
 speaking, who coming into King Philip's camp, when he 
 was going to give the Grecians battle, was brought before 
 him for a spy ; and confessed that he was so, but that he 
 came to take a view of his unsatiable greediness of em- 
 pire and of his madness and folly who was going in the 
 short time of a fight to throw a die for his crown and 
 life? 
 
 And what say you to Hannibal the Carthaginian ? Did 
 not he use a convenient freedom towards Antiochus (he at 
 that time an exile, and the other a king), when upon an 
 advantageous occasion he advised him to give his enemies 
 battle "? He, when he had sacrificed, told him the entrails 
 forbade it. Hannibal sharply rebuked him thus : You are 
 for doing what the flesh of a beast, not what the reason of 
 a wise man, adviseth. % 
 
 Neither does banishment deprive geometricians or mathe 
 maticians of the liberty of discoursing freely concerning 
 matters they know and have skill in ; and why should any 
 worthy or good man be denied it? But meanness of 
 thought obstructs and hinders the voice, strangles the 
 power of speech, and makes a man a mute. But let us 
 see what follows from Euripides :
 
 222 OF BANISHMENT, 
 
 Joe. Upon good hopes exiles can thrive, they say. 
 POL. Hopes have fine looks, but kill one with delay.* 
 
 This is also an accusation of men's folly rather than of 
 banishment ; for it is not the well instructed and those that 
 know how to use what they have aright, but such as de- 
 pend upon what is to come and desire what they have not, 
 that are carried and tossed up and down by hopes, as in a 
 floating vessel, though they have scarce ever stirred beyond 
 the gates of their own city. But to go on : 
 
 Joe. Did not your father's friends aid your distress 1 
 POL. Take care to thrive ; for if you oace are poor, 
 
 Those you call friends will know you then no more. 
 Joe. Did not your high birth stand you in some stead ? 
 POL. It's sad to want, for honor buys no bread. 
 
 These also are ungrateful speeches of Polynices, who 
 accuses banishment as casting disparagement upon noble 
 birth and leaving a man without friends, who yet because 
 of his high birth was thought worthy, though an exile, to 
 have a king's daughter given him in marriage, and also by 
 the powerful assistance of his friends gathered such an 
 army as to make war against his own country, as he con- 
 fesses himself a little after : 
 
 Many a famous Grecian peer 
 And captain from Mycenae here 
 In readiness t' assist me tarry ; 
 Sad service 'tis, but necessary.t 
 
 Neither are the words of his lamenting mother any wiser : 
 
 No nuptial torch at all I lighted have 
 To thee, as doth a weddjf g-feast beseem ; 
 No marriage-song was sung ; nor thee to lave 
 Was water brought from fair Ismenus' stream. 
 
 She ought to have been well pleased and rejoiced when 
 she heard that her son dwelt in such kingly palaces ; but, 
 whilst she laments that the nuptial torch was not lighted, 
 and the want of waters from Ismenus's river for him to 
 
 * Eurip. Phoeniss. 396. t Ibid., 480 and 844.
 
 OB FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 223 
 
 have bathed in (as if people at Argos were destitute both 
 of fire and water at their weddings), she makes those evils, 
 which her own conceit and folly produced, to be the effects 
 of banishment. 
 
 17. But is it not then an ignominious thing to be an ex- 
 ile ] Yes, it is among fools, with, whom it is a reproach to 
 be poor, to be bald, or of low stature, and (with as much 
 reason) to be a stranger or a pilgrim. But they that do not 
 fall into these mistakes admire good men, though they hap- 
 pen to be poor or strangers or in exile. Do not we see the 
 temple of Theseus venerated by all men, as well as the 
 Parthenon and Eleusinium ? And yet Theseus was ban 
 ished from Athens, by whose means it is at this time 
 inhabited ; and lost his abode in that city, which he did 
 not hold as a tenant, but himself built. And what re- 
 markable thing is there remaining in Eleusis, if we are 
 ashamed of Eumolpus, who coming thither from Thrace 
 initiated the Greeks, and still does so, in the mysteries of 
 religion I And whose son was Codrus, that reigned at 
 Athens, but of that Melanthus who was banished from 
 Messene ? Will you not commend that speech of Antis- 
 thenes, who, when one said to him, Phrygia is thy mother, 
 replied, She was also the mother of the Gods ? And if 
 any one reproach thee with thy banishment, why canst not 
 thou answer, that the father of the great conqueror Her- 
 cules was an exile ? And so was Cadmus the grandfather 
 of Bacchus, who, being sent abroad in search for Europa, 
 did return no more : 
 
 Sprung from Phoenicia, to Thebes he came ; 
 Thebes to his grandson Bacchus lays a claim, 
 Who there inspires with rage the female rout, 
 That worship him by running mad about.* 
 
 As for those things which Aeschylus obscurely insinuates 
 hi that expression of his, 
 
 * From the Thryxus of Euripides, Frag. 816.
 
 224 OF BANISHMENT, 
 
 And of Apollo, chaste God, banished heaven, 
 
 I'll favor my tongue, as Herodotus phrases it, and say 
 nothing. 
 Empedocles, when he prefaces to his philosophy thus, 
 
 This old decree of fate unchanged stands, 
 
 Whoso with horrid crimes defiles his hands, 
 
 To long-lived Daemons this commission's given 
 
 To chase hint many ages out of heaven. 
 
 Into this sad condition I am hurled, 
 
 Banished from God to wander through the world, 
 
 does not here only point at himself; but in what he 
 says of himself he shows the condition of us all, that we 
 are pilgrims and strangers and exiles here in this world. 
 For know, says he, O men, that it is not blood nor a spirit 
 tempered with it that gave being and beginning to the soul, 
 but it is your terrestrial and mortal body that is made up 
 of these. And by the soft name of pilgrimage, he insinu- 
 ates the origin of the soul, that comes hither from another 
 place. And the truth is, she flies and wanders up and down, 
 being driven by the divine decrees and laws ; and after- 
 wards, as in an island surrounded with a great sea, as 
 Plato speaks, she is tied and linked to the body, just like 
 an oyster to its shell, and because she is not able to re- 
 member nor relate, 
 
 From what a vast and high degree 
 Of honor and felicity 
 
 she has removed, not from Sardis to Athens, not from 
 Corinth to Lemnos or Scyros, but having changed heaven 
 and the moon for earth and an earthly life, if she is 
 forced to make little removes here from place to place, the 
 soul hereupon is ill at ease and troubled at her new and 
 strange state, and hangs her head like a decaying plant. 
 And indeed some one country is found to be more agree- 
 able to a plant than another, in which it thrives and flour- 
 ishes better ; but no place can deprive a man of his hap- 
 piness, unless he pleases, no more than of his virtue and
 
 OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 225 
 
 prudence. For Anaxagoras wrote his book of the Squar- 
 ing of a Circle in prison ; and Socrates, just when he was 
 going to drink the poison that killed him, discoursed of 
 philosophy, and exhorted his friends to the study of it ; 
 who then admired him as a happy man. But Phaeton 
 and Tantalus, though they mounted up to heaven, yet, 
 the poets tell us, through their folly fell into the extremest 
 calamities.
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 1. MY design in this essay is to treat of that virtue 
 which is called and accounted moral, and is chiefly dis- 
 tinguished from the contemplative, in its having for the 
 matter thereof the passions of the mind, and for its form, 
 right reason ; and herein to consider the nature of it and 
 how it subsists, and whether that part of the soul wherein 
 it resides be endowed with reason of its own, inherent in 
 itself, or whether it participates of that which is foreign ; 
 and if the latter, whether it does this after the manner of 
 those things which are mingled with whet is better than 
 themselves, or whether, as being distinct itself but yet under 
 the dominion and superintendency of another, it may be 
 said to partake of the power of the predominant faculty. 
 For that it is possible for virtue to exist and continue al- 
 together independent of matter, and free from all mixture, 
 I take to be most manifest. But in the first place I con- 
 ceive it may be very useful briefly to run over the opinions 
 of other philosophers, not so much for the vanity of giving 
 an historical account thereof, as that, they being premised, 
 ours may thence receive the greater light and be more 
 firmly established. 
 
 2. To begin then with Menedemus of Eretria, he took 
 away both the number and the differences of virtue, by 
 asserting it to be but one, although distinguished by several 
 names ; holding that, in the same manner as a mortal and 
 a man are all one, so what we call temperance, fortitude,
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 227 
 
 and justice are but one and the same thing. As for Aris- 
 ton of Chios, he likewise made virtue to be but one in 
 substance, and called it sanity, which, as it had respect to 
 this or that, was to be variously multiplied and distin- 
 guished ; just after the same manner as if any one should 
 call our sight, when applied to any white object, by the 
 name of white-look ; when to one that is black, by the 
 name of black-look ; and so in other matters. For accord- 
 ing to him, virtue, when it considers such things as we 
 ought to do or not to do, is called prudence ; when it mod- 
 erates our desires, and prescribes the measure and season 
 for our pleasures, temperance ; and when it governs the 
 commerce and mutual contracts of mankind, justice; in 
 the same manner, for instance, as a knife is one and the 
 same knife still, notwithstanding sometimes it cuts one 
 thing, sometimes another, and just as fire does operate 
 upon different matter, and yet retain the very same nature. 
 Unto which opinion it seems also as if Zeno the Citian did 
 in some measure incline ; he defining prudence, while it 
 distributes to every man his own, to be justice ; when it 
 teaches what we are to choose and what to reject or avoid, 
 temperance ; and with respect to what is to be borne or 
 suffered, fortitude. But it is to be observed, that they who 
 take upon them the defence of Zeno's notions do suppose 
 him to mean science by what he calls prudence. But then 
 Chrysippus, whilst he imagined from every distinct quality 
 a several and peculiar virtue to be formed, before he was 
 aware, raised (as Plato hath it) a whole swarm of virtues 
 never before known or used among the philosophers. For 
 as from brave he derived bravery ; from mild, mildness ; 
 and from just, justice ; so from pleasant he fetched 
 pleasantness; from good, goodness ; from grand, grandeur; 
 and from honest, honesty ; placing these and all kind of 
 dexterous application of discourse, all kind of facetiousness 
 of conversation, and all witty turns of expression in the
 
 228 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 number of virtues, thereby over-running philosophy, which 
 requires nothing less, with a multitude of uncouth, absurd, 
 and barbarous terms. 
 
 3. However, all these do commonly agree in this one 
 thing, in supposing virtue to be a certain disposition and 
 faculty of the governing and directive part of the soul, of 
 which reason is the cause ; or rather to be reason itself, 
 when it consents to what it ought, and is firm and immuta- 
 ble. And they do likewise think, that that part of the soul 
 \ which is the seat of the passions, and is called brutal or 
 \irrational, is not at all distinct by any physical difference 
 from that which is rational ; but that this part of the soul 
 (which they call rational and directive), being wholly 
 turned about and changed by its affections and by those 
 several alterations which are wrought in it with respect 
 either to habit or disposition, becometh either vice or vir- 
 tue, without having any thing in itself that is really brutal 
 or irrational, but is then called brutal or irrational, when by 
 the over-ruling and prevailing violence of our appetites it 
 is hurried on to something absurd and vicious, against the 
 judgment of reason. For passion, according to them, is 
 nothing else but depraved and intemperate reason, that 
 through a perverse and vicious judgment is grown over- 
 vehement and headstrong. 
 
 Now, it seems to me, all these philosophers were perfect 
 strangers to the clearness and truth of this point, that we 
 every one of us are in reality twofold and compound. 
 For, discerning only that composition in us which of the 
 4^ two is most evident, namely that of the soul and body, of 
 the other they knew nothing at all. And yet that in the 
 soul itself also there is a certain composition of two dis- 
 similar and distinct natures, the brutal part whereof, as 
 another body, is necessarily and physically compounded 
 with and conjoined to reason, was, it should seem, no secret 
 
 Pythagoras himself, as some have guessed from his
 
 OP MORAL VIRTUE. 229 
 
 having introduced the study of music amongst his scholars, 
 for the more easy calming and assuaging the mind, as well 
 knowing that it is not in every part of it obedient and 
 subject to precepts and discipline, nor indeed by reason 
 only to be recovered and retrieved from vice, but re- 
 quires some other kind of persuasives to co-operate with 
 it, to dispose it to such a temper and gentleness as that it 
 may not be utterly intractable and obstinate to the precepts 
 of philosophy. And Plato very strongly and plainly, with- 
 out the least hesitation, maintained that the soul of the 
 universe is neither simple, uniform, nor uncompounded ; 
 but that being mixed, as it were, and made up of that 
 which is always the same and of that which is otherwise, 
 in some places it is continually governed and carried about 
 after a uniform manner in one and the same powerful and 
 predominant order, and in other places is divided into mo- 
 tions and circles, one contrary to the other, unsettled and 
 fortuitous, whence are derived the beginnings and gen- 
 eration of differences in things. And so, in like manner, 
 the soul of man, being a part or portion of that of the 
 universe, and framed upon reasons and proportions answer- 
 able to it, cannot be simple and all of the same nature ; but 
 must have one part that is intelligent and rational, which 
 naturally ought to have dominion over a man, and another 
 which, being subject to passion, irrational, extravagant, 
 and unbounded, stands in need of direction and restraint. 
 And this last is again subdivided into two other parts ; 
 one whereof, being called corporeal, is called concupisci- 
 ble, and the other, which sometimes takes part with this 
 and sometimes with reason, and gives respectively to either 
 of them strength and vigor, is called irascible. And that 
 which chiefly discovers the difference between the one and 
 the other is the frequent conflict of the intellect and rea- 
 son with concupiscence and anger, it being the nature 
 of things that are different amongst themselves to be
 
 230 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 oftentimes repugnant and disobedient to what is best 
 of all. 
 
 These principles at first Aristotle seems most to have 
 relied upon, as plainly enough appears from what he has 
 written. Though afterwards he confounded the irascible 
 and concupiscible together, by joining the one to the other, 
 as if anger were nothing but a thirst and desire of revenge, 
 v/ However, to the last he constantly maintained that the 
 sensual and irrational was wholly distinct from the intel- 
 lectual and rational part of the soul. Not that it is so ab- 
 solutely devoid of reason as those faculties of the soul 
 which are sensitive, nutritive, and vegetative, and are com- 
 mon to us with brute beasts and plants ; for these are al- 
 ways deaf to the voice of reason and incapable of it, and 
 may in some sort be said to derive themselves from flesh 
 and blood, and to be inseparably attached to the body and 
 devotejd to the service thereof; but the other sensual part, 
 subject to the sudden efforts of the passions and destitute 
 of any reason of its own, is yet nevertheless naturally 
 adapted to hear and obey the intellect and judgment, to 
 have regard to it, and to submit itself to be regulated and 
 ordered according the rules and precepts thereof, unless it 
 happen to be utterly corrupted and vitiated by pleasure, 
 which is deaf to all instruction, and by a luxurious way of 
 living. 
 
 4. As for those who wonder how it should come to pass, 
 that that which is irrational in itself should yet become ob- 
 sequious to the dictates of right reason, they seem to me 
 not to have duly considered the force and power of reason, 
 how great and extensive it is, and how far it. is able to 
 carry and extend its authority and command, not so much 
 by harsh and arbitrary methods, as by soft and gentle 
 means, which persuade more and gain obedience sooner 
 than all the severities and violences in the world. For 
 even the spirits, the nerves, bones, and other parts of the
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUR 231 
 
 body are destitute of reason ; but yet no sooner do they 
 feel the least motion of the will, reason shaking (as it 
 were), though never so gently, the reins, but all of them 
 observe their proper order, agree together, and pay a ready 
 obedience. As, for instance, the feet, if the impulse of 
 the mind be to run, immediately betake themselves to their 
 office ; *or if the motion of the will be for the throwing or 
 lifting up of any thing, the hands in a moment fall to 
 their business. And this sympathy or consent of the bru- 
 tal faculties to right reason, and the ready conformity 
 of them thereto, Homer has most admirably expressed in 
 these verses : 
 
 In tears dissolved she mourns her consort's fate, 
 
 So great her sorrows, scarce her charms more great 
 
 Her tears compassion in Ulysses move, 
 
 And fill his breast with pity and with love ; 
 
 Yet artful he his passion secret keeps, 
 
 It rages in his heart ; and there he inward weeps. 
 
 Like steel or ivory, his fixed eyeballs stand, 
 
 Placed by some statuary's skilful hand ; 
 
 And when a gentle tear would force its way, 
 
 He hides it falling, or commands its stay.* 
 
 Under such perfect subjection to his reason and judgment 
 had he even his spirits, his blood, and his tears. A most 
 evident proof of this matter we have also from hence, that 
 our natural desires and motions are as soon repressed and 
 quieted as we know we are either by reason or law for- 
 bidden to approach the fair ones we at the first view had 
 so great a passion for ; a thing which most commonly hap- 
 pens to those who are apt to fall in love at sight with 
 beautiful women, without knowing or examining who they 
 are ; for no sooner do they afterwards find their error, by 
 discovering the person with whose charms they were be- 
 fore captivated to be a sister or a daughter, but their flame 
 is presently extinguished by the interposition of reason. 
 And flesh and blood are immediately brought into order, 
 
 * Odyss. XIX. 208.
 
 232 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 and become obedient to the judgment. It often falls out 
 likewise that, after we have eaten some kinds of meat or 
 fish finely dressed, and by that means artificially disguised, 
 with great pleasure and a very good stomach, at the first 
 moment we understand they were either unclean, or un- 
 lawful and forbidden, our judgment being thereby shocked, 
 we feel not only remorse and trouble in our mind, but the 
 conceit reaches farther, and our whole frame is disordered 
 by the nauseous qualms and vomitings thereby occasioned. 
 I fear I should be thought on purpose to hunt after too 
 far-fetched and youthful instances to insert in this dis- 
 course, if I should take notice of the lute, the harp, the 
 pipe and flute, and such like musical instruments invented 
 by art, and adapted to the raising or allaying of human 
 passions ; which, though they are void of life and sense, 
 do yet most readily accommodate themselves to the judg- 
 ment, to our passions and our manners, either indulging 
 our melancholy, increasing our mirth, or feeding our wan- 
 tonness, as we happen at that time to be disposed. And 
 therefore it is reported of Zeno himself, that, going one 
 day to the theatre to hear Amoebeus sing to the lute, he 
 called to his scholars, Come, says he, let us go and learn 
 what harmony and music the guts and sinews of beasts, 
 nay even wood and bones are capable of, by the help of 
 numbers, proportion, and order. 
 
 But to let these things pass, I would gladly know of 
 them, whether, when they see domestic animals (as dogs, 
 horses, or birds) by use, feeding, and teaching brought to 
 so high a degree of perfection as that they shall utter ar- 
 ticulately some senseful words, and by their motions, ges- 
 tures, and all their actions, shall approve themselves 
 governable, and become useful to us ; and when also they 
 find Achilles in Homer encouraging horses, as well as men, 
 to battle ; whether, I say, after all this, they can yet 
 make any wonder or doubt, whether those faculties of the
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 233 
 
 mind to which we owe our anger, our desires, our joys, 
 and our sorrows, be of such a nature that they are capable 
 of being obedient to reason, and so affected by it as to 
 consent and become entirely subject to it ; considering es- 
 pecially that these faculties are not seated without us, or 
 separated from us, or formed by any thing which is not in 
 us, or hammered out by force and violence, but, as they 
 have by nature their entire dependence upon the soul, so 
 they are ever conversant and bred up with it, and also re- 
 ceive their final complement and perfection from use, cus- 
 tom, and practice. For this reason the Greeks very 
 properly call manners r t Oog, custom ; for they are nothing 
 else, in short, but certain qualities of the irrational and 
 brutal part of the mind, and hence by them are so named, 
 in that this brutal and irrational part of the mind being 
 formed and moulded by right reason, by long custom and 
 use (which they call e0o$), has these qualities or differences 
 stamped upon it. Not that reason so much as attempts to 
 eradicate our passions and affections, which is neither pos- 
 sible nor expedient, but only to keep them within due 
 bounds, reduce them into good order, and so direct them 
 to a good end ; and thus to generate moral virtue, consisting 
 not in a kind of insensibility, or total freedom from pas- 
 sions, but in the well-ordering our passions and keeping 
 them within measure, which she effects by wisdom and 
 prudence, bringing the faculties of that part of the soul 
 where our affections and appetite are seated to a good 
 habit. For these three things are commonly held to be in 
 the soul, namely, a faculty or aptitude, passion, and habit. 
 This aptitude or faculty then is the principle or very mat- 
 ter of passions ; as for example, the power or aptitude to 
 be angry, to be. ashamed, to be confident and bold, or the 
 like ; passion is the actual exercise of that aptitude or 
 faculty, as anger, shame, confidence, or boldness ; and 
 habit is the strength, firmness, and establishment of the
 
 234 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 disposition or faculty in the irrational part of the soul, 
 gotten by continual use and custom, and which, according 
 as the passions are well or ill governed by reason, becomes 
 either virtue or vice. 
 
 5. But, forasmuch as philosophers do not make all virtue 
 to consist in a mediocrity nor call it moral, to show the 
 difference more clearly, it will be necessary to take our 
 rise a little farther off. For of all things then in the uni- 
 verse, some do exist absolutely, simply, and for them- 
 selves only ; others again relatively, for and with regard to 
 us. Among those things which have an absolute and 
 simple existence are the earth, the heavens, the stars, and 
 the sea ; and of such things as have their being relatively, 
 with respect to us, are good and evil, things desirable and 
 to be avoided, and things pleasant and hurtful. And see- 
 ing that both are the proper objects of reason, while it 
 considers the former, which are absolutely and for them- 
 selves, it is scientifical and contemplative ; and when the 
 other, which have reference to us, it is deliberative and 
 practical. And as the proper virtue in the latter case is 
 prudence, in the former it is science. And between the one 
 and the other, namely, between prudence and science, there 
 is this difference. Prudence consists in a certain applica- 
 tion and relation of the contemplative faculties of the soul to 
 ~ those wh'ch are practical, for the government of the sen- 
 sual and irrational part, according to reason. To which 
 purpose prudence has often need of Fortune ; whereas 
 neither of that nor of deliberation has science any occa- 
 sion or want to attain its ends, forasmuch as it has nothing 
 to consider but such things as remain always the same. 
 For as a geometrician never deliberates about a triangle, 
 whether all its three angles be equal to two right angles, 
 because of that he has a clear and distinct knowledge 
 (and men use to deliberate about such things only as are 
 sometimes in one state or condition and sometimes in
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 235 
 
 another, and not of those which are always firm and im- 
 mutable), so the mind, when merely contemplative, exer- 
 cising itself about first principles and things permanent, 
 such as retaining the same nature are incapable of muta- 
 tion, has no room or occasion for deliberation. Whereas 
 prudence, descending to actions full of error and confusion, 
 is very often under the necessity of encountering with for- 
 tuitous accidents, and, in doubtful cases, of making use 
 of deliberation, and, to reduce those deliberations into prac- 
 tice, of calling also to its assistance even the irrational 
 faculties, which are (as it were) forcibly dragged to go 
 along with it, and by that means to give a certain vigor or 
 impetus to its determinations. For its determinations do 
 indeed want something which may enliven and give them 
 such an impetus. And moral virtue it is which gives an 
 impetus or vigor to the passions ; but at the same time 
 reason, which accompanies that impetus, and of which it 
 stands in great need, does so set bounds thereunto, that 
 nothing but what is moderate appears, and that it neither 
 outruns the proper seasons of action, nor yet falls short of 
 them. 
 
 For the sensual faculties, where passions are seated, are 
 subject to motions, some over-vehement, sudden, and quick, 
 and others again too remiss, and more slow and heavy 
 than is convenient. So that, though every thing we do can 
 be good but in one manner, yet it may be evil in several ; 
 as there is but one single way of hitting the mark, but to 
 miss it a great many, either by shooting over, or under, or 
 on one side. The business therefore of practical reason, 
 governing our actions according to the order of Nature, is 
 to correct the excesses as well as the defects of the pas- 
 sions, by reducing them to a true mediocrity. For as, 
 when through infirmity of the mind, effeminacy, fear, or 
 laziness, the vehemence and keenness of the appetites are 
 so abated that they are ready to sink and fall short of the
 
 236 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 good at which they are aimed and directed, there is then 
 this practical reason at hand, exciting and rousing and 
 pushing them onward ; so, on the other hand, when it 
 lashes out too far and is hurried beyond all measure, there 
 also is the same reason ready to bring it again within com- 
 pass and put a stop to its career. And thus, prescribing 
 bounds and giving law to the motions of the passions, it 
 produces in the irrational part of the soul these moral 
 virtues (of which we now treat), which are nothing else 
 but the mean between excess and defect. For it cannot 
 be said that all virtue consists in mediocrity ; since wisdom 
 or prudence (one of the intellectual virtues), standing in 
 no need of the irrational faculties, as being seated in 
 that part of the soul which is pure and unmixed and free 
 from all passions, is of itself absolutely perfect, the 
 utmost extremity and power of reason, whereby we attain 
 to that perfection of knowledge which is itself most divine 
 and renders us most happy. Whereas moral virtue, which 
 because of the body is so necessary to us, and, to put 
 things in practice, stands in need of the instrumental min- 
 istry of the passions (as being so far from promoting the 
 destruction and abolition of irrational powers, as to be 
 altogether employed in the due regulation thereof), is, with 
 respect to its power or quality, the very top and extremity 
 of perfection ; but, in respect of the proportion and quan- 
 tity which it determines, it is mediocrity, in that it takes 
 away all excess on the one hand, and cures all defects on 
 the other. 
 
 6. Now mean and mediocrity may be differently under- 
 stood. For there is one mean which is compounded and 
 nvide up of the two simple extremes, as in colors, gray, 
 of white and black ; and another, where that which con- 
 tains and is contained is the medium between the conttiin- 
 ini: and the contained, as, for instance, the number ei^ht, 
 between twelve and four. And a third sort there is also.
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 237 
 
 which participates of neither extreme, as for example, all 
 those things which, as being neither good nor evil in them- 
 selves, we call adiaphorous, or indifferent. But in none of 
 these ways can virtue be said to be a mean, or mediocrity. 
 For neither is it a mixture of vices, nor, comprehending 
 that which is defective and short, is it comprehended by 
 that which runs out into excess ; nor yet is it exempt from 
 the impetuosity and sudden efforts of the passions, in which 
 excess and defect do properly take place. But moral vir- 
 tue properly doth consist in a mean or mediocrity (and so 
 it is commonly taken), most like to that which there is in 
 our Greek music and harmony. For, whereas there are the 
 highest and lowest musical notes in the extremities of 
 the scale called nete and hypate ; so likewise is there in 
 the middle thereof, between these two, another musical 
 note, and that the sweetest of all, called mese (or mean), 
 which does as perfectly avoid the extreme sharpness of thp 
 one as it doth the over-flatness of the other. And so also 
 virtue, being a motion and power which is exercised about 
 the brutal and irrational part of the soul, takes away the 
 remission and intention in a word, the excess and de- 
 fect of the appetites, reducing thereby every one of the 
 passions to a due mediocrity and perfect state of rectitude. 
 For example, fortitude is said to be the mean between 
 cowardice and rashness, whereof the one is a defect, as 
 the other is an excess of the irascible faculty ; liberality, 
 between sordid parsimony on the one hand, and extrava- 
 gant prodigality on the other; clemency between insen- 
 sibility of injuries and its opposite, revengeful cruelty ; 
 and so of justice and temperance ; the former being the 
 mean between giving and distributing more or less than is 
 due in all contracts, affairs, and business between man and 
 man, and the latter a just mediocrity between a stupid 
 apathy, touched with no sense or relish of pleasure, and 
 dissolute softness, abandoned to all manner of sensualities.
 
 238 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 And from this instance of temperance it is, that we are 
 most clearly given to understand the difference between 
 the irrational and the rational faculties of the soul, and 
 that it so plainly appears to us that the passions and affec- 
 tions of the mind are quite a distinct thing from reason. 
 For otherwise never should we be able to distinguish con- 
 tinence from temperance, nor incontinence from intem- 
 perance, in lust and pleasures, if it were one and the same 
 faculty of the soul wherewith we reason and judge, and 
 whereby we desire and covet. Now temperance is that 
 whereby reason governs and manages that part of the soul 
 which is subject to the passions (as it were some wild 
 creature brought up by hand, and made quite tame and 
 gentle), having gained an absolute victory over all its appe- 
 tites, and brought them entirely under the dominion of it. 
 Whereas we call it continence, when reason has indeed 
 gained the mastery over the appetites and prevailed against 
 them, though not without great pains and trouble, they 
 being perverse and continuing to struggle, as not having 
 wholly submitted themselves ; so that it is not without 
 great difficulty able to preserve its government over them, 
 being forced to retain and hold them in, and keep them 
 within compass, as it were, with stripes, with the bit and 
 bridle^ while the mind all the time is full of nothing but 
 agony, contentions, and confusion. All which Plato en- 
 deavors to illustrate by a similitude of the chariot-horses 
 of the soul, the one whereof, being more unruly, not only 
 kicks and flings at him that is more gentle and tractable, 
 but also thereby so troubles and disorders the driver him- 
 self, that he is forced sometimes to hold him haid in, and 
 sometimes again to give him his head, 
 
 Lest from his bands the purple reins should slip, 
 
 as Simonides speaks. 
 
 And from hence we may see why continence is not
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 239 
 
 thought worthy to be placed in the number of perfect vir- 
 tues, but is taken to be a degree under virtue. For there 
 is not therein produced a mediocrity arising from a sym- 
 phony of the worst with the better, nor are the excesses 
 of the passions retrenched ; nor yet doth the appetite be- 
 come obedient and subservient to the reasonable faculties, 
 but it both makes and feels disorder and disturbance, being 
 repressed by violence and constraint, and (as it were) by 
 necessity ; as in a sedition or faction in a city or state, the 
 contending parties, breathing, nothing but war and destruc- 
 tion and ruin to one another, do yet cohabit together (it 
 may be) within the compass of the same walls ; insomuch 
 that the soul of the incontinent person, with respect to the 
 conflicts and incongruities therein, may very properly be 
 compared to the city, 
 
 Where all the streets are filled with incense smoke, 
 And songs of triumph mixed with groans resound.* 
 
 And upon the same grounds it is, that incontinence is held 
 to be something less than vice also, but intemperance to 
 be a complete and perfect vice, for therein not the appe- 
 tite only but reason likewise is debauched and corrupted ; 
 and as the former incites and pushes forward the desires 
 and affections to that which is evil, so this, by making an 
 ill judgment, is easily led to consent and agree to the soft 
 whispers and tempting allurements of corrupt lusts and 
 passions, and soon loseth all sense of sin and evil. 
 Whereas incontinence preserves the judgment, by the 
 help of reason, right and sound ; but yet, by irresistible 
 force and violence of the passions, is even against judg- 
 ment drawn away. Moreover, in these respects following 
 it differeth also from intemperance : inasmuch as reason 
 in that is overpowered by passion, but in this it never so 
 much as struggleth ; the incontinent person, after a noble 
 resistance, is at last forced to submit to the tyranny of his 
 
 * Soph. Oed. Tyr. 4.
 
 240 * MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 lusts, and follow their guidance, while the intemperate ap- 
 proves them, and gladly goes along with and submits to 
 them ; one feels remorse for the evil he commits, while the 
 other prides in lewdness and vice. Again, the one wilfully 
 and of his own accord runs into sin ; while the other, even 
 against his will, is forced to abandon that which is good. 
 
 And this difference between them is not to be collected 
 only from their actions, but may as plainly also be dis- 
 covered by their words. For at this rate do intemperate 
 persons use to talk : 
 
 What mirth in life, what pleasure, what delight, 
 Without content in sports of Venus bright ? 
 Were those joys past, and I for them unmeet, 
 Ring out my knell, bring forth my winding-sheet.* 
 
 And thus says another : 
 
 To eat, to drink, to wench are principal, 
 All pleasures else I accessories call ; 
 
 as if from his very soul he were wholly abandoned and 
 given up to pleasures and voluptuousness, and even over 
 whelmed therein. And much of the same mind was he, 
 and his judgment was as totally depraved by his passions, 
 who said, 
 
 Let me, ye dull and formal fops, alone, 
 I am resolved, 'tis best to be undone. 
 
 But quite another spirit do we find running through the 
 sayings of the incontinent : 
 
 Blame Nature only for it, blame not me, 
 Would she permit, I then should virtuous be, t 
 
 says one of them. And again, 
 And another, 
 
 Ah ! 'tis decreed by Fate. We know, 'tis true, 
 We know those virtues, which we ne'er pursue. t 
 
 What will my swelling passions' force assuage ? 
 
 No more can I sustain this tempest's rage, 
 
 Than anchor's fluke, dropt on loose ground, a storm ; 
 
 From Mimnermus. 
 
 t From the Chrysippus of Euripides, Frag. 837 and 838.
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 241 
 
 where not improperly he compares the fluke of an anchor 
 dropped in loose ground to that ill-grounded, feeble, and 
 irresolute reason, which by the vanity, weakness, and luxury 
 of the mind is easily brought to forsake the judgment. 
 And the like metaphor has the poet made use of happily 
 enough in these verses : 
 
 To us, in ships moored near the shore who lie, 
 Though strong the cables, when the winds rise high 
 Cables will prove but small security ; 
 
 where by the cables the poet means the judgment op- 
 posing itself against all that is evil or dishonest, which is, 
 however, oftentimes disturbed and broken by violent and 
 sudden gusts of the passions. For, indeed, the intemperate 
 are borne away directly and with full sail to their pleasures ; 
 to them they deliver up themselves entirely, and thither it 
 is they bend their whole course. While the incontinent, 
 indirectly only, as endeavoring to sustain and repel the 
 assaults of the passions and withstand their temptations, 
 either is allured and as it were slides into evil, or else is 
 plunged violently into it whether he will or no. As 
 Timon, in his bitter way of raillery, reproaches Anax- 
 archus, , 
 
 WTien first the dogged Anaxarchus strove 
 
 The power of virtue o'er his mind to prove, 
 
 Firm though he seemed, and obstinately good, 
 
 In vain th' impulse of temper he withstood. 
 
 Nature recoiled, whatever he could do; 
 
 He saw those ills, which yet he did pursue ; 
 
 In this not single, other sophists too 
 
 Felt the same force, which they could ne'er subdue. 
 
 And neither is a wise man continent, but temperate ; nor 
 a fool incontinent, but intemperate ; the one taking true 
 pleasure and delight in good, the other having no dis- 
 pleasure against evil. And therefore incontinence is said 
 to be found only in a mind which is sophistical (or which 
 barely makes a show of being governed and directed by 
 prudence), and which has indeed the use of reason, but in
 
 242 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 so weak and faint a manner, that it is not able to persevere 
 in that which it knows to be right. 
 
 7. Thus we have seen the diversity between inconti- 
 nence and intemperance. And as for continence and 
 temperance, their differences are analogous, and bear 
 proportion to those of the other, but in contrary respects. 
 For remorse, grief, and indignation do always accompany 
 continence ; whereas in the mind of a temperate person 
 there is all over such an evenness, calmness, and firmness, 
 that, seeing with what wonderful easiness and tranquillity 
 the irrational faculties go along with reason and submit 
 to its directions, one cannot but call to mind that of the 
 poet: 
 
 Swift the command ran through the raging deep ; 
 Th' obedient waves compose themselves to sleep ; * 
 
 reason having quite deadened and repressed the vehement 
 raging and furious motions of the passions and affections. 
 But those whose assistance Nature necessarily requires 
 are by reason rendered so agreeable and consenting, so 
 submissive, friendly, and co-operative in the execution of 
 all good designs and purposes, that they neither outrun it, 
 nor recede from it, nor behave themselves disorderly, nor 
 ever show the least disobedience ; but every appetite will- 
 ingly and cheerfully pursues its dictates, 
 
 As sucking foal runs by his mother mare. 
 
 Which very much confirms what was said by Xenocrates 
 of those who are true philosophers, namely, that they 
 alone do that voluntarily which all others do against their 
 wills for fear of the laws ; being diverted and restrained 
 from the pursuit of their pleasures, as a dog is frightened 
 by a whipping or a cat scared by a noise, having regard to 
 nothing else in the matter but their own danger. 
 
 It is manifest then from what has been discoursed, that 
 the soul does perceive within itself something that is firm 
 
 Odyst. XII. 168.
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 243 
 
 and immovable, totally distinct from its passions and appe- 
 tites, these being what it docs always oppose and is ever 
 contending with. But some there are, nevertheless, who 
 affirm that reason and passion do not materially differ from 
 one another, and that there is not in the soul any faction, 
 sedition, or dissension of two several and contending facul- 
 ties, but only a shifting, conversion, or alteration of the 
 same reason or rational faculty from one side to the other, 
 backward and forward, which, by reason of the sudden- 
 ness and swiftness of the change, is not perceptible by 
 us ; and therefore, that we do not consider that the same 
 faculty of the soul is by nature so adapted as to be ca- 
 pable of both concupiscence and repentance, of anger and 
 of fear, of being drawn to the commission of any lewdness 
 or evil by the allurements of pleasure, and afterwards of 
 being again retrieved from it. And as for lust, anger, 
 fear, and such like passions, they will have them to be 
 nothing but perverse opinions and false judgments, not 
 arising or formed in any inferior part of the soul, pecu- 
 liarly belonging to them, but being the advances and 
 returns, or the motions forward and backward, the good 
 likenings and more vehement efforts, and (in a word) such 
 operations and energies of the whole rational and directive 
 faculty as are ready to be turned this way or that with the 
 greatest ease imaginable ; like the sudden motions and 
 irruptions in children, the violence and impetuosity where- 
 of, by reason of their imbecility and weakness, are very 
 fleeting and inconstant. 
 
 But these opinions are against common sense and expe- 
 rience ; for no man ever felt such a sudden change in 
 himself, as that whenever he chose any thing he imme- 
 diately judged it fit to be chosen, or that, on the other 
 hand, whenever he judged any thing fit to be chosen he 
 immediately made choice of it. Neither does the lover 
 who is convinced by reason that his amour is fit to be
 
 244 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 broken off, and that he ought to strive against his passion, 
 therefore immediately cease to love ; nor on the other side 
 doth he desist reasoning, and cease from being able to give 
 a right judgment of things, even then, when, being soft- 
 ened and overcome by luxury, he delivers himself up a 
 captive to his lusts. But as, while by the assistance of 
 reason he makes opposition to the efforts of his passions, 
 they yet continue to solicit, and at last overcome him ; so 
 likewise, when he is overcome and forced to submit to 
 them, by the light of reason does he plainly discern and 
 know that he has done amiss ; so that neither by the pas- 
 sions is reason effaced and destroyed, nor yet by reason is 
 he rescued and delivered from them ; but, being tossed to 
 and fro between the one and the other, he is a kind of 
 neuter, and participates in common of them both. And 
 those, methinks, who imagine that one while the directive 
 and rational part of the soul is changed into concupiscence 
 and lust, and that by and by reason opposes itself against 
 them, and they are changed into that, are not much unlike 
 them who make the sportsman and his game not to be 
 two, but one body, which, by a nimble and dexterous 
 mutation of itself, one while appears in the shape of the 
 huntsman, and at another turn puts on the form of a wild 
 beast. For as these in a plain evident matter seem to 
 be stark blind, so they hi the other case belie even their 
 own senses, seeing they must needs feel in themselves not 
 merely a change or mutation of one and the same thing, 
 but a downright struggle and quarrel between two several 
 and distinct faculties. 
 
 But is not, say they, the deliberative power or faculty 
 of a man often divided in itself, and distracted among sev- 
 eral opinions contrary to one another, about that which is 
 expedient ; and yet is but one, simple, uniform thing? All 
 this we grant to be true ; but it does not reach the case we 
 are speaking of. For that part of the soul where reason
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 245 
 
 and judgment are seated is not at variance with itself, but 
 by one and the same faculty is conversant about different 
 reasonings ; or rather, there is but one simple power of 
 reasoning, which employs itself on several arguments, as 
 so many different subject-matters. And therefore it is, that 
 no disturbance or uneasiness accompanies those reasonings 
 or deliberations, where the passions do not at all interpose. 
 Nor are we at any time forced, as it were, to choose any 
 thing contrary to the dictates of our own reason, but when, 
 as in a balance, some lurking hidden passions lay some- 
 thing in the scale against reason to weigh it down. And 
 this often falls out to be the case, where it is not reasoning 
 that is opposed to reasoning, but either ambition, or emu- 
 lation, or favor, or jealousy, or fear, making a show as if 
 there were a variance or contest between two differing rea- 
 sons, according to that of Homer, 
 
 Shame in denial, in acceptance fear ; * 
 
 and of another poet, 
 
 ITard fate to fall, but yet a glorious fate ; 
 "Tis cowardly to live, but yet 'tis sweet. 
 
 And in determining of controversies about contracts be- 
 tween man and man, it is by the interposition of the pas- 
 sions that so many disputes and delays are created.- So 
 likewise in the consultations and counsels of kings, they 
 who design to make their court incline not to one side of 
 the question or debate xather than the other, but only ac- 
 commodate themselves to their own passions, without any 
 regard to the interest of the public. Which is the reason 
 that in aristocratical governments the magistrates will not 
 suffer orators in their pleadings, by declaiming and ha- 
 ranguing, to raise the passions and move the affections. For 
 reason, not being disturbed or diverted by passion, tends 
 directly to that which is honorable and just ; but if the 
 passions are once raised, there immediately follows a mighty 
 
 * u. vii. 98.
 
 246 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 controversy and struggle between pleasure and grief on the 
 one hand, and reason and j udgment on the other. For other- 
 wise how comes it to pass, that in philosophical disputes 
 and disquisitions we so often and with so little trouble are by 
 others drawn off from our own opinions and wrought upon 
 to change them? and that Aristotle himself, Democritus, 
 and Chrysippus have without any concern or regret of mind, 
 nay even with great satisfaction to themselves, retracted 
 some of those points which they formerly so much approved 
 of, and were wont so stiffly to maintain ] For no passions 
 residing in the contemplative and scientifical part of the 
 soul make any tumult or disturbance therein, and the irra- 
 tional and brutal faculties remain quiet and calm, without 
 busying themselves to intermeddle in matters of that kind. 
 By which means it falls out, that reason no sooner comes 
 within view of truth, but rejecting that which is false it 
 readily embraces it ; forasmuch as there is in the former 
 what is not to be found in the other, namely, a willingness 
 to assent and disagree as there is occasion ; whereas in all 
 deliberations had, judgments made, and resolutions taken 
 about such things as are to be reduced into practice, and 
 are mixed and interwoven with the passions and affections, 
 reason meets with much opposition, and is put under great 
 difficulties, by being stopped and interrupted in its course 
 by the brutal faculties of the mind, throwing in its way 
 either pleasure or fear or grief or lust, or some such like 
 temptation or discouragement. And then the decision of 
 these disputes belongs to sense, which is equally affected 
 with both the one and the other; and whichsoever of 
 them gets the mastery, the other is not thereby destroyed, 
 but (though struggling and resisting all the while) is forced 
 only to comply and go along with the conqueror. As an 
 amorous person, for example, finding himself engaged in 
 an amour he cannot approve of, has immediately recourse 
 to his reason, to oppose the force of that against his pas-
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 247 
 
 sion, as having them both together actually subsisting in 
 his soul, plainly discerning them to be several and distinct, 
 and feeling a sensible conflict between the two, while he 
 endeavors (as it were) with his hand to repress and ke"j> 
 down the part which is inflamed and rages so violently 
 within him. But, on the contrary, in those deliberations 
 and disquisitions where the passions have nothing to do, 
 such I mean as belong properly to the contemplative part 
 of the soul, if the reasons are equally balanced, not in- 
 clining more to one side than another, then is there no 
 determinate judgment formed, but there remains a doubt- 
 ing, as if there were a rest or suspense of the understand- 
 ing between two contrary opinions. But if there happen 
 to be any inclination or determination towards one side, 
 that prevailing must needs get the better of the other, but 
 without any regret or obstinate opposition from it against 
 the opinion which is received. In short, whenever the 
 contest seems to be of reason against reason, in that case 
 we have no manner of sense of two distinct powers, but 
 of one simple, uniform faculty only, under different appre- 
 hensions or imaginations ; but when the dispute is between 
 the irrational part and reason, where nature has so ordered 
 it that neither the victory nor the defeat can be had with- 
 out anxiety and regret, there immediately the two contend- 
 ing powers divide the soul in the quarrel, and thereby 
 make the difference and distinction between them to be 
 most plain and evident. 
 
 8. And not only from their contests, but no less also 
 from the consequences that follow thereupon, may one 
 clearly enough discern the source and original of the pas- 
 sions to be different from that of reason. For since a man 
 may set his affection upon an ingenuous and virtuously dis- 
 posed child, and no less also upon one that is naughty and 
 dissolute, and since also one may have unreasonable and 
 indecent transports of anger against his children or his
 
 248 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 parents, and on the contrary, may justly and unblamably 
 be angry in their defence against their enemies and tyrants ; 
 as in the one case there is perceived a struggle and dispute 
 of the passions against reason, so in the other may be seen 
 a. ready submission and agreement of them, running to its 
 assistance, and lending as it were their helping hand. To 
 illustrate this with a familiar example, after a good man 
 has in obedience to the laws married a convenient wife, he 
 then in the first place comes to a resolution of conversing 
 and cohabiting with her wisely and honestly, and of making 
 at least a civil husband ; but in process of time, custom 
 and constant familiarity having bred within him a true 
 passion for her, he sensibly finds that upon principles of 
 reason his affection and love for her are every day more 
 and more improved and grow upon him. So in like man- 
 ner, young men having met with kind and gentle masters, 
 to guide and inform their minds in the study of philosophy 
 and sciences, make use of them at first for instruction only 
 and information, but afterwards come to have such an affec- 
 tion for them, that from familiar companions and scholars 
 they become their lovers and admirers, and are so accounted. 
 And the same happens also to most men, with respect to 
 good magistrates in the commonwealth, to their neighbors, 
 and to their kindred ; for, beginning an acquaintance upon 
 necessity and interest, for the exchange of the common 
 offices of intercourse and commerce with one another, they 
 do afterwards by degrees, ere they are aware, grow to have 
 a love and friendship for them ; reason in such and the 
 like cases having over-persuaded and even compelled the 
 passions to take delight in and pursue what it before had 
 approved of and consented to. As for the poet who said, 
 
 Of modesty two kinds there be ; 
 The one we cannot blame, 
 The other troubleth many a house, 
 And doth decay the same ; * 
 
 Eurip. Hippol. 884.
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 249 
 
 doth he not plainly hereby intimate, that he hnd often- 
 times found by experience that this affection of tht mind, 
 by a sheepish, shamefaced backwardness, and by foofishly 
 bashful delays against all reason, had lost him the oppor- 
 tunities and seasons of making his fortune, and hindered 
 and disappointed many brave actions and noble enter- 
 prises ? 
 
 9. But these men, though by the force of these argu- 
 ments sufficiently convinced, do yet seek for evasions, by 
 calling shame by the name of modesty, pleasures by that 
 of joy, and fear by that of caution. No man would go 
 about to blame them for giving things the softest names 
 they can invent, if they would be so just as to bestow these 
 good words upon those passions and affections only which 
 have put themselves under the conduct and direction of 
 reason, and leave those which oppose reason and offer vio- 
 lence to it to be called by their own proper and odious 
 names. But, when fully convinced by the tears they shed, 
 by the trembling of their joints, and by their sudden chang- 
 ing of color back and forward, if instead of plainly calling 
 the passions whereof these are the effects grief and fear, they 
 make use of the fantastic terms of compunctions and con- 
 turbations, and to varnish over and disguise the lusts and 
 affections, give them the name only of so many forward- 
 nesses of mind, and I know not what else, they seem not 
 to act like philosophers, but, relying upon little shifts and 
 sophistical artifices, under an amusement of strange words, 
 they vainly hope to cover and conceal the nature of 
 things. 
 
 And yet even these men themselves sometimes make use 
 of very proper terms to express these matters ; as, for in- 
 stance, when they call those joys, volitions, and cautions 
 of theirs, not by the name of apathies, as if they were de- 
 void of all manner of passions, but of eupathies. For 
 then is there said to be an eupathy, or good disposition of
 
 250 OF MORAL 
 
 the affections, when reason hath not utterly destroyed, but 
 composed and adjusted them in the minds of discreet and 
 temperate persons. But what then becomes of vicious 
 and dissolute persons'? Why, if they should judge it rea- 
 onable to love their parents, instead of a mistress or a 
 gallant, are they unable to perform this ; but should they 
 judge it fitting to set their hearts upon a sti'umpet or a 
 parasite, the judgment is no sooner made, but they are 
 most desperately in love? Now were the passions and 
 judgment one, it could not be but that the passions of love 
 and hatred would immediately follow upon judgments made 
 what to love and hate. But we sec the contrary. often hap- 
 pen ; for the passions, as they submit to some resolutions and 
 judgments, so others again they oppose themselves to, and 
 refuse to comply with. Whence it is that, compelled there- 
 to by truth and the evidence of things, they do not affirm 
 every judgment and determination of reason to be passion, 
 but that only which excites too violent and inordinate an 
 appetite ; acknowledging thereby that the faculty we have 
 in us of judging is quite another thing than that which is 
 susceptible of the passions, as is that also which moveth 
 from that which is moved. Nay, even Chrysippus himself, 
 in many places defining patience and continence to be 
 habits of submitting to and pursuing the choice and direc- 
 tion of right reason, doth thereby make it apparent that 
 by the force of truth he was driven to confess that it is 
 one thing in us which is obedient and submissive, but 
 another and quite a different thing which it obeys when 
 it submits, but resists when it does not submit. 
 
 10. Now, as for those who make all sins and faults to 
 be equal, to examine whether in other matters they have 
 not also departed from the truth is not at this time and in 
 this place seasonable ; since they seem not herein only, 
 but in most things else, to advance unreasonable paradoxes 
 against common sense and experience. For according to
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 251 
 
 them, all our passions and affections are so many faults, 
 and whosoever grieves, fears, or desires, commits sin. But, 
 with their leave, nothing is more visible and apparent than 
 the mighty difference in those and all other passions, ac- 
 cording as we are more or less affected with them. For 
 will any man say that the fear of Dolon was no more than 
 that of Ajax, who, being forced to give way before the 
 enemy, 
 
 Sometimes retreated back, then faced about, 
 And step by step retired at once, and fought ? * 
 
 Or compare the grief of Plato for the death of Socrates to 
 the sorrow and anguish of mind which Alexander felt, 
 when, for having murdered Clitus, he attempted to lay 
 violent hands upon himself. For our grief is commonly 
 increased and augmented above measure by sudden and 
 unexpected accidents. And that which surprises us on 
 the sudden, contrary to our hope and expectation, is much 
 more uneasy and grievous than that which is either fore- 
 seen, or not very unlikely to happen ; as must needs fall 
 out in the case of those who, expecting nothing more than 
 to see the happiness, advancement, and glory of a friend 
 or a kinsman, should hear of his being put to the most ex- 
 quisite tortures, as Parmenio did of his son Philotas. And 
 who will ever say that the anger of Magas against Phile- 
 mon can bear any proportion to the rage of Nicocreon 
 against Anaxarchus ? The occasion given was in both 
 cases the same, each of them having severally been bitter- 
 ly reproached and reviled by the other. For whereas Nico- 
 creon caused Anaxarchus to be broken to pieces and brayed 
 in a mortar with iron pestles, Magas only commanded the 
 executioner to lay the edge of the naked sword upon the 
 neck of Philemon, and so dismissed him. And therefore 
 Plato called anger the nerves of the mind ; because, as it 
 may swell and be made more intense by sourness and ill- 
 
 *IL XI. 647.
 
 252 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 nature, so may it be slackened and remitted by gentleness 
 and good-nature. 
 
 But to elude these and such like objections, they will- 
 not allow these intense and vehement efforts of the pas- 
 sions to be according to judgment, or so to proceed from it 
 as if that were therein faulty ; but- they call them cessa- 
 tions, contractions, and extensions or diffusions, which by 
 the irrational part are capable of being increased or di- 
 minished. But that there are also differences of judgment 
 is most plain and evident ; for some there are who take 
 poverty to be no evil at all, others who look upon it as a 
 great evil, and others again who esteem it to be the great- 
 est evil and worst thing in the world, insomuch that rather 
 than endure it they would dash themselves in pieces against 
 the rocks, or cast themselves headlong into the sea. And 
 among those who reckon death to be an evil, some are of 
 that opinion, in regard only that it deprives us of the en- 
 joyment of the good things of the world, as others are 
 with respect to the eternal torments and horrible punish- 
 ments under ground in hell. As for bodily health, some 
 love it no otherwise than as it is agreeable to Nature, and 
 very convenient and useful ; while others value it as the 
 most sovereign good, in comparison whereof they make 
 no reckoning of riches or children, no, nor of sceptres and 
 crowns, 
 
 Which make men equal to the Gods above. 
 
 Nor will they, in fine, allow even virtue itself to signify 
 any thing or be of any use, without good health. So that 
 hence it sufficiently appears that, in the judgments men 
 make of things, they may be mistaken and very faulty with 
 respect to both the extremes of too much and too little ; 
 but I shall pursue this argument no farther in this place. 
 
 Thus much may, however, fairly be assumed from what 
 has already been said on this head, that even they them- 
 selves do allow a plain difference between the judgment
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 253 
 
 and the irrational faculties, by means whereof, they say, 
 the passions become greater and more violent ; and so, 
 while they cavil and contend about names and words, they 
 give up the very cause to those who maintain the irrational 
 part of the soul, which is the seat of the passions, to be 
 several and distinct from that faculty by which we reason 
 and make a judgment of things. And indeed Chrysippus,' 
 in those books which he wrote of Anomology, after he 
 has told us that anger is blind, not discerning oftentimes 
 those things which are plain and conspicuous, and as 
 frequently casting a mist upon such things as were before 
 clear and evident, proceeds a little farther in this man- 
 ner: For, says he, the passions, being once raised, not 
 only reject and drive away reason and those things which 
 appear otherwise than they would have them, but violently 
 push men forward to actions that are contrary to reason. 
 And then he makes use of the testimony of Menander, 
 saying, 
 
 What have I done ? Where has my soul been strayed ? 
 Would she not stay to see herself obeyed, 
 But let me act what I abhorred but now 1 
 
 And again the same Chrysippus a little after says : Every 
 rational creature is by Nature so disposed as to use reason 
 in all things, and to be governed by it ; but yet oftentimes 
 it fulls out that we dispose and reject it, being carried away 
 by another more violent and over-ruling motion. In these 
 words he plainly enough acknowledges what uses in such 
 a case to happen on acccount of the difference and contest 
 between the passions and reason. And upon any other 
 ground it would be ridiculous (as Plato says) to suppose a 
 man to be sometimes better than himself, and sometimes 
 again worse ; one while to be his own master, and another 
 while his own slave. 
 
 11. For how could it possibly be, that a man should be 
 better and worse than himself, and at once both his own
 
 254 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 master and slave, if every one were not in some sort 
 naturally doable or twofold, having in himself at the same 
 time a better part and a worse ? For so may he be reckoned 
 to have a power over himself and to be better than him- 
 self, who has his worse and inferior faculties in obedience 
 and subjection to the superior and more excellent ; whereas 
 he who suffers his nobler powers to fall under the govern- 
 ment and direction of the intemperate and irrational part 
 of the soul is less and worse than himself, and has wholly 
 lost the command over himself, and is in a state which is 
 contrary to Nature. For by the order of Nature, reason, 
 which is divine, ought to have the sovereignty and dominion 
 over the irrational and brutal faculties, which, deriving 
 their original from the body, and being incorporated, as it 
 were, and thoroughly mixed therewith, bear a very near 
 resemblance to it, are replenished with, and do participate 
 in common of the qualities, properties, and passions there- 
 of; as is plain from our more vehement motions and efforts 
 towards corporeal objects, which always increase or dimin- 
 ish in vigor according to the several changes and alter- 
 ations which happen in the body. From whence it is that 
 young men are in their lusts and appetites, because of the 
 abundance and warmth of their blood, so quick, forward, 
 hot, and furious ; whereas in old men all natural fire being 
 almost extinguished, and the first principles and source of 
 the affections and passions, seated about the liver, being 
 much lessened and debilitated, reason becomes more vigor- 
 ous and predominant, while the appetites languish and 
 decay together with the body. And after this manner it is 
 that the nature of beasts is framed and disposed to divers 
 passions. For it is not from any strength or weakness of 
 thought, or from any opinions right or wrong which they 
 form to themselves, that some of them are so bold and 
 venturous, and dare encounter any thing, and others of 
 them are fearful and cowardly, shrinking at every danger ;
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 255 
 
 but from the force and power of the blood, the spirits, and 
 the body does this diversity of passions in them arise ; for 
 that part where the passions are seated, being derived from 
 the body, as from its root, retains all the qualities and pro- 
 pensions of that from whence it is extracted. 
 
 Now that in man there is a sympathy and an agreeable 
 and correspondent motion of the body with the passions 
 and appetites, is proved by the paleness and blushings of 
 the face, by the tremblings of the joints, and by the palpi- 
 tation of the heart ; and, on the contrary, by the diffusion 
 or dilatation which we feel upon the hope and expectation 
 of pleasures. But when the mind or intellect doth move 
 of itself alone, without any passion to disorder and ruffle 
 it, then is the body at repose and rests quiet, having noth- 
 ing at all to do with those acts and operations of the mind ; 
 as, when it takes into consideration a proposition in 
 mathematics or some such scientifical thing, it calls not for 
 the aid or assistance of the irrational or brutal faculties. 
 From whence also it is very apparent that there are in us 
 two distinct parts, differing in their powers and faculties 
 from one another. 
 
 12. In fine, throughout the whole world, all things (as 
 they themselves are forced to confess, and is evident in 
 itself) are governed and directed, some by a certain habit, 
 some by Nature, others by a brutal or irrational soul, and 
 some again by that which has reason and understanding. 
 Of all which things man does in some measure participate, 
 and is concerned in all the above-mentioned differences. 
 For he is contained by habit, and nourished by Nature ; he 
 makes use of reason and understanding ; he wants not his 
 share of the irrational soul ; he has also in him a native 
 source and inbred principle of the passions, not as ad- 
 ventitious, but necessary to him, which ought not therefore 
 to be utterly rooted out, but only primed and cultivated. 
 For it is not the method and custom of reason in imita-
 
 256 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 tion either of the manner of the Thracians or of what 
 Lycurgus ordered to be done to the vines to destroy and 
 tear up all the passions and affections indifferently, good 
 and bad, useful and hurtful together; but rather like 
 some kind and careful Deity who has a tender regard to 
 the growth and improvement of fruit-trees and plants to 
 cut away and clip off that which grows wild and rank, and 
 to dress and manage the rest that it may serve for use and 
 profit. For as they who are afraid of being drunk pour 
 not their wine upon the ground, but dilute it with water ; 
 so neither do they who fear any violent commotion of their 
 passions go about utterly to destroy and eradicate, but 
 rather wisely to temper and moderate them. And as they 
 who use to break horses and oxen do not go about to take 
 away their goings, or to render them unfit for labor and 
 service, but only strive to cure them of their unluckincss 
 and flinging up their heels, and to bring them to be patient 
 of the bit and yoke, so as to become useful ; after the 
 same manner reason makes very good use of the passions, 
 after they are well subdued and made gentle, without 
 either tearing in pieces or over-much weakening that part 
 of the soul which was made to be obedient to her. In 
 Pindar we find it said : 
 
 As 'tis the horse'} pride to win the race, 
 
 And to plough up the fruitful soil 
 
 Is the laborious ox's toil, 
 So the fierce dog we take the foaming boar to chase. 
 
 But much more useful than these in their several kinds 
 are the whole brood of passions, when they become attend- 
 ants to reason, and when, being assistant and obedient to 
 virtue, they ^ivo life and vigor to it. 
 
 Thus, moderate anger is of admirable use to courage or 
 fortitude ; hatred and aversion for ill men promotes the 
 execution of justice ; and a just indignation against those 
 who are prosperous beyond what they deserve is then both
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 257 
 
 convenient and even necessary, when with pride and in- 
 solence their minds are so swollen and elated, that they 
 need to be repressed and taken down. Neither by any 
 means can a man, though he never so much desire it, be 
 able to separate from friendship a natural propension to 
 affection ; from humanity and good nature, tenderness and 
 commiseration ; nor from true benevolence, a mutual par- 
 ticipation of joy and grief. And if they run into an error 
 who would take away all love that they may destroy mad 
 and wanton passions, neither can those be in the right 
 who. for the sake of covetousness, condemn all other ap- 
 petites and desires. Which is full as ridiculous as if one 
 should always refuse to run, because one time or other he 
 may chance to catch a fall ; or to shoot, because he may 
 sometimes happen to miss- the mark ; or should forbear all 
 singing, because a discord or a jar is offensive to the ear. 
 For, as in sounds the music and harmony thereof takes 
 away neither the sharpest nor the deepest notes, and in 
 our bodies physic procureth health, not by the destruction 
 of heat and cold, but by a due and proportionable temper- 
 ature and mixture of them both together ; so in the same 
 manner it happeneth in the soul of man, when reason 
 becomes victorious and triumphant by reducing the facul- 
 ties of the mind which belong to the passions, and all 
 their motions, to a due moderation Jftid mediocrity. And 
 excessive and immeasurable joy or grief or fear in the 
 soul (not, however, either joy, grief, or fear, simply in 
 itself) may very properly be resembled to a great swelling 
 or inflammation in the body. And therefore Homer, where 
 he soys, 
 
 A valiant man doth never color change ; 
 Excessive fear to him is very strange,* 
 
 does not take away all fear (but that only which is ex- 
 treme and unmanly), that bravery and courage may not be 
 
 n. XIH. 284.
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 
 
 thought to be fool-hardiness, nor boldness and resolution 
 pass for temerity and rashness. And therefore he that in 
 pleasures and delights can prescribe bounds to his lusts and 
 desires, and in punishing offences can moderate his rage 
 and hatred to the offenders, shall in one case get the repu- 
 tation not of an insensible, but temperate person, and in 
 the other be accounted a man of justice without cruelty or 
 bitterness. Whereas, if all the passions, if that were pos- 
 sible, were clean rooted out, reason in most men would 
 grow sensibly more dull and inactive than the pilot of a 
 ship in a calm. 
 
 And to these things (as it should seem) prudent law- 
 givers having regard have wisely taken care to excite and 
 encourage in commonwealths and cities the ambition and 
 emulation of their people amongst one another, and with 
 trumpets, drums, and flutes to whet their anger and cour- 
 age against their enemies. For not only in poetry (as 
 Plato very well observes), he that is inspired by the Muses, 
 and as it were possessed by a poetical fury, will make him 
 that is otherwise a master of his trade and an exact critic 
 in poetry appear ridiculous ; but also in fighting, those who 
 are elevated and inspired with a noble rage, and a resolu- 
 tion and courage about the common pitch, become invin- 
 cible, and are not to be withstood. And this is that warlike 
 fury which the God*, as Homer will have it, infuse into 
 men of honor : 
 
 He spoke, and every word new strength inspired ; 
 
 and again : 
 
 This more than human rage is from the Gods ; * 
 
 as if to reason the Gods had joined some or other of pas- 
 sions, as an incitement or, if I may so say, a vehicle to 
 push and carry it forward. 
 
 Nay we often see these very men against whom I now 
 dispute exciting and encouraging young persons with 
 
 ILXV. 262; V. 18&
 
 OF MORAL VIRTUE. 259 
 
 praises, and as oftep checking and rebuking them with 
 severe reprimands ; whereupon in the one case there must 
 follow pleasure and satisfaction as necessarily as grief and 
 trouble are produced in the other. For reprehension and 
 admonition certainly strike us with repentance and shame, 
 whereof this is comprehended under fear, as the other is 
 under grief. And these are the things they chiefly make 
 use of for correction and amendment. Which seems to 
 be the reason why Diogenes, to some who had magnified 
 Plato, made this reply : What can there be in him, said 
 he, so much to be valued, who, having been so long a 
 philosopher, has never yet been known so much as to 
 excite the single passion of grief in the mind of any one? 
 And certainly the mathematics cannot so properly be called 
 (to use the words of Xenocrates) the handles of philosophy, 
 as these passions are of young men, namely, bashfulness, 
 desire, repentance, pleasure, pain, ambition ; whereon right 
 reason and the law discreetly laying their salutary hands 
 do thereby effectually and speedily reduce a young man 
 into the right way. Agreeably hereunto the Lacedaemo- 
 nian instructor of youth was in the right, when he pro- 
 fessed that he would bring it to pass that youths under 
 his care should take a pleasure and satisfaction in good 
 and have an abhorrence for evil, than which there cannot 
 be a greater or nobler end of the liberal education of 
 youth proposed or assigned.
 
 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 
 
 PATROCLEAS, PLUTARCH, TIMON, OLYMPICU8. 
 
 1. THESE and such like things, O Quintus ! when Epi- 
 curus had spoken, before any person could return an 
 answer, while we were busy at the farther end of the por- 
 tico,* he flung away in great haste. However, we could 
 not but in some measure admire at the odd behavior of the 
 man, though without taking any farthei notice of it in 
 words ; and therefore, after we had gazed a while one upon 
 another, we returned to walk as we were singled out in com- 
 pany before. At this time Patrocleas first breaking silence, 
 How say ye, gentlemen ? said he : if you think fitting, why 
 may not we discuss this question of the last proposer as 
 well in his absence as if he were present? To whom 
 Timon replying, Surely, said he, it would but ill become 
 us. if at us he aimed upon his departure, to neglect the 
 arrow sticking in out sides. For Brasidas, as history re- 
 ports, drawing forth the javelin out of his own body, with 
 the same javelin not only wounded him that threw it, but 
 slew him outright. But as for ourselves, we surely have no 
 need to revenge ourselves on them that pelt us with absurd 
 and fallacious reasonings ; but it will be sufficient that we 
 shake them off before our opinion has taken hold of them. 
 Then, said I, which of his sayings is it that has given you 
 the greatest cause to be moved ? For the man dragged 
 into his discourse many things confusedly, and nothing in 
 
 The scene of the dialogue is laid in the temple of Delphi (O.)
 
 OP THOSE WHOM GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 261 
 
 order ; but gleaning up and down from this and the other 
 place, as it were in the transports of his wrath and scur- 
 rility, he then poured the whole in one torrent of abuse 
 upon the providence of God. 
 
 2. To which Patrocleas : The slowness of the Supreme 
 Deity and his procrastination in reference to the punish- 
 ment of the wicked have long perplexed my thoughts ; but 
 now, puzzled by these arguments which he produces, I 
 find myself as it were a stranger to the opinion, and newly 
 beginning again to learn. For a long time I could not with 
 patience hear that expression of Euripides, 
 
 Does he delay and slowly move ; 
 'Tis but the nature of the Gods above.* 
 
 For indeed it becomes not the Supreme Deity to be remiss 
 in any thing, but more especially in the prosecution of the 
 wicked, since they themselves are no way negligent or 
 dilatory in doing mischief, but are always driven on by the 
 most rapid impetuosities of their passions to acts of injus- 
 tice. For certainly, according to the saying of Thucydides, 
 that revenge which follows injury closest at the heels pres- 
 ently puts a stop to the progress of such as make advantage 
 of successful wickedness. f Therefore there is no debt 
 with so much prejudice put off, as that of justice. For it 
 weakens the hopes of the person wronged and renders him 
 comfortless and pensive, but heightens the boldness and 
 daring insolence of the oppressor ; whereas, on the other 
 side, those punishments and chastisements that immediately 
 withstand presuming violence not only restrain the com- 
 mitting of future outrages, but more especially bring along 
 with them a particular comfort and satisfaction to the suf- 
 ferers. Which makes me no less troubled at the saying 
 of Bias, which frequently comes into my mind. For thus 
 he spake once to a notorious reprobate : It is not that I 
 doubt thou wilt suffer the just reward of thy wickedness, 
 
 * Eurip. Orestes, 420. I See the speech of Cleou, Time. Ill 33.
 
 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 but I fear that I myself shall not live to see it. For what 
 did the punishment of Aristocrates avail the Messenians 
 who were killed before it came to pass ? He, having be- 
 trayed them at the battle of Taphrus yet remained unde- 
 tected for above twenty years together, and all that while 
 reigned king of the Arcadians, till at length, discovered and 
 apprehended, he received the merited recompense of his 
 treachery. But alas ! they whom he had betrayed were all 
 dead at the same time. Or when the Orchomenians had 
 lost their children, their friends, and familiar acquaintance 
 through the treachery of Lyciscus, what consolation was it 
 to them, that many years after a foul distemper seized the 
 traitor, and fed upon his body till it had consumed his 
 putrefied flesh ? who, as often as he dipped and bathed 
 his feet in the river, with horrid oaths and execrations 
 prayed that his members might rot if he had been guilty 
 of treachery or any other villany. Nor was it possible 
 even for the children's children of the Athenians who had 
 been murdered long before, to behold the bodies of those 
 sacrilegious caitiffs torn out of their graves and transported 
 beyond the confines of their native soil. Whence, in my 
 opinion, Euripides absurdly makes use of these expres- 
 sions, to divert a man from wickedness : 
 
 If thou fear'st heav'n, thou fearest it in vain ; 
 Justice is not so hasty, foolish man, 
 To pierce thy heart, or with contagious wound 
 Or thec or weaker mortals to confound ; 
 But with slow pace and silent feet tiis doom 
 O'ertakes the sinner, when his time is come. 
 
 And I am apt to persuade myself that upon these and no 
 other considerations it is, that wicked mep encourage and 
 give themselvtc* the liberty to attempt and commit all man- 
 ner of impieties, seeing that the fruit which injustice yields 
 is soon ripe, and offers itself early to the gatherer's hand, 
 whereas punishment comes late, and lagging long behind 
 the pleasure of enjoyment
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 263 
 
 3. After Patrocleas had thus discoursed, Olympicus 
 taking him up, There is this farther, said he, O Patrocleas ! 
 which thou shouldst have taken notice of ; for how gieat 
 an inconveniency and absurdity arises besides from these 
 delays and procrastinations of divine justice ! For the 
 slowness of its execution takes away the belief of provi- 
 dence ; and the wicked, perceiving that calamity does not 
 presently follow at the heels of every enormous crime, but 
 a long time after, look upon their calamity as a misfortune, 
 and calling it chance, not punishment, are nothing at all 
 thereby reformed ; troubled indeed they well may be at the 
 dire accident befallen them, but they never repent of the 
 villanies they have committed. For as, in the case of 
 the horse, the lashing and spurring that immediately pursue 
 the transgression correct and reduce him to his duty, but 
 all the tugging at the bit and shouting which are late and 
 out of time seem to be inflicted for some other reason than 
 to teach or instruct, the animal being thereby put to pain 
 without understanding his error ; in like manner, were the 
 impieties of enormous transgressors and heinous offenders 
 singly scourged and repressed by immediate severity, it 
 would be most likely* to bring them to a sense of their 
 folly, humble them, and strike them with an awe of the 
 Divine Being, whom they find with a watchful eye behold- 
 ing the actions and passions of men, and feel to be no 
 dilatory but a speedy avenger of iniquity ; whereas that 
 remiss and slow-paced justice (as Euripides describes it) 
 that falls upon the wicked by accident, by reason of its 
 uncertainty, ill-timed delay, and disorderly motion, seems 
 rather to resemble chance than providence. So that I 
 cannot conceive what benefit there is in these millstones 
 of the Gods which are said to grind so late,f as thereby 
 
 I follow Wyttenbach's emendation IU&IOT' uv for /uoAzf ov. (Q.) 
 t Referring to the verse, 'O^e Oeuv uteavai ftvXoi, aXiawi & fenru, the mills of At 
 Gods grind late, but they grind Jine. (G.)
 
 264 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 celestial punishment is obscured, and the awe of evil doing 
 rendered vain and despicable. 
 
 4. These things thus uttered, while I was in a deep 
 meditation of what he had said, Timon interposed. Is it 
 your pleasure, said he, that I shall give the finishing stroke 
 to the difficulties of this knotty question, or shall 1 first 
 permit him to argue in opposition to what has been pro- 
 pounded already ? Nay then, said I, to what purpose is it 
 to let in a third wave to drown the argument, if one be 
 not able to repel or avoid the objections already made ? 
 
 To begin therefore, as from the Vestal hearth, from that 
 ancient circumspection and reverence which our ancestors, 
 being Academic philosophers also, bare to the Supreme 
 Godhead, we shall utterly decline to speak of that myste- 
 rious Being as if we could presume to utter positively any 
 thing concerning it. For though it may be borne withal, 
 for men unskilled in music to talk at random of notes and 
 harmony, or for such as never experienced warfare to dis- 
 course of arms and military affairs ; yet it would be a bold 
 and daring arrogance in us, that are but mortal men, to 
 dive too far into the incomprehensible mysteries of Deities 
 and Daemons, just as if persons void of knowledge 
 should undertake to judge of the methods and reason of 
 cunning artists by slight opinions and probable conjectures 
 of their own. And while one that understands nothing of 
 science finds it hard to give a reason why the physician did 
 not let blood before but afterwards, or why he did not bathe 
 his patient yesterday but to-day ; it cannot be that it is safe 
 or easy for a mortal to speak otherwise of the Supreme 
 Deity than only this, that he alone it is who knows the 
 most convenient time to apply most proper corrosives for 
 the cure of sin and impiety, and to administer punishments 
 as medicaments to every transgressor, yet being not con- 
 fined to an equal quality and measure common to all dis- 
 tempers, nor to one and the same time. Now that the
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 265 
 
 medicine of the soul which is called justice is the most 
 transcendent of all sciences, besides ten thousand othei 
 witnesses, even Pindar himself testifies, where he gives to 
 God, the ruler and lord of all things, the title of the most 
 perfect artificer, as being the grand author and distributer 
 of Justice, to whom it properly belongs to determine at 
 what time, in what manner, and to what degree to punish 
 every particular offender. And Plato asserts that Minos, 
 being the son of Jupiter, was the disciple of his father to 
 learn this science ; intimating thereby that it is impossible 
 for any other than a scholar, bred up in the school of equi- 
 ty, rightly to behave himself in the administration of justice, 
 or to make a true judgment of another whether he does 
 well or no. For the laws which are constituted by men do 
 not always prescribe that which is unquestionable and sim- 
 ply decent, or of which the reason is altogether without 
 exception perspicuous, in regard that some of their ordin- 
 ances seem to be on purpose ridiculously contrived ; par- 
 ticularly those which in Lacedaemon the Ephori ordain at 
 their first entering into the magistracy, that no man suffer 
 the hair of his upper lip to grow, and that they shall be 
 obedient to the laws to the end they may not se^m grievous 
 to them. So the Romans, when they asserted the freedom 
 of any one, cast a slender rod upon his body ; and when 
 they make their last wills and testaments, some they leave 
 to be their heirs, while to others they sell their estates; 
 which seems to be altogether contrary to reason. But that 
 of Solon is most absurd, who, when a city is up in arms 
 and all in sedition, brands with infamy the person who 
 stands neuter and adheres to neither party. And thus a 
 man that apprehends not the reason of the lawgiver, or the 
 cause why such and such things are so prescribed, might 
 number up several absurdities of many laws. Whut won- 
 der then, since the actions of men are so difficult to be un- 
 derstood, if it be no less difficult to determine concerning
 
 266 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 the Gods, wherefore they inflict their punishments upon 
 sinners, sometimes later, sometimes sooner. 
 
 5. Nor do I allege these things as a pretence to avoid 
 the dispute, but to secure the pardon which I beg, to the 
 end that our discourse, having a regard (as it were) to some 
 port or refuge, may proceed the more boldly in producing 
 probable circumstances to clear the doubt. But first con- 
 sider this ; that God, according to Plato, when he set him- 
 self before the eyes of the whole world as the exemplar of 
 all that was good and holy, granted human virtue, by which 
 man is in some measure rendered like himself, unto those 
 that are able to follow the Deity by imitation. For uni- 
 versal Nature, being at first void of order, received its first 
 impulse to change and to be formed into a world, by being 
 made to resemble and (as it were) partake of that idea and 
 virtue which is in God. And the self-same Plato asserts, 
 that Nature first kindled the sense of seeing within us, to 
 the end that the soul, by the sight and admiration of the 
 heavenly bodies, being accustomed to love and embrace 
 decency and order, might be induced to hate the disorderly 
 motions of wild and raving passions, and avoid levity and 
 rashness and dependence upon chance, as the original of 
 all improbity and vice. For there is no greater benefit that 
 men can enjoy from God, than, by the imitation and pursuit 
 of those perfections and that sanctity which is in him, to 
 be excited to the study of virtue. Therefore God, with 
 forbearance and at leisure, inflicts his punishment upon the 
 wicked ; not that he is afraid of committing an error or of 
 repenting should he accelerate his indignation ; but to 
 eradicate that brutish and eager desire of revenge that 
 reigns in human breasts, and to teach us that we are not 
 in the heat of fury, or when our anger heaving and palpi- 
 tating boils up above our understanding, to fall upon those 
 who have done us an injury, like those who seek to gratify 
 a vehement thirst or craving appetite, but that we should,
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 267 
 
 in imitation of this mildness and forbearance, wait with 
 due composure of mind before we proceed to chastisement 
 or correction, till such sufficient time for consideration is 
 taken as shall allow the least possible room for repentance. 
 For, as Socrates observed, it is far the lesser mischief for a 
 man distempered with ebriety and gluttony to drink puddle- 
 water, than, when the mind is disturbed and over-charged 
 with anger and fury, before it be settled and become limpid 
 again, for a man to seek the satiating his revenge upon 
 the body of his friend or kinsman. For it is not the re- 
 venge which is the nearest to injury, as Thucydides says, 
 but rather that which is the most remote from it, that ob- 
 serves the most convenient opportunity. For as anger, 
 according to that of Melanthius, 
 
 Quite from the brain transplants the wit, 
 Vile acts designing to commit ; 
 
 so reason does that which is just and moderate, laying pas- 
 sion and fury aside. Whence it comes to pass that men, 
 giving ear to human examples, become more mansuete and 
 gentle ; as when they hear how Plato, holding his cudgel 
 over his page's shoulders, as himself relates, paused a good 
 while, correcting his own anger ; and how in like manner 
 Archytas, observing the sloth and wilful negligence of his 
 servants in the field, and perceiving his passion to rise at a 
 more than usual rate, did nothing at all ; but as he went 
 away, It is your good fortune, said he, that ye have angered 
 me. If then the sayings of men when called to mind, and 
 their actions being told, have such a power to mitigate the 
 roughness and vehemency of wrath, much more becomes it 
 us, beholding God, with whom there is neither dread nor 
 repentance of any thing, deferring nevertheless his pun- 
 ishments to future time and admitting delay, to be cautious 
 and circumspect in these matters, and to deem as a divine 
 part of virtue that mildness and long-suffering of which 
 God affords us an example, while by punishing he reforms
 
 2G8 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 some few, but by slowly punishing he helpeth and admon- 
 isheth many. 
 
 6. In the second place, therefore, let us consider this, 
 that human punishments of injuries regard no more than 
 that the party suffer in his turn, and are satisfied when 
 the offender has suffered according to his merit; and 
 farther they never proceed. Which is the reason that 
 they run after provocations, like dogs that bark in their 
 fury, and immediately pursue the injury as soon as com- 
 mitted! But probable it is that God, whatever distem- 
 pered soul it be which he prosecutes with his divine justice, 
 observes the motions and inclinations of it, whether they 
 be such as tend to repentance, and allows time for the 
 reformation of those whose wickedness is neither invin- 
 cible nor incorrigible. For, since he well knows what a 
 proportion of virtue souls carry along with them from him- 
 rielf when they come into the world, and how strong and 
 vigorous their innate and primitive good yet continues, 
 while wickedness buds forth only pretematurally upon the 
 corruption of bad diet and evil conversation, and even 
 then some souls recover again to perfect cure or an indif- 
 ferent habitude, therefore he doth not make haste to 
 inflict his punishments alike upon all. But those that are 
 incurable he presently lops off and deprives of life, deem- 
 ing it altogether hurtful to others, but most baneful to 
 themselves, to be always wallowing in wickedness. But 
 as for those who may probably be thought to transgress 
 rather out of ignorance of what is virtuous and good, than 
 through choice of what is foul and vicious, he grants them 
 time to turn ; but if they remain obdurate, then likewise 
 he inflicts his punishments upon them ; for he has no fear 
 lest they should escape. 
 
 Now let us consider how oft the characters and lives of 
 men are changed ; for which reason, the character is called 
 ;, as being the changeable part, and also r t dos t since cus-
 
 GOB IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 269 
 
 torn (tdog) chiefly prevails in it and rules with the greatest 
 power when it has seized upon it. Therefore I am of 
 opinion, that the ancients reported Cecrops to have had 
 two bodies, not, as some believe, because of a good king 
 he became a merciless and dragon-like tyrant, but rather, 
 on the contrary, for that being at first both cruel and 
 formidable, afterwards he became a most mild and gentle 
 prince. However, if this be uncertain, yet we know both 
 Gelo and Hiero the Sicilians, and Pisistratus the son of 
 Hippocrates, who, having obtained the sovereignty by vio- 
 lence and wickedness, made a virtuous use of their power, 
 and coming unjustly to the throne, became moderate rulers 
 and beneficial to the public. For, by recommending whole- 
 some laws and the exercise of useful tillage to their sub- 
 jects, they reduced them from idle scoffers and talkative 
 romancers to be modest citizens and industrious good hus- 
 bands. And as for Gelo, after he had been successful in 
 his war and vanquished the Carthaginians, he refused to 
 grant them the peace which they sued for, unless they 
 would consent to have it inserted in their articles that they 
 would surcease from sacrificing their children to Saturn. 
 
 Over Megalopolis Lydiadas was tyrant ; but then, even 
 in the time of his tyranny, changing his manners and 
 maxims of government and growing into a hatred of in- 
 justice, he restored to the citizens their laws, and fighting 
 for his country against his own and his subjects' enemies, 
 fell an illustrious victim for his country's welfare. Now if 
 any one, bearing an antipathy to Miltiades or Cimon, had 
 slain the one tyrannizing in the Chersonese or the other 
 committing incest with his own sister, or had expelled 
 Themistocles out of Athens at what time he lay rioting 
 and revelling in the market-place and affronting all that 
 came near him, according to the sentence afterwards pro- 
 nounced against Alcibiades, had we not lost Marathon, the 
 Eurymedon, and lovely Artemisiura,
 
 i:7l CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 Where the Athenian youth 
 
 The famed foundations of their freedom laid ? * 
 
 For great and lofty geniuses produce nothing that is mean 
 and little ; the innate smartness of their parts will not 
 endure the vigor and activity of their spirits to grow lazy ; 
 but they are tossed to and again, as with the waves, by the 
 rolling motions of their own inordinate desire, till at length 
 they arrive to a stable and settled constitution of manners. 
 Therefore, as a person that is unskilful in husbandry 
 would by no means make choice of a piece of ground 
 quite overrun with brakes and weeds, abounding with wild 
 beasts, running streams, and mud ; while, to him who hath 
 learnt to understand the nature of the earth, these are cer- 
 tain symptoms of the softness and fertility of the soil ; thus 
 great geniuses many times produce many absurd and vile 
 enormities, of which we not enduring the rugged and 
 uneasy vexation, are presently for pruning and lopping off 
 the lawless transgressors. But the more prudent judge, 
 who discerns the abounding goodness and generosity 
 covertly residing in those transcendent geniuses, waits the 
 co-operating age and season for reason and virtue to exert 
 themselves, and gathers the ripe fruit when Nature has 
 matured it. And thus much as to those particulars. 
 
 7. Now to come to another part of our discourse, do you 
 not believe that some of the Greeks did very prudently to 
 register that law in Egypt among their own, whereby it is 
 enacted that, if a woman with child be sentenced to die, 
 she shall be reprieved till she be delivered ? All the reason 
 in the world, you will say. Then, say I, though a man 
 cannot bring forth children, yet if he be able, by the assist- 
 ance of Time, to reveal any hidden action or conspiracy, 
 or to discover some concealed mischief, or to be author of 
 some wholesome piece of advice, or suppose that in time 
 he may produce some necessary and useful invention, is 
 
 From Pindar.
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 271 
 
 it not better to delay the punishment and expect the benefit, 
 than hastily to rid him out of the world ? It seems so to me, 
 said I. And truly you are in the right, replied Patrocleas ; 
 for let us consider, had Dionysius at the beginning of his 
 tyranny suffered according to his merits, never would any 
 of the Greeks have re-inhabited Sicily, laid waste by the 
 Carthaginians. Nor would the Greeks have repossessed 
 Apollonia, nor Anactorium, nor the peninsula of the 
 Leucadians, had not Periander's execution been delayed 
 for a long time. And if I mistake not, it was to the delay 
 of Cassander's punishment that the city of Thebes was 
 beholden for her recovery from desolation. But the most 
 of those barbarians who assisted at the sacrilegious plun- 
 der of this temple, * following Timoleon into Sicily, after 
 they had vanquished the Carthaginians and dissolved the 
 tyrannical government of that island, wicked as they were, 
 came all to a wicked end. So the Deity makes use of 
 some wicked persons as common executioners to punish 
 the wickedness of others, and then destroys those instru- 
 ments of his wrath, which I believe to be true of most 
 tyrants. For as the gall of a hyena and the rennet of 
 a sea-calf both filthy monsters contain something in 
 them for the cure of diseases ; so when some people de- 
 serve a sharp and biting punishment, God, subjecting them 
 to the implacable severity of some certain tyrant or the 
 cruel oppression of some ruler, does not remove either 
 the torment or the trouble, till he has cured and purified 
 the distempered nation. Such a sort of physic was Pha- 
 laris to the Agrigentines, and Marius to the Romans. And 
 God expressly foretold the Sicyonians how much their city 
 stood in need of most severe chastisement, when, after 
 they had violently ravished out of the hands of the Cleo- 
 naeans Teletias, a young lad who had been crowned at the 
 Pythian games, they tore him limb from limb, as their own 
 
 * That is, in the Sacred or Pliocian war, 357-846 B.C. (G.)
 
 272 CONCERNING STJCH WHOM 
 
 fellow-citizen. Therefore Orthagoras the tyrant, and after 
 him Myro and Clisthenes, put an end to the luxury and 
 lasciviousness of the Sicyonians ; but the Cleonaeans, not 
 having the good fortune to meet with the same cure, went 
 all to wreck. To this purpose, hear what Homer says : 
 
 From parent vile by far the better son 
 
 Did spring, whom various virtues did renown. * 
 
 And yet we do not find that ever the son of Copreus per- 
 formed any famous or memorable achievement; but the 
 offspring of Sisyphus, Autolycus, and Phlegyas flourished 
 among the number of the most famous and virtuous princes. 
 Pericles at Athens descended from an accursed family ; and 
 Pompey the Great at Rome was the son of Strabo, whose 
 dead body the Roman people, in the height of their hatred 
 conceived against him when alive, cast forth into the street 
 and trampled in the dirt. Where is the absurdity then, 
 as the husbandman never cuts away the thorn till it injures 
 the asparagus, or as the Libyans never burn the stalks till 
 they have gathered all the ladanum, if God never extir- 
 pates the evil and thorny root of a renowned and royal 
 race before he has gathered from it the mature and proper 
 fruit? For it would have been far better for the Phocians 
 to have lost ten thousand of Iphitus's horses and oxen, or 
 a far greater sum in gold and silver from the temple of 
 Delphi, than that Ulysses and Aesculapius should not have 
 been born, and those many others who, of wicked an.d 
 vicious men, became highly virtuous and beneficial to their 
 country. 
 
 8. And should we not think it better to inflict deserved 
 punishments in due season and by convenient means, 
 than hastily and rashly when a man is in the heat and 
 hurry of passion? Witness the example of Callippus, 
 who, having stabbed Dio under the pretence of being his 
 friend, was hirrself soon after slain by Dio's intimates with 
 
 n. xv. 641.
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 273 
 
 the same dagger. Thus again, when Mitius of Argos was 
 slain in a city tumult, the brazen statue which stood in the 
 market-place, soon after, at the time of the public shows, 
 fell down upon the murderer's head and killed him. What 
 befell Bessus the Paeonian, and Aristo the Oetaean, chief 
 commander of the foreign soldiers, I suppose you under- 
 stood full well, Patrocleas. Not I, by Jove, said he, but I 
 desire to know. Well then, I say, this Aristo, having with 
 permission of the tyrants carried away the jewels and 
 ornaments belonging to Eriphyle, which lay deposited in 
 this temple, made a present of them to his wife. The 
 punishment of this was that the son, being highly incensed 
 against his mother, for what reason it matters not, set fire 
 to his father's house, and burned it to the ground, with all 
 the family that were in it. 
 
 As for Bessus, it seems he killed his own father, and 
 the murder lay concealed a long time. At length being 
 invited to supper among strangers, after he had so loosened 
 a swallow's nest with his spear that it fell down, he killed 
 all the young ones. Upon which, being asked by the 
 guests that were present, what injury the swallows had 
 done him that he should commit such an irregular act ; 
 Did you not hear, said he, these cursed swallows, how they 
 clamored and made a noise, false witnesses as they were, 
 that I had long ago killed my father 1 This answer struck 
 the rest of the guests with so much wonder, that, after a 
 due pondering upon his words, they made known the 
 whole story to the king. Upon which, the matter being 
 dived into, Bessus was brought to condign punishment. 
 
 9. These things I have alleged, as it was but reason, 
 upon a supposition that there is a forbearance of inflict- 
 ing punishment upon the wicked. As for what remains, 
 it behooves us to listen to Hesiod, where he asserts, not 
 like Plato, that punishment is a suffering which accom- 
 panies injustice, but that it is of the same age with it,
 
 1>74 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 and arises from the same place and root. For, says he, 
 
 Bad counsel, BO the Gods ordain, 
 la most of all the adviser's bane. 
 
 And in another place, 
 
 He that his neighbor's harm contrives, his art 
 Contrives the mischief 'gainst his own false heart.* 
 
 It is reported that tne cantharis fly, by a certain kind 
 of contrariety, carries within itself the cure of the wound 
 which it inflicts. On the other side wickedness, at the 
 same time it is committed, engendering its own vexation 
 and torment, not at last, but at the very instant of the in- 
 jury offered, suffers the reward of the injustice it has done. 
 And as every malefactor who suffers in his body bears his 
 own cross to the place of his execution, so are all the 
 various torments of various wicked actions prepared by 
 wickedness herself. Such a diligent architectress of a 
 miserable and wretched life is wickedness, wherein shame 
 is still accompanied with a thousand terrors and commo- 
 tions of the mind, incessant repentance, and never-ceasing 
 tumults of the spirits. However, there are some people 
 that differ little or nothing from children, who, many times 
 beholding malefactors upon the stage, in their gilded vest- 
 ments and short purple cloaks, dancing with crowns upon 
 their heads, admire and look upon them as the most happy 
 persons in the world, till they see them gored and lashed, 
 and flames of fire curling from underneath their sumptuous 
 and gaudy garments. Thus there are many wicked men, 
 surrounded with numerous families, splendid in the pomp 
 of magistracy, and illustrious for the greatness of their 
 power, whose punishments never display themselves till 
 those glorious persons come to be the public spectacles of 
 the people, either slain and lying weltering in their blood, 
 or else standing on the top of the rock, ready to be tum- 
 bled headlong down the precipice ; which indeed cannot 
 
 Heciod, Works and Days, 2t>5.
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 275 
 
 so well be said to be a punishment, as the consummation 
 and perfection of punishment. 
 
 Moreover, as Herodicus the Selymbrian, falling into a 
 consumption, the most incurable of all diseases, was the 
 first who intermixed the gymnastic art with the science of 
 physic (as Plato relates), and in so doing did spin out 
 in length a tedious time of dying, as well for himself as 
 for others laboring under the same distemper ; in like 
 manner some wicked men who flatter themselves to have 
 escaped the present punishment, not after a longer time, but 
 for a longer time, endure a more lasting, not a slower 
 punishment ; not punished with old age, but growing old 
 under the tribulation of tormenting affliction. When I 
 speak of a long time I speak in reference to ourselves. 
 For as to the Gods, every distance and distinction of hu- 
 man life is nothing ; and to say " now, and not thirty years 
 ago " is the same thing as to say that such a malefactor 
 should be tormented or hanged in the afternoon and not in 
 the morning ; more especially since a man is but shut up 
 in this life, like a close prisoner in a gaol, from whence it 
 is impossible to make an escape, while yet we feast and 
 banquet, are full of business, receive rewards and honors 
 and sport. Though certainly these are but like the sports 
 of those that play at dice or draughts in the gaol, while the 
 rope all the while hangs over their heads. 
 
 10. So that what should hinder me from asserting, that 
 they who are condemned to die and shut up in prison are 
 not truly punished till the executioner has chopped off 
 their heads, or that he who has drunk hemlock, and then 
 walks about and stays till a heaviness seizes his limbs, has 
 suffered no punishment before the extinction of his natural 
 heat and the coagulation of his blood deprive him of his 
 senses, that is to say, if we deem the last moment of the 
 punishment only to be the punishment, and omit the com- 
 motions, terrors, apprehensions, and embitterments of re-
 
 276 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 pontance, with which every malefactor and all wicked men 
 are teased upon the committing of any heinous crime? 
 But this is to deny the fish to be taken that has swal- 
 lowed the hook, before we see it boiled and cut into pieces 
 by the cook ; for every offender is within the gripes of the 
 law, so soon as he has committed the crime and has swal- 
 lowed the sweet bait of injustice, while his conscience 
 within, tearing and gnawing upon his vitals, allows him no 
 rest: 
 
 Like the swift tunny, frighted from his prey, 
 Rolling and plunging in the angered sea. 
 
 For the daring rashness and precipitate boldness of iniquity 
 continue violent and active till the fact be perpetrated ; 
 but then the passion, like a surceasing tempest, growing 
 slack and weak, surrenders itself to superstitious fears and 
 terrors. So that Stesichorus may seem to have composed 
 the dream of Clytemnestra, to set forth the event and truth 
 of things : 
 
 Then seemed a dragon to draw near, 
 
 With mattery blood all on his head besmeared ; 
 
 Therefrom the king Plisthenides appeared. 
 
 For visions in dreams, noon-day apparitions, oracles, de- 
 scents into hell, and whatever objects else which may be 
 thought to be transmitted from heaven, raise continual 
 tempests and horrors in the very souls of the guilty. Thus 
 it is reported that Apollodorus in a dream beheld himself 
 flayed by the Scythians and then boiled, and that his heart, 
 speaking to him out of the kettle, uttered these words, I 
 am the cause thou sufferest all this. And another time, 
 that he saw his daughters run about him, their bodies 
 burning and all in a flame. Hipparchus also, the son of 
 Pisistratus, had a dream, that the Goddess Venus out of a 
 certain phial flung blood in his face. The favorites of 
 Ptolemy, surnamed the Thunderer, dreamed that they saw 
 their master cited to the judgment-seat by Seleucus, where
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 277 
 
 wolves and vultures were his judges, and then distributing 
 great quantities of flesh among his enemies. Pausanias, 
 in the heat of his lust, sent for Cleonice, a free-born virgin 
 of Byzantium, with an intention to have enjoyed her all 
 night ; but when she came, out of a strange sort of jeal- 
 ousy and perturbation for which he could give no reason, 
 he stabbed her. This murder was attended with frightful 
 visions ; insomuch that his repose in the night was not 
 only interrupted with the appearance of her shape, but 
 still he thought he heard her uttering these lines : 
 
 To judgment-seat approach thou near, I say; 
 Wrong dealing is to men most hurtful aye. 
 
 After this the apparition still haunting him, he sailed to 
 the oracle of the dead in Heraclea, and by propitiations, 
 charms, and dirges, called up the ghost of the damsel ; 
 which, appearing before him, told him in few words, that 
 he should be free from all his affrights and molestations 
 upon his return to Lacedaemon ; where he was no sooner 
 arrived, but he died. 
 
 11. Therefore, if nothing befalls the soul after the ex- 
 piration of this life, but death is the end of all reward and 
 punishment, I might infer from thence rather that the Dei- 
 ty is remiss and indulgent in swiftly punishing the wicked 
 and depriving them of life. For if a man shall assert 
 that in the space of this life the wicked are no otherwise 
 affected than t>y the convincement that crime is a fruitless 
 and barren thing, that produces nothing of good, nothing 
 worthy of esteem, from the many great and terrible com- 
 bats and agonies of the mind, the consideration of these 
 things altogether subverts the soul. As it is related that 
 Lysimachus, being under the violent constraint of a parch- 
 ing thirst, surrendered up his person and his dominions to 
 the Getae for a little drink ; but after he had quenched his 
 draught and found himself a captive, Shame of this wick- 
 edness of mine, cried he, that for so small a pleasure have
 
 278 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 lost so great a kingdom. But it is a difficult thing for a 
 man to resist the natural necessity of mortal passions. 
 Yet when a man, either out of avarice, or ambition of 
 civil honor and power, or to gratify his venereal desires, 
 commits any enormous and heinous crime, after which, the 
 thirst and rage of his passion being allayed, he comes to 
 set before his eyes the ignominious and horrible passions 
 tending to injustice still remaining, but sees nothing useful, 
 nothing necessary, nothing conducible to make his life hap- 
 py ; may it not be probably conjectured that such a person 
 is frequently solicited by these reflections to consider how 
 rashly, either prompted by vain-glory, or for the sake of a 
 lawless and barren pleasure, he has overthrown the noblest 
 and greatest maxims of justice among men, and overflowed 
 his life with shame and trouble ] As Simonides jesting was 
 wont to say, that the chest which he kept for money he 
 found always full, but that which he kept for gratitude he 
 found always empty ; thus wicked men, contemplating 
 their own wickedness, find it always void altogether and 
 destitute of hope (since pleasure gives but a short and empty 
 delight), but ever weighed down with fears and sorrows, 
 ungrateful remembrances, suspicions of futurity, and dis- 
 trusts of present accidents. Thus we hear Ino complain- 
 ing upon the theatre, after her repentance of what she 
 had done : 
 
 Dear women, tell me, with what face 
 Shall I return to dwell with Atliamas, 
 A if it ne'er had been my luckless fate 
 The worst of foul misdeeds to perpetrate ? 
 
 Thus is it not reason to believe, that the soul of every wicked 
 man revolves and reasons within itself, how by burying in 
 oblivion former transgressions, and casting from itself the 
 consciousness and the guilt of hitherto committed crimes, 
 to fit frail mortality under her conduct for a new course of 
 life ? For there is nothing for a man to confide in, noth- 
 
 * From the Ino of Euripides, Frag. 403.
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 279 
 
 ing but what vanishes like smoke, nothing durable or con- 
 stant in whatever impiety proposes to itself, unless, by 
 Jove, we will allow the unjust and vicious to be sage phi- 
 losophers, but wherever eager avarice and voluptuous- 
 ness, inexorable hatred, enmity, and improbity associate 
 together, there you shall also be sure to find superstition 
 nestling and herding with effeminacy and terror of death, 
 a swift change of the most violent passions, and an arro- 
 gant ambition after undeserved honor. Such men as 
 these stand in continual dread of their contemners and 
 backbiters, they fear their applauders, believing themselves 
 injured by their flatteries ; and more especially, they are 
 at enmity with bad men, because they are so free to extol 
 those that seem good. However, that which hardens men 
 to mischief soon cankers, grows brittle, and shivers in 
 pieces like bad iron. So that in process of time, coming 
 to understand themselves better and to be more sensible of 
 their miscarriages, they disdain, abhor, and utterly disclaim 
 their former course of life. And when we see how a 
 wicked man who restores a trust or becomes security for 
 his friend, or ambitious of honor contributes more largely 
 to the benefits of his country, is immediately in a condition 
 of repentance and sorry for what he has just done, by 
 reason of the natural inclination of his mind to ramble 
 and change ; and how some men, being clapped and 
 hummed upon the theatre, presently fall a weeping, their 
 desire of glory relapsing into covetousness ; we surely 
 cannot believe that those which sacrificed the lives of men 
 to the success of their tyrannies and conspiracies, as Apol- 
 lodorus, or plundered their friends of their treasure and 
 deprived them of their estates, as Glaucus the son of 
 Epicydes, did not repent and. abhor themselves, or that they 
 were not sorry for the perpetration of such foul enormi- 
 ties. For my part, if it may be lawful for me to deliver 
 my opinion, I believe there is no occasion either for the
 
 280 CONCEUNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 Gods or men to inflict their punishment upon the roost 
 wicked and sacrilegious offenders ; seeing that the com-sr 
 of their own lives is sufficient to chastise their crimes, 
 while they remain under the consternations and torments 
 attending their impiety. 
 
 12. And now consider whether my discourse have not 
 enlarged itself too far. To which Timon : Perhaps (said 
 he) it may seem to have been too long, if we consider 
 what remains behind, and the length of time required for 
 the discussion of our other doubts. For now I am going 
 about to put forward the last question, like a new cham- 
 pion, since we have contended already long enough upon 
 the former. Now, as to what we have further to say, we 
 find that Euripides delivers his mind freely, and censures 
 the Gods for imputing the transgressions of forefathers 
 unto their offspring. And I am apt to believe that even 
 they who are most silent among us do the like. For if 
 the offenders themselves have already received their re- 
 ward, then there is no reason why the innocent should be 
 punished, since it is not equal to punish even criminals 
 twice for the same fact. But if remiss and careless, the 
 Gods, omitting opportunely to inflict their penalties upon 
 the wicked, send down their tardy rigor on the blameless, 
 they do not well to repair their defective slowness by in- 
 justice. As it is reported of Aesop, that he came upon a 
 time to Delphi, having brought along with him a great 
 quantity of gold which Croesus had bestowed upon him, 
 on purpose to offer a most magnificent oblation to the 
 Gods, and with a design moreover to distribute among the 
 priests and the people of Delphi four minas apiece. But 
 there happening some disgust and difference between him 
 and the Delphians, he performed his solemnity, but sent 
 back his money to Sardis, not deeming those ungrateful 
 people worthy of his bounty. Upon which the Delphians, 
 laying their heads together, accused him of sacrilege, and
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 281 
 
 then threw him down headlong from a steep and prodig- 
 ious precipice, which is there, called Hyampia. Upon 
 which it is reported that the Deity, being highly incensed 
 against them for so horrid a murder, brought a famine 
 upon the land, and infested the people with noisome dis- 
 eases of all sorts ; insomuch that they were constrained to 
 make it their business to travel to all the general assem- 
 blies and places of public concourse in Greece, making 
 public proclamation wherever they came, that, whoever 
 they were that would demand justice for the death of 
 Aesop, they were prepared to give him satisfaction and 
 to undergo whatever penalty he should require. Three 
 generations afterwards came one Idmon, a Samian, no way 
 of kin or otherwise related to Aesop, but only descended 
 from those who had purchased Aesop in Samos ; to whom 
 the Delphians paid those forfeitures which he demanded, 
 and were delivered from all their pressing calamities. And 
 from hence (by report) it was, that the punishment of sac- 
 rilegious persons was transferred from the rock Hyampia to 
 that other cliff which bears the name of Nauplia. 
 
 Neither is Alexander applauded by those who have the 
 greatest esteem for his memory (of which number are we 
 ourselves), who utterly laid waste the city of Branchidae, 
 putting men, women, and children to the sword, for .that 
 their ancestors had long before delivered up the temple of 
 Miletus. In like manner Agathocles, tyrant of Syracuse, 
 when the Corcyraeans requested to know the reason of 
 him, why he depopulated their island, deriding and scoffing 
 at their demand, replied : For no other reason, by Jove, 
 but because your forefathers entertained Ulysses. And 
 when the islanders of Ithaca expostulated with him, ink- 
 ing why his soldiers carried away their sheep ; because, 
 said he, when your king came to our island, he put out 
 the eyes of the shepherd himself. And therefore do you 
 not think Apollo more extravagant than all these, for pun-
 
 L'M2 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 ishing so severely the Pheneatae by stopping up that pro- 
 found and spacious receptacle of all those floods that now 
 cover their country, upon a bare report that Hercules a 
 thousand years ago took away the prophetic tripod and 
 carried it to Pheneus? or when he foretold to the Sybar- 
 ites, that all their calamities should cease, upon condition 
 they appeased the wrath of Leucadian Juno by enduring 
 three ruinous calamities upon their country ? Nor is it so 
 long since, that the Locrians surceased to send their virgins 
 to Troy ; 
 
 Who like the meanest slaves, exposed to scorn, 
 Barefoot, with limbs unclad, at earliest mom 
 Minerva's temple sweep ; yet all the while, 
 No privilege has age from weary toil. 
 Nor, when with years decrepit, can they claim 
 The thinnest veil to hide their aged shame ; 
 
 and all this to punish the lasciviousness of Ajax. 
 
 Now where is the reason or justice of all this ? Nor is 
 the custom of the Thracians to be approved, who to this 
 day abuse their wives in revenge of their cruelty to Or- 
 pheus. And with as little reason are the Barbarians about 
 the river Po to be extolled, who once a year put themselves 
 into mourning for the misfortune of Phaethon. And still 
 more ridiculous than all this it would certainly be, when 
 all those people that lived at the time took no notice of 
 Phaethon's mischance, that they, who happened to be born 
 five or ten generations after, should be so idle as to take 
 up the custom of going into black and bewailing his down- 
 fall. However, in all these things there is nothing to be 
 observed but mere folly ; nothing pernicious, nor any thing 
 dangerous. But as for the anger of the Gods, what reason 
 can be given why their wrath should stop and conceal 
 itself upon a sudden, like some certain rivers, and when 
 all things seem to be 1 forgot, should break forth upon 
 others with so much fury, as not to be atoned but with 
 some remarkable calamities ?
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 283 
 
 13. Upon that, so soon as he had done speaking, not a 
 little afraid lest, if he should begin again, he would run 
 himself into many more and greater absurdities, I asked : 
 Do you believe, sir, all that you have said to be true? 
 Then he : Though all that I have alleged may not be true, 
 yet if only some part may be allowed for truth, do not you 
 think there is the same difficulty still remaining in the 
 question ? It may be so, said I. And thus it is with those 
 who labor under a vehement burning fever ; for, whether 
 covered with one blanket or many, the heat is still the 
 same or very little different ; yet for refreshment's sake it 
 may be convenient sometimes to lighten the weight of the 
 clothes ; and if the patient refuse your courtesy, to let him 
 alone. Yet I must tell you, the greatest part of these 
 examples look like fables and fiction. Call to mind there- 
 fore the feast called Theoxenia lately celebrated, and that 
 most noble portion which the public criers proclaim to be 
 received as their due by the offspring of Pindar ; and re- 
 collect with yourself, how majestic and grateful a mark of 
 grandeur you look upon that to be. Truly, said he, I 
 judge there is no man living who would not be sensible of 
 the curiosity and elegancy of such an honor, displaying 
 antiquity void of tincture and false glitter, after the Greek 
 manner, unless he were such a brute that I may use the 
 words of Pindar himself: 
 
 Whose coal-black heart, from natural dross unpurged, 
 Had only by cold flames at first been forged. 
 
 Therefore I forbear, said I, to mention that proclamation 
 not much unlike to this, usually made in Sparta, "After 
 the Lesbian singer," in honor and memory of the an- 
 cient Terpander. But you, on the other side, deem your- 
 self worthy to be preferred above all the rest of the 
 Boeotians, as being of the noble race of the Opheltiadae ; 
 and among the Phocians you claim undoubted pre-eminence, 
 for the sake of your ancestor Daiphantus. And, for my
 
 284 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 part, I must acknowledge that you were one of the first 
 who assisted me, as my second, against the Lycormaeans 
 and Satilaeans, claiming the privilege of wearing crowns 
 and the honor due by the laws of Greece to the descendants 
 from Hercules ; at what time I affirmed, that those honors 
 and guerdons ought more especially to be preserved in- 
 violable to the immediate progeny of Hercules, in regard 
 that, though he were so great a benefactor to the Greeks, 
 yet in his lifetime he was not thought worthy of any 
 reward or return of gratitude. You recall to my remem- 
 brance, said he, a most noble contest, and worthy the 
 debate of philosophy itself. Dismiss therefore, said I, 
 that vehement humor of yours that excites you to accuse 
 the Gods, nor take it ill, if many times celestial punish- 
 ment discharges itself upon the offspring of the wicked 
 and vicious ; or else be not too much overjoyed or too for- 
 ward to applaud those honors which are due to nobility of 
 birth. For it becomes us, if we believe that the reward 
 of virtue ought to be extended to posterity, by the same 
 reason to take it for granted that punishment for impieties 
 committed ought not to be stayed and cease any sooner, 
 but that it should run forward at equal pace with the 
 reward, which will in turn requite every man with what is 
 his due. And therefore they that with pleasure behold 
 the race of Cimon highly honored in Athens, but on the 
 other side, fret and fume at the exilement of the posterity 
 of Lachares or Ariston, are too remiss and oscitant, or 
 rather too morose and over quarrelsome with the Deity 
 itself, one while accusing the Divinity if the posterity of 
 an unjust and wicked person seem to prosper in the world, 
 another time no less moody and finding fault if it fall cut 
 that the race of the wicked come to be utterly destroyed 
 and extirpated from the earth. And thus, whether the 
 children of the wicked or the children of the just fall 
 under affliction, the case is all one to them ; the Gods 
 must suffer alike in their bad opinions.
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 285 
 
 14. These, said I, are the preliminaries, which I would 
 have you make use of against those choleric accusers and 
 testy snarlers of whom I have given you warning. But 
 now to take in hand once more, as it were, the first end of 
 the bottom of thread, in this same dark discourse of the 
 Gods, wherein there are so many windings and turnings 
 and gloomy labyrinths, let us by degrees and with caution 
 direct our steps to what is most likely and probable. For, 
 even in those things which fall under our daily practice 
 and management, we are many times at a loss to determine 
 the undoubted and unquestioned truth. For example, 
 what certain reason can be given for that custom amongst 
 us, of ordering the children of parents that die of a con- 
 sumption or a dropsy to sit with both their feet soaking in 
 the water till the dead body be burnt ? For people believe, 
 that thereby the disease is prevented from becoming heredi- 
 tary, and also that it is a charm to secure those children 
 from it as long as they live. Again, what should be the 
 reason, that if a goat take a piece of sea-holly in her 
 mouth, the whole herd will stand still till the goat-herd 
 come ano^ take it out I Other hidden properties there are, 
 which, by virtue of certain touches and transitions, pass 
 from some bodies into others with incredible swiftness and 
 often to incredible distances. But we are more apt to 
 wonder at distances of time than those of space. And yet 
 there is more reason to wonder, that Athens should be 
 infected with an epidemic contagion taking its rise in 
 Ethiopia, that Pericles should die and Thucydides be smit- 
 ten with the infection, than that, upon the impiety of the 
 Delphians and Sybarites, delayed vengeance should at 
 length overtake their posterity. For these hidden powers 
 and properties have their sacred connections and corre- 
 spondences between their utmost endings and their first 
 beginnings ; of which although the causes be concealed 
 from us, yet silently they bring to pass their proper effects.
 
 286 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 15. Not but that there is a reason ready at hand for the 
 public punishments showered down from heaven upon 
 particular cities. For a city is a kind of entire thing and 
 continued body, a certain sort of creature, never subject to 
 the changes and alterations of age, nor varying through 
 process of time from one thing to another, but always 
 sympathizing and in unity with itself, and receiving the 
 punishment or reward of whatever it does or has ever 
 acted in common, so long as the community, which makes 
 it a body and binds it together with the mutual bands of 
 human benefit, preserves its unity. For he that goes about 
 of one city to make many, and perhaps an infinite number, 
 by distinguishing the intervals of time, seems to be like a 
 person who would make several of one single man, because 
 he is now grown elderly who before was a young man, and 
 before that a mere stripling. Or rather, it resembles the 
 method of disputing amongst the Epicharmians, the first 
 authors of that manner of arguing called the increaser. 
 For example : he that formerly ran in debt, although he 
 never paid it, owes nothing now, as being become another 
 man ; and he that was invited yesterday to supper comes 
 the next night an unbidden guest, for that he is quite 
 another person. And indeed the distinctions of ages cause 
 greater alterations in every one of us than commonly they 
 do in cities. For he that has seen Athens may know it 
 again thirty years after ; the present manners, motions, 
 pastimes, serious studies, their familiarities and marks of 
 their displeasure, little or nothing differing from what for- 
 merly they were. But after a long absence there is many 
 a man who, meeting his own familiar friend, hardly knows 
 him again, by reason of the great alteration of his coun- 
 tenance and the change of his manners, which are so easily 
 subject to the alterations of language, labor, and employ- 
 ment, all manner of accidents, and mutation of laws, that 
 even they who are most usually conversant with him ad-
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 287 
 
 mire to see the strangeness and novelty of the change ; and 
 yet the man is reputed still to be the same from his' birth 
 to his decease. In the same manner does a city still re- 
 main the same ; and for that reason we think it but justice, 
 that a city should as well be obnoxious to the blame arid 
 reproach of its ancient inhabitants, as participate the glory 
 of their former puissance and renown ; else we shall throw 
 every thing before we know it into the river of Heraclitus, 
 into which (he says) no one can step twice,* since Nature 
 by her changes is ever altering and transforming all things. 
 16. Now then, if a city be one entire and continued 
 >ody, the same opinion is to be conceived of a race of 
 men, depending upon one and the same beginning, and 
 carrying along with it a certain power and communion of 
 qualities ; in regard that what is begotten cannot be thought 
 to be severed from that which begets it, like a piece of 
 workmanship from the artificer ; the one being begotten 
 of the person, the other framed by him. So that what is 
 engendered is a part of the original from whence it sprung, 
 whether meriting honor or deserving punishment. So that, 
 were it not that I might be thought to be too sportive in a 
 serious discourse, I would affirm, that the Athenians were 
 more unjust to the statue of Cassander when they caused 
 it to be melted down and defaced, and that the Syracusans 
 were more rigorous to the dead carcass of Di^nysius when 
 they cast it forth of their own confines, than if they had 
 punished their posterity ; for that the statue did no way 
 partake of the substance of Cassander, and the soul of 
 Dionysius was absolutely departed from the body deceased. 
 Whereas Nisaeus, Apollocrates, Antipater, Philip, and 
 several others descended from wicked parents, still retained 
 the most principal part of those who begot them, not lazily 
 
 Referring to the doctrine of Heraclitus, that all Nature is moving onward, and 
 nothing is the same two successive moments. " You cannot step twice into the 
 aine river," he says. See 1'lat. Cratyl. p. 402 A. (G.)
 
 288 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 and sluggishly dormant, but that very part by which they 
 live, are nourished, act and move, and become rational and 
 sensible creatures. Neither is there any thing of absurdity, 
 if, being the offspring of such parents, they should retain 
 many of their bad qualities. In short, therefore, I affirm 
 that, as it is in the practice of physic, that whatever is 
 wholesome and profitable is likewise just, and as he would 
 be accounted ridiculous that should aver it to be an act of 
 injustice to cauterize the thumb for the cure of the sciatica, 
 or when the liver is imposthumated, to scarify the belly, or 
 when the hoofs of laboring oxen are over tender, to anoint 
 the tips of their horns ; in the same manner is he to be 
 laughed at who seeks for any other justice in the punish- 
 ment of vice than the cure and reformation of the offender, 
 and who is angry when medicine is applied to some parts 
 for the cure of others, as when a chirurgeon opens a veiu 
 to give his patient ease upon an inflammation of the eyes. 
 For such a one seems to look no farther than what he 
 reaches by his senses, forgetting that a schoolmaster, by 
 chastising one, admonishes all the rest of his scholars, and 
 that a general, condemning only one in ten, reduces all the 
 rest to obedience. And thus there is not only a cure and 
 amendment of one part of the body by another ; but many 
 times the very soul itself is inclined to vice or reformation, 
 by the lewdness or virtue of another, and indeed much 
 more readily than one body is affected by another. For, in 
 the case of the body, as it seems natural, the same affec- 
 tions and the same changes must always occur ; while the 
 soul, being agitated by fancy and imagination, becomes 
 better or worse, as it is either daring and confident or 
 timorous and mistrustful. 
 
 17. While I was yet speaking, Olympicus interrupting 
 me said : You seem by this discourse of yours to infer as 
 if the soul were immortal, which is a supposition of great 
 consequence. It is very true, said I, nor is it any more
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 289 
 
 than what yourselves have granted already ; in regard the 
 whole dispute has tended from the beginning to this, that 
 the supreme Deity overlooks us, and deals to every one of 
 us according to our deserts. To which the other : Do you 
 then believe (said he) it follows of necessity that, because 
 the Deity observes our actions and distributes to every one 
 of us according to our merits, therefore our souls should 
 exist and be altogether incorruptible, or else for a certain 
 time survive the body after death ? Not so fast, good sir, 
 said I. But can we think that God so little considers his 
 own actions, or is such a waster of his time in trifles, that, 
 if we had nothing of divine within us, nothing that in the 
 least resembled his perfection, nothing permanent and sta- 
 ble, but were only poor creatures, that (according to Ho- 
 mer's expression) faded and dropped like withered leaves, 
 and in a short time too, yet he should make so great ac- 
 count of us like women that bestow their pains in mak- 
 ing little gardens, no less delightful to them than the 
 gardens of Adonis, in earthen pans and pots as to create 
 us souls to blossom and flourish only for a day, in a soft 
 and tender body of flesh, without any firm and solid root 
 of life, and then to be blasted and extinguished in a mo- 
 ment upon every slight occasion ? And therefore, if you 
 please, not concerning ourselves with other Deities, let us 
 go no farther than the God Apollo, whom here we call 
 our own ; see whether it is likely that he, knowing that 
 the souls of the deceased vanish away like clouds and 
 smoke, exhaling from our bodies like a vapor, requires 
 that so many propitiations and such great honors be paid 
 to the dead, and such veneration be given to the de- 
 ceased, merely to delude and cozen his believers. And 
 therefore, for my part, I will never deny the immortality of 
 the soul, till somebody or other, as they say Hercules did 
 of old, shall be so daring as to come and take away the 
 prophetical tripod, and so quite ruin and destroy the oracle
 
 290 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 For as long as many oracles are uttered even in these our 
 days by the Delphic soothsayer, the same in substance 
 which was formerly given to Corax the Naxian, it is im- 
 pious to declare that the human soul can die. 
 
 Then Patrocleas : What oracle was this ? Who was 
 that same Corax? For both the answer itself and the 
 person whom you mention are strangers to my remem- 
 brance. Certainly, said I, that cannot be ; only it was my 
 error which occasioned your ignorance, in making use of 
 the addition to the name instead of the name itself. For 
 it was Calondas, who slew Archilochus in fight, and who 
 was surnamed Corax. He was thereupon ejected by the 
 Pythian priestess, as one who had slain a person devoted 
 to the Muses ; but afterwards, humbling himself in prayers 
 and supplications, intermixed with undeniable excuses of 
 the fact, was enjoined by the oracle to repair to the habita- 
 tion of Tettix, there to expiate his crime by appeasing the 
 ghost of Archilochus. That place was called Taenarus ; 
 for there it was, as the report goes, that Tettix the Cretan, 
 coming with a navy, landed, built a city not far from the 
 Psychopompaeum (or place where ghosts are conjured up), 
 and stored it with inhabitants. In like manner, when the 
 Spartans were commanded by the oracle to atone the ghost 
 of Pausanias, they sent for several exercisers and conjur- 
 ers out of Italy, who by virtue of their sacrifices chased 
 the apparition out of the temple. 
 
 18. Therefore, said I, there is one and the same reason 
 to confirm the providence of God and the immortality of 
 the soul ; neither is it possible to admit the one, if you 
 deny the other. Now then, the soul surviving after the 
 decease of the body, the inference is the stronger that it 
 p;irt,ikes of punishment and reward. For during this mor- 
 tul life the soul is in continual combat like a wrestler; but 
 after all those conflicts are at an end, she then receives ac- 
 cording to her merits. But what the punishments and what
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 291 
 
 the rewards of past transgressions or just and laudable ac- 
 tions are to be while the soul is thus alone by itself, is 
 nothing at all to us that are alive ; for either they are al- 
 together concealed from our knowledge, or else we give 
 but little credit to them. But those punishments that 
 reach succeeding posterity, being conspicuous to all that 
 are living at the same time, restrain and curb the inclina- 
 tions of many wicked persons. Now I have a story that I 
 lately heard, which I might relate to show that there is no 
 punishment more grievous or that touches more to the quick, 
 than for a man to behold his children born of his body suf- 
 fering for his crimes ; and that, if the soul of a wicked 
 and lawless criminal were to look back to earth and be- 
 hold, not his statues overturned and his dignities reversed, 
 but his own children, his friends, or his nearest kindred 
 ruined and overwhelmed with calamity, such a person, 
 were he to return to life again, would rather choose the re- 
 fusal of all Jupiter's honors than abandon himself a sec- 
 ond time to his wonted injustice and extravagant desires. 
 This story, I say, I could relate, but that I fear lest you should 
 censure it for a fable. And therefore I deem it much the 
 better way to keep close to what is probable and consen- 
 taneous to reason. By no means, replied Olympicus ; but 
 proceed, and gratify us with your story also, since it was 
 so kindly offered. Thereupon, when the rest of the com- 
 pany likewise made me the same request, Permit me, said 
 1, in the first place, to pursue the rational part of my dis- 
 course, and then, according as it shall seem proper and 
 convenient, if it be a fable, you shall have it as cheap as I 
 heard it 
 
 19. Bion was of opinion that God, in punishing the 
 children of the wicked for the sins of their fathers, seems 
 more irregular than a physician that should administer 
 physic to a son or a grandchild, to cure the distemper of 
 a father or a grandfather. But this comparison does not
 
 292 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 run cleverly ; since the amplification of the similitude 
 agrees only in some things, but in others is altogether de- 
 fective. For if one man be cured of a disease by physic, 
 the same medicine will not cure another ; nor was it ever 
 known that any person troubled with sore eyes or laboring 
 under a fever was ever restored to perfect health by seeing 
 another in the same condition anointed or plastered. But 
 the punishments or executions of malefactors are done 
 publicly in the face of the world, to the end that, justice 
 appearing to be the effect of prudence and reason, some 
 may be restrained by the correction inflicted upon others. 
 So that Bion never rightly apprehended where the com- 
 parison answered to our question. For oftentimes it hap- 
 pens, that a man comes to be haunted with a troublesome 
 though not incurable disease, and through sloth and in 
 temperance increases his distemper, and weakens his body 
 to that degree that he occasions his own death. After 
 this, it is true, the son does not fall sick ; only he has re 
 ceived from his father's seed such a habit of body as makes 
 him liable to the same disease ; which a good physician or 
 a tender friend or a skilful apothecary or a careful master 
 observing confines him to a strict and spare diet, restrains 
 him from all manner of superfluity, keeps him from all 
 the temptations of delicious fare, wine, and women, and 
 making use of wholesome and proper physic, together with 
 convenient exercise, dissipates and extirpates the original 
 cause of a distemper at the beginning, before it grows to 
 a head and gets a masterless dominion over the body. 
 And is it not our usual practice thus to admonish those 
 that are born of diseased parents, to take timely care of 
 themselves, and not to neglect the malady, but to expel 
 the original nourishment of the inbred evil, as being then 
 easily movable and apt for expulsion 1 It is very true, cried 
 they. Therefore, said I, we cannot be said to do an ab- 
 surd thing, but what is absolutely necessary, nor that
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 293 
 
 which is ridiculous, but what is altogether useful, while 
 we prescribe to the children of the epileptic, the hypo- 
 chondriacal, and those that are subject to the gout, such 
 exercises, diet, and remedies as are proper, not so much 
 because they are at that time troubled with the distemper, 
 as to prevent the malady. For a man begotten by an un- 
 sound body does not therefore deserve punishment, but 
 rather the preservation of proper physic and good regi- 
 men ; which if any one call the punishment of fear or 
 effeminacy, because the person is debarred his pleasures 
 and put to some sort of pain by cupping and blistering, 
 we mind not what he says. If then it be of such impor- 
 tance to preserve, by physic and other proper means, the 
 vitiated offspring of another body, foul and corrupted ; 
 ought we to suffer the hereditary resemblances of a wick- 
 ed nature to sprout up and bud in the youthful character, 
 and to wait till they are diffused into all the affections of 
 the mind, and bring forth and ripen the malignant fruit 
 of a mischievous disposition ] For such is the expression 
 of Pindar. 
 
 20. Or can you believe but that in this particular God 
 is wiser than Hesiod, admonishing and exhorting us in 
 this manner : * 
 
 Nor mind the pleasures of the genial bed, 
 Returning from th' interment of the dead ; 
 But propagate the race, when heavenly food 
 And feasting with the Gods have warmed the blood ; 
 
 intimating thereby, that a man was never to attempt the 
 work of generation but in the height of a jocund and 
 merry humor, and when he found himself as it were dis- 
 solved into jollity; as if from procreation proceeded the 
 impressions not only of vice or virtue, but of sorrow and 
 joy, and of all other qualities and affections whatever. 
 However, it is not the work of human wisdom (as Hesiod 
 supposes) but of divine providence, to foresee the sym- 
 
 * Hesiod, Works and Days, 786.
 
 294 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 pathies and differences of men's natures, before the ma- 
 lignant infection of their unruly passions come to exert 
 itself, by hurrying their unadvised youth into a thousand 
 rillanous miscarriages. For though the cubs of bears and 
 whelps of wolves and apes immediately discover their 
 several inbred qualities and natural conditions without any 
 disguise or artificial concealment, man is nevertheless a 
 creature more refined, who, many times curbed by the 
 shame of transgressing common customs, universal opinion, 
 or the law, conceals the evil that is within him, and imi- 
 tates only what is laudable and honest. So that he may 
 be thought to have altogether cleansed and rinsed away 
 the stains and imperfections of his vicious disposition, and 
 so cunningly for a long time to have kept his natural cor- 
 ruption wrapped up under the covering of craft and dis- 
 simulation, that we are scarce sensible of the fallacy till we 
 feel the stripes or sting of his injustice ; believing men to 
 be only then unjust, when they offer wrong to ourselves ; 
 lascivious, when we see them abandoning themselves to 
 their lusts ; and cowards, when we see them turning their 
 backs upon the enemy ; just as if any man should be so 
 idle as to believe a scorpion had no sting until he felt it, 
 or that a viper had no venom until it bit him. which is 
 a silly conceit. For there is no man that only then be- 
 comes wicked when he appears to be so ; but, having the 
 seeds and principles of iniquity within him long before, 
 the thief steals when he meets with a fit opportunity, and 
 the tyrant violates the law when he finds himself sur- 
 rounded with sufficient power. But neither is the nature 
 and disposition of any man concealed from God, as taking 
 upon him with more exactness to scrutinize the soul than 
 the body ; nor does he tarry till actual violence or lewdness 
 be committed, to punish the hands of the wrong-doer, the 
 tongue of the profane, or the transgressing members of 
 the lascivious and obscene. For he does not exercise his
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 29-") 
 
 vengeance on the unjust for any wrong that he has received 
 by his injustice, noi is he angry with the highway robber 
 for any violence done to himself, nor does he abominate 
 the adulterer for defiling his bed ; but many times, by way 
 of cure and reformation, he chastises the adulterer, the 
 covetous miser, and the wronger of his neighbors, as phy- 
 sicians endeavor to subdue an epilepsy by preventing the 
 coming of the fits. 
 
 21. What shall I say? But even a little before we 
 were offended at the Gods protracting and delaying the 
 punishments of the wicked, and now we are as much dis- 
 pleased that they do not curb and chastise the depravities 
 of an evil disposition before the fact committed ; not con- 
 sidering that many times a mischief contrived for future 
 execution may prove more dreadful than a fact already 
 committed, and that dormant villany may be more dan- 
 gerous than open and apparent iniquity ; not being able 
 to apprehend the reason wherefore it is better to bear with 
 the unjust actions of some men, and to prevent the medi- 
 tating and contrivance of mischief in others. As, in truth, 
 we do not rightly comprehend why some remedies and 
 physical drugs are no way convenient for those that labor 
 under a real disease, yet wholesome and profitable for 
 those that are seemingly in health, but yet perhaps in a 
 worse condition than they who are sick. Whence it comes 
 to pass, that the Gods do not always turn the transgres- 
 sions of parents upon their children ; but if a virtuous son 
 happen to be the offspring of a wicked father, as often 
 it falls out that a sane child is born of one that is unsound 
 and crazy, such a one is exempted from the punishment 
 which threatens the whole descent, as having been adopted 
 into a virtuous family. But for a young man that treads 
 in the footsteps of a criminal race, it is but just that he 
 should succeed to the punishment of his ancestor's ini- 
 quity, as one of the debts attached to his inheritance.
 
 296 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 For neither was Antigonus punished for the crimes of 
 Demetrius ; nor (among the ancient heroes) Phyleus for 
 the transgressions of Augeas, nor Nestor for the impiety of 
 Neleus ; in regard that, though their parents were wicked, 
 yet they were virtuous themselves. But as for those whose 
 nature has emhraced and espoused the vices of their par- 
 entage, them holy vengeance prosecutes, pursuing the like- 
 ness and resemblance of sin. For as the warts and moles 
 and freckles of parents, not seen upon the children of 
 their own begetting, many times afterwards appear again 
 upon the children of their sons and daughters ; and as the 
 Grecian woman that brought forth a blackamore infant, 
 for which she was accused of adultery, proved herself, 
 upon diligent inquiry, to be the offspring of an Ethiopian 
 after four generations ; and as among the children of 
 Pytho the Nisibian, said to be descended from the 
 Sparti, that were the progeny of those men that sprung 
 from the teeth of Cadmus's dragon, the youngest of his 
 sons, who lately died, was born with the print of a spear 
 upon his body, the usual mark of that ancient line, which, 
 not having been seen for many revolutions of years before, 
 started up again, as it were, out of the deep, and showed 
 itself the renewed testimonial of the infant's race ; so 
 many times it happens that the first descents and eldest 
 races hide and drown the passions and affections of the 
 mind peculiar to the family, which afterward bud forth 
 again, and display the natural propensity of the succeeding 
 progeny to vice or virtue. 
 
 22. Having thus concluded, I held my peace ; when 
 Olympicus smiling said : We forbear as yet to give you 
 our approbation, that we may not seem to have forgot the 
 fable ; not but that we believe your discourse to have been 
 sufficiently made out by demonstration, only we reserve 
 our opinion till we shall have heard the relation of that 
 likewise. Upon which, I began again after this manner :
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 297 
 
 There was one Thespesius of Soli, the friend and familiar 
 acquaintance of that Protogenes who for some time con- 
 versed among us. This gentleman, in his youth leading a 
 debauched and intemperate life, in a short time spent his 
 patrimony, and then for some years became very wicked ; 
 but afterwards repenting of his former follies and extrava- 
 gancies, and pursuing the recovery of his lost estate by all 
 manner of tricks and shifts, did as is usual with dissolute 
 and lascivious youth, who when they have wives of their 
 own never mind them at all, but when they have dismissed 
 them, and find them married to others that watch them 
 with a more vigilant affection, endeavor to corrupt and 
 vitiate them by all the unjust and wicked provocations 
 imaginable. In this humor, abstaining from nothing that 
 was lewd and illegal, so it tended to his gain and profit, he 
 got no great matter of wealth, but procured to himself a 
 world of infamy by his unjust and knavish dealing with all 
 sorts of people. Yet nothing made him more the talk of 
 the country, than the answer which was brought him back 
 from the oracle of Amphilochus. For thither it seems he 
 sent, to inquire of the Deity whether he should live any 
 better the remaining part of his life. To which the oracle 
 returned, that it would be better with him after he was 
 dead. And indeed, not long after, in some measure it so 
 fell out ; for he happened to fall from a certain precipice 
 upon his neck, and though he received no wound nor 
 broke any limb, yet the force of the fall beat the breath 
 out of his body. Three days after, being carried forth to 
 be buried, as they were just ready to let him down into 
 the grave, of a sudden he came to himself, and recovering 
 his strength, so altered the whole course of his life, that it 
 was almost incredible to all that knew him. For by the 
 report of the Cilicians, there never was in that age a juster 
 person in common dealings between man and man, more 
 devout and religious as to divine worship, more an enemy
 
 298 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 to the wicked, nor more constant and faithful to his friends ; 
 which was the reason that they who were more conversant 
 with him were desirous to hear from himself the cause of 
 so great an alteration, not believing that so great a ref- 
 ormation could proceed from bare chance ; though it was 
 true that it did so, as he himself related to Protogenes and 
 others of his choicest friends. 
 
 For when his sense first left his body, it seemed to him 
 as if he had been some pilot flung from the helm by the 
 force of a storm into the midst of the sea. Afterwards, 
 rising up again above water by degrees, so soon as he 
 thought he had fully recovered his breath, he looked about 
 him every way, as if one eye of his soul had been open. 
 But he beheld nothing of those things which he was wont 
 formerly to see, only he saw stars of a vast magnitude, at 
 an immense distance one from the other, and sending forth 
 a light most wonderful for the brightness of its color, which 
 shot itself out in length with an incredible force ; on which 
 the soul riding, as it were in a chariot, was most swiftly, 
 yet as gently and smoothly, dandled from one place to 
 another. But omitting the greatest part of the sights 
 which he beheld, he saw, as he said, the souls of such as 
 were newly departed, as they mounted from below, re- 
 sembling little fiery bubbles, to which the air gave way. 
 Which bubbles afterwards breaking insensibly and by de- 
 grees, the soul came forth in the shapes of men and women, 
 light and nimble, as being discharged of all their earthly 
 substance. However, they differed in their motion ; for 
 some of them leaped forth with a wonderful swiftness, and 
 mounted up in a direct line ; others like so many spindles 
 of spinning-wheels turned round and round, sometimes 
 whisking upwards, sometimes darting downwards, with a 
 confused and mixed agitation, that could hardly be stopped 
 in a very long time. 
 
 Of these souls he knew not who the most part were;
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 299 
 
 only perceiving two or three of his acquaintance, he en- 
 deavored to approach and discourse them. But they 
 neither heard him speak, neither indeed did they seem to 
 be in their right mind, fluttering and out of their senses, 
 avoiding either to be seen or felt; they frisked up and 
 down at first, alone and apart by themselves, till meeting 
 at length with others in the same condition, they clung to- 
 gether ; but still their motions were with the same giddiness 
 and uncertainty as before, without steerage or purpose ; 
 and they sent forth inarticulate sounds, like the cries of 
 soldiers in combat, intermixed with the doleful yells of fear 
 and lamentation. Others there were that towered aloft in 
 the upper region of the air, and these looked gay and 
 pleasant, and frequently accosted each other with kindness 
 and respect ; but they shunned those troubled souls, and 
 seemed to show discontent by crowding together, and joy 
 and pleasure by expanding and separating from each other. 
 One of these, said he, being the soul of a certain kinsman, 
 which, because the person died when he was but very 
 young, he did not very well know, drew near him, and 
 saluted him by the name of Thespesius ; at which being 
 in a kind of amazement, and saying his name was not 
 Thespesius but Aridaeus, the spirit replied, 'twas true that 
 formerly he was so called, but that from thenceforth he 
 must be Thespesius, that is to say "divine." For thou art 
 not in the number of the dead as yet, it said, but by a cer- 
 tain destiny and permission of the Gods, thou art come 
 hither only with thy intellectual faculty, having left the 
 rest of thy soul, like an anchor, in thy body. And that 
 thou mayst be assured of this, observe it for a certain rule, 
 both now and hereafter, that the souls of the deceased 
 neither cast any shadow, neither do they open and shut 
 their eyelids. Thespesius having heard this discourse, was 
 so much the more encouraged to make use of his own rea- 
 son ; and therefore looking round about to prove the truth
 
 300 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 of what, had been told him, he could perceive that there 
 followed him a kind of obscure and shadovvlike line, 
 whereas those other souls shone like a round body of per- 
 fect light, and were transparent within. And yet there 
 was u very great difference between them too ; for that 
 some yielded a smooth, even, and contiguous lustre, all of 
 one color, like the full-moon in her brightest splendor ; 
 others were marked with long scales or slender streaks ; 
 others were all over spotted and very ugly to look upon, 
 as being covered with black speckles like the skins of 
 vipers ; and others were marked by faint scratches. 
 
 Moreover, this kinsman of Thespesius (for nothing hin- 
 ders but that we may call the souls by the names of the 
 persons which they enlivened), proceeding to give a rela- 
 tion of several other things, informed his friend how that 
 Adrastea, the daughter of Jupiter and Necessity, was seated 
 in the highest place of all, to punish all manner of crimes 
 and enormities ; and that in the whole number of the 
 wicked and ungodly, there never was any one, whether 
 great or little, high or low, rich or poor, that ever could 
 by force or cunning escape the severe lashes of her rigor. 
 But as there are three sorts of punishments, so there are 
 three several Furies, or female ministers of justice ; and to 
 every one of these belongs a peculiar office and degree of 
 punishment. The first of these was called Speedy Punish- 
 ment, who takes in charge those that are presently to re- 
 ceive bodily punishment in this life, which she manages 
 after a more gentle manner, omitting the correction of 
 many offences which need expiation. But if the cure of 
 impiety require a greater labor, the Deity delivers them 
 after death to Justice. But when Justice has given them 
 over as altogether incurable, then the third and most severe 
 of all Adrastea's ministers, Erinnys (the Fury), takes them 
 in hand ; and after she has chased and coursed them from 
 one place to another, flying, yet not knowing where to
 
 . GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 301 
 
 fly, for shelter or relief, plagued and tormented with a 
 thousand miseries, she plunges them headlong into an 
 invisible abyss, the hideousness of which no tongue car 
 express. 
 
 Now, of all these three sorts, that which is inflicted by 
 punishment in this life resembles the practice among the 
 barbarians. For, as among the Persians, they take off the 
 garments and turbans of those that are to be punished, and 
 tear and whip them before the offender's faces, while the 
 criminals, with tears and lamentations, beseech the execu- 
 tioners to give over ; so corporal punishments, and penal- 
 ties by mulcts and fines, have no sharpness or severity, nor 
 do they take hold upon the vice itself, but are inflicted for 
 the most part only with regard to appearance and to the 
 outward sense. But if any one comes hither that has 
 escaped punishment while he lived upon earth and before 
 he was well purged from his crimes, Justice takes him to 
 task, naked as he is, with his soul displayed, as having 
 nothing to conceal or veil his impiety ; but on all sides and 
 to all men's eyes and every way exposed, she shows him 
 first to his honest parents, if he had any such, to let them 
 see how degenerate he was and unworthy of his pro- 
 genitors. But if they were wicked likewise, then are 
 their sufferings rendered yet more terrible by the mutual 
 sight of each other's miseries, and those for a long time 
 inflicted, till each individual crime has been quite effaced 
 with pains and torments as far surmounting in sharpness 
 and severity all punishments and tortures of the flesh, as 
 what is real and evident surpasses an idle dream. But the 
 weals and stripes that remain after punishment appear 
 more signal in some, in others are less evident. 
 
 View there, said he, those various colors of souls. That 
 same black and sordid hue is the tincture of avarice and 
 fraud. That bloody and flame-like dye betokens cruelty, 
 and an imbittered desire of revenge. Where you perceive
 
 302 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 a bluish color, it is a sign that soul will hardly be cleansed 
 from the impurities of lascivious pleasure and voluptuous- 
 ness. Lastly, that same dark, violet, and venomous color, 
 resembling the sordid ink which the cuttle fish spews up, 
 proceeds from envy. For as during life the wickedness of 
 the soul, being governed by human passions and itself 
 governing the body, occasions this variety of colors ; so 
 here it is the end of expiation and punishment, when these 
 are cleansed away, and the soul recovers her native lustre 
 and becomes clear and spotless. But so long as these re- 
 main, there will be some certain returns of the passions, 
 accompanied with little pantings and beatings, as it were 
 of the pulse, in some remiss and languid and quickly ex- 
 tinguished, in others more quick and vehement. Some of 
 these souls, being again and again chastised, recover a due 
 habit and disposition ; while others, by the force of igno- 
 rance and the enticing show of pleasure, are carried into 
 the bodies of brute beasts. For while some, through the 
 feebleness of their ratiocinating, while their slothfulness 
 will not permit them to contemplate, are impelled by their 
 active principle to seek a new generation ; others again, 
 wanting the instrument of intemperance, yet desirous to 
 gratify their desires with the full swing of enjoyment, en- 
 deavor to promote their designs by means of the body. 
 But alas ! here is nothing but an imperfect shadow and 
 dream of pleasure, that never attains to ability of perform- 
 ance. 
 
 Having thus said, the spirit quickly carried Thespesius 
 to a certain place, as it appeared to him, prodigiously 
 spacious ; yet so gently and without the least deviation, 
 that he seemed to be borne upon the rays of the light as 
 upon wings. Thus at length he came to a certain gaping 
 chasm, that was fathomless downward, where he found 
 himself deserted by that extraordinary force which brought 
 him thither, and perceived other souls also to be there in
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 303 
 
 the same condition. For hovering upon the wing in flocks 
 together like birds, they kept flying round and round the 
 yawning rift, but durst not enter into it. Now this same 
 cleft withinside resembled the dens of Bacchus, fringed 
 about with the pleasing verdure of various herbs and 
 plants, that yielded a more delightful prospect still of all 
 sorts of flowers, enamelling the green so with a wonderful 
 diversity of colors, and breathing forth at the same time a 
 soft and gentle breeze, which perfumed all the ambient air 
 with odors most surprising, as grateful to the smell as the 
 sweet flavor of wine to those that love it. Insomuch that 
 the souls banqueting upon these fragrancies were almost 
 all dissolved in raptures of mirth and caresses one among 
 another, there being nothing to be heard for some fair 
 distance round about the place, but jollity and laughter, 
 and all the cheerful sounds of joy and harmony, which are 
 usual among people that pass their time in sport and merri- 
 ment. 
 
 The spirit said, moreover, that Bacchus ascended through 
 this overture to heaven, and afterwards returning fetched 
 up Semele the same way ; and that it was called the place 
 of oblivion. Wherefore his kinsman would not suffer 
 Thespesius to tarry there any longer, though very unwill- 
 ing to depart, but took him away by force ; informing, and 
 instructing him withal, how strangely and how suddenly the 
 mind was subject to be softened and melted by pleasure ; 
 that the irrational and corporeal part, being watered and 
 incarnated thereby, revives the memory of the body, 
 and that from this remembrance proceed concupiscence 
 and desire, exciting an appetite for a new generation and 
 entrance into a body which is named yww as being*an 
 inclination towards the earth (*) ;/> revai^ when the soul 
 
 is weighed down with overmuch moisture. 
 
 At length, after he had been carried as far another way 
 as when he was transported to the yawning overture, he
 
 304 CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 thought he beheld a prodigious standing goblet, into which 
 several rivers discharged themselves ; among which there 
 was one whiter than snow or the foam of the sea, another 
 resembled the purple color of the rainbow. The tinctures 
 of the rest were various ; besides that, they had their sev- 
 eral lustres at a distance. But when he drew nearer, the 
 ambient air became more subtile and rarefied, and the colors 
 vanished, so the goblet retained no more of its flourishing 
 beauty except the white. At the same time he saw three 
 Daemons sitting together in a triangular aspect, and blend- 
 ing and mixing the rivers together with certain measures. 
 Thus far, said the guide of Thespesius's soul, did Orpheus 
 come, when he sought after the soul of his wife ; and not 
 well remeoibertng what he had seen, upon his return he 
 raised a false report in the world, that the oracle at Delphi 
 was in common to Night and Apollo, whereas Apollo never 
 had any thing in common with Night. But, said the spirit, 
 this oracle is in common to Night and to the Moon, no way 
 included within earthly bounds, nor having any fixed or 
 certain seat, but always wandering among men in dreams 
 and visions. For from hence it is that all dreams are dis- 
 persed, compounded as they are of truth jumbled with 
 falsehood, and sincerity with the various mixtures of craft 
 and delusion. But as for the oracle of Apollo, said the 
 spirit, you neither do see it, neither can you behold it ; for 
 the earthly part of the soul is not capable to release or let 
 itself loose, nor is it permitted to reach sublimity, but it 
 swags downward, as being fastened to the body. 
 
 And with that, leading Thespesius nearer, the spirit en- 
 deavored to show him the light of the Tripod, which, as he 
 saM, shooting through the bosom of Themis, fell upon 
 Parnassus ; which Thespesius was desirous to see, but 
 could not, in regard the extraordinary brightness of the 
 light dazzled his eyes ; only passing by, he heard the shrill 
 voice of a woman speaking in verse and measure, and
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 305 
 
 among other things, as he thought, foretelling the time of 
 his death. This the genius told him was the voice of a 
 Sibyl who, being orbicularly whirled about in the face of 
 the moon, continually sang of future events. Thereupon 
 being desirous to hear more, he was tossed the quite con- 
 trary way by the violent motion of the moon, as by the 
 force of rolling waves ; so that he could hear but very little, 
 and that very concisely too. Among other things, he heard 
 what was prophesied concerning the mountain Vesuvius, 
 and the future destruction of Dicaearchia by fire ; together 
 with a piece of a verse concerning a certain emperor * or 
 great famous chieftain of that age, 
 
 Wlio, though so just that no man could accuse, 
 Howe'er his empire should by sickness lose. 
 
 After this, they passed on to behold the torments of those 
 that were punished. And indeed at first they met with 
 none but lamentable and dismal sights. For Thespesius, 
 when he least suspected any such thing, and before he was 
 aware, was got among his kindred, his acquaintance, and 
 companions, who, groaning under the horrid pains of their 
 cruel and ignominious punishments, with mournful cries 
 and lamentations called him by his name. At length he 
 saw his father ascending out of a certain abyss, all full of 
 stripes, gashes, arid scars ; who stretching forth his hands 
 not permitted to keep silence, but constrained to confess 
 by his tormentors acknowledged that he had most im- 
 piously poisoned several of his guests for the sake of their 
 gold ; of which not being detected while he lived upon 
 earth, but being convicted after his decease, he had endured 
 part of his torments already, and now they were haling 
 him where he should suffer more. However, he durst not 
 either entreat or intercede for his father, such was his fear 
 and consternation ; and therefore being desirous to retire 
 and be gone, he looked about for his kind and courteous 
 
 * The Emperor Vespasian.
 
 :',l I'. CONCERNING SUCH WHOM 
 
 Lruide ; but he had quite left him, so that he saw him no 
 more. 
 
 Nevertheless, being pushed forward by other deformed 
 and grim-looked goblins, as if there had been some neces- 
 sity for him to pass forward, he saw how that the shadows 
 of such as had been notorious malefactors, and had been 
 punished in this world, were not tormented so grievously 
 nor alike to the others, hi regard that only the imperfect 
 and irrational part of the soul, which was consequently 
 most subject to passions, was that which made them so 
 industrious in vice. Whereas those who had shrouded a 
 vicious and impious life under the outward profession and 
 a gained opinion of virtue, their tormentors constrained to 
 turn their insides outward with great difficulty and dread- 
 ful pain, and to writhe and screw themselves contrary to 
 the course of nature, like the sea scolopenders, which, 
 having swallowed the hook, throw forth their bowels and 
 lick it out again. Others they flayed and scarified, to 
 display their occult hypocrisies and latent impieties, which 
 had possessed and corrupted the principal part of their 
 souls. Other souls, as he said, he also saw, which being 
 twisted two and two, three and three, or more together 
 gnawed and devoured each other, either upon the score of 
 old grudges and former malice they had borne one another, 
 or else in revenge of the injuries and losses they had sus- 
 tained upon earth. 
 
 Moreover, he said, there were certain lakes that lay 
 parallel and equidistant one from the other, the one of 
 boiling gold, another of lead, exceeding cold, and the 
 third of iron, which was very scaly and rugged. By the 
 sides of these lakes stood certain Daemons, that with their 
 instruments, like smiths or founders, put in or drew out 
 the souls of such as had transgressed either through avar- 
 ice or an ca^cr desire of other men's goods. For the flame 
 of the golden furnace having rendered these souls of a fiery
 
 GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 307 
 
 and transparent color, they plunged them into that of lead ; 
 where after they were congealed and hardened into a sub- 
 stance like hail, they were then thrown into the lake of 
 iron, where they became black and deformed, and being 
 broken and crumbled by the roughness of the iron, changed 
 their form ; and being thus transformed, they were again 
 thrown into the lake of gold ; in all these transmutations 
 enduring most dreadful and horrid torments. But they 
 that suffered the most dire and dismal torture of all were 
 those who, thinking that divine vengeance had no more to 
 say to them, were again seized and dragged to repeated 
 execution ; and these were those for whose transgression 
 their children or posterity had suffered. For when any of 
 the souls of those children come hither and meet with any 
 of their parents or ancestors, they fall into a passion, ex- 
 claim against them, and show them the marks of what they 
 have endured. On the other side, the souls of the parents 
 endeavor to sneak out of sight and hide themselves ; but 
 the others follow them so close at the heels, and load them 
 in such a manner with bitter taunts and reproaches, that 
 not being able to escape, their tormentors presently lay 
 hold of them, and hale them to new tortures, howling and 
 yelling at the very thought of what they have suffered 
 already. And some of these souls of suffering posterity, 
 he said, there were, that swarmed and clung together like 
 bees or bats, and in that posture murmured forth their an- 
 gry complaints of the miseries and calamities which they 
 had endured for their sakes. 
 
 The last things that he saw were the souls of such as 
 were designed for a second life. These were bowed, bent, 
 and transformed into all sorts of creatures by the force of 
 tools and anvils and the strength of workmen appointed 
 for that purpose, that laid on without mercy, bruising the 
 whole limbs of some, breaking others, disjointing others, 
 and pounding some to powder and annihilation, on purpose
 
 308 OF THOSE WHOM GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH. 
 
 to render them fit for other lives and manners. Among 
 the rest, he saw the soul of Nero many ways most griev- 
 ously tortured, but more especially transfixed with iron 
 nails. This soul the workmen took in hand ; but when 
 they had forged it into the form of one of Pindar's vipers, 
 which eats its way to life through the bowels of the female, 
 of a sudden a conspicuous light shone out, and a voice 
 was heard out of the light, which gave order for the trans- 
 figuring it again into the shape of some more mild and 
 gentle creature ; and so they made it to resemble one of 
 those creatures that usually sing and croak about the sides 
 of ponds and marshes. For indeed he had in some meas- 
 ure been punished for the crimes he had committed ; be- 
 sides, there was some compassion due to him from the 
 Gods, for that he had restored the Grecians to their liberty, 
 a nation the most noble and best beloved of the Gods 
 among all his subjects. And now being about to return, 
 such a terrible dread surprised Thespesius as had al- 
 most frighted him out of his wits. For a certain woman, 
 admirable for her form and stature, laying hold of his arm, 
 said to him : Come hither, that thou mayst the better be 
 enabled to retain the remembrance of what thou hast seen. 
 With that she was about to strike him with a small fiery 
 wand, not much unlike to those that painters use ; but 
 another woman prevented her. After this, as he thought 
 himself, he was whirled or hurried away with a strong and 
 violent wind, forced as it were through a pipe ; and so 
 lighting again into his own body, he awoke and found 
 himself on the brink of his own grave.
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS 
 
 1. IT is a troublesome and difficult task that philosophy 
 undertakes in going about to cure the disease, or rather 
 itch, of intemperate prating. For that words, which are 
 the sole remedy against it, require attention ; but they who 
 are given to prate will hear nobody, as being a sort of 
 people that love to be always talking themselves. So that 
 the principal vice of loquacious persons is this, that their 
 ears are stopped to every thing else but their own imper- 
 tinencies ; which I take to be a wilful deafness in men, 
 controlling and contradicting Nature, that has given us two 
 ears, though but one tongue. Therefore it was that Eurip- 
 ides spoke very right to a certain stupid hearer of his : 
 
 Impossible it is to fill that brain, 
 That in a moment lets out all again ; 
 'Tis but the words of wisdom to unfold 
 Unto a fool, whose skull will nothing hold.* 
 
 More justly and truly might I say to an idle prate-too-fast, 
 or rather concerning such a fellow : 
 
 In vain I seek to fill thy sieve-like brain, 
 That in a moment lets out all again ; 
 Infusing wisdom into such a skull 
 As leaks so fast, it never will be full. 
 
 Much more may he be said to spill his instructions over 
 (rather than pour them into) a man, who is always talking 
 to those that do not hear, and never hears when others 
 
 * Euripides, Frag. 891.
 
 310 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 talk. For so soon as a wise man has uttered any thing, be 
 it never so short, garrulity swallows it forthwith like the 
 sea, and throws it up again threefold, with the violence of 
 a swelling tide. Such was the portico at Olympia, called 
 Heptaphonos, by the reverberation of one single voice 
 causing no less than seven distinct echoes. And in like 
 manner, if the least word light into the ears of an imper- 
 tinent babbler, presently all the room rings with it, and he 
 makes such a din, 
 
 That soon the jangling noise untunes the strings 
 Of minds sedately flxt on better things. 
 
 Insomuch that we may say, that the conduits and convey- 
 ances of their hearing reach not to the souls, but only to 
 their tongues. Therefore it is that other people retain 
 what is spoken to them ; whereas, whatever is said to talk- 
 ative people runs through them as through a cullender ; 
 and then they run about from place to place, like empty 
 vessels void of sense or wit, but making a hideous noise. 
 
 2. However, in hopes that there is yet some room left 
 to try an experiment for the cure of this distemper, let us 
 begin with this golden sentence to the impertinent prater*. 
 
 Be silent, boy, and thou wilt find i' th' end, 
 What benefits on silent lips attend.* 
 
 Among these benefits two of the first and chiefest are to 
 hear and to be heard. To neither of which can these 
 talkative companions ever attain ; so unhappy they are 
 still to meet with disappointments, though they desire a 
 thing never so much. For as for those other distempers 
 of the soul, such as avarice, ambition, and exorbitant love 
 of pleasure, they have this happiness, to enjoy what they 
 so eagerly covet. But this is that which most afflicts these 
 idle prattlers, that being desirous of nothing more than 
 of company that will hear them prate, they can never meet 
 with it, in regard that all men avoid their society ; and 
 
 From the Aleadae of Sophocles, Frag. 79.
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 311 
 
 whether sitting in a knot together or walking, so soon as 
 they behold a prattler advancing towards them, they pres- 
 ently give warning to each other and adjourn to another 
 place. And as, when there happens a deep silence in x any 
 assembly, so that all the company seems to be mute, we 
 say that Mercury is got among them ; so when a fool, full 
 of noise and talk, enters into any room where friends and 
 acquaintance are met to discourse or else to feast and be 
 merry, all people are hushed of a sudden, as afraid of giv- 
 ing him any occasion to set his tongue upon the career. 
 But if he once begin to open his mouth, up they rise and 
 away they trip, like seamen foreseeing a sudden storm and 
 rolling of the waves, when they hear " the north wind be- 
 gin to whistle from some adjoining promontory," and has- 
 tening into harbor. Whence it comes to pass, that he 
 never can meet with any that are willing either to eat or 
 drink or lodge with him in the same room, either upon the 
 road or upon a voyage, unless constrained thereto by ne- 
 cessity. For so importunate he is in all places, that some- 
 times he will pull you by the coat, sometimes by the beard, 
 and sometimes be hunching your sides, to make you speak. 
 How highly then are to be prized a swift pair of legs, ac- 
 cording to the saying of Archilochus ! Nay, by Jove, it 
 was the opinion of wise Aristotle himself. For he being 
 perplexed with an egregious prater, and tired out with his 
 absurd stories and idle repetitions of, " And is not this a 
 wonderful thing, Aristotle?" No wonder at all, said he, 
 is this ; but if a man should stand still to hear you prate 
 thus, who had legs to run away, that were a wonder indeed. 
 To another of the same stamp that, after a long tale of a 
 roasted horse, excused himself by saying that he was afraid 
 he had tired him with his prolixity ; No, upon my word, 
 quoth the philosopher, for I never minded what you said. 
 On the other side, should it so fall out that there was no 
 avoiding the vexation of one of these chattering fops, Xu-
 
 312 <Jp GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 ture has afforded us this happiness, that it is in the power 
 of the soul to lend the outward ears of the body, to endure 
 the brunt of the noise, while she retires to the remoter 
 apartments of the mind, and there employs herself in bet- 
 ter and more useful thoughts. By which means those 
 sonorous babblers are at the same time disappointed, as 
 wt'll of auditors, as of people that believe what they say. 
 All men look upon their vain babbling with the same opin- 
 ion that they have of the seed of people insatiably addicted 
 to the use of women ; for as the one is barren and useless 
 for generation, so is the other void of the end of discourse, 
 altogether frivolous and impertinent. 
 
 3. And yet there is no member of human bodies that 
 Nature has so strongly enclosed within a double fortifica- 
 tion, as the tongue, entrenched within with a barricade of 
 sharp teeth, to the end that, if it refuses to obey and keep 
 silent when reason " presses the glittering reins " within, 
 we should fix our teeth in it till the blood comes, rather 
 than suffer the inordinate and unseasonable din. For, ac- 
 cording to the saying of Euripides, 
 
 Our miseries do not spring 
 
 From bouses wanting locks or bolts , 
 But from unbridled tongues, 
 
 111 used by prating fools and dolts. 
 
 And truly, I must tell you, that they who think that houses 
 without doors, and purses without strings, are of no use to 
 their masters, yet at the same time set neither fence nor 
 door before their lips, but suffer a continual torrent of vain 
 and idle discourse to flow through them, like the perpetu- 
 al flux of water through the mouth of the Pontic sea, seem 
 to me to have the least esteem for human speech of all 
 men in the world. Whence it comes to pass that they 
 never gain belief, which is the end of all discourse. For 
 the main scope and intention of all men that speak is to 
 
 See Eurip. Bacchae, 886.
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 313 
 
 gain a belief of what they utter with those that hear them ; 
 whereas talkative noise-makers are never believed, let 
 them speak never so much truth. For as wheat, when 
 crowded into a musty vessel, is found to exceed in meas- 
 ure, but to be unwholesome for use ; so the discourse of a 
 loquacious person swells and enlarges itself with lies and 
 falsehood, but in the mean time it loses all force of per- 
 suasion. 
 
 4. Then again, there is no man of modesty and civil- 
 ity but would be careful of preserving himself from 
 drunkenness. For anger, as some are of opinion, is 
 the next neighbor to madness, while drunkenness doth 
 dwell in the very same house with it ; or rather, drunken- 
 ness is madness itself, inferior to it in continuance of time, 
 yet far exceeding it as it is voluntary, since it is a madness 
 of our own choice. Now there is nothing for which drunk- 
 enness is so much abominated and decried, as for that 
 it is the cause of inordinate and unlimited babbling and 
 prating. 
 
 Heated with wine, the man at other times 
 
 Both wise and grave sings loose and wanton rhymes ; 
 
 He minds not loud indecent laughter then, 
 
 Nor mimic dancing, scorned by sober men.* 
 
 And yet both singing, laughing, and dancing are all but 
 trifles to that which follows, the consequences of which 
 are oft-times fatal : 
 
 He blurts those secrets forth, which once revealed, 
 Too late he wishes they had been concealed. 
 
 This is that which oftentimes proves dangerous, if not 
 terrible, to the discoverer. And who knows but that the 
 poet might here design to resolve a question much dis- 
 puted among philosophers, that is to say, what the dif- 
 ference is between being tipsy and stark drunk, by 
 attributing to the former only mirth and jollity of humor, 
 
 See Odyss. XIV. 464.
 
 314 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 but branding the latter with the foul reproach of noxious 
 babbling ? For, according to the proverb. 
 
 What the sober heart conceals, 
 That the drunken heart reveals. 
 
 Wherefore it is reported of Bias, that sitting very silent at 
 a compotation, drinking only when it came to his turn, and 
 being laughed at by one whose tongue ran at random, who 
 for his silence called him mope and fool, he made this re- 
 ply : Find me out that fool, said he, that e'er could hold 
 his tongue in his cups. 
 
 A citizen of Athens, having invited the king of Persia's 
 ambassadors to a magnificent feast, at their request gave 
 the same invitation to the most eminent philosophers in 
 the city, to bear them company. Now, when all the rest 
 were propounding of themes, and raising arguments pro 
 and con, and others were maintaining of paradoxes to show 
 their wit and learning, only Zeno sat still, so reserved and 
 mute that the ambassadors took notice of it ; and there- 
 upon, after they thought they had opened his heart with 
 two or three lusty brimmers, Pray tell us, Zeno, said they, 
 what report we shall make concerning thee to our master? 
 To whom Zeno : Nothing more, said he, but that there 
 was an old man at Athens that could hold his tongue in 
 the midst of his cups. Such profound and divine mysteri- 
 ous virtues are silence and sobriety ; whereas drunkenness 
 is loquacious, void of reason and understanding, and 
 therefore full of jangling and impertinent tautologies. 
 Wherefore the philosophers, when they come to define 
 drunkenness, call it ' vain talk over wine.'' So that drink- 
 ing is not condemned, provided a man keep himself within 
 the bounds of silence ; only vain and silly discourse makes 
 wine-bibbing to be drunkenness. He then that is drunk 
 talks idly over his wine ; but the babbler does it every- 
 where, in the market-place, at the theatre, in the public 
 walks, as well by night as by day. If he be a physician,
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 315 
 
 certainly he is more troublesome than the disease ; if your 
 companion in a voyage, more insupportable than the 
 qualms occasioned by the tumbling of the sea. If he 
 praise thee, his panegyric is more offensive than the 
 reproaches of another. It is a greater pleasure to 
 converse with vicious men, so they be discreet in their lan- 
 guage, than with twaddlers, though never so honest. There- 
 fore Nestor in Sophocles, desirous to appease exasperated 
 Ajax, mildly thus rebuked him : 
 
 I blame thee not, for though thy words are ill, 
 Thy deeds bespeak thee brave and valiant still.* 
 
 But there is not the same excuse to be made for a vain 
 babbling fellow ; for the ill government of his tongue cor- 
 rupts and vitiates all the merits of his actions. 
 
 5. Lysias had given to a certain accused criminal an 
 oration of his own writing. He, having read it several 
 times over, came to Lysias very much dejected, and told 
 him that, upon his first perusal of it, it seemed to him 
 to be a most admirable piece ; but after he had read it 
 three or four times over, he could see nothing in it but 
 what was very dull and insipid. To whom Lysias, smil- 
 ing : What, said he, is not once enough to speak it before 
 the judges'? And yet do but consider the persuasive elo- 
 quence and grace that is in Lysias's writing, and then I 
 may be bold to affirm, 
 
 That no man living e'er was favored more 
 By sacred Muse that violet garlands wore. 
 
 Certain it is that, of all the commendations that were ever 
 given to Homer, this is the truest, that he alone* avoided 
 being irksome to his readers, as one that was always new 
 and still flourishing, as it were in the prime of poetic 
 beauty. And yet in speaking thus of himself, 
 
 I hate vain repetitions, fondly made, 
 Of what has been already plainly said,t 
 
 From Sophocles Frag. 770. t Odyss XII. 462.
 
 316 OP GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 he shows how careful he is to shun that satiety which, as 
 it were, lies in wait for all speech, alluring the ear from 
 one relation into another, and still recreating the reader 
 with fresh variety, in such a manner that he never thinks 
 himself satisfied. Whereas men that let their tongues 
 run at random rend and tear the ears with their tautolo- 
 gies, like those that, after writing-tables have been newly 
 cleansed and wiped, deface them again with their imperti- 
 nent scrawls and scratches. 
 
 6. And therefore we would have them to remember this 
 in the first place, that, as they who constrain men to guz- 
 zle down wine unmixed with water, and to excess, are the 
 occasion that what was bestowed at first on men as a bless- 
 ing, to excite mirth and rejoice the heart, becomes a mis- 
 chief, creating sadness and causing drunkenness ; so they 
 that make an ill and inconsiderate use of speech, which is 
 the most delightful means of human converse, render it 
 both troublesome and unsociable, molesting those whom 
 they think to gratify, derided by those whose esteem and 
 admiration they covet, and offensive to such whose love 
 and friendship they seek. And therefore, as he may be 
 truly said to be no favorite of Venus, who with the girdle 
 of the Goddess, wherein are all manner of allurements, 
 drives and chases away his familiar acquaintance from his 
 society ; so he that vexes others with his loose and extrava- 
 gant talk may be as truly said to be a rustic, wanting alto- 
 gether education and breeding. 
 
 7. Now then, among all other passions and maladies, 
 some arc dangerous, others hateful, and others ridiculous ; 
 but in foolish prating all these inconveniences con- 
 cur. Praters are derided when they make relations of 
 common matters ; they are hated for bringing unwelcome 
 tidings ; they are in danger for divulging of secrets. 
 Whereas Anarcharsis, being feasted by Solon, was es- 
 teemed a wise man, for that, as he lay asleep after the
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 317 
 
 banquet was over, he was seen with his left hand over his 
 privy parts, and his right hand laid upon his mouth ; deem- 
 ing, as indeed he rightly believed, that his tongue required 
 the stronger curb. For though it would be a hard task to 
 reckon up how many men have perished through the vene- 
 real intemperance, yet I dare say it would be almost as 
 difficult to tell how many cities and States have been de- 
 molished and totally subverted by the inconsiderate blurt- 
 ing out of a secret. 
 
 Sylla besieged Athens at a time when it was certain that 
 he could not lie long before the city, by reason that other 
 affairs and troubles called him another way. For on the 
 one side, Mithridates ravaged Asia ; on the other, Marius's 
 party had made themselves masters of Jlome. But it hap- 
 pened, that certain old fellows being met together in a 
 barber's shop, among other discourse, blabbed it out, that 
 the Heptachalcon was ill guarded, and that the city was in 
 great danger of a surprise in that part. Which being 
 overheard and reported to Sylla by certain of his spies, he 
 presently brought all his forces on that side, and about 
 midnight, after a sharp assault, entered the city with his 
 whole army, and it was a thousand to one but that he had 
 laid it in ashes. However, he filled it with the carcasses 
 of the slain, and made the Ceramicus run with blood ; 
 being highly incensed against the Athenians, more for their 
 reproachful language than their military opposition. For 
 they had abused both him and his wife Metella, getting up 
 upon the walls and calling him " mulberry strewed with 
 dust meal r " with many other provoking scoffs of the same 
 nature; and merely for a few words which, as Plato 
 observes, are the lightest things in the world they drew 
 upon their heads the severest punishment. 
 
 The tongue of one man prevented Rome from recovering 
 her freedom by the destruction of Nero. For there was 
 but one night to pass before Nero was to be murdered on
 
 318 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 the morrow, all things being ready prepared and agreed on 
 for that purpose. But in the mean time it happened that 
 he who had undertaken to execute the act, as he was going 
 to the theatre, seeing one of those poor creatures that 
 were bound and pinioned, just ready to be led before Nero, 
 and hearing the fellow bewail his hard fortune, gathered 
 up close to him, and whispered the poor fellow in the ear : 
 Pray only, honest friend, said he, that thou mayest but 
 escape this day ; to-morrow thou shalt give me thanks. 
 Presently the fellow taking hold of this enigmatical speech, 
 and calling to mind the vulgar saying, that he is a fool 
 who lets slip a bird in the hand for a bird in the bush, 
 preferred the surer to the juster way of saving himself, 
 and presently declared to Nero what that man had whis- 
 pered in his ear. Immediately the whisperer was laid hold 
 of, and hurried away to the place of torture, where by 
 racking, searing, and scourging he was constrained, poor 
 miserable creature, to confess that by force which before 
 he had discovered without any compulsion at all. 
 
 8. Zeno, that he might not be compelled by the tortures 
 of his body to betray, against his will, the secrets entrusted 
 in his breast, bit off his tongue, and spit it in the tyrant > 
 face. Notorious also was the example of Leaena, and 
 signal the reward which she had for being true to her trust 
 and constant in her taciturnity. She was a courtesan with 
 whom Harmodius and Aristogiton were very familiar ; 
 and for that reason they had imparted to her the great 
 hopes which they had upon the success of the conspiracy 
 against the tyrants, wherein they were so deeply engaged ; 
 while she on the other side, having drunk freely of the 
 noble cup of love, had been initiated into their secrets 
 through the God of Lovr ; and she failed not of her vow. 
 For the i\\a paramours bcin.i; taken and put to death after 
 they had failed in their enterprise, she was also apprehended 
 and put to the torture, to force out of her a discovery of
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 319 
 
 the rest of the accomplices ; but all the torments and ex- 
 tremities they could exercfce upon her body could not 
 prevail to make her discover so much as one person ; 
 whereby she manifested to the world that the two gentle- 
 men, her friends, had done nothing misbecoming their 
 descent, in having bestowed their affections upon such a 
 woman. For this reason the Athenians, as a monument 
 of her virtue, set up a lioness (which the name Leaena 
 signifies) in brass, without a tongue, just at the entrance 
 into the Acropolis ; by the stomachful courage of that 
 beast signifying to posterity the invincible resolution of 
 the woman ; and by making it without a tongue, denoting 
 her constancy in keeping the secret with which she was 
 entrusted. For never any word spoken did so much good, 
 as many locked up in silence. Thus at one time or other 
 a man may utter what heretofore has been kept a secret ; 
 but when a secret is once blurted forth, it can never be 
 recalled ; for it flies abroad, and spreads in a moment far 
 and near. And hence it is that we have men to teach us 
 to speak, but the Gods are they that teach us silence ; 
 silence being the first thing commanded upon our first in- 
 itiation into their divine ceremonies and sacred mvsteries. 
 
 w 
 
 And therefore it is that Homer makes Ulysses, whose elo- 
 quence was so charming, to be the most silent of men ; and 
 the same virtue he also attributes to his son, to his wife, 
 and also to his nurse. For thus you hear her speaking : 
 
 Safe, as in hardened steel or sturdy oak, 
 Within my breast these secrets will I lock. 
 
 And Ulysses himself, sitting by Penelope before he discov- 
 ered himself, is thus brought in : 
 
 His weeping wife with pity he beheld. 
 Although not willing yet to be revealed. 
 He would not move his eyes, but kept them fast, 
 Like horn or steel within his eyebrows placed.* 
 
 Odyss. XIX. 494 and 204.
 
 320 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 So powerfully possessed with continence were both his 
 tongue and lips ; and having all the rest of his members so 
 obedient and subject to his reason, he commanded his eye 
 not to weep, his tongue not to speak a word, and his heart 
 neither to pant nor tremble. 
 
 So was his suffering heart confined 
 To give obedience to his mind ; * 
 
 his reason penetrating even to those inward motions, and 
 subduing to itself the blood and vital spirits. Such were 
 many of the rest of his followers. For though they were 
 dragged and haled by Polyphemus, and had their heads 
 dashed against the ground, they would not confess a word 
 concerning their lord and master Ulysses, nor discover the 
 long piece of wood that was put in the fire and prepared 
 to put out his eye ; but rather suffered themselves to be 
 devoured raw than to disclose any one of their master's 
 secrets ; which was an example of fidelity and reservedness 
 not to be paralleled. Pittacus therefore did very well, 
 who, when the king of Egypt sent him an oblation-beast, 
 and ordered him to take out and set apart the best and 
 worst piece of it, pulled out the tongue and sent to him, 
 as being the instrument of many good things as well as 
 the instrument of the greatest evils in the world. 
 
 9. Ino therefore, in Euripides, frankly extolling herself, 
 says: 
 
 I know both when and where my ton-rue to hold, 
 And when with safety to be freely bold.t 
 
 For they that are brought up under a truly generous and 
 royal education learn first to be silent, and then to talk. 
 And therefore King Antigonus, when his son asked him 
 when they should discamp, replied, What! art thou afraid 
 of being the only man that shall not hear the trumpet? 
 So loath was he to trust him with a secret, to whom he 
 was to leave his kingdom ; teaching him thereby, when he 
 
 Odyu. XX. 28. t Eurip. Ino, Frag. 417.
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 321 
 
 came to command another day, to be no less wary and 
 sparing of his speech. Metellus also, that old soldier, 
 being asked some such question about the intended march 
 of his army, If I thought, said he, that my shirt were 
 privy to this secret, I would pull it off and throw it into 
 the fire. Eumenes also, when he heard that Craterus was 
 marching with his forces against him, said not a word of 
 it to his best friend, but gave out all along that it was 
 Neoptolemus ; for him his soldiers contemned, but they 
 admired Craterus's fame and virtue ; but nobody knew the 
 truth but Eumenes himself. Thereupon joining battle, the 
 victory fell to their side, and they slew Craterus, not know- 
 ing whom he was till they found him among the slain. So 
 cunningly did taciturnity manage this combat, and conceal 
 so great an adversary ; so that the friends of Eumenes 
 admired rather than reproved him for not telling them 
 beforehand. For indeed, should a man be blamed in such 
 a case, it is better for him to be accused after victory ob- 
 tained by his distrust, than to be obliged to blame others 
 after an overthrow because he has been too easy to impart 
 his secrets. 
 
 10. Nay, what man is he that dares take upon him the 
 freedom to blame another for not keeping the secret which 
 he himself has revealed to him"? For if the secret ought 
 not to have been divulged, it was ill done to break it to 
 another ; but if, after thou hast let it go from thyself, thou 
 wouldst have another keep it in, surely it is a great argu- 
 ment that thou hast more confidence in another than in 
 thyself; for, if he be like thyself, thou art deservedly 
 lost ; if better, then thou art miraculously saved, as having 
 met with a person more faithful to thfce than thou art to 
 thy own interest. But thou wilt say, he is my friend. 
 Very good : yet this friend of mine had another, in whom 
 he might confide as much as I did in him ; and in like 
 manner his friend another, to the end of the chapter.
 
 322 <> F GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 And thus the secret gains ground, and spreads itself by 
 multiplication of babbling. For as a unit never exceeds 
 its bounds, but always remains one, and is therefore called 
 a unit ; but the next is two, which contains the unlimited 
 principle of diversity, for it straightway departs from 
 out of itself (as it were) and by doubling turns to a plu- 
 rality, so speech abiding in the first person's thoughts 
 may truly be called a secret; 'but being communicated to 
 another, it presently changes its name into common rumor. 
 This is the reason that Homer gives to words the epithet 
 of winged; for he that lets a bird go out of his hand 
 does not easily catch her again ; neither is it possible for a 
 man to recall and cage again in his breast a word let slip 
 from his mouth ; * for with light wings it fetches many a 
 compass, and flutters about from one quarter to another in 
 a moment. The course of a ship may well be stayed by 
 cables and anchors, which else would spoon away before a 
 fresh gale of wind ; but there is no fast riding or anchor- 
 hold for speech, when once let loose as from a harbor ; 
 but being whirled away with a sonorous noise and loud 
 echo, it carries off and plunges the unwary babbler into 
 some fatal danger. 
 
 For goon a little spark of fire, let fly, 
 May kindle Ida's wood, so thick and high 
 What one man to his seeming friend lets go, 
 Whole cities may with ease enquire and know.t 
 
 11. The Senate of Rome had been debating among 
 themselves a certain piece of secrecy for several days, 
 which caused the matter to be so much the more suspected 
 and listened after. Whereupon a certJiin Roman lady, 
 discreet enough mother things, but yet a woman, laid at 
 her husband day and night, and mournfully importuned 
 him what the secret might be. Oaths, you may be sure, 
 she was ready to make, and to curse herself if ever she 
 
 See Euripides, Frag. 1081. t Eurip. Ino, Frag. 415.
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 323 
 
 revealed whatever he should tell ; nor was she wanting in 
 tears, and many moist complaints of her being a woman 
 so little to be trusted by a husband. The Roman thus 
 beset, yet willing in some measure to make trial of her 
 fidelity and convince her of her folly, Thou hast overcome 
 me, wife, said he, and now I'll tell thee a most dreadful 
 and prodigious thing. We were advertised by the priests, 
 that a lark was seen flying in the air, with a golden helmet 
 upon her head and a spear in one of her claws ; now we 
 are consulting with the augurs or soothsayers about this 
 portent, whether it be good or bad. But keep it 'to thy- 
 self, for it may be of great concernment for the common- 
 wealth. Having so said, he walked forth toward the 
 market-place. No sooner was he gone, but his wife 
 caught hold of the first of her maids that entered the 
 room, and then striking her breast and tearing her hair, 
 Woe is me, said she, for my poor husband and dearest coun- 
 try ! What will become of us ? prompting the maid, as 
 if she were desirous that she should say to her, Whyl 
 What is the matter, mistress I Upon which she presently 
 unfolded all that her husband had told her ; nay, she for- 
 got not the common burden with which all twattle-baskets 
 conclude their stories ; But, hussy, said she, for your life, 
 be sure you say not a word of this to any soul living. The 
 wench was no sooner got out of her mistress's sight, but 
 meeting with one of her fellow-servants that had little to 
 do, to her she unbosoms herself; she, big with the news, 
 with no less speed runs away to her sweetheart, who was 
 come to give her a visit, and without any more to do tells 
 him all. By this means the story flew about the market- 
 place before the first deviser of it could get thither. Pres- 
 ently one of his acquaintance meeting him asked, Did ye 
 come straight from your house ? Without stop or stay, 
 replied the other. And did ye hear nothing? says his 
 friend. Why 1 quoth the other, Is there any news ? Oh !
 
 324 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 quoth his friend, a lark has been seen flying in the air, 
 with a golden helmet upon her head and a spear in her 
 claw, and the Senate is summoned to consult about it. 
 Upon which the gentleman, smiling : God a mercy, wife, 
 quoth he, for being so nimble ! One would have thought 
 I might have got into the market-place before a story so 
 lately told thee ; but I see 'twas not to be done. There- 
 upon meeting with some of the senators, he soon delivered 
 them out of their pain. However, being resolved to take 
 a slight revenge of his wife, making haste home, Wife, 
 said he, thou hast undone me ; for it is found out that the 
 great secret I told thee was first divulged out of my house ; 
 and now must I be banished from my native country for 
 your wicked gaggling tongue. At first his wife would 
 have denied the matter, and put it off from her husband 
 by telling him there were three hundred more besides 
 himself that heard the thing, and why might not one of 
 those divulge it as well as he ? But he bade her never tell 
 him of three hundred more, and told her it was an inven- 
 tion of his own framing to try her and to avoid her impor- 
 tunity. Thus this Roman safely and cautiously made the 
 experiment of his wife's ability to keep a secret ; as when 
 we pour into a cracked and leaky vessel, not wine nor oil, 
 but water only. 
 
 But Fulvius, one of Augustus Caesar's minions and 
 favorites, once heard the emperor deploring the desolation 
 of his family, in regard his two grandchildren by his 
 daughter were both dead, and Postumius, who only re- 
 mained alive, upon an accusation charged against him was 
 confined to banishment, so that he was forced to set up his 
 wife's son to succeed him in the empire, yet upon more 
 compassionate thoughts, signifying his determination to 
 recall Postumius from exile. This Fulvius hearing related 
 the whole to his wife, and she to Livia. Livia sharply 
 expostulated the matter with Caesar ; wherefore, seeing he
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 325 
 
 had projected the thing so long before, he did not send for 
 his daughter's son at first, but exposed her to the hatred 
 and revenge of him that he had determined to be his suc- 
 cessor. The next morning Fulvius coming into Augustus's 
 presence, and saluting him with Hail, O Caesar ! Caesar 
 retorted upon him, God send thee more wit, Fulvius. lie, 
 presently apprehending the meaning of the repartee, made 
 haste home again ; and calling for his wife, Caesar under- 
 stands, said he. that I have discovered his secret counsels, 
 and therefore I am resolved to lay violent hands upon my- 
 self. And justly too, said she, thou dost deserve to die, 
 since having lived so long with me, thou didst not know 
 the lavishness of my tongue, and how unable I was to 
 keep a secret. However, suffer me to die first. And with 
 that, snatching the sword out of her husband's hands, she 
 slew herself before his face. 
 
 12. Truly therefore was it said by Philippides the come 
 dian, who being courteously and familiarly asked by King 
 Lysimachus, what he should bestow upon him of all the 
 treasure that he had, made answer, Any thing, O King, but 
 your secrets. 
 
 But there is another vice no less mischievous that attends 
 garrulity, called Curiosity. For there are a sort of people 
 that desire to hear a great deal of news, that they may 
 have matter enough to twattle abroad ; and these are the 
 most diligent in the world to pry and dive into the secrets 
 of others, that they may enlarge and aggravate their own 
 loquacity with new stories and fooleries. And then they 
 are like children, that neither can endure to hold the ice in 
 their hands nor will let it go ; or rather they may be said 
 to lodge other men's secrets in their bosoms, like so many 
 serpents, which they are not able to keep there long, be- 
 cause they eat their way through. It is said that the fish 
 called the sea-needle and vipers rive asunder and burst 
 themselves when they bring forth ; in like manner, secrets,
 
 326 OP GARRULITY, OB TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 dropping from the mouths of those that cannot contain 
 them, destroy and overthrow the revealers. Seleucus Cal- 
 linicus, having lost his whole army in a battle fought with 
 the Galatians, threw off his royal diadem, and flew away 
 full speed on a horse with three or four attendants, wander- 
 ing through by-roads and deserts, till at last he began to 
 faint for want of food. At length coming to a certain 
 countryman's house, and finding the owner himself within, 
 he asked him for a little bread and water; which the 
 countryman not only readily fetched him, but what else his 
 ground would afford he very liberally and plentifully set 
 before the king and his companions, making them all as 
 heartily welcome as it was possible for him to do. At 
 length, in the midst of their cheer, he knew the king's 
 face. This overjoyed the man to such a degree, that he 
 should have the happiness to relieve the king in his neces- 
 sity, that he was not able to contain himself or dissem- 
 ble his knowledge of the king; but after he had rode a 
 little way with him and came to take his leave ; Farewell, 
 King Seleucus, said the poor man. But then the king, 
 stretching forth his right hand and pulling his host to his 
 breast, as if he had intended to kiss him, nodded to one 
 of his followers to strike off the countryman's head with 
 his sword. 
 
 E'en while lie speaks, his head rolls in the dust* 
 
 Whereas if he could but have held his peace and mastered 
 his tongue for a little while, till the king, as afterwards he 
 did, had recovered his good fortune and grandeur, he had 
 been doubtless better rewarded for his silence than he was 
 for his hospitality. And yet this poor man had some 
 colorable excuse for letting his tongue at liberty ; that is to 
 say, his hopes, and the kindness he had done the king. 
 
 13. But most of your twattlers, without any cause or 
 pretence at all, destroy themselves ; as it happened when 
 
 II. X. 467.
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 327 
 
 certain fellows began to talk pretty freely in a barber's 
 shop concerning the tyranny of Dionysius, that it was as 
 secure and inexpugnable as a rock of adamant : I wonder, 
 quoth the barber, laughing, that you should talk these 
 things before me concerning Dionysius, whose throat is 
 almost every day under my razor. Which scurrilous free- 
 dom of the barber being related to the tyrant, he caused 
 him forthwith to be crucified. And indeed the generality 
 of barbers are a prating generation of men ; in regard the 
 most loquacious praters usually resort to their shops, and 
 there sit prattling ; from whence the barbers also learn an 
 ill habit of twattling. Pleasant therefore was the answer 
 of Archelaus to the barber who, after he had cast the linen 
 toilet about his shoulders, put this question to him, How 
 shall I trim your majesty ; In silence, quoth the king. It 
 was a barber that first reported the news of the great over- 
 throw which the Athenians received in Sicily ; for being 
 the first that heard the relation of it in the Piraeus, from a 
 servant of one of those who had escaped out of the battle, 
 he presently left his shop at sixes and sevens, and flew into 
 the city as fast as his heels could carry him, 
 
 For fear some other should the honor claim 
 Of being first, when he but second came.* 
 
 Now you may be sure that the first spreader of this news 
 caused a great hubbub in the city, insomuch that the peo- 
 ple, thronging together in the market-place, made diligent 
 enquiry for the first divulger. Presently the barber was 
 brought by head and shoulders to the crowd, and examined ; 
 but he could give no account of his author, only one that 
 he never saw or knew in his life before had told him the 
 news. Which so incensed the multitude, that they im- 
 mediately cried out, To the rack with the traitor, tie the 
 lying rascal neck and heels together. This is a mere story 
 of the rogue's own making. Who heard it? Who gave 
 
 IL xxii. 207.
 
 328 op GARRULITY", OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 any credit to it beside himself? At the same instant the 
 wheel was brought out, and the poor barber stretched upon 
 it, not to his ease, you may be sure. And then it was, 
 and not before, that the news of the defeat was confirmed 
 by several that had made a hard shift to escape the slaugh- 
 ter. Upon which the people scattered every one to his 
 own home, to make their private lamentation for their par- 
 ticular losses, leaving the unfortunate barber bound fast to 
 the wheel ; in which condition he continued till late in the 
 evening, before he was let loose. Nor would this reform 
 the impertinent fool ; for no sooner was he at liberty but 
 he would needs be enquiring of the executioner, what 
 news, and what was reported of the manner of Nicias the 
 general's being slain. So inexpugnable and incorrigible a 
 vice is loquacity, gotten by custom and ill habit, that they 
 cannot leave it off, though they were sure to be hanged. 
 
 14. And yet we find that people_have the same antipa- 
 thy against divulgers of bad tidings, as they that drink 
 bitter and distasteful potions have against the cups where- 
 in they drank them. Elegant therefore is the dispute in 
 Sophocles between the messenger and Creon : 
 
 MESSENGER. By what I tell and what you hear, 
 Do I offend your heart or ear 1 
 
 CREOK. Why so inquisitive to sound 
 
 My grief, and search the painful wound 1 
 
 MESSENGER. My news afflicts thy ears, I find , 
 
 But 'tis the fact torments thy mind.* 
 
 Thus they that bring us bad tidings are as bad as they 
 who are the authors of our misery ; and yet there is 
 no restraining or correcting the tongue that will run at 
 random. 
 
 It happened that the temple of Minerva in Lacedaemon 
 called Chalcioecus was robbed, and nothing but an earthen 
 pitcher left behind ; which caused a great concourse of 
 people, where every one spent his verdict about the empty 
 
 Soph. Antigone, 817.
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 329 
 
 pitcher. Gentlemen, says one, pray give me leave to tell 
 ye my opinion concerning this pitcher. I am apt to be- 
 lieve, that these sacrilegious villains, before they ventured 
 upon so dangerous an attempt, drank each of them a 
 draught of hemlock juice, and then brought wine along 
 with them in this pitcher ; to the end that, if it were their 
 good hap to escape without being apprehended, they might 
 soon dissolve and extinguish the strength and vigor of the 
 venom by the force of the wine unmixed and pure ; but if 
 they should be surprised and taken in the fact, that then 
 they might die without feeling any pain under the torture 
 of the rack. Having thus said, the people, observing so 
 much forecast and contrivance in the thing, would not be 
 persuaded that any man could have such ready thoughts 
 upon a bare conjecture, but that he must know it to be so. 
 Thereupon, immediately gathering about him, one asked 
 who he was ; another, who knew him ; a third, how he 
 came to be so much a philosopher. And at length, they 
 did so sift and canvass and fetch him about, that the 
 fellow confessed himself to be one of those that com- 
 mitted the sacrilege. 
 
 And were not they who murdered the poet Ibycus dis- 
 covered after the same manner, as they sat in the theatre ? 
 For as they were sitting there under the open sky to be- 
 hold the public pastimes, they observed a flock of cranes 
 flying over their heads ; upon which they whispered mer- 
 rily one to another, Look, yonder are the revengers of 
 Ibycus's death. Which words being overheard by some 
 that sat next them, in regard that Ibycus had been long 
 missing but could not be found, though diligent search had 
 been made after him, they presently gave information 
 of what they had heard to the magistrates. By whom 
 being examined and convicted, they suffered condign pun- 
 ishment, though not betrayed by the cranes, but by the 
 incontinency of their own tongues, and by an avenging
 
 330 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 Erinnys hovering over their heads and constraining them 
 to confess the murder. For as in the body, wounded ;uul 
 diseased members draw to themselves the vicious humors 
 of the neighboring parts ; in like manner, the unruly 
 tongues of babblers, infested (as it were) with inflamma- 
 tions where a sort of feverish pulses continually lie beat- 
 ing, will be always drawing to themselves something of 
 the secret and private concerns of other men. And there- 
 fore the tongue ought to be environed with reason, as with 
 a rampart perpetually lying before it, like a mound, to 
 stop the overflowing and slippery exuberance of imperti- 
 nent talk ; that we may not seem to be more silly than 
 geese, which, when they take their flight out of Cilicia 
 over the mountain Taurus, which abounds with eagles, are 
 reported to carry every one a good big stone in their bills, 
 instead of a bridle or barricade, to restrain their gaggling. 
 By which means they cross those hideous forests in the 
 night-time undiscovered. 
 
 15. Now then if the question should be asked, Which 
 are the worst and most pernicious sort of people ? I do not 
 believe there is any man that would ornit to name a traitor. 
 By treason it was that Euthy crates covered the uppermost 
 story of his house with Macedonian timber, according to 
 the report of Demosthenes ; that Philocrates, having re- 
 ceived a good sum of money, spent it upon whores and 
 fish ; and that Euphorbus and Philagrus, who betrayed 
 Eretria, were so well rewarded by the king with ample 
 Dossessions. But a prattler is a sort of traitor that no 
 man needs to hire, for that he offers himself officiously 
 and of his own accord. Nor does he betray to the enemy 
 either horse or walls ; but whatever he knows of public 
 or private concerns requiring the greatest secrecy, that he 
 discloses, whether it be in courts of judicature, in con- 
 spiracies, or management of state affairs, 'tis all one ; he 
 expects not so much as the reward of being thanked for
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 331 
 
 his pains ; nay, rather he will return thanks to them that 
 give him audience. And therefore what was said upon a 
 certain spendthrift that rashly and without any discretion 
 wasted his own estate by his lavish prodigality to others, 
 
 Thou art not liberal ; 'tis a disease 
 
 Of vainly giving, which does thee possess ; 
 
 'Tis all to please thyself, what thou dost give,* 
 
 may well be retorted upon a common prattler : 
 
 Thou art no friend, nor dost to me impart, 
 For friendship's sake, the secrets of thy heart ; 
 But as thy tongue has neither bolt nor lock, 
 'Tis thy disease, that thou delight'st to talk. 
 
 16. Nor would I have the reader think that what has 
 hitherto been said has been discoursed so much to blame as 
 to cure that vicious and infectious malady of loquaciousness. 
 For though we surmount and vanquish the vices of the mind 
 by judgment and exercise, yet must the judgment precede. 
 For no man will accustom himself to avoid and, as it were, 
 to extirpate out of his soul those vices, unless he first 
 abominate them. Nor can we ever detest those evil habits 
 of the mind as we ought to do, but when we rightly judge 
 by reason's light of the prejudice they do us, and the igno- 
 miny we sustain thereby. For example, we consider and 
 find that these profuse babblers, desirous of being be- 
 loved, are universally hated ; while they study to gratify, 
 they become troublesome ; while they seek to be admked, 
 they are derided. If they aim at profit, they lose all their 
 labor ; in short, they injure their friends, advantage their 
 enemies, and undo themselves. And therefore the first 
 remedy and -cure for this spreading malady will be this, to 
 reckon up all the shameful infamies and disasters that 
 attend it. 
 
 17. The second remedy is to take into serious consider- 
 ation the practice of the opposite virtue, by always hearing, 
 remembering, and having ready ut hand the due praises 
 
 * From Epicharmu*.
 
 332 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 and encomiums of rcscrvedness and taciturnity, together 
 with the majesty, sanctimony, and mysterious profoundness 
 of silence. Let them consider how much more beloved, how 
 much more admired, how far they are reputed to excel in 
 prudence, who deliver their minds in few words, roundly 
 and sententiously, and contract a great deal of sense within 
 a small compass of speech, than such as fly out into vol- 
 uminous language, and suffer their tongues to run before 
 their wit. The former are those whom Plato so much 
 praises, and likens unto skilful archers, darting forth their 
 sentences thick and close, as it were crisped and curled 
 one within another. To this same shrewdness of expres- 
 sion Lycurgus accustomed his fellow-citizens from their 
 childhood by the exercise of silence, contracting and thick- 
 ening their discourse into a compendious delivery. For as 
 the Celtiberiaus make steel of iron by burying it in the 
 ground, thereby to refine it from the gross and earthy part, 
 sft the Laconic way of speech has nothing of bark upon it, 
 but by cutting off all superfluity of words, it becomes steeled 
 and sharpened to pierce the understanding of the hearers. 
 So their consciousness of language, so ready to turn the 
 edge to all manner of questions, became natural by their 
 extraordinary practice of silence. And therefore it would 
 be very expedient for persons so much given to talk, always 
 to have before their eyes the short and pithy sayings of 
 those people, were it only to let them see the force and 
 gravity which they contain. For example : The Lacedae- 
 monians to Philip ; Dionysius in Corinth. And when 
 Philip wrote thus to the Spartans : If once I enter into 
 your territories, I will destroy ye all, never to rise again ; 
 they answered him with the single word, If. To King 
 Demetrius exclaiming in a great rage, What ! have the 
 Spartans sent me but one ambassador? the ambassador 
 nothing terrified replied, Yes ; one to one. Certainly they 
 that spoke short and concisely were much admired by the
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 333 
 
 ancients. Therefore the Amphictyons gave order, not that 
 the Iliad or the Odyssey or Pindar's paeans should be 
 written upon Pythian Apollo's temple ; but Know thy- 
 self; Nothing too much; Give sureties, and mischief is at 
 hand. So much did they admire conciseness of speech, 
 comprehending full sense in so much brevity, made solid 
 as it were by the force of a hammer. Does not the Deity 
 himself study compendious utterance in the delivery of his 
 oracles I Is he not therefore called Loxias,* because he 
 avoids rather loquacity than obscurity ? Are not they that 
 signify their meaning by certain signs, without words, in 
 great admiration and highly applauded \ Thus Heraclitus, 
 being desired by his fellow-citizens to give them his opin- 
 ion concerning Concord, ascended the public pulpit, and 
 taking a cup of cold water into his hand, first sprinkled it 
 with a little flour, then stirring it with a sprig of penny- 
 royal, drank it off, and so came down again ; intimating there- 
 by, that if men would but be contented with what was nest 
 at hand, without longing after dainties and superfluities, it 
 would be an easy thing for cities to live in peace and con- 
 cord one with another. 
 
 Scilurus, king of the Scythians, left fourscore sons be- 
 hind him ; who, when he found the hour of death approach- 
 ing, ordered them to bring him a bundle of small javelins, 
 and then commanded every one singly to try whether he 
 could break the bundle, as it was, tied up altogether ; which 
 when they told him it was impossible for them to do, he 
 drew out the javelins one by one, and brake them all him- 
 self with ease ; thereby declaring that, so long as they kept 
 together united and in concord, their force would be in- 
 vincible, but that by disunion and discord they would 
 enfeeble each other, and render their dominion of small 
 continuance. 
 
 18. He then, that by often repeating and reflection shall 
 
 The name Loxias is usually derived from Aojof, indirect. (G.)
 
 334 OF GARRULITY. OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 enure himself to such precedents as these, may in time per- 
 haps be more delighted with these short and conclusive 
 apophthegms than with the exorbitances of loose and lav- 
 ish discourse. For my own part, I must acknowledge that 
 I am not a little ashamed of myself, when I call to mind that 
 same domestic servant of whom I am now going to speak, 
 and consider how great a thing it is to advise before a man 
 speaks, and then to be able to maintain and stick to what 
 he has resolved upon. 
 
 Pupius Piso, the rhetorician, being unwilling to be dis- 
 turbed with much talk, gave orders to his servants to answer 
 to such questions only as he should ask them, and say no 
 more. Then having a design to give an entertainment to 
 Clodius, at that time magistrate, he ordered him to be in- 
 vited, and provided a splendid banquet for him, as in all prob- 
 ability he could do no less. At the time appointed several 
 other guests appeared, only they waited for Clodius's coming, 
 who tarried much longer than was expected ; so that Piso 
 sent his servant several times to him, to know whether he 
 would be pleased to come to supper or no. Now when it 
 grew late and Piso despaired of his coming, What ! said he 
 to his servant, did you call him ? Yes, replied the servant. 
 Why then does he not come away ? Because he told me 
 he would not come. Why did you not tell me so before ? 
 Because, sir, you never asked me the question. This was a 
 Roman servant. But an Athenian servant, while he is 
 digging and delving, will give his master an account of the 
 articles and capitulations in a treaty of peace. So strangely 
 does custom prevail in all things, of which let us now dis- 
 course. 
 
 19. For there is no curb or bridle that can tame or re- 
 strain a libertine tongue ; only custom must vanquish that 
 disease. First therefore, when there are many questions 
 propounded in the company where thou art, accustom thy-
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 335 
 
 self to silence till all the rest have refused to give an 
 answer. For, as Sophocles observes, 
 
 Although in racing swiftness is required, 
 In counselling there's no such haste desired ; 
 
 no more do speech and answer aim at the same mark with 
 running. For it is the business of a racer to get the 
 start of him that contends with him ; but if another man 
 gives a sufficient answer, there needs no more than to com- 
 mend and approve what he says, and so gain the reputation 
 of a candid person. If not, then to tell wherein the other 
 failed and to supply the defect will neither be unseasonable 
 nor a thing that can justly merit distaste. But above all 
 things, let us take special heed, when another is asked a 
 question, that we do not chop in to prevent his returning 
 an answer. And perhaps it is as little commendable, when 
 a question is asked of another, to put him by, and under 
 take the solution of what is demanded ourselves. For 
 thereby we seem to intimate that the person to whom the 
 question was put was not able to resolve it, and that the 
 propounder had not discretion sufficient to know of whom 
 to ask it. Besides, such a malapert forwardness in an- 
 swering is not only indecent, but injurious and affrontive. 
 For he that prevents the person to whom the question is 
 put in returning his answer, would in effect insinuate a 
 What need had you to ask of him? What can he say to 
 it? When I am in presence, no man ought to be asked 
 those questions but myself. And yet many times we put 
 questions to some people, not for want of an answer, but 
 only to minister occasion of discourse to provoke them to 
 familiarity, and to have the pleasure of their wit and con- 
 versation, as Socrates was wont to challenge Theaetetus 
 and Charmides. Therefore to prevent another in returning 
 his answers, to abstract his ears, and draw off his cogita- 
 tions from another to himself, is the same thing as to run 
 and salute a man who designs to be saluted by somebody
 
 336 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 else, or to divert his eyes upon ourselves which were al- 
 ready fixed upon another ; considering that if he to whom 
 the question is put refuse to return an answer, it is but 
 decent for a man to contain himself, and by an answer 
 accommodate to the will of the propounder, modestly and 
 respectfully to put in, as if it had been at the request or 
 in the behalf of the other. For they that are asked a 
 question, if they fail in their answer, are justly to be par- 
 doned ; but he that voluntarily presumes to answer for 
 another gives distaste, let his answer be never so rational ; 
 but if he mistake, he is derided by all the company. 
 
 20. The second point of exercise, in reference to our 
 own answering of questions, wherein a man that is given 
 to talk ought to be extremely careful, is first of all not to 
 be over-hasty in his answers to such as provoke him to 
 talk on purpose to make themselves merry and to put an 
 affront upon him. For some there are who, not out of 
 any desire to be satisfied, but merely to pass away the 
 time, study certain questions, and then propound them to 
 persons which they know love to multiply words, on pur- 
 pose to make themselves sport. Such men therefore ought 
 to take heed how they run headlong and leap into dis- 
 course, as if they were glad of the occasion, and to con- 
 sider the behavior of the propounder and the benefit and 
 usefulness of the question. When we find that the pro- 
 pounder is really desirous to be informed, it is convenient 
 then for a man to bethink himself awhile, and make some 
 pause between the question and the answer ; to the end 
 that the proposer, if he pleases to make any additions to 
 his proposal, may have time to do it, and himself a conven- 
 ient space to consider what answer to make, for fear of 
 running at random and stifling the question before it be 
 fully propounded, or of giving one answer for another for 
 want of considering what he ought to say, which is the 
 effect of an over-hasty zeal to be talking. True it is,
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 337 
 
 indeed, that the Pythian priestess was wont to give her 
 oracular answers at the very instant, and sometimes before 
 the question was propounded. For that the Deity whom 
 she serves 
 
 Both understands the mute that cannot speak, 
 And hears the silent e'er his mind he break.* 
 
 But it behooves a man that would return a pertinent an- 
 swer, to stay till he rightly apprehend the sense and under- 
 stand the intent of him that propounds the question, lest 
 he may happen to make good the proverb, 
 
 A rake we called for ; they refused a bowl. 
 
 Besides, we must subdue this inordinate and insatiate greed- 
 iness of having all the talk, that it may not seem as if we 
 had some old flux of humors impostumated about the 
 tongue, which we were willing to have lanced and let 
 oftt by a question. Socrates therefore, though never so 
 thirsty after violent exercise, never would allow himself the 
 liberty to drink, till he had drawn one bucket of water 
 and poured it out upon the ground ; to the end he might 
 accustom his sensual appetite to attend reason's appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 21. Now therefore we come to understand that there 
 are three sorts of answers to questions, the necessary, the 
 polite, and the superfluous. For example, if a man should 
 ask whether Socrates is within, the other, if he were in an 
 ill-humor or not disposed to make many words, would 
 answer, Not within ; or if he intended to be more Laconic, 
 he would cut off " within," and reply briefly, No. Thus 
 the Lacedaemonians, when Philip sent them an epistle, to 
 know whether or not they would admit him into their 
 city, vouchsafed him no other answer than only No, fairly 
 written in large letters upon a sheet of paper. Another 
 that would answer more courteously would say : He is not 
 within ; he is gone among the bankers ; and perhaps he 
 
 See Ilerod. I. 47.
 
 338 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 would add, Where he expects some friends. But a super- 
 fluous prater, if he chance to have read Antimachus of 
 Colophon, would reply : He is not within ; but is gone 
 among the bankers, in expectation to meet certain Ionian 
 friends, who are recommended to him in a letter from Al- 
 cibiades, who lives at Miletus with Tissaphernes, one of 
 the great king of Persia's lieutenant-generals, who for- 
 merly assisted the Lacedaemonians, but is now, by the 
 solicitation of Alcibiades, in league with the Athenians ; 
 for Alcibiades, being desirous to return to his own country, 
 has prevailed with Tissaphernes to change his mind and 
 join with the Athenians. And thus perhaps you shall have 
 him run on and repeat the whole eighth book of Thu- 
 cydides, and overwhelm a man with his impertinent 
 discourse, till he has taken Miletus, and banished Alci- 
 biades a second time. Herein therefore ought a m&n 
 chiefly to restrain the profuseness of his language, by 
 following the footsteps of the question, and circumscribing 
 the answer, as it were, within a circle proportionable to 
 the benefit which the propounder proposes to make of 
 his question. It is reported of Carneades, that before he 
 was well known in the world, while he was disputing in 
 the Gymnasium, the president of the place sent him an 
 admonition to moderate his voice (for he naturally spoke 
 very deep and loud) ; in answer to which he desired the 
 president to send him a gauge for his voice, when the pres- 
 ident not improperly made answer : Let that be the person 
 who disputes with thee. In 'like manner, the intent of 
 the propounder ought to be the rule and measure of the 
 answer. 
 
 '2'2. Moreover, as Socrates was wont to say, that those 
 meats were chiefly to be abstained from which allured men 
 to eat when they were not a hungry, and those drinks to 
 be refrained that invited men to drink when they were not 
 a-dry ; so it would behoove a man that is lavish of his
 
 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 339 
 
 tongue, to be afraid of those discourses and themes where- 
 in he most delights and makes it his business to be most 
 prolix, and whenever he perceives them flowing in upon 
 him, to resist them to the utmost of his power. For ex- 
 ample, your martial men are always talking of sieges and 
 battles, and the great poet often introduces Nestor boasting 
 of his own achievements and feats of arms. The same 
 disease is incident to noted pleaders at the bar, and accom- 
 panies such as have unexpectedly risen to be the favorites 
 of great princes. For such will be always up with their 
 stories, how they were introduced at first, how they 
 ascended by degrees, how they got the better in such a 
 case, what arguments they used in such a case, and lastly 
 how they were hummed up and applauded in court. For 
 to say truth, gladness and joy are much more loquacious 
 than the sleeplessness so often feigned in their comedies, 
 rousing up and still refreshing itself with new relations ; 
 and therefore they are prone to fall into such stories upon 
 the least occasion given. For not only 
 
 Where the body most is pained, 
 There the patient lays his hand ; 
 
 but pleasure also has a voice within itself, and leads the 
 tongue about to be a support to the memory. So lovers 
 spend the greatest part of their time in songs and sonnets, 
 to refresh their memories with the representations of their 
 mistresses ; concerning which amours of theirs, when com- 
 panions are wanting, they frequently discourse with things 
 that are void of life. Thus, 
 
 dearest bed, whereon we wont to rest ; 
 
 and again, 
 
 O blessed lamp divine, for surely thee 
 Bacchis believes some mighty Deity, 
 Surely the greatest of the Gods thou art, 
 If she so wills who does possess my heart. 
 
 And indeed it may well be said, that a loose-tongued fel- 
 low is no more, in respect of his discourse, than a white
 
 340 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 line struck with chalk upon white marble. For in regard 
 there are several subjects of discourse, and many men are 
 more subject to some than to others, it behooves every 
 one to be on his guard especially against these, and to sup- 
 press them in such a manner that the delight which they 
 take therein may not decoy them into their beloved pro- 
 lixity and profuseness of words. The same inclination to 
 overshoot themselves in prattling appears in such as are 
 prone to that kind of discourses wherein they suppose 
 themselves to excel others, either in habit or experience. 
 For such a one, being as well a lover of himself as am- 
 bitious of glory, 
 
 The cl liefest part of all the day doth spend, 
 Himself to pass and others to transcend.* 
 
 For example, he that reads much endeavors to excel in 
 history ; the grammarian, in the artificial couching of 
 words ; the traveller is full of his geography. But all 
 these surplusages are to be avoided with great caution, 
 lest men, intoxicated therewith, grow fond of their old in- 
 firmities, and return to their former freaks, like beasts that 
 cannot be driven from their haunts. Cyrus therefore, yet 
 a young stripling, was most worthy of admiration, who 
 would never challenge his equals and playfellows to any 
 exercise wherein he excelled, but to such only wherein he 
 knew himself to be inferior ; unwilling that they should 
 fret for the loss of the prize which he was sure to win, 
 and loath to lose what he could himself gain from the 
 others' better skill. 
 
 On the other side, the profuse talker is of such a dispo- 
 sition that, if any discourse happen from which he might 
 be able to learn something and inform his ignorance, that 
 he refuses and rejects, nor can you hire him even to hold 
 his tongue ; but after his rolling and restless fancy has 
 mustered up some few obsolete and all-to-be-tattered rhap- 
 
 From the Antiope of Euripides, Frag. 188.
 
 OF GARRULITY OR TALKATIVENESS. 341 
 
 sodies to supply his vanity, out he flings them, as if he 
 were master of all the knowledge in the world. Just like 
 one amongst us who, having read two or three of Ephorus's 
 books, tired all men's ears, and spoiled and brake up all 
 the feasts and societies wherever he came, with his con- 
 tinual relations of the battle of Leuctra and the conse- 
 quences of it ; by which means he got himself a nickname, 
 and every one called him Epaminondas. 
 
 23. But this is one of the least inconveniences of this 
 infirmity ; and indeed we ought to make it one step towards 
 the cure, to turn this violent vein of twattling upon such 
 subjects as those. For such a loquacity is less a nuisance 
 when it superabounds in what belongs to humane litera- 
 ture. It would be well also that the sort of people who 
 are addicted to this vice should accustom themselves to 
 write upon some subject or other, and to dispute of certain 
 questions apart. For Antipater the Stoic, as we may 
 probably conjecture, either not being able or else unwilling 
 to come into dispute with Carneades, vehemently inveigh- 
 ing against the Stoics, declined to meet him fairly in the 
 schools, yet would be always writing answers against him ; 
 and because he filled whole volumes full of contradictory 
 arguments, and still opposed him with assertions that only 
 made a noise, he was called Calamoboas, as one that made 
 a great clamor with his pen to no purpose. So it is very 
 probable that such fighting with their own shadows, and 
 exclaiming one against another apart by themselves, driving 
 and restraining them from the multitude, would render 
 them gradually more tolerable and sociable in civil com- 
 pany ; as curs, after they have once discharged their fury 
 upon sticks and stones, become less fierce towards men. 
 It would be always of great importance to them to con- 
 verse with their superiors and elders ; for that the awful 
 reverence and respect which they bear to their dignity and 
 gravity may accustom them in time to silence.
 
 342 OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS. 
 
 And it would be evermore expedient to intermix and in- 
 volve with these exercises this mariner of ratiocination 
 with ourselves, before we speak, and at the very moment 
 that the words are ready to break out of our mouths: 
 What is this which I would say, that presses so hard to be 
 gone ? For what reason would this tongue of mine so fain 
 be talking? What good shall I get by speaking] What 
 mischief shall I incur by holding my peace ? For we are 
 not to ease and discharge ourselves of our words, as if they 
 were a heavy burthen that overloaded us ; for' speech re- 
 mains as well when uttered as before ; but men either 
 speak in behalf of themselves when some necessity com- 
 pels them, or for the benefit of those that hear them, or 
 else to recreate one another with the delights of converse, 
 on purpose to mitigate and render more savory, as with 
 salt, the toils of our daily employments. But if there be 
 nothing profitable in speaking, nothing necessary to them. 
 that hear what is said, nothing of satisfaction or delight, 
 what need is there it should be spoken 1 For words may 
 be in vain and to no purpose, as well as deeds. But after 
 and above all that has been said, we ought always to bear 
 in remembrance, and always to have at our tongue's end, 
 that saying of Simonides, that he had often repented him 
 of talking, but never of keeping silent. Then as for ex- 
 ercise, we must believe it to be a matter of great impor- 
 tance, as being that which overcomes and masters all things ; 
 considering what watchful care and even toil and labor 
 men will undergo to get rid of an old cough or hiccough. 
 But silence and taciturnity not only never cause a dry 
 throat, as Hippocrates observes, but are altogether free 
 from pain and sorrow.
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 I. ANTIPHON. 
 
 ANTIPHON, the son of Sophilus, by descent a Rhamnu- 
 sian, was his father's scholar ; for Sophilus kept a rhetoric 
 school, to which it is reported that Alcibiades himself had 
 recourse in his youth. Having attained to competent 
 measure of knowledge and eloquence, and that, as some 
 believe, from his own natural ingenuity, he dedicated his 
 study chiefly to affairs of state. And yet he was for some 
 time conversant in the schools, and had a controversy with 
 Socrates the philosopher about the art of disputing, not 
 so much for the sake of contention as for the profit of 
 arguing, as Xenophon tells us in his Commentaries of So- 
 crates. At the request of some citizens, he wrote orations 
 by which they defended their suits at law. Some say that 
 he was the first that ever did any thing of this nature. 
 For it is certain there is not one juridical oration extant 
 written by any orator that lived before him, nor by his con- 
 temporaries either, as Themistocles, Aristides, and Pericles ; 
 though the times gave them opportunity, and there was 
 need enough of their labor in such business. Not that we 
 are to impute it to their want of parts that they did noth- 
 ing in this way, for we may inform ourselves of the contrary 
 from what historians relate of each of them. Besides, if 
 we inspect the most ancient of those known in history who 
 had the same form and method in their pleadings, such as 
 Alcibiades, Critias, Lysias, and Archinous, we shall find
 
 344 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 that they all followed Antiphon when he was old. For 
 being a man of incomparable sagacity, he was the first 
 that published institutions of oratory ; and by reason of 
 his profound learning, he was surnamed Nestor. Caecilius, 
 in a tract which he wrote of him, supposes him to have 
 been Thucydides's pupil, from what Antiphon delivered in 
 praise of him. He is most accurate in his orations, in in- 
 vention subtle ; and he would frequently baffle his adver- 
 sary at unawares, by a covert sort of pleading ; in trouble- 
 some and intricate matters he was very judicious and sharp ; 
 and as he was a great admirer of ornamental speaking, he 
 would always adapt his orations to both law and reason. 
 
 He lived about the time of the Persian war and of 
 Gorgias the rhetorician, being somewhat younger than he. 
 And he lived to see x the subversion of the popular govern- 
 ment in the commonwealth which was wrought by the 
 four hundred conspirators, in which he himself is thought 
 to have had the chiefest hand, being sometimes commander 
 of two galleys, and sometimes general, and having by the 
 many and great victories he obtained gained them many 
 allies, he armed the young men, manned out sixty galleys, 
 and on all their occasions went ambassador to Lacedaemon 
 at the time when Ectionia was fortified. But when those 
 Four Hundred were overcome and taken down, he with 
 Archeptolemus, who was likewise one of the same number, 
 was accused of the conspiracy, condemned, and sentenced 
 to the punishment due to traitors, his body cast out un- 
 buried, and all his posterity infamous on record. But 
 there are some who tell us, that he was put to death by the 
 Thirty Tyrants ; and among the rest, Lysias, in his oration 
 for Antiphon's daughter, says the same ; for he left a little 
 daughter, whom Callaeschrus claimed for his wife by the 
 law of propinquity. And Theopompus likewise, in his 
 Fifteenth Book of Philippics, tells us the same thing. Uut 
 this must have been another Antiphon, son of Lysidonides,
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 345 
 
 whom Cratinus mentions in his Pytine as a rascal. But 
 how could he be executed in the time of the Four Hundred, 
 and afterward live to be put to death by the Thirty Tyrants ? 
 There is likewise another story of the manner of his death : 
 that when he was old, he sailed to Syracuse, when the 
 tyranny of Dionysius the First was most famous ; and 
 being at table, a question was put, what sort of brass was 
 best. When others had answered as they thought most 
 proper, he replied, That is the best brass, of which the 
 statues of Harmodius and Aristogiton were made. The 
 tyrant hearing this, and taking it as a tacit exhortation to 
 his subjects to contrive his ruin, he commanded Antiphon 
 to be put to death ; and some say that he put him to death 
 for deriding his tragedies. 
 
 This orator is reported to have written sixty orations ; 
 but Caecilius supposes twenty-five of them to be spurious 
 and none of his. Plato, in his comedy called Pisander, 
 traduces him as a covetous man. He is reported to have 
 composed some of his tragedies alone, and others with 
 Dionysius the tyrant. While he was poetically inclined, 
 he invented an art of curing the distemper of the mind, as 
 physicians are wont to provide cure of bodily diseases. 
 And having at Corinth built him a little house, in or near 
 the market, he set a postscript over the gate, to this effect : 
 that he had a way to cure the distemper of men's minds by 
 words ; and let him but know the cause of their malady, 
 he would immediately prescribe the remedy, to their com- 
 fort. But after some time, thinking that art not worth his 
 while, he betook himself to the study and teaching of 
 oratory. There are some who ascribe the book of Glaucus 
 of Rhegium concerning Poets to him as author. His ora- 
 tions concerning Herodes, against Erasistratus concerning 
 Peacocks,* are very much commended, and also that which, 
 when he was accused, he penned for himself against a 
 
 * Concerning Ideas, according to the MSS. (G.)
 
 ;; ir, LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 public indictment, and that against Demosthenes the 
 general for moving an illegal measure. He likewise had 
 another against Hippocrates the general ; who did not 
 appear on the day appointed for his trial, and was con- 
 demned in his absence. 
 
 Caecilius has recorded the decree of the senate for the 
 judicial trial of Antiphon, passed in the year* in which 
 Theopompus was chief magistrate of Athens, the same in 
 which the Four Hundred were overthrown, in these 
 words : 
 
 " Enacted by the senate on the twenty-first day of the 
 prytany. Demonicus of Alopece was clerk ; Philostratus 
 of Pallene was president. 
 
 " Andron moved in regard to those men, viz. Archep- 
 tolemus, Onomacles, and Antiphon, whom the generals had 
 declared, against, for that they went in an embassage to 
 Lacedaemon, to the great damage of the city of Athens, 
 and departed from the camp in an enemies' ship, and 
 went through Decelea by land, that they should be 
 apprehended and brought before the court for a legal 
 trial. 
 
 " Therefore let the generals, with others of the senate, 
 to the number of ten, whom it shall please the generals to 
 name and choose, look after these men to present them 
 before the court, that they may be present during the pro- 
 ceedings. Then let the Thesmothetes summon the de- 
 fendants to appear on the morrow, and let them open the 
 proceedings in court at the time at which the summonses 
 shall be returnable. Then let the chosen advocates, with 
 the generals and any others \\lio may have any thing to say, 
 accuse the defendants of treason ; and if any one of them 
 shall be found guilty, let sentence be passed upon him as a 
 traitor, according to the law in such case made and pro- 
 vided." 
 
 Theopompus was Archoo in B.C. 411. (Q.)
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 347 
 
 At the bottom of this decree was subscribed the sen- 
 tence : 
 
 " Archeptolemus son of Hippodamus, the Agrylian, and 
 Antiphon son of Sophilus, the Ramnusian, being both 
 present in court, are condemned of treason. And this 
 was to be their punishment : that they should be delivered 
 to the eleven executioners, their goods confiscated, the 
 tenth part of them being first consecrated to Minerva ; 
 their houses to be levelled with the ground, and in the 
 places where they stood this subscription to be engraven 
 on brass, ' [The houses] of Archeptolemus and Antiphon, 
 traitors.' ... * That Archeptolemus and Antiphon should 
 neither of them be buried in Athens, nor anywhere else 
 under that government. And besides all this, that their 
 posterity should be accounted infamous, bastards as well 
 as their lawful progeny ; and he too should be held infa- 
 mous who should adopt any one of their progeny for his 
 son. And that all this should be engrossed and engraven 
 on a brass column, and that column should be placed 
 where that stands on which is engraven the decree con- 
 cerning Phrynichus." 
 
 n. ANDOCIDES. 
 
 ANDOCTDES, the son of Leogoras, [and grandson of that 
 Andocides] who once made a peace between the Athenians 
 and the Lacedaemonians, by descent a Cydathcnian or 
 Thorian, of a noble family, and, as Hellanicus tells us, the 
 offspring of Mercury himself, for the race of Heralds 
 belongs to him. On this account he was chosen by the 
 people to go with Glaucon, with twenty sail of ships, to 
 aid the Corcyraeans against the Corinthians. But in 
 
 * The corrupt clause indicated by ... probably means, 'that the Demarche were 
 to make inventories (iixoQtjvtu) of the traitors' estates. (G.)
 
 348 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 process of time he was accused of some notorious acts 
 of impiety, as that he was of the number of those who 
 defaced the statues of Mercury and divulged the sacred 
 mysteries of Ceres. And withal, he had been before this 
 time wild and intemperate, and had once been seen in the 
 night in masquerade to break one of the statues of Mer- 
 cury ; and when on his trial he refused to bring his servant 
 to examination whom his accusers named, he not only 
 remained under this reproach, but was also on this account 
 very much suspected to be guilty of the second crime too. 
 This later action was laid to his charge soon after the ex- 
 pedition of the navy sent by the Athenians into Sicily. 
 For, as Cratippus informs us, when the Corinthians sent the 
 Leontines and Egestians to the Athenians, who hesitated 
 to lend them assistance, they in the night defaced and 
 brake all the statues of Mercury which were erected in the 
 market. To which offence Andocides added another, that 
 of divulging the mysteries of Ceres. He was brought to 
 his trial, but was acquitted on condition he would discover 
 who were companions with him in the crime. In which 
 affair being very diligent, he found out who they were that 
 had been guilty, and among the rest he discovered his own 
 father. He proved all guilty, and caused them all to be 
 put to death except his father, whom he saved, though in 
 prison, by a promise of some eminent service he would do 
 to the commonwealth. Nor did he fail of what he prom- 
 ised ; for Leogoras accused many who had acted in several 
 matters against the interest of the commonwealth, and 
 for this was acquitted of his own crime. 
 
 Now, though Andocides was very much esteemed of for 
 his skill in the management of the affairs of the com- 
 monwealth, yet his inclinations led him rather to traffic by 
 sea ; and by this means he contracted friendship with the 
 kings of Cyprus ;md other great princes. At which time 
 he privily stole a damsel of the city, the daughter of Aris-
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 349 
 
 tides, and his own niece, and sent her as a present to the 
 king of Cyprus. But suspecting he should be called in 
 question for it, he again stole her from Cyprus, for which 
 the king of Cyprus took him and clapped him up in 
 prison ; whence he brake loose, and returned to Athens, 
 just at that time when the four hundred conspirators had 
 usurped the government. By whom being confined, he 
 again escaped when the oligarchical government was 
 
 broken up But when the Thirty Tyrants were 
 
 uppermost, he withdrew to Elis, and there lived till Thra- 
 sybulus and his faction returned into the city, and then he 
 also repaired thither. And after some time, being sent 
 to Lacedaemon to conciliate a peace, he was again sus- 
 pected to be faulty, and on that suspicion banished. 
 
 He himself has given an account of all these transac- 
 tions, in his orations, which he has left behind him. For 
 some of them contain his defence of himself in regard to 
 the mysteries ; others his petition for restoration from ex- 
 ile ; there is one extant on Endeixis (or information laid 
 against a criminal) ; also a defence against Phaeax, and 
 one on the peace. He flourished at the same time with 
 Socrates the philosopher. He was born in the seventy- 
 eighth Olympiad, when Theogenides was chief magistrate 
 of Athens, so that he should seem to be about ten years 
 before Lysias. There is an image of Mercury, called from 
 his name, being given by the tribe Aegeis ; and it stood 
 near the house where Andocides dwelt, and was therefore 
 called by his name. This Andocides himself was at the 
 charge of a cyclic chorus for the tribe Aegeis, at the per- 
 formance of a dithyrambus. And having gained a victory, 
 he erected a tripod on an ascent opposite to the tuffstone 
 statue of Silenus. His style in his orations is plain and 
 easy, without the least affectation or any thing of a figura- 
 tive ornament.
 
 350 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 III. LYSIAS. 
 
 LYSIAS was the son of Cephalus, grandson of Lysanias, 
 and great-grandson of Cephalus. His father was by birth 
 a Syracusan ; but partly for the love he had to the city, 
 and partly in condescension to the persuasions of Pericles 
 the son of Xanthippus, who entertained him as his friend 
 and guest, he went to live at Athens, being a man of great 
 wealth. Some say that he was banished Syracuse when 
 the city was under the tyranny of Gelo. Lysias was born 
 at Athens when Philocles, the successor of Phrasicles, was 
 chief magistrate, in the second year of the eightieth Olym- 
 piad.* At his first coming, he was educated among the 
 most noble of the Athenians. But when the city sent 
 a colony to Sybaris, which was afterwards called Thurii, he 
 went thither with his other brother Polemarchus, his father 
 being now dead (for he had two other brothers, Euthy- 
 demus and Brachyllus), that he might receive his portion 
 of his father's estate. This was done in the fifteenth year 
 of his age, when Praxiteles was chief magistrate. f There 
 then he stayed, and was brought up under Nicias and Tisias, 
 both Syracnsans. And having purchased a house and re- 
 ceived his estate, he lived as a citizen for thirty-three years, 
 till the year of Cleocritus. J In the year following, in the 
 time of Callias, viz. in the ninety-second Olympiad, when the 
 Athenians had met with their disasters in Sicily, and when 
 other of their allies revolted, and especially the Italians, 
 he, being accused of favoring the Athenians, was ban- 
 ished with three other of his association ; when coming to 
 Athens, in the year wherein Callias succeeded Cleocritus 
 the city then laboring under the tyranny of the four hundred 
 conspirators, he there sat down. .But after the fight at 
 Aegospotami, when the Thirty Tyrants had usurped the 
 
 B.C. 459. t B.C. 444. j B.C. 418.
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 351 
 
 government, he was banished thence, after he had remained 
 in Athens seven years. His goods were confiscated ; and 
 having likewise lost his brother Polemarchus, he himself 
 escaped by a back door of the house in which he was kept 
 for execution, fled to Megara and there lived. But when 
 the citizens endeavored to return from Phyle, he also be- 
 haved himself very well, and appeared very active in the 
 affair, having, to forward this great enterprise, deposited 
 two thousand drachms of silver and two hundred targets, 
 and being commissioned with Hermas, he maintained three 
 hundred men in arms, and prevailed with Thrasylaeus the 
 Elean, his old friend and host, to contribute two talents. 
 Upon entering the city, Thrasybulus proposed that, for a 
 consideration of his good service to the public, he should 
 receive the rights of citizenship : this was during the so- 
 called time of anarchy before Euclides. Which proposal 
 being ratified by the people, Archinus objected that it was 
 against the laws, and a decree without authority of the 
 senate. The decree was thereupon declared void, and 
 Lysias lost his citizenship. He led the remainder of his 
 life in the rank of an Isoteles (or citizen who had no right 
 to vote or hold office), and died at last at Athens, being 
 fourscore and three years old, or as some would have it, 
 seventy-six ; and others again say, that he lived above four- 
 score years, till after the birth of Demosthenes. It is sup- 
 posed he was born in the year of Philocles. 
 
 There are four hundred and twenty-five orations which 
 bear his name, of which Dionysius and Caecilius affirm 
 only two hundred and thirty to be genuine, and he is said 
 to have been overcome but twice in all. There is extant 
 also the oration which he made in defence of the fore- 
 mentioned decree against Archinus. who indicted it and 
 thereby prevented Lysias from receiving the. citizenship, as 
 also another against the Thirty Tyrants. He was very co- 
 gent in his persuasions, and was always very brief in what
 
 352 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 he delivered. He would commonly give orations to private 
 persons. There are likewise his institutions of oratory, 
 his public harangues, his epistles, his eulogies, funeral 
 orations, discourses of love, and his defence of Socrates, 
 accommodated to the minds of the judges, llis style 
 seems plain and easy, though hardly imitable. Demosthe- 
 nes, in his oration against Neaera, says that lie was in love 
 with one -Mctanira, Neacra's serving-maid, but afterwards 
 married his brother Brachyllus's daughter. Plato in his 
 Phaedrus makes mention of him, as a most eloquent ora- 
 tor and ancienter than Isocrates. Philiscus, his companion, 
 and Isocrates's votary, composed an epigram concerning 
 him, whence the same that we have urged from Plato is 
 deducible ; and it sings to this effect : 
 
 Calliope's witty daughter, Phrontls, show 
 If aught of wit or eloquence tliou hast ; 
 For 'tis decreed that tliou shall bear a son, 
 Lysias by name, to spread the name of him 
 Whose great and generous acts do fill the world, 
 And are received for glorious above. 
 Let him who sings those praises of the dead, 
 Let him, my friend, too, praise our amity. 
 
 He likewise wrote two orations for Iphicrates, one 
 against Harmodius, and another accusing Timotheus of 
 treason, in both which he overcame. But when Iphi- 
 crates made himself responsible for Timotheus's actions, 
 and would purge himself of the allegation of treason 
 made also against him, Lysias wrote an oration for him to 
 deliver in his defence ; upon which he was acquitted, but 
 Timotheus was fined in a considerable sum of money. 
 He likewise delivered an oration at the Olympic games, 
 in which he endeavored to convince the Greeks of how 
 great advantage it would be to them, if they could but 
 unanimously join to pull down the tyrant Dionysius.
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 353 
 
 IV. ISOCRATES. 
 
 ISOCRATES was the son of Theodorus, of Erchia, reck- 
 oned among the middle class of citizens, and a man who 
 kept servants under him to make flutes, by which he got 
 so much money as enabled him not only to bring up his 
 children after the most genteel manner, but likewise to 
 maintain a choir. For besides Isocrates, he had other 
 sons, Telesippus and Diomnestus, and one daughter. And 
 hence, we may suppose, those two comical poets, Aristo- 
 phanes and Stratis, took occasion to bring him on the 
 stage. He was born in the eighty-sixth Olympiad,* Lysi- 
 machus being archon, about two and twenty years after 
 Lysias, and seven before Plato. When he was a boy, he 
 was as well educated as any of the Athenian children, 
 being under the tuition of Prodicus the Cean, Gorgias the 
 Leontine, Tisias the Syracusan, and Theramenes the rhe- 
 torician. And when Theramenes was to be apprehended 
 by the order of the Thirty Tyrants, and flying for succor 
 to the altar of the senate, only Isocrates stood his friend, 
 when all others were struck with terror. For a long time 
 he stood silent ; but after some time Theramenes advised 
 him to desist, because, he told him, it would be an aggra- 
 vation of his grief, if any of his friends should come 
 into trouble through him. And it is said that he made 
 use of certain institutions of rhetoric composed by Thera- 
 menes, when he was slandered in court ; which institutions 
 have since borne Boton's name. 
 
 "When Isocrates was come to man's estate, he meddled 
 with nothing of state affairs, both because he had a very 
 weak voice and because he was something timorous ; and 
 besides these two impediments, his estate was much im- 
 paired by the loss of a great part of his patrimony in the 
 
 * B.C. 436.
 
 354 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 war with the Lacedaemonians. It is evident that he 
 composed orations for others to use, but delivered only one, 
 that concerning Exchange of Property. Having set up a 
 school, he gave himself much to writing and the study of 
 philosophy, and then he wrote his Panegyrical oration, 
 and others which were used for advice, some of which he 
 delivered himself, and others he gave to others to pro- 
 nounce for him ; aiming thereby to persuade the Greeks 
 to the study and practice of such things as were of. most 
 immediate concern to them. But his endeavors in that way 
 proving to no purpose, he gave those things over, and 
 opened a school in Chios first, as some will have it, having 
 for a beginning nine scholars ; and when they came to him 
 to pay him for their schooling, he weeping said, ' Now I 
 see plainly that I am sold to my scholars." He admitted 
 all into his acquaintance who desired it. He was the first 
 that made a separation between wrangling pleas and polit- 
 ical arguments, to which latter he rather addicted himself. 
 He instituted a form of magistracy in Chios, much the 
 same with that at Athens. No schoolmaster ever got so 
 much ; so that he maintained a galley at his own charge. 
 lie had more than a hundred scholars, and among others 
 Timotheus the son of Conon was one, with whom h2 
 visited many cities, and composed the epistles which Timo- 
 theus sent to the Athenians ; who for his pains gave him 
 a talent out of that which he got at Samos. Theopom- 
 pus likewise the Chian, Ephorus the Cumaean, Asclepiades 
 who composed arguments for tragedies, and Theodectes of 
 Phasclis, who afterwards wrote tragedies, were all Iso- 
 crates's scholars. The last of these had a monument in 
 the way to the shrine of Cyamites, as we go to Eleusis by 
 the Sacred Way, of which now remains only rubbish. 
 There also he set up with his own the statues of other 
 famous poets, of all which only Homer's is to be seen. 
 Lcodamas also the Athenian, and Lacritus who gave laws
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 355 
 
 to the Athenians, were both his scholars ; and some say, 
 Hyperides and Isaeus too. They add likewise, that De- 
 mosthenes also was very desirous to learn of him, and 
 because he could not give the full rate, which was a thou- 
 sand drachms, he offered him two hundred, the fifth part, 
 if he would teach him but the fifth part of his art propor- 
 tionable : to whom Isocrates answered, We do not use, 
 Demosthenes, to impart our skill by halves, but as men 
 sell good fish whole, or altogether, so if thou hast a desire 
 to learn, we will teach thee our full art, and not a piece 
 of it. He died in the year when Charondas was chief 
 magistrate,* when, being at Hippocrates's public exercise, 
 he received the news of the slaughter at Chaeronea ; for 
 he was the cause of his own death by a four days' fast, 
 which he then made, pronouncing just at his departure 
 the three verses which begin three tragedies of Euripides 
 
 Danaus, father of the fifty sisters, 
 Pelops, son of Tantalus, in quest of Pisa, 
 Cadmus, in time past, going from Sidon. 
 
 He lived ninety-eight years, or, as some say, a hundred, 
 not being able to behold Greece the fourth time brought 
 into slavery. The year (or, as some say, foui years) before 
 he died, he wrote his Panathenaic oration. He labored 
 upon his Panegyric oration ten years, or, as some tell us, 
 fifteen, which he is supposed to have borrowed out of 
 Gorgias the Leontine and Lysias. His oration concerning 
 Exchange of Property he wrote when he was eighty-two 
 years old, and those to Philip a little before his death. 
 When he was old, he adopted Aphareus, the youngest of 
 the three sons of Plathane, the daughter of Hippias the 
 orator. He was very rich, both in respect of the great 
 sums of money he exacted of his scholars, and besides 
 that, having at one time twenty talents of Nicocles, king 
 of Cyprus, for an oration which he dedicated to him. By 
 
 * B.C. 838.
 
 356 LIVES OP THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 reason of his riches he became obnoxious to the envy of 
 others, and was three times named to maintain a galley ; 
 which he evaded twice by the assistance of his son and a 
 counterfeit sickness, but the third time he undertook it, 
 though the charge proved very great. A father telling him 
 that he had allowed his son no other companion than one 
 slave, Isocrates replied, Go thy way then, for one slave 
 thou shalt have two. He strove for the prize which Are- 
 temisia dedicated to the honor and memory of her husband 
 Mausolus ; but that oration is lost. He wrote also another 
 oration in praise of Helen, and one called Areopagiticus. 
 Some say that he died when he had fasted nine days, 
 some again, at four days' end, and his death took its 
 date from the funeral solemnities of those that lost their 
 lives at Chaeronea. His son Aphareus likewise wrote 
 several orations. 
 
 He lies buried with all his family near Cynosarges, on 
 the left hand of the hill. There are interred Isocrates 
 and his father Thcodorus, his mother and her sister Anaco, 
 his adoptive son Aphareus. Socrates the son of Anaco, 
 Theodorus his brother, bearing his father's name, his 
 grandsons, the sons of his adopted Aphareus, and his 
 wife Plathane, the mother of Aphareus. On these tombs 
 were erected six tables, which are now demolished. And 
 upon the tomb of Isocrates himself was placed a column 
 thirty cubits high, and on that a mermaid of seven cubits, 
 which was an emblem of his eloquence ; there is nothing 
 now extant. There was also near it a table, having poets 
 and his schoolmasters on it ; and among the rest, Gorgias 
 inspecting a celestial globe, and Isocrates standing by him. 
 There is likewise a statue of his of bronze in Eleusis, 
 dedicated by Timothy the son of Conon, before the entry 
 of the porch, with this inscription : 
 
 To the fame and honor of Isocrates, 
 This statue's sacred to the Goddesses ; 
 The Rift of Timothy.
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 357 
 
 This statue was made by Leochares. There are three- 
 score orations which bear his name ; of which, if we credit 
 Dionysius, only five and twenty are genuine ; but accord- 
 ing to Caecilius, twenty-eight ; and the rest are accounted 
 spurious. He was an utter stranger to ostentation, inso- 
 much that, when there came at one time three persons to 
 hear him declaim, he admitted but two of them, desiring 
 the third to come the next day, for that two at once were 
 to him as a full theatre. He used to tell his scholars that 
 he taught his art for ten minas ; but he would give any 
 man ten thousand, that could teach him to be bold and 
 give him a good utterance. And being once asked how 
 he, who was not very eloquent Jiimself, could make others 
 so, he answered, Just as a whetstone cannot cut, yet it will 
 sharpen knives for that purpose. Some say that he wrote 
 institutions to the art of oratory ; others are of opinion 
 that he had no method of teaching, but only exercise. 
 He would never ask any thing of a free-born citizen. He 
 used to enjoin his scholars being present at public assem- 
 blies to repeat to him what was there delivered. He con- 
 ceived no little sorrow for the death of Socrates, insomuch 
 that the next day he put himself in mourning. Being 
 asked what was the use and force of rhetoric, he an- 
 swered, To make great matters small, and small great. 
 At a feast with Nicoceon, the tyrant of Cyprus, being 
 desired by some of the company to declaim upon some 
 theme, he made answer, that that was not a season for 
 him to speak what he knew, and he knew nothing that 
 was then seasonable. Happening once to see Sophocles 
 the tragedian amorously eying a comely boy, he said to 
 him, It will become thee, Sophocles, to restrain not only 
 thy hands, but thine eyes. When Ephorus of Cumac left 
 his school before he had arrived at any good proficiency, 
 his father Dcmophilus sent him again with a second sum 
 of money in his hand ; at which Isocrates jocosely called
 
 368 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 him Diphorus, that is, twice bringing his fee. However, 
 he took a great deal of pains and care with him, and went 
 so far as to put him in the way of writing history. 
 
 lie was wantonly given ; and used to lie upon a ... 
 mat for his bed, and his bolster was commonly made moist 
 with saffron. He never married while he was young ; but 
 in his old age he kept a miss, whose name was Lagisce, 
 and by her he had a daughter, who died in the twelfth 
 year of her age, before she was married. He afterwards 
 married Plathane, the wife of Hippias the rhetorician, who 
 had three sons, the youngest of which, Aphareus by name, 
 he adopted for his own, as we said before. This Aphareus 
 erected a bronze statue to him near the temple of Jupiter, 
 as may be seen from the inscription : 
 
 In veneration of the mighty Jove, 
 His noble parents, and the Gods above, 
 Aphareus this statue here has set, 
 The statue of Isocrates his father. 
 
 He is said to have run a race on a swift horse, when he 
 was but a boy ; for he is to be seen in this posture in the 
 Citadel, in the tennis court of the priestesses of Minerva, 
 in a statue. There were but two suits commenced against 
 him in his whole life. One whereof was with Megaclides, 
 who provoked him to exchange of property ; at the trial of 
 which he could not be personally present, by reason of 
 sickness ; but sending Aphareus, he nevertheless overcame. 
 The other suit was commenced against him by Lysimachus, 
 who would have him come to an exchange or be at the 
 charge of maintaining a galley for the commonwealth. In 
 this case he was overthrown, and forced to perform the 
 ice. There was likewise a painting of him in the 
 Pompeum. 
 
 Apharcus also wrote a few orations, both judicial and 
 deliberative ; as also tragedies to the number of thirty- 
 seven, of which two are contested. lie began to make
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATOKS. 359 
 
 his works public in the year of Lysistratus, and continued 
 it to the year of Sosigenes, that is, eight and twenty years.* 
 In these years he exhibited dramas six times at the city 
 Dionysiac festivals, and twice went away with the prize 
 through the actor Dionysius ; he also gained two other 
 victories at the Leuaean festival through other actors. 
 
 There were to be seen in the Citadel the statues of the 
 mother of Isocrates, of Theodorus, and of Anaco his 
 mother's sister. That of the mother is placed just by the 
 image of Health, the inscription being changed ; that of 
 Anaco is no longer there. [Anaco] had two sons, Alex- 
 ander by Coenes, and Lysicles by Lysias. 
 
 V. ISAEUS. 
 
 ISAEUS was born in Chalcis. When he came to Athens, 
 he read Lysias's works, whom he imitated so well, both in 
 his style and in his skill in managing causes, that he who 
 was not very well acquainted with their manner of writing 
 could not tell which of the two was author of many of 
 their orations. He nourished after the Peloponnesian war, 
 as we may conjecture from his orations, and was in repute 
 till the reign of Philip. He taught Demosthenes not at 
 his school, but privately who gave him ten thousand 
 drachms, by which business he became very famous. Some 
 say that he composed orations for Demosthenes, which lie 
 pronounced in opposition to his guardians. He left behind 
 him sixty-four orations, of which fifty are his own ; as like- 
 wise some peculiar institutions of rhetoric. He was the 
 first that used to speak or write figuratively, and that ad- 
 dicted himself to civil matters ; which Demosthenes chiefly 
 followed. Theopompus the comedian makes mention of 
 him in his Theseus. 
 
 B.C. 369-842.
 
 360 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 VI. AESCHINES. 
 
 HE was the son of Atrometus who, being banished by 
 the Thirty Tyrants, was thereby a means of reducing the 
 commonwealth to the government of the people and of 
 his wife Glaucothea ; by birth a Cothocidian. He was 
 neither nobly born nor rich ; but in his youth, being strong 
 and well set, he addicted himself to all sorts of bodily ex- 
 ercises ; and afterwards, having a very clear voice, he took 
 to playing of tragedies, and if we may credit Demosthenes, 
 he was a petty clerk, and also served Aristodemus as a 
 player of third parts at the Bacchanalian festivals, in his 
 times of leisure rehearsing the ' ancient tragedies. When 
 he was but a boy, he was assisting to his father in teaching 
 little children their letters, and when he was grown up, he 
 listed himself a private soldier. Some think he was 
 brought up under Socrates and Plato ; but Caecilius will 
 have it that Leodamas was his master. Being concerned 
 in the affairs of the commonwealth, he openly acted in 
 opposition to Demosthenes and his faction ; and was em- 
 ployed in several embassies, and especially in one to Philip, 
 to treat about articles of peace. For which Demosthenes 
 accused him for being the cause of the overthrow and ruin 
 of the Phocians, and the inflamer of war ; which part he 
 would have him thought to have acted when the Amphic- 
 tyons chose him one of their deputies to the Amphissians 
 who were building up the harbor [of Crissa]. On which 
 the Amphictyons put themselves under Philip's protection, 
 who, being assisted by Aeschines, took the affair in hand, 
 and soon conquered all Phocis.* But Aeschines, notwith- 
 standing all that Demosthenes could do, being favored by 
 Eubulus the son of Spintharus, a Probalisian, who plead- 
 
 The Greek text it corrupt ; bat it is evident that the author confound* the 
 Phocian trar, which ended in 34C B c., with the Amphi&sian war of 339 n.c The 
 next sentence shows the same mistake. (Q.)
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 361 
 
 ed in his behalf, carried his cause by thirty voices, aud 
 so was cleared. Though some tell us, that there were 
 orations prepared by the orators, but the news of the con- 
 quest of Chaeronea put a stop to the present proceedings, 
 and so the suit fell. 
 
 Some time after this, Philip being dead, and his son 
 Alexander marching into Asia, Aeschines impeached Ctesi- 
 phon for acting against the laws, in passing a decree in 
 favor of Demosthenes. But he having not the fifth part 
 of the voices of the judges on his side, was forced to 
 go in exile to Rhodes, because he would not pay his 
 mulct of a thousand drachms. Others say, that he in- 
 curred disfranchisement also, because he would not depart 
 the city, and that he went to Alexander at Ephesus. But 
 upon the death of Alexander, when a tumult had been 
 excited, he went to Rhodes, and there opened a school and 
 taught. And on a time pronouncing the oration which he 
 had formerly made against Ctesiphon, to pleasure the Rho- 
 dians, he did it with that grace, that they wondered how 
 he could fail of carrying his cause if he pleaded so well 
 for himself. But ye would not wonder, said he, that I was 
 overthrown, if ye had heard Demosthenes pleading against 
 me. He left a school behind him at Rhodes, which was 
 afterwards called the Rhodian school. Thence he sailed 
 to Samos, and there in a short time died. He had a very 
 good voice, as both Demosthenes and Democharcs testified 
 of him. 
 
 A 
 
 Four orations bear his name, one of which was against 
 Timrirchus, another concerning false embassage, and a 
 third against Ctesiphon, which three are really his own ; 
 but the fourth, called Deliaca, is none of his ; for though 
 he was named to plead the cause of the temple at Delos, 
 yet Demosthenes tells us that Hyperides was chosen in 
 his stead.* He says himself, that he had two brothers, 
 
 * See Demosthenes on the Crown, p. 271, 27.
 
 362 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 Aphobetus and Philochares. He was the first that brought 
 tin- Athenians the news of the victory obtained at Tainyuao, 
 for which he was crowned for the second time. Some 
 report that Aeschiues was never any man's scholar, but 
 having passed his time chiefly in courts of justice, he raised 
 himself from the office of clerk to that of orator. His first 
 public appearance was in a speech against Philip; with 
 which the people being pleased, he was immediately chosen 
 to go ambassador to the Arcadians ; and being come 
 thither, he excited the Ten Thousand against Philip. 
 He indicted Timarchus for profligacy ; who, fearing the 
 issue, deserted his cause and hanged himself, as Demos- 
 thenes somewhere informs us. Being employed with 
 Ctesiphon and Demosthenes in an embassage to Philip to 
 treat of peace, he appeared the most accomplished of the 
 three. Another time also he was one of ten men sent in 
 embassage to conclude a peace ; and being afterwards 
 called to answer for it, he was acquitted, as we said. 
 
 . LYCURGUS. 
 
 LYCURGUS was the son of Lycophron, and grandson of 
 that Lycurgus whom the Thirty Tyrants put to death, by 
 the procurement of Aristodemus the Batesian, who, also 
 being treasurer of the Greeks, was banished in the time 
 of tho popular government. He was a Butadian by birth, 
 and of the line or family of the Eteobutades. He received 
 his first institutions of philosophy from Plato the philoso- 
 pher. But afterward entering himself a scholar to Iso- 
 crates the orator, he employed his study about affairs of 
 the commonwealth. And to his care was committed the 
 disposal and management of the city stock, and so he exe- 
 cuted the office of treasurer-general for the space of twelve 
 years ; in which time there went through his hands four-
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 363 
 
 teen thousand talents, or (as some will have it) eighteen 
 thousand six hundred and fifty. It was the orator Strato- 
 cles that procured him this preferment. At first he was 
 chosen in his own name ; but afterwards he nominated one 
 of his friends to the office, while he himself performed the 
 duties ; for there was a law just passed, that no man should 
 be chosen treasurer for above the term of four years. But 
 Lycurgus plied his business closely, both summer and win- 
 ter, in the administration of public affairs . And being 
 entrusted to make provision of all necessaries for the wars, 
 he reformed many abuses that were crept into the com- 
 monwealth. He built four hundred galleys for the use of 
 the public, and prepared and fitted a place for public ex- 
 ercises in Lyceum, and planted trees before it ; he likewise 
 built a wrestling-court, and being made surveyor of the 
 theatre of Bacchus, he finished this building. He was 
 likewise of so great repute among all sorts, that he was 
 entrusted with two hundred and fifty talents of private 
 citizens. He adorned and beautified the city with gold 
 and silver vessels of state, and golden images of victory. 
 He likewise finished many things that were as yet imper- 
 fect, as the dockyards and the arsenal. He built a wall also 
 about the spacious Panathenaic race-course, and made 
 level a piece of uneven ground, given by one Dinias to Ly- 
 curgus for the use of the city. The keeping of the city 
 was committed wholly to his care, and power to apprehend 
 malefactors, of whom he cleared the city utterly ; so that 
 some sophisters were wont to say, that Lycurgus did not 
 dip his pen in ink, but in blood. And therefore it was, 
 that when Alexander demanded him of the people, they 
 would not deliver him up. When Philip made the second 
 war upon the Athenians, he was employed with Demos- 
 thenes and Polyeuctus in an embassy to Peloponnesus and 
 other cities. He was always in great repute and esteem 
 with the Athenians, and looked upon as a man of that
 
 364 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 justice and integrity, that in the courts of judicature his 
 good word was at all times prevalent on the behalf of 
 those persons for whom he undertook to speak. He was 
 the author of several laws ; one of which was, that there 
 should he certain comedies played at the Chytrian solemni- 
 ties, and whoever of the poets or players should come off 
 victor, he should thereby be invested with the freedom of 
 the city, which before was not lawful ; and so he revived 
 a solemnity which for want <*f encouragement had for 
 some time before been out of request. Another of his 
 laws was, that the city should erect statues to the memory 
 of Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides ; and that their 
 tragedies, being fairly engrossed, should be preserved in 
 the public consistory, and that the public clerks should 
 read these copies as the plays were acted, that nothing 
 might be changed by the players ; and that otherwise it 
 should be unlawful to act them. A third law proposed by 
 him was, that no Athenian, nor any person inhabiting in 
 Athens, should be permitted to buy a captive, who was 
 once free, to be a slave, without the consent of his for- 
 mer master. Further, that in the Piraeus there should be 
 at least three circular dances played to Neptune ; and that 
 to the victor in the first should be given not less than ten 
 minas ; in the second, eight ; in the third, six. Also, that 
 no woman should go to Eleusis in a coach, lest the poor 
 should appear more despicable than the rich, and so be 
 dejected and cast down ; and that whoever should ride in 
 a coach contrary to this law should be fined six thousand 
 drachms. And when even his own wife was taken in the 
 violation of it, he paid to the discoverers of it a whole 
 talent ; for which being afterwards called in question by 
 the people : See therefore, said he, I am called to answer 
 for giving, and not for receiving money. 
 
 As he was walking one day in the streets, he saw an 
 officer lay hand on Xenocrates the philosopher ; and when
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 365 
 
 nothing would serve his turn but the philosopher must to 
 prison, because he had not deposited the tribute due from 
 strangers, he with his staff struck the officer on the head 
 for his unmannerly roughness toward a person of that 
 character, and freeing Xenocrates, cast the other into pris- 
 on in his stead. And not many days after, Xenocrates 
 meeting with the children of Lycurgus said: I have re- 
 turned thanks unto your father right speedily, my good 
 children, for his friendship towards me, for I hear his 
 kindness commended by all people where I go. He made 
 likewise several decrees, in which he made use of the 
 help of ai> Ol) nthian named Euclides, one very expert in 
 such matters. Though he was rich enough, yet he was 
 used to wear the same coat every day, both summer and 
 winter ; but he wore shoes only when he was compelled to 
 do it. Because he was not ready to speak extempore, 
 he used to practise and study day and night. And to the 
 end he might not at any time oversleep himself and so 
 lose time from his study, he used to cover himself on his 
 bed only with a sheepskin with the wool on, and to lay a 
 hard bolster under his head. When one reproached him 
 for being in fee with rhetoricians when he studied his ora- 
 tions, he answered, that, if a man would promise to restore 
 his sons better, he would give him not only a thousand 
 drachms, but half what he was worth. He took the liber- 
 ty of speaking boldly upon all occasions, by reason of his 
 greatness ; as when once the Athenians interrupted him in 
 his speaking, he cried out, O thou Corcyraean whip, how 
 many talents art thou worth ? And another time, when 
 some would rank Alexander among the Gods, What man- 
 ner of God, said he, must he be, when all that go out of 
 his temple had need to be dipped in water to purify them- 
 selves ? 
 
 After his death Menesaechmus accusing and indicting 
 them by virtue of an instrument drawn by Thracycles, his
 
 366 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 sons were delivered to the eleven executioners of Justice. 
 But Demosthenes, being in exile, wrote to the Athenians, 
 to let them know that they were wrongfully accused, and 
 that therefore they did not well to hear their accusers ; 
 upon which they recfinted what they had done, and set 
 them at liberty again, Democles, who was Theophrastus's 
 scholar, likewise pleading in their defence. Lycurgus and 
 some of his posterity were buried publicly, at or near the 
 temple of Minerva Paeonia, wtiere their monuments stand 
 in the garden of Melanthius the philosopher, on which 
 are inscriptions to Lycurgus and his children, which are 
 yet extant. The greatest thing he did while he lived was 
 his raising the revenue of the commons totally from sixty 
 talents, as he found it, to twelve hundred. When he 
 found he must die, he was by his own appointment carried 
 into the temple of the Mother of the Gods, and into the 
 senate-house, being willing before his death to give an ac- 
 count of his administration. And no man daring to accuse 
 him of any thing except Menesaechmus, having purged 
 himself from those calumnies which he cast upon him, 
 he was carried home again, where in a short time he 
 ended his life. He was always accounted honest ; his 
 orations were commended for the eloquence they carried 
 in them ; and though he was often accused, yet he never 
 was overthrown in any suit 
 
 He had three children by Callisto, the daughter of 
 Abron, and sister of Callias > Abron's son, by descent a 
 Batesian, I mean, of him who, when Chaerondas was 
 magistrate, was paymaster to the army. Of this affinity 
 Dinarchus speaks in his oration against Pastius. lie left 
 behind him three sons, Abron, Lycurgus, and Lycophron ; 
 of which, Abron and Lycurgus died without issue, though 
 the first, Abron, did for some time act very acceptably and 
 worthily in affairs of the commonwealth. Lycophron mar- 
 rying Callistomacha, the daughter of Philip of Aexone,
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 367 
 
 begat Callisto, who married Cleombrotus the son of Dino- 
 crates the Acharnian, to whom she bare Lycophron, who, 
 being adopted by his grandfather, died without issue. He 
 being dead, Socrates married Callisto, of whom he had his 
 son Symmachus. To him was born Aristonymus ; to Aris- 
 tonymus, Charmides, who was the father of Philippe. Of 
 her and Lysander came Medeius, who also was an inter- 
 preter, one of the Eumolpids. He begat two children of 
 Timothea, the daughter of Glaucus, viz. Laodamia and 
 Medius, who were priests of Neptune Erechtheus ; also 
 Philippe a daughter, who was afterward priestess of Mi- 
 nerva ; for before, she was married to Diocles of Melite, to 
 whom she bare a son named Diocles, who was a colonel 
 of a regiment of foot. He married Hediste, the daughter 
 of Abron, and of her begat Philippides and Nicostrata, 
 whom Themistocles the torch-bearer, son of Theophrastus, 
 married, and by her had Theophrastus and Diocles ; and 
 he likewise constituted the priesthood of Neptune Erech- 
 theus. 
 
 It is said that he penned fifteen orations. He was often 
 crowned by the people, and had statues dedicated to him. 
 His image in brass was set up in Ceramicus by order of 
 the public, in the year of Anaxicrates ; in whose time also 
 it was ordered that he and his eldest son should be provided 
 for with diet in the Prytaneum ; but he being dead, Lyco- 
 phron his eldest son was forced to sue for that donation. 
 This Lycurgus also was used frequently to plead on the 
 account of sacred things ; and accused Autolycus the Areo- 
 pagite, Lysicles the general, Demades the son of Demeas, 
 Menesaechmus, and many others, all whom he caused to 
 be condemned as guilty. Diphilus also was called in ques- 
 tion by him, for impairing and diminishing the props 
 of the metal mines, and unjustly making himself rich 
 therefrom ; and he caused him to be condemned to die, 
 according to the provision made by the laws in that case.
 
 368 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS 
 
 He gave out of his own stock fifty drachms to every citi- 
 zen, the sum total of which donation amounted to one 
 hundred and sixty talents ; * but some say he gave a mina 
 of silver to each. He likewise accused Aristogiton, Leo- 
 crates, and Autolycus for cowardice. He was called the 
 Ibis: ... 
 
 The ibis to Lycurgus, to Chaerephon the bat.t 
 
 His ancestors derived their pedigree from Erechtheus, the 
 son of the Earth and of Vulcan ; but he was nearest to 
 Lycomedes and Lycurgus, whom the people honored with 
 public solemnities. There is a succession of those of the 
 race who were priests of Neptune, in a complete table 
 placed in the Erechtheum, painted by Ismenias the Chalci- 
 dian ; in the same place stood wooden images of Lycurgus, 
 and of his sons, Abron, Lycurgus, and Lycophron; made by 
 Timarchus and Cephisodotus, the sons of Praxiteles. His 
 son Abron dedicated the table ; and coming to the priest- 
 hood by right of succession, he resigned to his brother 
 Lycophron, and hence he is painted as giving a trident. 
 But Lycurgus had made a draught of all his actions, and 
 hung it on a column before the wrestling-court built by 
 himself, that all might read that would ; and no man could 
 accuse him of any peculation. He likewise proposed to 
 the people 'to crown Neoptolemus, the son of Anticles, and 
 to dedicate statues to him, because he had promised and 
 undertaken to cover the altar of Apollo in the market with 
 gold, according to the order of the oracle. He decreed 
 honors likewise to Diotimus, the son of Diopithes of 
 Euonymus, in the year when Ctesicles was magistrate. 
 
 * Tliis is one of the statements which seem to fix the number of Athenian citi- 
 zen* in the a_'c of the Orators at about 20,000. See Boeckh'a Public Economy of 
 the Athenians. I. Book 1, dfcp. 7. (G.) 
 
 t Aristoph. Bird*, 12<J6.
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 369 
 
 VIII. DEMOSTHENES. 
 
 DEMOSTHENES, the son of Demosthenes by Cleobule, the 
 daughter of Gylon, was a Paeanian by descent. He was 
 left an orphan by his father, when he was but seven years 
 old, together with a sister of the age of five. Being kept 
 by his mother during his nonage, he went to school to Iso- 
 crates, say some ; but the generality are of opinion that he 
 was pupil to Isaeus the Chalcidian, who lived in Athens 
 and was Isocrates's scholar. He imitated Thucydides and 
 Plato, and some affirm that he more especially attended the 
 school of Plato. Hegesias the Magnesian writes, that he 
 entreated his master's leave to go to hear Callistratus the 
 son of Empaedus, an Amphidnean, a noble orator, and 
 sometime commander of a troop of horse, who had dedi- 
 cated an altar to Mercury Agoraeos, and was to make an 
 oration to the people. And when he heard him, he 
 became a lover of oratory, arid so long as he continued 
 at Athens, remained his disciple. 
 
 But Callistratus being soon banished to Thrace, and 
 Demosthenes arrived at some years of maturity, he joined 
 with Isocrates and Plato. After this, he took Isaeus into 
 his house, and for the space of four years labored very 
 hard in imitation of his orations. Though Ctesibius in 
 his book of philosophy affirms that, by the help of Callias 
 the Syracusan, he got the orations of Zoilus the Amphi- 
 polite, and by the assistance of Charicles the Carystian 
 those also of Alcidamas, and devoted himself to the imita- 
 tion of them. When he came to age, in the year of Timo- 
 crates* he called his tutors and guardians to account for 
 their maladministration, in not allowing him what was 
 fitting and requisite out of his estate. And these tutors or 
 guardians were three, Aphobus, Therippides, and Demo- 
 phon (or Demeas), the last of whom, being his uncle, he 
 
 B.C. 364.
 
 370 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 charged more severely than the other two. He arrested 
 each of them in an action of ten talents, and cast them, 
 but did not exact of them what the law had given him, 
 releasing some for money and others for favor. 
 
 When Aristophon, by reason of his age, could not hold 
 the office any longer, he was chosen choregus, or overseer 
 of the dances. During the execution of which office, 
 Midias the Anagyrasian striking him as he was ordering 
 the dances in the theatre, he sued him upon it, but let 
 fall his suit upon Midias's paying him three thousand 
 drachms. 
 
 It is reported of him that, while he was a youth, he 
 confined himself to a den or cave, and there studied his 
 orations, and shaved half of his head that he might not be 
 allured to divert himself from it ; and that he lay upon a 
 very narrow bed, that he might awake and rise the sooner. 
 And for that he could not very well pronounce the letter 
 R, he accustomed himself very much to that, that he might 
 master it if possible ; and using likewise an unseemly 
 motion of his shoulder when he spake at any time, he 
 remedied that by a spit (or, as some say, a sword) stuck in 
 the ceiling just over his shoulder, that the fear of being 
 pricked with it might break him of that indecent ges- 
 ture. They , report of him further that, when he could 
 declaim pretty well, he had a sort of mirror made as big 
 as himself, and used always in declaiming to look in that, 
 to the end that he might see and correct what was amiss. 
 1 le used likewise at some certain times to go down to the 
 rhalerian shore, to the end that, being accustomed to the 
 surges and noise of the waves, he might not be daunted 
 by the clamors of the people, when he should at any time 
 declaim in public. And being naturally short-winded, he 
 gave Neoptolemus a player ten thousand drachms to teach 
 him to pronounce long sentences in one breath. 
 
 Afterwards, betaking himself to the affairs of the com-
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 371 
 
 mon wealth, and finding the people divided into two differ- 
 ent factions, one in favor of Philip, and the other standing 
 for the liberty and properties of the people, he took part 
 with them that opposed Philip, and always persuaded the 
 citizens to help those who were in danger and trouble by 
 Philip's oppression ; taking for his companions in council 
 Hyperides, Nausicles, Polyeuctus, and Diotimus ; and then 
 he drew the Thebans, Euboeans, Corcyraeans, Corinthians, 
 Boeotians, and many more into a league with the Athe- 
 nians. Being in the assembly one day and his memory 
 failing him, his oration was hissed ; which made him return 
 home very heavy and melancholy ; and being met by Euno- 
 mus the Thriasian, an old man, by him he was comforted 
 and encouraged. But he was chiefly animated by Andro- 
 nicus the player, who told him that his orations were 
 excellent, but that he wanted something of action, there- 
 upon rehearsing certain places out of his oration which 
 he had delivered in that same assembly. Unto which 
 Demosthenes gave good ear and credit, and he then be- 
 took himself to Andronicus. And therefore, when he was 
 afterwards asked what was the first part of oratory, he 
 answered, " Action ; " and which was the second, he re- 
 plied, " Action ; " and which was the third, he still an- 
 swered, " Action." Another time, declaiming publicly, and 
 using expressions too youthful for one of his years and 
 gravity, he was laughed at, and ridiculed by the comedians, 
 Antiphanes and Timocles, who in derision used to repeat 
 such phrases as these, as uttered by him : 
 
 By the earth, by the fountains, by the rivers, by the floods I 
 
 For having sworn thus in presence of the people, he raised 
 a tumult about him. He likewise used to swear by 
 Asclepius, and accented the second syllable ('^o-xZ^nos) * 
 through some mistake, and yet afterwards defended it ; for 
 
 * Tliis name was properly pronounced with the accent on the last syllable,' 
 **. (G.)
 
 .'IT- LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 this Asclepius, he said, was callefl faux, that is a mild God. 
 This also often caused him to be interrupted. But all 
 these things he reformed in time, being sometime con- 
 versant with Eubulides, the Milesian philosopher. Be- 
 ing on a time present at the Olympic games, and hearing 
 Lamachus the Myrrhinaean sound the praises of Philip and 
 of Alexander the Great, his son, and decry the cowardice 
 of the Thebans and Olynthians, he stood up in their de- 
 fence against him, and from the ancient poets he pro- 
 claimed the great and noble achievements of the Thebans 
 and Olynthians ; and so elegantly he behaved himself in 
 this affair, that he at once silenced Lamachus, and made 
 him convey himself immediately out of the assembly. And 
 even Philip himself, when he had heard what harangues 
 he made against him, replied, that if he had heard him, he 
 should have chosen him general in the war against himself. 
 He was used to compare Demosthenes's orations to soldiers, 
 for the force they carried along with them ; but the ora- 
 tions of Isocrates to fencers, because of the theatrical 
 delight that accompanied them. 
 
 Being about the age of seven and thirty, reckoning from 
 Dexitheus to Callimachus,* in whose time the Olynthians 
 sent to beg aid of the Athenians against Philip, who then 
 made war upon them, he persuaded them to answer the 
 Olynthians' request ; but in the following year, in which 
 Plato died,f Philip overthrew and destroyed the Olyn- 
 thians. Xenophon also, the scholar of Socrates, had some 
 knowledge of Demosthenes, either at his first rise, or at 
 least when he was most famous and flourishing ; for he 
 wrote the Acts of the Greeks, as touching what passed at 
 the battle of Mantinea, in the year of Chariclides ; J our 
 Demosthenes having sometime before overthrown his guar- 
 dians in a suit he had commenced against them, in the 
 year of Tiraocrates. When Aeschines, being condemned, 
 
 B. o. 88&-S84 to 849-848. t B.C. 848-847. | B. c. 868-862.
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 373 
 
 fled fr9m Athens. Demosthenes hearing of it took horse 
 and rode after him ; which Aeschines understanding, and 
 fearing to be apprehended again, he came out to meet De- 
 mosthenes, and fell at his feet, covered his face, and begged 
 his mercy ; upon which Demosthenes bid him stand up, 
 be assured of his favor, and as a pledge of it, gave him a 
 talent of silver. He advised the people to maintain a 
 company of mercenary soldiers in Thasos, and thither 
 sailed himself as captain of the galleys. Another time, 
 being entrusted to buy corn, he was accused of defrauding 
 the city, but cleared himself of the accusation and was 
 acquitted. When Philip had seized upon Elatea, Demos- 
 thenes with others went to the war of Chaeronea, where he 
 is said to have deserted his colors ; and flying away, a bram- 
 ble caught hold of his vest behind, when turning about in 
 haste, thinking an enemy had overtaken him, he cried out, 
 Save my life, and say what shall be my ransom. On his 
 buckler he had engraven for his motto, To Good Fortune. 
 And it was he that made the oration at the funerals of 
 such as died in that battle. 
 
 After these things, he bent his whole care and study for 
 the reparation of the city and wall ; and being chosen 
 commissary for repairing the walls, besides what money 
 he expended out the city stock, he laid out of his own at 
 least a hundred minas. And besides this, he gave ten 
 thousand drachms to the festival fund ; and taking ship, 
 he sailed from coast to coast to collect money of the allies ; 
 for which he was often by Demotelus, Aristonicus, and 
 Hyperides crowned with golden crowns, and afterwards 
 by Ctesiphon. Which last decree had like to have been 
 retracted, Diodotus and Aeschines endeavoring to prove it 
 to be contrary to the laws'; but he defended himself so 
 well against their allegations, that he overcame all difficul- 
 ties, his enemies not having the fifth part of the votes of 
 the judges.
 
 .;; t LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 After this, when Alexander the Great made his expedi- 
 tion into Asia, and Harpalus fled to Athens with a great 
 sum of money, at first he would not let him be entertained, 
 but afterwards, Ilarpalus being landed and having given 
 him a thousand darics he was of another mind ; and when 
 the Athenians determined to deliver Harpalus up to Anti- 
 pater, he opposed it, proposing to deposit the mone'y in 
 the Citadel, still without declaring the amount to the people. 
 Thereupon Harpalus declared that he had brought with 
 him from Asia seven hundred talents, and that this sum had 
 been deposited in the Citadel ; but only three hundred and 
 fifty or a little more could be found, as Philochorus relates. 
 But when Harpalus broke out of the prison wherein he 
 was kept till some person should come from Alexander, 
 and was escaped into Crete, or, as some will have it, 
 into Taenarum in Laconia, Demosthenes was accused 
 that he had received from him a sum of money, and that 
 therefore he had not given a true account of the sum de- 
 livered to him, nor had impeached the negligence of the 
 keepers. So he was judicially cited by Hyperides, Py- 
 theus, Menesaechmus, Himeraeus, and Patrocles, who 
 prosecuted him so severely as to cause him to be con- 
 demned in the court of Areopagus ; and being condemned, 
 he went into exile, not being able to pay fivefold ; for he 
 was accused of receiving thirty talents. Others say, that 
 he would not run the risk of a trial, but went into banish- 
 ment before the day came. After this tempest was over, 
 when the Athenians sent Polyeuctus to the republic of 
 Arcadia to draw them off from the alliance with the Mace- 
 donians, he not succeeding, Demosthenes appeared to 
 second him, where he reasoned so effectually that he easily 
 prevailed. Which procured him so much credit and esteem, 
 that after some time a galley was dispatched to call him 
 home again. And the Athenians decreed that, whereas he 
 owed the state thirty talents, as a fine laid on him for the
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 375 
 
 misdemeanor he was accused of, he should be excused for 
 only building an altar to Jupiter Servator in the Piraeus ; 
 which decree was first proposed by Demon his near kins- 
 man. This being agreed on, he returned to the administra- 
 tion of affairs in the commonwealth again. 
 
 But when Antipater was blocked up in Lamia, and the 
 Athenians offered sacrifices for the happy news, he hap- 
 pened, being talking with Agesistratus, one of his intimate 
 friends, to say, that his judgment concerning the state of 
 affairs did not jump with other men's, for that he knew 
 the Greeks were brisk and ready enough to run a short 
 course but not to hold on a long race. When Antipater 
 had taken Pharsalus, and threatened to besiege Athens it- 
 self if they refused to deliver up such orators as had de- 
 claimed against him, Demosthenes, suspecting himself to 
 be one of the number, left the city, and fled first into 
 Aegina, that he might take sanctuary in the temple of 
 Aeacus ; but being afraid to trust himself long there, he 
 went over to Calauria ; and when the Athenians had de- 
 creed to deliver up those orators, and him especially as one 
 of them, 4ie continued a suppliant in the temple of Nep- 
 tune. When Archias came thither, who, from his office 
 of pursuing fugitives, was called Phygadotheres and was 
 the scholar of Anaximines the orator, when he, I say, 
 came to him, and persuaded him to go with him, telling 
 him that no doubt he should be received by Antipater as a 
 friend, he replied : When you played a part in a tragedy, 
 you co^ld not persuade me to believe you the person you 
 represented; no more shall you now persuade me by your 
 counsel. And when Archias endeavored to force him 
 thence, the townsmen would not suffer it. And Demos- 
 thenes told them, that he did not flee to Calauria to s;nv 
 his life, but that he might convince the Macedonians of 
 their violence committed even against the Gods themselves. 
 And with that he called for a writing-table ; and if we may
 
 376 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 credit Demetrius the Magnesian, on that he wrote a distich, 
 which afterwards the Athenians caused to be affixed to his 
 statue ; and it was to this purpose : 
 
 Hadst thou, Demosthenes, an outward force 
 
 Great as thy inward magnanimity, 
 Greece should not wear the Macedonian yoke. 
 
 This statue, made by Polyeuctus, is placed near the 
 cloister where the altar of the twelve Gods is erected. 
 Some say this writing was found : " Demosthenes to An- 
 tipater, Greeting." Philochorus tells us that he died by 
 drinking of poison ; and Satyrus the historiographer will 
 have it, that the pen was poisoned with which he wrote his 
 epistle, and putting it into his mouth, soon after he tasted 
 it he died. Eratosthenes is of another opinion, that being 
 in continual fear of the Macedonians, he wore a poisoned 
 bracelet on his arms. Others say again, that he died with 
 holding his breath ; and others, lastly, say that he carried 
 strong poison in his signet. He lived to the age of seventy, 
 according to those who give the highest number, of 
 sixty-seven, according to other statements. And he was in 
 public life two and twenty years. K 
 
 When King Philip was dead, he appeared publicly in a 
 glorious robe or mantle, as rejoicing for his death, though 
 he but just before mourned for his daughter. He assisted 
 the Thebans likewise against Alexander, and animated all 
 the other Greeks. So that when Alexander had conquered 
 Thebes, he demanded Demosthenes of the Athenians, 
 threatening them if they refused to deliver him. Wlvn he 
 went against Persia, demanding ships of the Athenians, De- 
 mosthenes opposed it, saying, who can assure us that he will 
 not use those ships we should send him against ourselves ? 
 
 He left behind him two sons by one wife, th-J daughter 
 of one Heliodorus, a principal citizen. He hai but one 
 daughter, who died unmarried, being but a child. A sister 
 too he had, who married with Laches of Leuconoe, his
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 377 
 
 kinsman, and to him bore Demochares, who proved inferior 
 to none in his time for eloquence, conduct, and courage. 
 His statue is still standing in the Prytaneum, the first on 
 the right as you approach the altar, clothed with a mantle 
 and girt with a sword, because in this habit he delivered 
 an oration to the people, when Antipater demanded of 
 them their orators. 
 
 Afterwards, in process of time, the Athenians decreed 
 nourishment to be given to the kindred of Demosthenes in 
 the Prytaneum, and likewise set up a statue to his memory, 
 when he was dead, in the market, in the year of Gorgias,* 
 which honors were paid him at the request of Demochares 
 his sister's son. And ten years after, Laches, the son of 
 Demochares of Leuconoe, in the year of Pytharatus, re- 
 quired the same honor for himself, that his statue should 
 be set up in the market, and that both he and the eldest 
 of his line for the future should have their allowance in 
 the Prytaneum, and the highest room at all public shows. 
 These decrees concerning both of them are engrossed, and 
 to be found among the statute laws. The statue of De- 
 mochares, of which we have spoken before, was afterwards 
 removed out of the market into the Prytaneum. 
 
 There are extant sixty-five orations which are truly his. 
 Some report of him, that he lived a very dissolute and 
 vicious life, appearing often in women's apparel, and being 
 frequently conversant at masks and revellings, whence he 
 was surnamed Batalus ; though others say, that this was a 
 pet name given him by his nurse, and that from this he was 
 called Batalus in derision. Diogenes the Cynic espying 
 him one day in a victualling-house, he was very much 
 ashamed, and to shun him, went to withdraw ; but Dioge- 
 nes called after him, and told him, The more you shrink 
 inward, the more you will be in the tavern. The same 
 Diogenes once upon the banter said of him, that in his 
 
 * B.C 280.
 
 378 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 orations he was fc Scythian, but in war a delicate nice 
 citizen. He was one of them who received gold of Ephi- 
 altes, one of the popular orators, who, being sent in an 
 embassy to the king of Persia, took money privily, and 
 distributed it among the orators of Athens, that they might 
 use their utmost endeavors to kindle and inflame the war 
 against Philip ; and it is said of Demosthenes, that he for 
 his part had at once three thousand darics of the king. 
 He apprehended one Anaxilas of Oreus, who had been 
 his friend, and caused him to be tortured for a spy ; and 
 when he would confess nothing, he procured a decree that 
 he should be delivered to the eleven executioners. 
 
 When once at a meeting of the Athenians they would 
 not suffer him to speak, he told them he had but a short 
 story to tell them. Upon which all being silent, thus he 
 began : A certain youth, said he, hired an ass in summer 
 time, to go from hence to Megara. About noon, when the 
 sun was very hot, and both he that hired the ass and the 
 owner were desirous of sitting in the shade of the ass, 
 they each thrust the other away, the owner arguing that 
 he let him only his ass and not the shadow, and the other 
 replying that, since he had hired the ass, all that belonged 
 to him was at his dispose. Having said thus, he seemed 
 to go his way. But the Athenians willing now to hear his 
 story out, called him back, and desired him to proceed. 
 To whom he replied : How comes it to pass that ye are so 
 desirous of hearing a story of the shadow of an ass, and 
 refuse to give ear to matters of greater moment? Polus 
 the player boasting to him that he had gotten a whole 
 talent by playing but two days, he answered, and I have 
 gotten five talents by boinij Mlrnt but one day. One day 
 his voice failing him when he was declaiming publicly, 
 being hissed, he cried out to the people, saying, Ye are to 
 judge of players, indeed, by their voice, but of orators by 
 the gravity of their sentences.
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 379 
 
 Epicles upbraiding him for his premeditating what he 
 was to say, he replied, I should he ashamed to speak what 
 comes uppermost to so great an assembly. They say of 
 him that he never put out his lamp that is, never ceased 
 polishing his orations until he was fifty years old. He 
 says of himself, that he drank always fair water. Lysias 
 the orator was acquainted with him ; and Isocrates knew 
 him concerned in the management of public affairs till the 
 battle of Chaeronea ; as also some of the Socratical sect. 
 [He delivered most of his orations extempore, Nature hav- 
 ing well qualified him for it.]* The first that proposed 
 the crowning him with a coronet of gold was Aristonicus, 
 the son of Nicophanes, the Anagyrasian ; though Uiondas 
 interposed with an indictment. 
 
 IX. HYPERIDES. 
 
 HYPERIDES was son of Glaucippus, and grandson of 
 Dionysius, of the borough of Colyttus. He had a son, 
 who bare the same name with his father Glaucippus, an 
 orator, who wrote many orations, and begat a son named 
 Alphinous. At the same time with Lycurgus, he had been 
 a scholar of the philosopher Plato and of the orator Iso- 
 ciates. In Athens his concern in the commonwealth was 
 at that time when Alexander accosted Greece, whom he 
 vigorously opposed in his demands made of the Athenians 
 for the generals as well as for galleys. He advised the 
 people not to discharge the garrison of Taenarum, and this 
 he did for the sake of a friend of his, Chares, who was 
 commander of it. At first he used to plead causes for a 
 fee. He was suspected to have received part of the money 
 which Ephialtes brought out of Persia, and was chosen 
 to maintain a galley, and was sent to assist the Byzantines, 
 
 * This is supposed to have been added by some other hand, because a contrary 
 sentence is given of him before.
 
 380 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 when Philip was besieging their city. Nevertheless, in 
 the same year he took the charge of defraying the expense 
 of the solemn dances, whereas the rest of the captains 
 were exempt from all such public burdens for that year. 
 He obtained a decree for some honors to be paid to De- 
 mosthenes ; and when that decree was indicted at the in- 
 stance of Diondas, as being contrary to the laws, he, being 
 called in question upon it, cleared himself. He did not 
 continue his friendship with Demosthenes, Lysicles, and 
 Lycurgus to the last ; for, Lysicles and Lycurgus being 
 dead, and Demosthenes being accused of having received 
 money of Harpalus, he, among all the rest, was pitched 
 upon, as the only person who was not corrupted with 
 bribery, to draw up his indictment, which he accordingly did. 
 Being once accused at the instance of Aristogiton of pub- 
 lishing acts contrary to the laws after the battle of Chae- 
 ronea, that all foreign inhabitants of Athens should be 
 accounted citizens, that slaves should be made free, that 
 all sacred things, children, and women should be confined 
 to the Piraeus, he cleared himself of all and was ac- 
 quitted. And being blamed by some, who wondered how 
 he could be ignorant of the many laws that were directly 
 repugnant to those decrees, he answered, that the arms of 
 the Macedonians darkened his sight, and it was not he but 
 the battle of Chaeronea that made that decree. But Philip, 
 being affrighted at somewhat, gave leave to carry away 
 their dead out of the field, which before he had denied to 
 the heralds from Lebadea. 
 
 After this, at the overthrow at Crannon, being demanded 
 by Antipater, and the people being resolved to deliver 
 him up, he fled out of the city with others who were under 
 the same condemnation to Aegina ; where meeting with 
 Demosthenes, he excused himself for the breach of friend- 
 ship between them. Going from thence, he was appre- 
 hended by Archias, surnamed Phygadotheres, by country a
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 381 
 
 Thurian, formerly a player, but at that time in the service 
 of Antipater ; by this man, I say, he was apprehended, 
 even in the very temple of Neptune, though he grasped 
 the image of that God in his arms. He was brought be- 
 fore Antipater, who was then at Corinth ; where being 
 put upon the rack, he bit out his tongue, because he would 
 not divulge the secrets of his country, and so died, on the 
 ninth day of October. Hermippus tells us that, as he went 
 into Macedonia, his tongue was cut out and his body cast 
 forth unburied ; but Alphinous his cousin-german (or, ac- 
 cording to the opinion of others, his grandson, by his son 
 Glaucippus) obtained leave, by means of one Philopithes 
 a physician, to take up his body, which he burnt, and car- 
 ried the ashes to Athens to his kinsfolk there, contrary to 
 the edicts both of the Athenians and Macedonians, which 
 not only banished them, but likewise forbade the burial of 
 them anywhere in their own country. Others say, that 
 he was carried to Cleonae with others, and there died, 
 having his tongue cut out, as above ; however, his relations 
 and friends took his bones, when his body was burned, and 
 buried them among his ancestors before the gate Hippades, 
 as Heliodorus gives us the relation in his Third Book of 
 Monuments. His monument is now altogether unknown 
 and lost, being thrown down with age and long standing. 
 
 He is said to have excelled all others in his way of de- 
 livering himself in his orations to the people. And there 
 are some who prefer him even to Demosthenes himself. 
 There are seventy-seven orations which bear his name, of 
 which only two and fifty are genuine and truly his. He 
 was much given to venery, insomuch that he turned his 
 son out of doors, to entertain that famous courtesan Myr- 
 rhina. In Piraeus he had another, whose name was AiN- 
 tagora ; and at Eleusis, where part of his estate lay. lie 
 kept another, one Philte a Theban, whom he ransomed 
 for twenty minas. His usual walk was in the fish-market.
 
 ;1M LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 It is thought that he was accused of impiety with one 
 Phryne, a courtesan likewise, and so was sought after to be 
 apprehended, as he himself seems to intimate in the be- 
 ginning of an oration ; and it is said, that when sentence 
 was just ready to be passed upon her, he produced her in 
 court, opened her clothes before, and discovered her naked 
 breasts, which were so very white, that for her beauty's 
 sake the judges acquitted her. He at leisure times drew 
 up several declamations against Demosthenes, which were 
 thus discovered : Hyperides being sick, Demosthenes came 
 one day to visit him, and caught him with a book in his 
 hand written against him ; at which seeming somewhat 
 displeased, Hyperides told him : This book shall hurt no 
 man that is my friend ; but as a curb, it may serve to re- 
 strain my enemy from offering me any injury. He obtained 
 a decree of some honors to be paid to lolas, who gave the 
 poisoned cup to Alexander. He joined with Leosthenes 
 in the Lamian war, and made an admirable oration at the 
 funerals of those who lost their lives therein. 
 
 When Philip was prepared to embark for Euboea, and 
 the Athenians heard the news of it with no little conster- 
 nation, Hyperides in a very short time, by the voluntary 
 contributions of the citizens, fitted out forty sail, and was 
 the first that set an example, by sending out two galleys, 
 one for himself and another for his son, at his own 
 charge. 
 
 AVhen there was a controversy between the Delians and 
 the Athenians, who should have the pre-eminence in the 
 temple at Delos ; Aeschines being chosen on the behalf of 
 the Athenians for their advocate, the Areopagites refused 
 to ratify the choice and elected Hyperides ; and his ora- 
 tion is yet extant, and bears the name of the Deliac ora- 
 tion.* 
 
 He likewise went ambassador to Rhodes ; where meet- 
 
 See Demosthenes on the Crown, p. 221, 27.
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 383 
 
 ing other ambassadors from Antipater, who commended 
 their master very highly for his goodness and virtue, "NVo 
 know, replied he, that Antipater is good, but we have no 
 need of a good master at present. 
 
 It is said of him, that he never affected much action in 
 his orations to the people, his chief aim being to lay down 
 the matter plainly, and make the case as obvious to the 
 judges as he could. 
 
 He was sent likewise to the Eleans, to plead the cause of 
 Callippus the fencer, who was accused of carrying away 
 the prize at the public games unfairly ; in which cause he 
 got the better. But when he opposed the sentence of pay- 
 ing honors to Phocion, obtained by Midias the son of Mi- 
 dias the Anagyrasian, he was in that cause overthrown. 
 This cause was pleaded on the twenty-fourth day of May, 
 in the year when Xenius was magistrate. 
 
 X. DINARCHUS. 
 
 DINARCHUS, the son of Socrates or Sostratus, born, as 
 some think, at Athens, but according to others, at Corinth, 
 came to Athens very young, and there took up his 
 dwelling, at that time when Alexander made his expedition 
 into Asia. He used to hear Theophrastus, who succeeded 
 Aristotle in his school. He was frequently conversant with 
 Demetrius the Phalerian too. He betook himself more 
 especially to the affairs of the commonwealth after the 
 death of Antipater, when some of the orators were killed 
 and others banished. Having contracted friendship with 
 Cassander, he became in a short time vastly rich, by exact- 
 ing great rates for his orations of those for whom he wrote 
 them. He opposed himself to the greatest and most noble 
 orators of his time, not by being overforward to declaim 
 publicly, for his faculty did not lie that way, but by
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 composing orations for their adversaries. And when Har- 
 palus had broken out of prison, he wrote several orations, 
 which lie gave to their accusers to pronounce against those 
 that were suspected to have taken bribes of him. 
 
 Some time after, being accused of a conspiracy with 
 Antipater and Cassander about the matter of Munychia, 
 when it was surprised by Antigonus and Demetrius, who 
 put a garrison into it, in the year of Anaxicrates,* he turned 
 the greatest part of his estate into money, and fled to Chal- 
 cis, where he lived in exile about fifteen years, and in- 
 creased his stock ; but afterwards, by the mediation of 
 Theophrastus, he and some other banished persons returned 
 to Athens. Then he took up his abode in the house of 
 one Proxenus, his intimate friend ; where, being very aged 
 and withal dim-sighted, he lost his gold. And because 
 Proxenus refused to make inquiry after the thief, he appre- 
 hended him ; and this was the first time that ever he ap- 
 peared in court. That oration against Proxenus is extant ; 
 and there are sixty-four that bear his name, whereof some 
 are believed to be Aristogiton's. He imitated Hyperides ; 
 or, as some incline to judge, rather Demosthenes, because 
 of that vigor and force to move the affections, and the 
 rhetorical ornaments that are evident in his style. 
 
 DECREES PROPOSED TO THE ATHENIANS. 
 
 I. 
 
 DEMOCHARES, the son of Laches of Leuconoe, requires 
 that a statue of brass be set up for Demosthenes, the son 
 of Demosthenes the Paeanian, in the market-place, as 
 
 B.C. 807.
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 385 
 
 likewise that provision of diet be made in the Prytaneura 
 for himself and the eldest of his progeny successively, and 
 the chief seat in all public shows ; for that he had done 
 many good offices for the Athenians, had on most occasions 
 been a good counsellor, and had spent his patrimony in the 
 commonwealth ; had expended eight talents for the fitting 
 out and maintenance of one galley, when they. delivered 
 Euboea, another, when Cephisodorus sailed into the Helles- 
 pont, and a third, when Chares and Phocion were commis- 
 sioned by the people to go captains to Byzantium ; that he 
 at his own charge had redeemed many who had been taken 
 prisoners by Philip at Pydna, Methone, and Olynthus ; that 
 himself had maintained a choir of men, when no provision 
 had been made therefor through the neglect of the tribe 
 Pandibnis ; that he had furnished many indigent citizens 
 with arms ; that being chosen by the people to oversee the 
 city works, he had laid out three talents of his own stock 
 towards the repairing of the walls, besides all that he 
 gave for making two tren'ches about the Piraeus ; that 
 after the battle of Chaeronea he deposited one talent for 
 the use of the public, and after that, another to buy corn 
 in time of scarcity and want; that by his beneficence, 
 wholesome counsels and effectual persuasions, he allured 
 the Thebans, Euboeans, Corinthians, Megarians, Achaeans, 
 Locrians, Byzantines, and Messenians to a league with the 
 Athenians ; that he raised an army of ten thousand foot 
 and a thousand horse, and contracted plenty to the people 
 and their allies ; that being ambassador, he had persuaded 
 the allies to the contribution of above five hundred talents ; 
 that in the same quality, by his influence and the free gift 
 of money, he obtained of the Peloponnesians that they 
 should not send aid to Alexander against the Thebans ; 
 and in consideration of many other good offices performed 
 by him, either as to his counsels, or his personal administra-
 
 386 LIVES OF TIIE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 tion of affairs in the commonwealth, in which, and in 
 defending the rights and liberties of the people, no man in 
 hi> time had done more or deserved better ; and in regard 
 of his sufferings when the commonwealth was ruined, 
 bring banished by the insolence of the oligarchy, and at 
 last dying at Calauria for his good-will to the public, there 
 being soldiers sent from Antipater to apprehend him ; and 
 that notwithstanding his being in the hands of his enemies, 
 in so great and imminent danger, his hearty affection to his 
 countrymen was still the same, insomuch that he never to 
 the last offered any unworthy thing to the injury of his 
 people. 
 
 II. 
 
 IN the magistracy of Pytharatus,* Laches, the son of 
 Demochares of Leuconoe requires of the Athenian senate 
 that a statue of brass be set up for Demochares, the son 
 of Laches of Leuconoe, in the Market-place, and table and 
 diet in the Prytaneum for himself and the eldest of his 
 progeny successively, and the first seat at all public shows ; 
 for that he had always been a benefactor and good coun- 
 sellor to the people, and had done these and the like good 
 offices to the public : he had gone in embassies in his own 
 person ; had proposed and carried in bills relating to his 
 embassage ; had been chief manager of public matters ; 
 had repaired the walls, prepared arms and machines ; 
 had fortified the city in the time of the four years' war. and 
 composed a peace, truce, and alliance with the Boeotians ; 
 for which things he was banished by those who overturned 
 and usurped the government; and being called home 
 ; _: iin by a decree of the people, in the year of Diocles, 
 he had contracted the administration, sparing the public 
 funds ; and going in embassage to Lysimachus, he had at 
 
 , B.C. 269.
 
 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 387 
 
 one time gained thirty, and at another time a hundred 
 talents of silver, for the use of the public ; he had moved 
 the people to send an embassage to Ptolemy, by which 
 means the people got fifty talents ; he went ambassador 
 to Antipater, and by that got twenty talents, and brought 
 it to Eleusis to the people, all which measures he per- 
 suaded the people to adopt while he himself carried them 
 out ; furthermore, he was banished for his love for the 
 commonwealth, and would never take part with usurpers 
 against the popular government ; neither did he, after the 
 overthrow of that government, bear any public office in 
 the state ; he was the only man, of all that had to do in 
 the public administration of affairs in his time, who never 
 promoted or consented to any other form of government 
 but the popular; by his prudence and conduct, all the 
 judgments and decrees, the laws, courts, and all things 
 else belonging to the Athenians, were preserved safe and 
 inviolate ; and, in a word, he never said or did any thing 
 to the prejudice of the popular government. 
 
 in. 
 
 LYCOPHRON, the son of Lycurgus of Butadae, requires 
 that he may have diet in the Prytaneum, according to a 
 donation of the people to Lycurgus. In the year of 
 Anaxicrates,* in the sixth prytany, which was that 
 of the tribe Antiochis, Stratocles, the son of Euthyde- 
 mus of Diomea, proposed ; that, since Lycurgus, the 
 son of Lycophron of Butadae, had (as it were) an in- 
 generated good- will in him towards the people of Athens ; 
 and since his ancestors Diomedes and Lycurgus lived in 
 honor and esteem of all people, and when they died were 
 honored for their virtue so far as to be buried at the 
 
 * B.C. 807.
 
 388 LIVES OF THE TEN ORATORS. 
 
 public charge in the Ceramicus ; and since Lycurgus 
 himself, while he had the management of public affairs, 
 was the author of many good and wholesome laws, and 
 was the city treasurer for twelve years together, during 
 which time there passed through his own hands eighteen 
 thousand and nine hundred talents, besides other great 
 sums of money that he was entrusted with by private citi- 
 zens for the public good, to the sum of six hundred and 
 fifty talents ; in all which concerns he behaved himself so 
 justly, that he was often crowned by the city for his 
 fidelity ; besides, being chosen by the people to that 
 purpose, he brought much money into the Citadel, and 
 provided ornaments, golden images of victory, and vessels 
 of gold and silver for the Goddess Minerva, and gold orna- 
 ments for a hundred Canephoroe ; * since, being commis- 
 sary-general, he brought into the stores a great number 
 of arms and at least fifty thousand shot of darts, and set 
 out four hundred galleys, some new built, and others 
 only repaired ; since, finding many buildings half finished, 
 as the dock-yards, the arsenal, and the theatre of Bacchus, 
 he completed them ; and finished the Panathenaic race, 
 and the court for public exercises at the Lyceum, and 
 adorned the city with many fair new buildings ; since, 
 when Alexander, having conquered Asia, and assuming 
 the empire of all Greece, demanded Lycurgus as the prin-, 
 cipal man that confronted and opposed him in his affairs, 
 the people refused to deliver him up, notwithstanding the 
 terror inspired by Alexander ; and since, being often called 
 to account for his management of affairs in so free a city, 
 which was wholly governed by the people, he never was 
 found faulty or corrupt in any particular ; that all peo- 
 ple, therefore, may know, not only that the people do 
 highly esteem all such as act in defence of their liberties 
 and rights while they live, but likewise that they pay them 
 
 Persons who carried basket*, or panniers, on their heads, of sacred things.
 
 LIVES OP THE TEN ORATORS. 389 
 
 honors after death, in the name of Good Fortune it is de- 
 creed by the people, that such honors be paid to Lycurgus, 
 the son of Lycophron of Butadae, for his justice and mag- 
 nanimity, as that a statue of brass be erected in memory 
 of him in any part of the market which the laws do not 
 prohibit ; as likewise that there be provision for diet in 
 the Prytaneum for every eldest son of his progeny, suc- 
 cessively for ever. Also, that all his decrees be ratified, 
 and engrossed by the public notary, and engraven on 
 pillars of stone, and set up in the Citadel just by the 
 gifts consecrated to Minerva ; and that the city treasurer 
 shall deposit fifty drachms for the engraving of them, out 
 of the money set apart for such uses.
 
 OF FATE.* 
 
 I WILL endeavor, my dearest Piso, to send you my 
 opinion concerning Fate, written with all the clearness 
 and compendiousness I am capable of; since you, who are 
 not ignorant how cautious I am of writing, have thought 
 fit to make it the subject of your request. 
 
 1. You are first then to know that this word Fate is 
 spoken and understood two manner of ways ; the one as 
 it is an energy, the other as it is a substance. First there- 
 fore, as it is an action, Plato f has under a type described 
 it, saying thus in his dialogue entitled Phaedrus : " And 
 this is a sanction of Adrastea (or an inevitable ordinance), 
 that whatever soul being an attendant on God," &c. And 
 in his treatise called Timaeus : " The laws which God in 
 the nature of the universe has established for immortal 
 souls." And in his book of a Commonweal he calls Fate 
 " the speech of the virgin Lachesis, who is the daughter 
 of Necessity." By which sentences he not tragically but 
 theologically shows us what his sentiments are in this 
 matter. Now if any one, translating the fore-cited pas- 
 sages, would have them expressed in more familiar terms, 
 the description in Phaedrus may be thus explained : That 
 Fate is a divine sentence, intransgressible because its cause 
 
 " Thii little Treatise is so pitiously torne, maimed, and ilisraembred thorowout, 
 that a man may sooner divine and guess thereat (as I have done) than translate it 
 I beseech the readers therefore, to hold me excused, in case I neither please my 
 elfe, nor content them, in that which I have written." HOLLAND. 
 
 t See Plato, Phaedrui, p. 248 C ; Tiinaeiu, p. 41 E ; Republic, X. p. 617 D.
 
 OF FATE. 
 
 391 
 
 cannot be divested or hindered. And according to what 
 he has said in his Timaeus, it is a law ensuing on the 
 nature of the universe, according to which all things that 
 are done are transacted. For this does Lachesis effort, 
 who is indeed the daughter of Necessity, as we have botli 
 already related, and shall yet better understand by that 
 which will be said in the progress of our discourse. Thus 
 you see what Fate is, when it is taken for an action. 
 
 2. But as it is a substance, it seems to be the universal 
 soul of the world, and admits of a threefold distribution ; 
 the first destiny being that which errs not; the second, 
 that which is thought to err; and the third that which, 
 being under the heaven, is conversant about the earth. 
 Of these, the highest is called Clotho, the next Atropos, 
 and the lowest, Lachesis ; who, receiving the celestial in- 
 fluences and efficacies of her sisters, transmits and fastens 
 them to the terrestrial things which are under her govern- 
 ment. Thus have we declared briefly what is to be said 
 of Fate, taken as a substance ; what it is, what are its parts, 
 after what manner it is, how it is ordained, and how it 
 stands, both in respect to itself and to us. But as to the 
 particularities of these things, there is another fable in his 
 Commonweal, by which they are in some measure covertly 
 insinuated, and we ourselves have, in the best manner we 
 can, endeavored to explain them to you. 
 
 3. But we now ouce again turn our discourse to F^te, as 
 it is an energy. For concerning this it is that there are so 
 many natural, moral, and logical questions. Having there- 
 fore already in some sort sufficiently defined what it is, we 
 are now in the next place to say something -of its quality, 
 although it may to many seem absurd. I say then that 
 Fate, though comprehending as it were in a circle the in- 
 finity of all those things which are and have been from 
 infinite times and shall be to infinite ages, is not in itself 
 infinite, but determinate and finite ; for neither law, reason,
 
 OF FATE. 
 
 nor any other divine thing can be infinite. And this you 
 will the better understand, if you consider the total revolu- 
 tion and the whole time in which the revolutions of the 
 eight circles (that is. of the eight spheres of the fixed stars, 
 sun, moon, and five planets), having (asTimaeus* says) 
 finished their course, return to one and the same point, 
 being measured by the circle of the Same, which goes 
 always after one manner. For in this order, which is 
 finite and determinate, shall all things (which, as well in 
 heaven as in earth, consist by necessity from above) be re- 
 duced to the same situation, and restored again to their 
 first beginning. Wherefore the habitude of heaven alone, 
 being thus ordained in all things, as well in regard of itself 
 as of the earth and all terrestrial matters, shall again (after 
 long revolutions) one day return ; and those things that in 
 order follow after, and being linked together in a continuity 
 are maintained in their course, shall be present, every one 
 of them by necessity bringing what is its own. But for 
 the better clearing of this matter, let us understand that 
 whatever is in us or about us is not wrought by the course 
 of the heavens and heavenly influences, as being entirely 
 the efficient cause both of my writing what I now write, 
 and of your doing also what you at present do, and in the 
 same manner as you do it. Hereafter then, when the same 
 cause shall return, we shall do the same things we now do, 
 and in the same manner, and shall again become the same 
 men ; and so it will be with all others. And that which 
 follows after shall also happen by the following cause ; and 
 in brief, all things that shall happen in the whole and in 
 every one of these universal revolutions shall again become 
 the same. By this it appears (as we have said before) that 
 Fate, being in some sort infinite, is nevertheless determinate 
 and finite ; and it may be also in some sort seen and com- 
 prehended, as we have farther said, that it is as it were a 
 
 Plato, Tim. p. 89 D.
 
 OF FATE. 393 
 
 circle. For as a motion of a circle is a circle, and the time 
 that measures it is also a circle ; so the order of things 
 which are done and h'appen in a circle may be justly 
 esteemed and called a circle. 
 
 4. This therefore, though there should be nothing else, 
 almost shows us what sort of thing Fate is ; but not par- 
 ticularly or in every respect. What kind of thing then is 
 it in its own form ? It is, as far as one can compare it, 
 like to the civil or politic law. For first it commands the 
 most part of things at least, if not all, conditionally ; and 
 then it comprises (as far as is possible for it) all things that 
 belong to the public in general ; and the better to make 
 you understand both the one and the other, we must 
 specify them by an example. The civil law speaks and 
 ordains in general of a valiant man, and also of a deserter 
 and a coward ; and in the same manner of others. Now 
 this is not to make the law speak of this or that man in 
 particular, but principally to propose such things as are 
 universal or general, and consequently such as fall under 
 them. For we may very well say, that it is legal to reward 
 this man for having demeaned himself valiantly, and to 
 punish that man for flying from his colors ; because the 
 law has virtually though not in express terms and par- 
 ticularly yet in such general ones as they are compre- 
 hended under, so determined of them. As the law (if 
 I may so speak) of physicians and masters of corporal 
 exercises potentially comprehends particular and special 
 things within the general ; so the law of Nature, determin- 
 ing first and principally general matters, secondarily and 
 consequently determines such as are particular. Thus, 
 general things being decreed by Fate, particular and indi- 
 vidual things may also in some sort be said to be so, be- 
 cause they are so by consequence with the general. But 
 perhaps some one of those who more accurately examine 
 and more subtly search into these things may say, on the
 
 394 OF FATE. 
 
 contrary, that particular and individual things precede the 
 composition of general things, and that the general exist 
 only for the particular, since that for which another thing 
 is always goes before that which is for it. Nevertheless, 
 this is not the proper place to treat of this difficulty, but 
 it is to be remitted to another. However, that Fate com- 
 prehends not all things clearly and expressly, but only such 
 as are universal and general, let it pass for resolved on at 
 present, as well for what we have already said a little be- 
 fore, as for what we shall say hereafter. For that which 
 is finite and determinate, agreeing properly with divine 
 Providence, is seen more in universal and general things 
 than in particular ; such therefore is the divine law, and 
 also the civil ; but infinity consists in particulars and indi- 
 viduals. 
 
 After this we are to declare what this term " condition- 
 ally " means ; for it is to be thought that Fate is also some 
 such thing. That then is said to be conditionally, which 
 is supposed to exist not of itself or absolutely, but as 
 really dependent upon and joined to another ; which sig- 
 nifies a suit and consequence. " And this is the sanction 
 of Adrastea (or an inevitable ordinance), that whatever 
 soul, being an attendant on God, shall see any thing of 
 truth, shall till another revolution be exempt from punish- 
 ment ; and if it is always able to do the same, it shall 
 never suffer any damage." * This is said both condition- 
 ally and also universally. Now that Fate is some such 
 thing is clearly manifest, as well from its substance as 
 from its name. For it is called eipaQptvq as being eiooptrri, 
 that is, dependent and linked ; and it is a sanction or law, 
 because things are therein ordained and disposed conse- 
 quentially, as is usual in civil government. 
 
 5. \Ve ought in the next place to consider and treat of 
 
 Thii U the whole puuge from Plato's Phaedriu, p. 248 C, of which part i* 
 quoted in 1. (G.)
 
 OF FATE. 395 
 
 mutual relation and affection ; that is, what reference and 
 respect Fate has to divine Providence, what to Fortune, 
 what also to " that which is in our power," what to contin- 
 gent and other such like things ; and furthermore we are 
 to determine, how far and in what it is true or false that 
 all things happen and are done by and according to Fate. 
 For if the meaning is, that all things are comprehended 
 and contained in Fate, it must be granted that this propo- 
 sition is true ; and if any would farther have it so under- 
 stood, that all things which are done amongst men, on 
 earth, and in heaven are placed in Fate, let this also pass 
 as granted for the present. But if (as the expression seems 
 rather to imply) the " being done according to Fate " sig- 
 nifies not all things, but only that which is an immediate 
 consequent of Fate, then it must not be said that all things 
 happen and are done by and according to Fate, though all 
 things are so according to Fate as to be comprised in it. 
 For all things that the law comprehends and of which it 
 speaks are not legal or according to law ; for it compre- 
 hends treason, it treats of the cowardly running away from 
 one's colors in time of battle, of adultery, and many other 
 such like things, of which it cannot be said that any one 
 of them is lawful. Neither indeed can I affirm of the per- 
 forming a valorous act in war, the killing of a tyrant, or 
 the doing any other virtuous deed, that it is legal ; be- 
 cause that only is proper to be called legal, which is com- 
 manded by the law. Now if the law commands these 
 things, how can they avoid being rebels against the law 
 and transgressors of it, who neither perform valiant feats 
 of arms, kill tyrants, nor do any other such remarkable 
 acts of virtue ? And if they are transgressors of the law, 
 why is it not just they should be punished? But if this 
 is not reasonable, it must then be also confessed that these 
 things are not legal or according to law ; but that legal 
 and according to law is only that which is particularly pre-
 
 396 OF FATE. 
 
 scribed and expressly commanded by the law, in any action 
 whatsoever. In like manner, those things only are fatal 
 and according to Fate, which are the consequences of 
 causes preceding in the divine disposition. So that Fate 
 indeed comprehends all things which are done ; yet many 
 of those things that are comprehended in it, and almost all 
 that precede, should not (to speak properly) be pronounced 
 to be fatal or according to Fate. 
 
 6. These things being so, we are next in order to show, 
 how " that which is in our power " (or free will), Fortune, 
 possible, contingent, and other like things which are placed 
 among the antecedent causes, can consist with Fate, and 
 Fate with them ; for Fate, as it seems, comprehends all 
 things, and yet all these things will not happen by neces- 
 sity, but every one of them according to the principle of its 
 nature. Now the nature of the possible is to presubsist, 
 as the genus, and to go before the contingent ; and the 
 contingent, as the matter and subject, is to be presupposed 
 to free will ; and our free will ought as a master to make use 
 of the contingent; and Fortune comes in by the side of 
 free will, through the property of the contingent of inclining 
 to either part. Now you will more easily apprehend what 
 has been said, if you shall consider that every thing which 
 is generated, and the generation itself, is not done without 
 a generative faculty or power, and the power is not with- 
 out a substance. As for example, neither the generation 
 of man, nor that which is generated, is without a power ; 
 but this power is about man, and man himself is the sub- 
 stance. Now the power or faculty is between the sub- 
 stance, which is the powerful, and the generation and the 
 thing generated, which are both possibles. There being 
 then these three things, the power, the powerful, and the 
 possible ; before the power can exist, the powerful must 
 of necessity be presupposed as its subject, and the power 
 must also necessarily subsist before the possible. By this
 
 OF FATE. 397 
 
 deduction then may in some measure be understood what 
 is meant by possible ; which may be grossly denned as 
 " that which power is able to produce ; " or yet more 
 exactly, if to this same there be added, " provided there 
 be nothing from without to hinder or obstruct it." Now 
 of possible things there are some which can never be 
 hindered, as are those in heaven, to wit, the rising and 
 setting of the stars, and the like to these ; but others may 
 indeed be hindered, as are the most part of human things, 
 and many also of those which are done in the air. The 
 first, as being done by necessity, are called necessary ; the 
 others, which may fall one way or other, are called con- 
 tingent ; and they may both thus be described. The 
 necessary possible is that whose contrary is impossible ; 
 and the contingent possible is that whose contrary is also 
 possible. For that the sun should set is a thing both 
 necessary and possible, forasmuch as it is contrary to this 
 that the sun should not set, which is impossible ; but that, 
 when the sun is set, there should be rain or not rain, both 
 the one and the other is possible and contingent. And 
 then again of things contingent, some happen oftener, 
 others rarely and not so often, others fall out equally or 
 indifferently, as well the one way as the other, even as it 
 happens. Now it is manifest that those are contrary to 
 one another, to wit, those which fall out oftener and 
 those which happen but seldom, and they both for the 
 most part depend on Nature ; but that which happens 
 equally, as much one way as another, depends on our- 
 selves. For that under the Dog it should be either hot or 
 cold, the one oftener, the other seldomer, are both things 
 subject to Nature ; but to walk and not to walk, and all 
 such things of which both the one and the other are sub- 
 mitted to the free will of man, are said to be in us and our 
 election ; but rather more generally to be in us. For there 
 are two sorts of this "being in our power;" the one of
 
 ;;S OF FATE. 
 
 which proceeds from some sudden passion and motion 
 of the mind, as from anger or pleasure ; the other from 
 the discourse and judgment of reason, which may properly 
 be said to be in our election. And some reason there is 
 to believe that this possible and contingent is the same 
 thing with that which is said to be in us and according to 
 our free will, although differently named. For in respect 
 to the future, it is styled possible and contingent ; and in 
 respect of the present, it is named " in our power " and 
 " in our free will." So that these things may thus be de- 
 fined : The contingent is that which is itself as well 
 as its contrary possible ; and " that which is in our 
 power " is one part of the contingent, to wit, that which 
 now takes place according to our will. Thus have we in 
 a manner declared, that the possible in the order of Nature 
 precedes the contingent, and that the contingent subsists 
 before free will ; as also what each of them is, whence 
 they are so named, and what are the qualities adjoined or 
 appertaining to them. 
 
 7. It now remains, that we treat of Fortune and casual 
 adventure, and whatever else is to be considered with them. 
 It is therefore certain that Fortune is a cause. Now of 
 causes, some are causes by themselves, and others by acci- 
 dent. Thus for example, the proper cause by itself of an 
 house or a ship is the art of the mason, the carpenter, or 
 the shipwright ; but causes by accident are music, geome- 
 try, and whatever else may happen to be joined with the 
 art of building houses or ships, in respect either of the 
 body, the soul, or any exterior thing. Whence it appears, 
 that the cause by itself must needs be determinate and 
 ono ; but the causes by accident are never one and the 
 Fame, but infinite and undetermined. For many nay, in- 
 finite accidents, wholly different one from the other, may 
 t>o in one and the same subject. Now the cause by acci- 
 dent, when it is found in a thing which not merely is done
 
 OF FATE. 399 
 
 for some end but has in it free will and election, is then 
 culled Fortune ; as is the finding a treasure while one is 
 digging a hole to plant a tree, or the doing or suffering 
 some extraordinary thing whilst one is flying, following, or 
 otherwise walking, or only turning about, provided it be 
 not for the sake of that which happens, but for some other 
 intention. Hence it is, that some of the ancients have de- 
 clared Fortune to be a cause unknown, that cannot be fore- 
 seen by the human reason. But according to the Platonics, 
 who have approached yet nearer to the true reason of it, 
 it is thus defined : Fortune is a cause by accident, in those 
 things which are done for some end, and which are of our 
 election. And afterwards they add, that it is unforeseen 
 and unknown to the human reason ; although that which 
 is rare and strange appears also by the same means to be 
 in this kind of cause by accident. But what this is, if it 
 is pot sufficiently evidenced by the oppositions and dispu- 
 tations made against it, will at least most clearly be seen 
 by what is written in Plato's Phaedo, where you will find 
 these words : 
 
 PHAED. Have you not heard how and in what man- 
 ner the judgment passed"? ECH. Yes indeed; for there 
 came one and told us of it. At which we wondered very 
 much that, the judgment having been given long before, 
 it seems that he died a great while after. And what, 
 Phaedo, might be the cause of it ? PHAED. It was a for- 
 tune which happened to him, Echecrates. For it chanced 
 that, the day before the judgment, the stem of the galley 
 which the Athenians send every year to the isle of Delos 
 was crowned.* 
 
 In which discourse it is to be observed, that the expres- 
 sion happened to him is not simply to be understood by 
 loas done or came to pass, but it much rather regards 
 what befell him through the concurrence of many causes 
 
 PUto, Phaedo, p. 68 A.
 
 400 OF FATE. 
 
 together, one being done with regard to another. For the 
 priest crowned the ship and adorned it with garlands for 
 another end and intention, and not for the sake of Socra- 
 tes ; and the judges also had for some other cause con- 
 demned him. But the event was strange, and of such a 
 nature that it might seem to have been effected by the 
 providence of some human creature, or rather of some 
 superioV powers. And so much may suffice to show with 
 what Fortune must of necessity subsist, and that there must 
 be first some subject of such things as are in our free 
 will : its effect is, moreover, like itself called Fortune. 
 
 But chance or casual adventure is of a larger extent 
 than Fortune ; which it comprehends, and also several 
 other things which may of their own nature happen some- 
 times one way, sometimes another. And this, as it ap- 
 pears by the derivation of its name, which is in Greek 
 avTopaxov, chance, is that which happens of itself, when that 
 which is ordinary happens not, but another thing in its 
 place ; such as cold in the dog-days seems to be ; for it 
 is sometimes then cold. . . . Once for all, as " that which 
 is in our power" is a 'part of the contingent, so Fortune is 
 a part of chance or casual adventure ; and both the two 
 events are conjoined and dependent on the one and the 
 other, to wit, chance on contingent, and Fortune on " that 
 which is in our power," and yet not on all, but on what 
 is in our election, as we have already said. Wherefore 
 chance is common to things inanimate, as well as to those 
 which are animated ; whereas Fortune is proper to man 
 only, who has his actions voluntary. And an argument of 
 this is, that to be fortunate and to be happy are thought 
 to be one and the same thing. Now happiness is a cer- 
 tain well-doing, and well-doing is proper only to man, and 
 to him perfect. 
 
 8. These tlu-n are the things which are comprised in 
 Fate, to wit, contingent, possible, election, " that which is
 
 OF FATE. 401 
 
 in our power," Fortune, chance, and their adjuncts, as are 
 the things signified by the words perhaps and peradven- 
 ture ; all which indeed are contained in Fate, yet none of 
 them is fatal. It now remains, that we discourse of di 
 vine Providence, and show how it comprehends even Fate 
 itself. 
 
 9. The supreme therefore and first Providence is the 
 understanding or (if you had rather) the will of the first 
 and sovereign God, doing good to every thing that is in 
 the world, by which all divine things have universally and 
 throughout been most excellently and most wisely or- 
 dained and disposed. The second Providence is that of 
 the second Gods, who go through the heaven, by which 
 temporal and mortal things are orderly and regularly gen- 
 erated, and which pertains to the continuation and preser- 
 vation of every kind. The third may probably be called 
 the Providence and procuration of the Daemons, which, be- 
 ing placed on the earth, are the guardians and overseers 
 of human actions. This threefold Providence therefore 
 being seen, of which the first and supreme is chiefly and 
 principally so named, we shall not .be afraid to say, al- 
 though we may in this seem to contradict the sentiments 
 of some philosophers, that all things are done by Fate and 
 by Providence, but not also by Nature. But some are done 
 according to Providence, these according to one, those 
 according to another, and some according to Fate ; and 
 Fate is altogether according to Providence, while Providence 
 is in no wise according to Fate. But let this discourse be 
 understood of the first and supreme Providence. Now 
 that which is done according to another, whatever it is, 
 is always posterior to that according to which it is done ; 
 as that which is according to the law is after the law, and 
 that which is according to Nature is after Nature, so that 
 which is according to Fate is after Fate, and must conse- 
 quently be more new and modern. Wherefore supreme
 
 402 
 
 OF FATE. 
 
 Providence is the most ancient of all things, except him 
 whose will or understanding it is, to wit, the sover- 
 eign author, maker, and father of all things. " Let us 
 therefore," says Timaeus, "discourse for what cause the 
 Creator made and framed this machine of the universe, 
 lie was good, and in him that is good there can never be 
 imprinted or engendered any envy against any thing. Be- 
 ing therefore wholly free from this, he desired that all 
 things should, as far as it is possible, resemble himself. 
 He therefore, who admits this to have been chiefly the 
 principal original of the generation and creation of the 
 world, as it has been delivered to us by wise men, receives 
 that which is most right. For God, who desired that all 
 things should be good, and nothing, as far as possibly might 
 be, evil, taking thus all that was visible, restless as it was, 
 and moving rashly and confusedly, reduced it from disor- 
 der to order, esteeming the one to be altogether better than 
 the other. For it neither was nor is convenient for him 
 who is in all perfection good, to make any thing that 
 should not be very excellent and beautiful." * This, there- 
 fore, and all that follows, even to his disputation concern- 
 ing human souls, is to be understood of the first Providence, 
 which in the beginning constituted all things. Afterwards 
 he speaks thus : " Having framed the universe, he or- 
 dained souls equal in number to the stars, and distributed 
 to each of them one ; and having set them, as it were, in 
 a chariot, showed the nature of the universe, and appointed 
 them the laws of Fate." f Who then will not believe, that 
 by these words he expressly and manifestly declares Fate 
 to be, as it were, a foundation and political constitution of 
 laws, fitted for the souls of men? Of which he after- 
 wards renders the cause. 
 
 As for the second Providence, he thus in a manner ex- 
 plains it, saying : " Having prescribed them all these laws, 
 
 * Plato, Timaem, p. 29 D. t Plato, Timaeiis, p. 41 D.
 
 OF FATE. 403 
 
 to the end that, if there should afterwards happen any 
 fault, he might be exempt from being the cause of any of 
 their evil, he dispersed some of them upon the earth, some 
 into the moon, and some into the other instruments of 
 time. And after this dispersion, he gave in charge to the 
 young Gods the making of human bodies, and the making 
 up and adding whatever was wanting and deficient in 
 human souls ; and after they had perfected whatever is 
 adherent and consequent to this, they should rule and 
 govern, in the best manner they possibly could, this mortal 
 creature, so far as it should not be the cause of its own 
 evils."* For by these words, "that he might be exempt 
 from being the cause of any of their evil," he most clearly 
 signifies the cause of Fate ; and the order and office of 
 the young Gods manifests the second Providence ; and it 
 seems also in some sort to have touched a little upon the 
 third, if he therefore established laws and ordinances that 
 he might be exempt from being the cause of any of their 
 evil. For God, who is free from all evil, has no need of 
 laws or Fate ; but every one of these petty Gods, drawn 
 on by the providence of him who has engendered them, 
 performs what belongs to his office. Now that this is true 
 and agreeable to the opinion of Plato, these words of the 
 lawgiver, spoken by him in his Book of Laws, seems to 
 me to give sufficient testimony : " If there were any man 
 so sufficient by Nature, being by divine Fortune happily 
 engendered and born, that he could comprehend this, he 
 would have no need of laws to command him. For there 
 is not any law or ordinance more worthy and powerful 
 than knowledge ; nor is it fitting that Mind, provided it 
 be truly and really free by Nature, should be a subject or 
 slave to any one, but it ought to command all.'*'}' 
 
 10. I therefore do for mine own part thus understand 
 and interpret this sentence of Plato. There being a three- 
 
 Plato, Timaeus, p. 42 D. t Plato, Laws, IX. p. 875 C.
 
 404 OF FATE. 
 
 fold Providence, the first, as having engendered Fate, does 
 in some sort comprehend it ; the second, having been en- 
 gendered with Fate, is with it totally comprehended and 
 embraced by the first ; the third, as having been engen- 
 dered after Fate, is comprehended by it in the same manner 
 as are free will and Fortune, as we have already said. 
 " For they whom the assistance of a Daemon's power does 
 aid in their intercourse with me " says Socrates, declaring 
 to Theages what is the almost inevitable ordinance of 
 Adrastea " are those whom you also mean ; for they grow 
 and come forward with speed."* In which words, what 
 hf says of a Daemon's aiding some is to be ascribed to the 
 third Providence, and the growing and coming forward 
 with speed, to Fate. In brief, it is not obscure or doubtful 
 but that this also is a kind of Fate. And perhaps it may 
 be found much more probable that the second Providence 
 is also comprehended under Fate, and indeed all things 
 that are done ; since Fate, as a substance, has been rightly 
 divided by us into three parts, and the fable of the chain 
 comprehends the revolutions of the heavens in the number 
 and rank of those things which happen conditionally. But 
 concerning these things I will not much contend, to wit, 
 whether they should be called conditional, or rather con- 
 joined with Fate, the precedent cause and commander of 
 Fate being also fatal. 
 
 11. Our opinion then, to speak compendiously, is such. 
 But the contrary sentiment does not only include all things 
 in Fate, but affirms them all to be done by and according 
 to Fate. It accords indeed in all things to the other (the 
 Stoic) doctrine ; and that which accords to it, 'tis clear, is 
 the same thing with it. In this discourse therefore we 
 have first spoken of the contingent ; secondly, of " that 
 which is in our power;" thirdly, of Fortune and chance, 
 and whatever depends on them ; fourthly, of praise, blame, 
 
 Plato, Theagcs, p. 129 .
 
 OF FATE. 405 
 
 and whatever depends on them ; the fifth and last of all 
 may be said to be prayers to the Gods, with their services 
 and ceremonies. 
 
 For the rest, as to those which are called idle and reap- 
 ing arguments, and that which is named the argument 
 against destiny, they are indeed but vain subtleties and 
 captious sophisms, according to this discourse. But accord- 
 ing to the contrary opinion, the first and principal conclu- 
 sion seems to be, that there is nothing done without a 
 cause, but that all things depend upon antecedent causes ; 
 the second, that the world is governed by Nature, and that 
 it conspires, consents, and is compatible with itself; the 
 third seems rather to be testimonies, of which the first 
 is divination, approved by all sorts of people, as being 
 truly in God ; the second is the equanimity and patience 
 of wise men, who take mildly and bear patiently whatever 
 befalls, as happening by divine ordinance and as it ought ; 
 the third is the speech so common and usual in every 
 one's mouth, to wit, that every proposition is true or false. 
 Thus have we contracted this discourse into a small num- 
 ber of short articles, that we might in few words compre- 
 hend the whole matter of Fate ; into which a scrutiny 
 ought to be made, and the reasons of both opinions to be 
 weighed with a most exact balance. But we shall here- 
 after come to discuss particulars.
 
 PLUTARCH'S CONSOLATORY LETTER TO HIS 
 WIFE. 
 
 PLUTARCH TO HIS WIFE: ALL HEALTH. 
 
 1. As for the messenger you despatched to tell me of 
 the death of my little daughter, it seems he missed his, 
 way as he was going to Athens. But when I came to 
 Tanagra, I heard of it by my niece. I suppose by this 
 time the funeral is over. I wish that whatever has been 
 done may create you no dissatisfaction, as well now as 
 hereafter. But if.you have designedly let any thing alone, 
 depending upon my judgment, thinking better to deter- 
 mine the point if I were with you, I pray let it be without 
 ceremony and timorous superstition, which I know are fur 
 from you. 
 
 2. Only, dear wife, let you and me bear our affliction 
 with patience. I know very well and do comprehend what 
 loss we have had ; but if I should find you grieve beyond 
 measure, this would trouble me more than the thing itself. 
 For I had my birth neither from a stock nor a stone ; * and 
 you know it full well, I having been assistant to you in the 
 education of so many children, which we brought up at 
 home under our own care. This daughter was born after 
 four sons, when you were longing to bear a daughter ; 
 which made me call her by your own name. Therefore I 
 know she'was particularly dear to you. And grief must 
 have a peculiar pungency in a mind tenderly affectionate 
 to children, when you call to mind how naturally witty and 
 
 See II. XXII. 126.
 
 PLUTARCH'S LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 407 
 
 innocent she was, void of anger, and not querulous. She 
 was naturally mild, and compassionate to a miracle. And 
 her gratitude and kindness not only gave us delight, but 
 also manifested her generous nature ; for she would pray 
 her nurse to give suck, not only to other children, but to 
 her very playthings, as it were courteously inviting them 
 to her table, and making the best cheer for them she 
 could. 
 
 3. Now, my dear wife, I see no reason why these and 
 the like things, which delighted us so much when she 
 was alive, should upon remembrance of them afflict us 
 when she is dead. But I also fear lest, while we cease 
 from sorrowing, we should forget her ; as Clymene said, 
 
 I hate the handy horned bow, 
 
 And banish youthful pastimes now ; 
 
 because she would not be put in mind of her son by the 
 exercises he had been used to. For Nature always shuns 
 such things as are troublesome. But since our little 
 daughter afforded all our senses the sweetest and most 
 charming pleasure ; so ought we to cherish her memory, 
 which will conduce many ways or rather many fold 
 more to our joy than our grief. And it is but just, that 
 the same arguments which we have oft-times used to others 
 should prevail upon ourselves at this so seasonable a time, 
 and that we should not supinely sit down and overwhelm 
 the joys which we have tasted with a multiplicity of new 
 griefs. 
 
 4. Moreover, they who were present at the funeral re- 
 port this with admiration, that you neither put on mourn- 
 ing, nor disfigured yourself or any of your maids ; neither 
 were there any costly preparations nor magnificent pomp ; 
 but all things were managed with silence and modera- 
 tion in the presence of our relatives alone. And it 
 seemed not strange to me that you, who never used richly
 
 408 PLUTARCH'S CONSOLATORY LETTER 
 
 to dress yourself for the theatre or other public solemni- 
 ties, esteeming such magnificence vain and useless even 
 in matters of delight, have now practised frugality on 
 this sad occasion. For a virtuous woman ought not only 
 to preserve her purity in riotous feasts, but also to think 
 thus with herself, that the tempest of the mind in violent 
 grief must be calmed by patience, which does not intrench 
 on the natural love of parents towards their children, us 
 many think, but only struggles against the disorderly and 
 irregular passions of the mind. For we allow this love 
 of children to discover itself in lamenting, wishing for. 
 and longing after them when they are dead. But the ex- 
 cessive inclination to grief, which carries people on to 
 unseemly exclamations and furious behavior, is no less 
 culpable than luxurious intemperance. Yet reason seems 
 to plead in its excuse ; because, instead of pleasure, grief 
 and sorrow are ingredients of the crime. What can be 
 more irrational, I pray, than to check excessive laughter 
 and joy, and yet to give a free course to rivers of tears 
 and sighs, which flow from the same fountain? Or, as 
 some do, quarrel with their wives for using artificial helps 
 to beauty, and in the mean time suffer them to shave theii 
 heads, wear the mournful black, sit disconsolate, and lie in 
 pain? And, which is worst of all, if their wives at any 
 time chastise their servants or maids immoderately, they 
 will interpose and hinder them, but at the same time suf- 
 fering them to torment and punish themselves most 
 cruelly, in a case which peculiarly requires their great- 
 est tenderness and humanity ? 
 
 5. But between us, dear wife, there never was any 
 occasion for such contests, nor, I think, will there ever 
 be. For there is no philosopher of our acquaintance 
 who is not in love with your frugality, both in apparel and 
 diet ; nor a citizen, to whom the simplicity and plainness 
 of your dress is not conspicuous, both at religious sacrifices
 
 TO HIS WIFE 409 
 
 and public shows in the theatre. Formerly also you dis- 
 covered on the like occasion* a great constancy of mind, 
 when you lost your eldest son ; and again, when the 
 lovely Chaeron left us. For I remember, when the news 
 was brought me of my son's death, as J was returning 
 home with some friends and guests who accorripanied me 
 to my house, when they beheld all things in order, and 
 observed a profound silence everywhere, as they after- 
 wards declared to others, they thought no such calamity 
 had happened, but that the report was false. So discreetly 
 had you settled the affairs of the house at that time, when 
 no small confusion and disorder might have been expected. 
 And yet you gave this son suck yourself, and endured the 
 lancing of your breast, to prevent the ill effects of a contu- 
 sion. These are things worthy of a generous woman, and 
 one that loves her children. 
 
 6. Whereas, we see most other women receive their 
 children in their hands as playthings with a feminine 
 mirth and jollity ; and afterwards, if they chance to die, 
 they will drench themselves in the most vain and exces- 
 sive sorrow. Not that this is any effect of their love, for 
 that gentle passion acts regularly and discreetly ; but it 
 rather proceeds from a desire of vain-glory, mixed with 
 a little natural affection, which renders their mourning bar- 
 barous, brutish, and extravagant. Which thing Aesop 
 knew very well, when he told the story of Jupiter's giving 
 honors to the Gods ; for, it seems, Grief also made her de- 
 mands, and it was granted that she should be honored, but 
 only by those who were willing of their own accord to do 
 it. And indeed, this is the beginning of sorrow. Every- 
 body first gives her free access ; and after she is once rooted 
 and settled and become familiar, she will not be forced 
 thence with their best endeavors. Therefore she must be 
 resisted at her first approach ; nor must we surrender the 
 fort to her by any exterior signs, whether of apparel, or
 
 410 PLUTARCH'S CONSOLATORY LETTER 
 
 shaving the hair, or any other such like symptoms of 
 mournful weakness ; which happening daily, and wound- 
 ing us by degrees with a kind of foolish bashfulness, at 
 length do so enervate the mind, and reduce her to such 
 straits, that quite dejected and besieged with grief, the 
 poor timorous wretch dare not be merry, or see the light, 
 or eat and drink in company. This inconvenience is ac- 
 companied by a neglect of the body, carelessness of anoint- 
 ing and bathing, with whatsoever else relates to the 
 elegancy of human life. Whereas, on the contrary, the 
 soul, when it is disordered, ought to receive aid from 
 the vigor of a healthful body. For the sharpest edge of the 
 soul's grief is rebated and slacked, when the body is in 
 tranquillity and ease, like the sea in a calm. But where, 
 from an ill course of diet, the body becomes dry and hot, 
 so that it cannot supply the soul with commodious and 
 serene spirits, but only breathes forth melancholy vapors 
 and exhalations, which perpetually annoy her with grief 
 and sadness ; there it is difficult for a man (though never so 
 willing and desirous) to recover the tranquillity of his 
 naind, after it has been disturbed with so many evil 
 affections. 
 
 7. But that which is most to be dreaded in this case does 
 not at all affrighten me, to wit, the visits of foolish women, 
 and their accompanying you in your tears and lamenta- 
 tions ; by which they sharpen your grief, not suffering it 
 either of itself or by the help of others to fade and vanish 
 away. For I am not ignorant how great a combat you 
 lately entered, when you assisted the sister of Theon, and 
 opposed the women who came running in with horrid cries 
 and lamentations, bringing fuel as it were to her passion. 
 Assuredly, when men see their neighbor's house on fire, 
 every one contributes his utmost to quench it ; but when 
 they see the mind inflamed with furious passion, they bring 
 fuel to nourish and increase the flame. When a man's
 
 TO HIS WIFE. 411 
 
 eye is in pain, he is not suffered to touch it, though the 
 inflammation provoke him to it, nor will they that are near 
 him meddle with it. But he who is galled with grief sits 
 and exposes his distemper to every one, like waters that 
 all may poach in ; and so that which at first seemed a light 
 itching or trivial smart, by much fretting and provoking, 
 becomes a great and almost incurable disease. But I 
 know very well that you will arm yourself against these 
 inconveniences. 
 
 8. Moreover, I would have you endeavor to call often to 
 mind that time when our daughter was not as yet born to 
 us, and when we had no cause to complain of Fortune. 
 Then, joining that time with this, argue thus with your- 
 self, that we are now in the same condition as then. 
 Otherwise, dear wife, we shall seem discontented at the 
 birth of our little daughter, if we own that our circum- 
 stances were better before her birth. But the two years 
 of her life are by no means to be forgotten by us, but to 
 be numbered amongst our blessings, in that they afforded 
 us an agreeable pleasure. Nor must we esteem a small 
 good for a great evil ; nor ungratefully complain against 
 Fortune for what she has actually given us, because she 
 has not added what we wished for. Certainly, to speak 
 reverently of the Gods, and to bear our lot with an even 
 mind without accusing Fortune, always brings with it a 
 fair reward. But he who in such a case calls prosperous 
 things to mind, and turning his thoughts from dark and 
 melancholy objects, fixes them on bright and cheerful ones, 
 will either quite extinguish his grief, or by allaying it with 
 contrary sentiments, will render it weak and feeble. For, 
 as perfumes bring delight to the nose, and arm it against 
 ill scents, so the remembrance of happiness gives necessary 
 assistance in adversity to those who avoid not the recollec- 
 tion of their past prosperity nor complain at all against 
 Fortune. For certainly it would little become us to accuse
 
 412 PLUTARCH'S CONSOLATORY LETTER 
 
 our life, if like a book it hath hnt one little blot in it, 
 though all the rest be fair and clean. 
 
 9. For you have oftentimes heard, that true happiness 
 consists in the right discourses and counsels of the mind, 
 tending to its own constant establishment, and that the 
 changes of Fortune are of no great importance to the feli- 
 city of our life. But even if we must -also be governed by 
 exterior things, and with the common sort of people have 
 a regard to casualties, and suffer any kind of men to be 
 judges of our happiness, however, do not you take notice 
 of the tears and moans of such as visit you at present, 
 condoling your misfortunes ; for their tears and sighs are 
 but of course. But rather, do you consider how happy 
 every one of them esteems you for the children you have, 
 the house you keep, and the life you lead. For it would 
 be an ill thing, while others covet your fortune, though 
 sullied with this affliction, that you should exclaim against 
 what you enjoy, and not be sensible, from the taste of 
 affliction, how grateful you ought to be for the happiness 
 which remains untouched. Or, like some who, collecting 
 all the defective verses of Homer, pass over at the same 
 time so many excellent parts of his poems, so shall we 
 peevishly complain of and reckon up the inconveniences 
 of our life, neglecting at the same time promiscuously the 
 benefits thereof? Or, shall we imitate covetous and sordid 
 misers, who, having heaped together much riches, never 
 enjoy what they have in possession, but bewail it if it 
 chance to be lost? 
 
 But if you lament the poor girl because she died unmar- 
 ried and without offspring, you have wherewithal to com- 
 fort yourself, in that you are defective in none of these 
 things, having had your share. And these are not to be 
 esteemed at once great evils where they are wanted, and 
 small benefits where they are enjoyed. But so long as she 
 is gone to a place where she feels no pain, what need is
 
 TO HIS WIFE. 413 
 
 there of our grief? For what harm can befall us from 
 her, when she is free from all hurt 1 And surely the loss 
 of even great things abates the grief, when it is come to 
 this, that we have no need or use of them. But thy 
 Timoxena was deprived but of small matter ; for she had 
 no knowledge but of such, neither took she delight but in 
 such small things. But for that which she never was sen- 
 sible of, and which did not so much as once enter into her 
 thoughts, how can you say it is taken from her 1 
 
 10. As for what you hear others say, who persuade the 
 vulgar that the soul, when once freed from the body, suf- 
 fers no inconvenience or evil nor is sensible at all, I know 
 that you are better grounded in the doctrines delivered 
 down to us from our ancestors, as also in the sacred mys- 
 teries of Bacchus, than to believe such stories ; for the 
 religious symbols are well known to us who are of the 
 fraternity. Therefore be assured, that the soul, being in- 
 capable of death, is affected in the same manner as birds 
 that are kept in a cage. For if she has been a long time 
 educated and cherished in the body, and by long custom 
 has been made familiar with most things of this life, she 
 will (though separable) return again, and at length enter 
 the body ; nor ceaseth it by new births now and then to be 
 entangled in the chances and events of this life. For do 
 not think that old age is therefore evil spoken of and 
 blamed, because it is accompanied with wrinkles, gray 
 hairs, and weakness of body. But this is the most trouble- 
 some thing in old age, that it maketh the soul weak in its 
 remembrance of divine things, and too earnest for things 
 relating to the body ; thus it bendeth and boweth, retain- 
 ing that form which it took of the body. But that which 
 is taken away in youth, being more soft and tractable, soon 
 returns to its native vigor and beauty. Just as fire that is 
 quenched, if it be forthwith kindled again, sparkles and 
 burns out immediately. ... So most speedily
 
 414 PLUTARCH'S LETTER TO HIS WIFE. 
 
 'Twere good to pass the gates of death, 
 
 before too great a love of bodily and earthly things be en- 
 gendered in the soul, and it become soft and tender by 
 being used to the body, and (as it were) by charms and 
 potions incorporated with it. 
 
 11. But the truth of this will appear in the laws and 
 traditions received from our ancestors! For when children 
 die, no libations nor sacrifices are made for them, nor any 
 other of those ceremonies which are wont to be performed 
 for the dead. For infants have no part of earth or earthly 
 affections. Nor do we hover or tarry about their sepulchres 
 or monuments, or sit by when their dead bodies are ex- 
 posed. The laws of our country forbid this, and teach us 
 that it is an impious thing to lament for those whose souls 
 pass immediately into a better and more divine state. 
 Wherefore, since it is safer to give credit to our tradi- 
 tions than to call them in question, let us comply with the 
 custom in outward and public behavior, and let our inte- 
 rior be more unpolluted, pure, and holy. . . . 
 
 See IL V. C46 ; XXIII. 71.
 
 AGAINST RUNNING IN DEBT, OR TAKING UP MONEY 
 UPON USURY. 
 
 1. PLATO in his Laws* permits not any one to go and 
 draw water from his neighbor's well, who has not first 
 digged and sunk a pit in his own ground till he is come to 
 a vein of clay, and has by his sounding experimented that 
 the place will not yield a spring. For the clay or potter's 
 earth, being of its own nature fatty, solid, and strong, 
 retains the moisture it receives, and will not let it soak or 
 pierce through. But it must be lawful for them to take 
 water from another's ground, when there is no way or 
 means for them to find any in their own ; for the law ought 
 to provide for men's necessity, but not favor their laziness. 
 Should there not be the like ordinance also concerning 
 money ; that none should be allowed to borrow upon 
 usury, nor to go and dive into other men's purses, as 
 it were into their wells and fountains, before they have 
 first searched at home and sounded every means for the 
 obtaining it ; having collected (as it were) and gathered 
 together all the gutters and springs, to try if they can 
 draw from them what may suffice to supply their most 
 necessary occasions? But on the contrary, many there 
 are who, to defray their idle expenses and to satisfy their 
 extravagant and superfluous delights, make not use of 
 their own, but have recourse to others, running themselves 
 deeply into debt without any necessity. Now this may 
 
 * Plato, Laws, VIII. p. 844 B.
 
 416 AGAINST RUNNING IN DEBT. 
 
 easily be judged, if one does but consider that usurers do 
 not ordinarily lend to those which are in distress, but only 
 to such as desire to obtain somewhat that is superfluous 
 and of which they stand not in need. So that the credit 
 given by the lender is a testimony sufficiently proving 
 that the borrower has of his own ; whereas on the con- 
 trary, since he has of his own, he ought to keep himself 
 from borrowing. 
 
 2. Why shouldst thou go and make thy court to a 
 banker or a merchant? Borrow from thine own table. 
 Thou hast tankards, dishes, and basins of silver. Make 
 use of them for thy necessity, and when they are gone to sup 
 ply thy wants, the pleasant town of Aulis or isle of Tenedos 
 will again refurnish thy board with fair vessels of earth, far 
 more cleanly and neat than those of silver. For they are 
 not scented with the strong and unpleasant smell of usury, 
 which, like rust, daily more and more sullies and tarnishes 
 the lustre of thy sumptuous magnificence. They will not be 
 every day putting thee in mind of the Kalends and 
 new moons, which, being of themselves the most holy 
 and sacred days of the months, are by reason of usuries 
 rendered the most odious and accursed. For as to those 
 who choose rather to carry their goods to the brokers and 
 there lay them in pawn for money taken upon usury than 
 to sell them outright, I do not believe that Jupiter Ctesius 
 himself can preserve them from beggary. They are 
 ashamed forsooth to receive the full price and value of 
 their goods ; but they are not ashamed to pay use for 
 the money they have borrowed on them. And yet the 
 great and wise Pericles caused that costly ornament of 
 fine gold, weighing about forty talents, with which Mi- 
 nrrva's statue was adorned, to be made in such a manner 
 that he could take it off and on at his pleasure ; to the 
 end (said he) that when we shall stand in need of money 
 to support the charges of war, we may take it and make
 
 AGAINST RUNNING IN DEBT, 417 
 
 use of it, putting afterwards in its place another of no less 
 value. Thus we ought in our affairs, as in a besieged 
 town, never to admit or receive the hostile garrison of a 
 usurer, nor to endure before our eyes the delivering up 
 of our goods into perpetual servitude ; but rather to cut 
 off from our table what is neither necessary nor profitable, 
 and in like manner from our beds, our couches, and our 
 ordinary expenses, and so to keep ourselves free and at lib- 
 erty, in hopes to restore again what we shall have re- 
 trenched, if Fortune shall hereafter smile upon us. 
 
 8. The Roman ladies heretofore willingly parted with 
 their jewels and ornaments of gold, for the making a cup 
 to be sent as an offering to the temple of Apollo Pythius 
 in the city of Delphi. And the Carthaginian matrons did 
 with their own hands cut the hair from their heads, to 
 make cords for the managing of their warlike engines and 
 instruments, in defence of their besieged city. But we, as 
 if" we were ashamed of being able to stand on our own 
 legs without being supported by the assistance of others, 
 go and enslave ourselves by engagements and obligations ; 
 whereas it were much better that, restraining our ambition 
 and confining it to what is profitable for us, we should of 
 our useless and superfluous plate, which we should either 
 melt or sell, build a temple of Liberty for ourselves, our 
 wives, and our children. The Goddess Diana in the city 
 of Ephesus gives to such debtors as can fly into her temple 
 freedom and protection against their creditors ; but the 
 sanctuary of parsimony and moderation in expenses, in- 
 to which no usurer can enter to pluck thence and carry 
 away any debtor prisoner, is always open for the prudent, 
 and affords them a long and large space of joyful and 
 honorable repose. For as the prophetess which gave 
 oracles in the temple of the Pythian Apollo, about the 
 time of the Persian wars, answered the Athenians, that 
 God had for their safety given them a wall of wood, upon
 
 418 OR TAKING UP MONEY UPON USURY. 
 
 which, forsaking their lands, their city, their houses, and 
 all their goods, they had recourse to their ships for the 
 preservation of their liberty ; so God gives us a table of 
 wood, vessels of earth, and garments of coarse cloth, if 
 we desire to live and continue in freedom. 
 
 Aim not at gilded coaches, steeds of price, 
 
 And harness, richly wrought with quaint device; 
 
 for how swiftly soever they may run, yet will usuries over- 
 take them and outrun them. 
 
 Take rather the first ass thou shalt meet or the first pac\- 
 horse that shall come in thy way, and fly from that cruel and 
 tyrannical enemy the usurer, who asks thee not earth and 
 water, as heretofore did the barbarous king of Persia, but 
 which is worse touches thy liberty, and wounds thy 
 honor by proscriptions. If thou payest him not, he troubles 
 thee ; if thon hast wherewithal to satisfy him, he will not 
 receive it, unless it be his pleasure. If thou sellest, he will 
 have thy goods for nothing, or at a very under rate ; and 
 if thou wilt not sell, he will force thee to it ; if thou suest 
 him, he speaks to thee of an accommodation ; if thou 
 swearest to give him content, he will domineer over thee ; 
 if thou goest to his house to discourse with him, he shuts 
 his door against thee ; if thou stayest at home, he is always 
 knocking at thy door and will never stir from thee. 
 
 4. Of what use to the Athenians was the decree of 
 Solon, by which he ordained that the body should not be 
 obliged for any public debt? For they who owe are in 
 bondage to all bankers, and not to them alone (for then 
 there would be no great hurt), but to their very slaves, 
 who are proud, insolent, barbarous, and outrageous, and in 
 a word exactly such as Plato describes the devils and 
 tii TV executioners to be, who in hell torment the souls 
 of the wicked. For thus do these wretched usurers make 
 the court where justice is administered a hell to the poor
 
 AGAINST RUNNING IN DEBT, 419 
 
 debtors, preying on some and gnawing them, vulture-like, 
 to the very bones, and 
 
 Piercing into their entrails with sharp beaks ; * 
 
 and standing over others, who are, like so many Tantaluses, 
 prohibited by them from tasting the corn and fruits of their 
 own ground and drinking the wine of their own vintage. 
 And as King Darius sent to the city of Athens his lieu- 
 tenants Datis and Artaphernes with chains and cords, to 
 bind the prisoners they should take ; so these usurers, bring- 
 ing into Greece boxes full of schedules, bills, and obliga- 
 tory contracts, as so many irons and fetters for the 
 shackling of poor criminals, go through the cities, sow- 
 ing in them, as they pass, not good and profitable seed, 
 as did heretofore Triptolemus, when he went through all 
 places teaching the people to sow corn, but roots and 
 grains of debts, that produce infinite labors and intoler- 
 able usuries, of which the end can never be found, and 
 which, eating their way and spreading their sprouts round 
 about, do in fine make cities bend under the burden, till 
 they come to be suffocated. They say that hares at the 
 same time suckle one young leveret, are ready to kindle 
 and bring forth another, and conceive a third ; but the 
 usuries of these barbarous and wicked usurers bring forth 
 before they conceive. For at the very delivery of their 
 money, they immediately ask it back, taking it up at the 
 same moment they lay it down ; and they let out that 
 again to interest which they take for the use of what they 
 have before lent. 
 
 5. It is a saying among the Messenians, 
 
 Pylos before Pylos, and Pylos still you'll find ; 
 
 but it may much better be said against the usurers, 
 
 Use before use, and use still more you'll find. 
 
 * 
 
 So that they laugh at those natural philosophers who hold 
 
 * Od> as. XI. 578.
 
 420 OB TAKING UP MONET UPON USURY. 
 
 that nothing can be made of nothing and of that which 
 has no existence ; but with them usury is made and en- 
 gendered of that which neither is nor ever was. They 
 think the taking to farm the customs and other public 
 tributes, which the laws nevertheless permit, to be a 
 shame and reproach ; and yet themselves on the contrary, 
 in opposition to all the laws in the world, make men pay 
 tribute for what they lend upon interest ; or rather, if 
 truth may be spoken, do in the very letting out their 
 money to use, basely deceive their debtor. For the poor 
 debtor, who receives less than he acknowledges in his 
 obligation, is falsely and dishonestly cheated. And the 
 Persians indeed repute lying to be a sin only in a second 
 degree, but to be in debt they repute to be in the first ; 
 forasmuch as lying frequently attends those that owe. Now 
 there are not in tne whole world any people who are 
 oftener guilty of lying than usurers, nor that practise more 
 unfaithfulness in their day-books, in which they set down 
 that they have delivered such a sum of money to such a 
 person, to whom they have not given nigh so much. And 
 the moving cause of their lying is pure avarice, not want 
 or poverty, but an insatiable desire of always having more, 
 the end of which is neither pleasurable nor profitable to 
 themselves, but ruinous and destructive to those whom 
 they injure. For they neither cultivate the lands of which 
 they deprive their debtors, nor inhabit the houses out of 
 which they eject them, nor eat at the tables which they 
 take away from them, nor wear the clothes of which they 
 strip them. But first one is destroyed, and then a second 
 soon follows, being drawn on and allured by the former. 
 For the mischief spreads like wildfire, still consuming, 
 and yet still increasing by the destruction and ruin of those 
 that fall into it, whom it devours one after another. And 
 the usurer who maintains this fire, blowing and kindling it 
 to the undoing of so many people, reaps no other advan-
 
 AGAINST RUNNING IN DEBT, 421 
 
 tage from it but only that he now and then takes his book 
 of accounts, and reads in it how many poor debtors he has 
 caused to sell what they had, how many he has dispos- 
 sessed of their lands and livings, whence his money came 
 which he is always turning, winding, and increasing. 
 
 6. Think not that I speak this for any ill-will or enmity 
 that I have borne against usurers ; 
 
 For never did they drive away 
 My horses or my kine.* 
 
 But my only aim is to show those who are so ready to take 
 up money upon use, how much shame and slavery there is 
 in it, and how it proceeds only from extreme folly, sloth, 
 and effeminacy of heart. For if thou hast of thy own, 
 borrow not, since thou hast no need of it ; and if thou 
 hast nothing, borrow not, because thou wilt not have any 
 means to pay. But let us consider the one and the other 
 apart. The elder Cato said to a certain old man, who 
 behaved himself ill : My friend, seeing old age has of 
 itself so many evils, why dost thou go about to add to 
 them the reproach and shame of wickedness? In like 
 manner may we say to a man oppressed with poverty : 
 Since poverty has of itself so many and so great miseries, 
 do not heap upon them the anguishes of borrowing and 
 being in debt. Take not from poverty the only good thing 
 in which it is superior to riches, to wit, freedom from pen- 
 sive care. Otherwise thou wilt subject thyself to the deri- 
 sion of the common proverb, which says, 
 
 A goat I cannot bear away, 
 Therefore an ox upon me lay. 
 
 Thou canst not bear poverty, and yet thou art going to load 
 on thyself a usurer, which is a burden even to a rich man 
 insupportable. 
 
 But you will say perhaps, how then would you have 
 me tc live] Is this a question fit for thee to ask, who hast 
 
 H. L 154.
 
 422 OR TAKING UP MONEY UPON USURY. 
 
 hands, feet, and a voice, who in brief art a man, whose 
 property it is to love and be beloved, to do and receive a 
 courtesy ? Canst thou not teach, bring up young children, 
 be a porter or doorkeeper, travel by sea, serve in a ship f 
 There is in all these nothing more shameful or odious, than 
 to be dunned with the importunate clamors of such as are 
 ah\ ays saying, Pay me, give me my money. 
 
 "7. Rutilius that rich Roman, coming one day to Muso- 
 nius the philosopher, whispered him thus in his ear: 
 Musonius, Jupiter the Savior, whom you philosophers 
 profess to imitate and follow, takes not up money at in- 
 terest. Musonius smiling presently answered him: Nor 
 yet does he lend for use. For this Rutilius, who was him- 
 self an usurer, upbraided the other with borrowing upon 
 use. Now what a foolish stoical arrogance was this. For 
 what need was there of bringing here Jupiter the Savior, 
 when he might have given him the same admonition by 
 things that were familiar and before his eyes ? Swallows 
 run not themselves into debt, ants borrow not upon inter- 
 est ; and yet Nature has given them neither reason, hands, 
 nor art. But she has endued men with such abundance of 
 understanding, that they maintain not only themselves, but 
 also horses, dogs, partridges, hares, and jays. Why then 
 dost thou condemn thyself, as if thou wert less able to 
 persuade than a jay, more dumb than a partridge, and 
 more ungenerous than a dog, in that thou couldst not 
 oblige any man to be assistant to thee, either by serving 
 him, charming him, guarding him, or fighting in his de- 
 fence] Dost thou not see how many occasions the land, 
 and how many the sea affords thee for thy maintenance ? 
 Hear also what Crates says : 
 
 Here I saw Miccylus the wool to card, 
 Whilst his wife spun, that they by labor hard 
 In these hard times might 'scape the hungry jaws 
 Of famine. 
 
 King Antigonus, when he had not for a % long time seen
 
 AGAINST RUNNING IN DEBT, 423 
 
 Cleanthes the philosopher, said to him, Dost thou yet, O 
 Cleanthes, continue to grind? Yes, sir, replied Oleanthes, 
 I still grind, and that I do to gain my living and not to 
 depart from philosophy. How great and generous was the 
 courage of this man, who, coming from the mill and the 
 kneadiLg-trough, did with the same hand which had been 
 employed in turning the stone and moulding the dough, 
 write of the nature of the Gods, moon, stars, and sun ! 
 And yet we think these to be servile works. 
 
 Therefore, forsooth, that we may be free, we take up 
 money at interest, and to this purpose flatter base and ser- 
 vile persons, wait on them, treat them, make them presents, 
 and pay them pensions ; and this we do, not being com- 
 pelled by poverty (for no usurer will lend a poor man 
 money) but to gratify our prodigality. For if we would 
 be content with such things as are necessary for human 
 life, usurers would be no less rare in the world than Cen- 
 taurs and Gorgons. But luxury and excess, as it produced 
 goldsmiths, silversmiths, perfumers, and dyers of curious 
 colors, so has it also brought forth usurers. For we run 
 not into debt for bread and wine, but for the purchasing 
 of stately seats, numerous slaves, fine mules, costly ban- 
 queting halls, rich tables, and for all those foolish and 
 superfluous expenses to which we frequently put ourselves 
 for the exhibiting of plays to the people, or some such vain 
 ambition, from which we frequently reap no other fruit 
 but ingratitude. Now he that is once entangled in usury 
 remains a debtor all his life, not unlike in this to the 
 horse, who, having once taken the bridle into his mouth 
 and the saddle on his back, receives one rider after an- 
 other. Nor is there any means for these debtors to make 
 their escape into those fair pastures and meadows which 
 once they enjoyed, but they wander about, like those Dae- 
 mons mentioned by Empedocles to have been driven out 
 of heaven by Uie offended Gods :
 
 424 OR TAKING UP MONEY UPON USURY. 
 
 By the sky's force they're thrust into the main, 
 Which to the earth soon spews them back again. 
 Thence to bright Titan's orb they're forced to fly, 
 , And Titan soon remits them to the sky. 
 
 In like manner do such men fall from the hand of one 
 usurer or banker to another, sometimes of *a Corinthian, 
 sometimes of a Patrian, sometimes of an Athenian, till, 
 having been deceived and cheated by all, they finally find 
 themselves dissipated and torn in pieces by usury. For as 
 he who is fallen into the dirt must either rise up and get 
 out of it, or else lie still in the place into which he first 
 fell, for that by tumbling, turning, and rolling about, he 
 does but still more and more bemire himself; so also those 
 who do but change their creditor, and cause their names to 
 be transcribed from one usurer's book to another's, do by 
 loading and embroiling themselves with new usuries be- 
 come more and more oppressed. Now in this they proper- 
 ly resemble persons distempered with cholera, who cannot 
 receive any medicine sufficient to work a perfect cure, but 
 continually vomit up all that is given them, and so make 
 way for the choleric humor to gather more and more. For 
 in the same manner these men are not willing to be cleansed 
 at once, but do with grievous anguish and sorrow pay their 
 use at every season of the year, and no sooner have they 
 discharged one, but another drops and stills immediately 
 after, which causes them both aching hearts and heads ; 
 whereas they should have taken care to get wholly clear, 
 that they might remain free and at liberty. 
 
 8. For I now turn my speech to those who are more 
 wealthy, and withal more nice and effeminate, and whose 
 discourse is commonly in this manner : How shall I re- 
 main then without servants, without fire, and without 
 a house or place to which I may repair? Now this 
 is the same thing as if one who is sick of a dropsy 
 and puffed up as a barrel should say to a physician : 
 How? Would you have me become slender, lean, and
 
 AGAINST RUNNING IN DEBT, 425 
 
 empty 1 And why not, provided you thereby get your 
 health ? Thus it is better you should be without servants, 
 than that you should yourself become a slave ; and that 
 you should remain without possessions, than that you 
 should be made the possession of another. Give ear a 
 little to the discourse of the two vultures, as it is reported 
 in the fable. One of them was taken with so strong a fit 
 of vomiting, that he said : I believe I shall cast up my very 
 bowels. Now to this his companion answered : What hurt 
 will there be in it ? For thou wilt not indeed throw up 
 thine own entrails, but those of the dead man which we 
 devoured the other day. So he who is indebted sells not 
 his own inheritance nor his own house, but that of the 
 usurer who lent him the money, to whom by the law he 
 has given the right and possession of them. Nay, by Ju- 
 piter (will he say to me) ; but my father left me this estate. 
 I believe it well, but he left thee also liberty and a good 
 repute, of which thou oughtest to make more account and 
 be more careful. He who begat thee made thy foot and 
 thy hand, and nevertheless, if they happen to be mortified, 
 thou wilt give money to the chirurgeon to cut them off. 
 Calypso presented Ulysses with a rpbe breathing forth the 
 sweet-scented odor of an immortal body, which she put on 
 him, as a token and memorial of the love she had borne 
 him. But when his ship was cast away and himself ready 
 to sink to the bottom, not being able to keep above the 
 water by reason of his wet robe, which weighed him down- 
 wards, he put it off and threw it away, and having girt 
 his naked breast with a broad swaddling band, 
 
 Swam, gazing on the distant shore.* 
 
 And afterwards, when the danger was over and he seen to 
 be landed, he wanted neither food nor raiment. And is 
 it not a true tempest, when the usurer after some time 
 
 * Odyss. V. 439.
 
 426 OR TAKING UP MONEY UPON USURY. 
 
 comes to assault the miserable debtors with this word Pay ? 
 
 This having said, the clouds grow thick, the sea 
 
 Is troubled, and its raging waves beat lii^li, 
 
 Whilst east, south, west winds through the welkin fly.* 
 
 These winds are use, and use upon use, which roll one 
 after another ; and he that is overwhelmed by them and 
 kept down by their weight cannot serve himself nor make 
 his escape by swimming, but at last sinks down to the 
 bottom, where he perishes, carrying with him his friends 
 who were pledges and sureties for him. 
 
 Crates, the Theban philosopher, acted far otherwise ; 
 for owing nothing, and consequently not being pressed for 
 payment by any creditor, but only tired with the cares and 
 troubles of housekeeping and the solicitude requisite to 
 the management of his estate, he left a patrimony of eight 
 talents' value, and taking only his cloak and wallet, re- 
 tired to philosophy and poverty. Anaxagoras also forsook 
 his plentiful and well-stocked pastures. But what need 
 is there of alleging these examples, seeing that the lyric 
 poet Philoxenus, being one of those who were sent to peo- 
 ple a new city and new land in Sicily, where there fell to 
 his share a good house and great wealth with which he 
 mijjht have lived well at his ease, yet seeing that delights, 
 pleasure, and idleness, without any exercise of good letters, 
 reigned in those quarters, said : These goods, by all the 
 Gods, shall not destroy me, but I will rather lose them. 
 And immediately leaving to others the portion that was 
 allotted to himself, he again took shipping, and returned to 
 Athens. Whereas those who are in debt bear and suffer 
 themselves to be sued, taxed, made slaves of, and cheated 
 with false money, feeding like King Phincus certain winged 
 harpies. For these usurers fly to them, and ravish out of 
 their hands their very food. Neither yet have they pa- 
 tience to stay and expect the season ; for they buy their 
 
 Od/w. V. 291, 295.
 
 AGAINST RUNNING IN DEBT. 427 
 
 debtors' com before it is ready for harvest, bargain for the 
 oil before the olives are ripe, and in like manner for their 
 wines. I will have it, says the usurer, at such a price ; 
 and immediately he gets the writing signed ; and yet the 
 grapes are still hanging on the vine, expecting the rising 
 of Arcturus.
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS; OR REMARKABLE SAYINGS 
 OF THE SPARTANS. 
 
 Of Agasicles. 
 
 AGASICLES the Spartan king, when one wondered why, 
 since he was a great lover of instruction, he would not 
 admit Philophanes the Sophist, freely said, I ought, to be 
 their scholar whose son I am. And to one enquiring how 
 a governor should be secure without guards, he replied, 
 If he rules his subjects as fathers do their sons. 
 
 Of Agesilaus the Great. 
 
 Agesilaus the Great, being once chosen steward of a 
 feast. ;md asked by the butler how much wine he allowed 
 every guest, returned : If you have a great deal provided, 
 as much as every one v calls for ; if but a little, give them 
 all an equal share. When he saw a malefactor resolutely 
 endure his torments, How great a rascal is this fellow, he 
 cried out, that uses patience, bravery, and courage, in such 
 an impious and dishonest case ! To one commending :m 
 orator for his skill in amplifying petty matters he said, I 
 don't think that shoemaker a good workman that makes a 
 great shoe for a little foot. When one in discourse said to 
 him, Sir, you have assented to such a thing already, and 
 repeated it very often, he replied, Yes, if it is right ; but 
 if not, I said so indeed but never assented. And the other 
 rejoining, But, sir, a king is obliged to perform whatever 
 he hath granted by his nod ; * No more, he returned, than 
 
 II. L 527
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 429 
 
 those that petition him are bound to make none but good 
 and just requests, and to consider all circumstances of time 
 and what befits a king. When he heard any praise or 
 censure, he thought it as necessary to enquire into the 
 character of those that spake as of those of whom they 
 spake. While he was a boy, at a certain solemnity of 
 naked dancing, the person that ordered that affair put him 
 in a dishonorable place ; and he, though already declared 
 king, endured it, saying, I'll show that it is not the places 
 that grace men, but men the places. To a physician pre- 
 scribing him a nice and tedious course of physic, he said, 
 By Castor and Pollux, unless I am destined to live at any 
 rate, I surely shall not if I take all this. Whilst he stood 
 by the altar of Minerva Chalcioecus sacrificing an ox, a 
 louse bit him. At this he never blushed, but cracked him 
 before the whole company, adding these words, By all the 
 Gods, it is pleasant to kill a plotter at the very altar. An- 
 other time seeing a boy pull a mouse by the tail out of his 
 hole, and the mouse turn and bite the boy's fingers and so 
 escape ; he bade his companions take notice of it, saying, 
 If so little a creature will oppose injurious violence, what 
 think ye that men ought to do ? 
 
 Being eager for war against the Persians to free the 
 Asiatic Greeks, he consulted the oracle of Jupiter at Do- 
 dona ; and that telling him to go on as he designed, he 
 brought the answer to the Ephors, upon which they ordered 
 him to go to Delphi and put the same question. He went, 
 and put it in this form: Apollo, are you of the same mind 
 with your father 1 And the oracle agreeing, he was chosen 
 general and the war began. Now Tissaphcrnes, at first 
 being afraid of Agesilaus, came to articles, and agreed that 
 the Greek cities should be free and left to their own laws ; 
 but afterward procuring a great army from the king, he 
 declared war against him unless he should presently leave 
 Asia. Glad of this treachery of Tissaphernes, he marched
 
 430 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 as if his design was to make an inroad upon Caria ; but 
 when Tissaphernes had brought his troops thither; he 
 turned upon Phrygia, and took a great many cities and 
 abundance of rich spoil, saying to his friend : To break one's 
 promise is indeed impious ; but to outwit an enemy is not 
 only just and glorious, but profitable and sweet. Being 
 inferior to the enemy in horse, he retreated to Ephesus, and 
 ordered all the wealthy to provide each a man and horse, 
 which should excuse them from personal service in his 
 wars. By which means, in the room of rich cowards, he 
 was soon furnished with stout men and able horses ; and 
 this he said he did in imitation of Agamemnon, who 
 agreed for a serviceable mare to discharge a wealthy cow- 
 ard. When he ordered the captives to be sold naked and 
 the chapmen came, a thousand bid money for the clothes, 
 but all derided the bodies of the men, which were tender 
 and white by reason of their delicate breeding, as useless 
 and worth nothing. He said to his soldiers, Look, those 
 are the things for which ye fight, and these are the things 
 with whom ye fight. Having beaten Tissaphernes in Lydia 
 and killed many of his men, he wasted the territories of 
 the king ; and the king sending money and desiring a 
 peace, Agesilaus replied : To grant peace is in the power 
 only of the commonwealth. I delight to enrich my soldiers 
 rather than myself, and think it agreeable to the honor of 
 the Greeks not to receive gifts from their enemies but to 
 take spoils. 
 
 Me^abates the son of Spithridates, a very pretty boy, 
 who thought himself very well beloved, coming to him to 
 offer a kiss and an embrace, he turned away his head. But 
 when the boy had not appeared a long time. Agesilaus en- 
 quired after him ; and his friends replied, that it was his 
 own fault, since he derided the kiss of the pretty boy, and 
 the youth was afraid to come again. Agesilaus, standing 
 silent and musing a pretty while, said : Well, I will use no
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. ' 431 
 
 persuasions, for methinks I had rather conquer such desires 
 tha take the most popular city of my enemies ; for it is 
 better to preserve our own than rob others of their liberty. 
 In all things else he was very exact, and a strict observer 
 of the law ; but in his friends' concerns hp thought that to 
 be too scrupulous was a bare pretence to cloak unwilling- 
 ness to use his interest And agreeable to this, there is 
 extant a small note of his, interceding for a friend to one 
 Idrieus a Carian: If Nicias is not guilty, discharge him; 
 if he is, discharge him for my sake ; but by all means pray 
 let him be discharged. This was his usual humor in his 
 friends' concerns, yet sometimes profit and convenience w,ts 
 preferred ; for once breaking up his camp in disorder, and 
 leaving one that he loved behind him sick, when he begged 
 and beseeched him with tears to have compassion, he turned 
 and said, How hard it is to be pitiful and wise at once ! His 
 diet was the same with that of his attendants ; he never 
 fed to satisfy, nor drank himself drunk ; he used sleep not 
 as a master, but as a servant to his affairs ; and was so fitted 
 to endure heat or cold, that he alone was undisturbed at the 
 change of seasons. He lodged amongst his soldiers, and 
 his bed was as mean as any ; and this he had always in his 
 mouth : It befits a governor to excel private men not in 
 delicacy and softness, but in bravery and courage. And 
 therefore when one asked him what good Lycurgus's laws 
 had brought to Sparta, he replied, Contempt of pleasure. 
 And to one that wondered at his and the other Laced 10- 
 monians' mean fare and poor attire, he said, From this 
 course of life, sir, we reap liberty. And to one advising 
 him to indulge more, saying, Chance is uncertain, and you 
 may never have the opportunity again, he replied, I accus- 
 tom myself so that, let whatever change happen, I shall 
 need no change. When he was grown old, he continued 
 the same course ; and to one asking him why at his age in 
 very cold weather he would not we;ir a coat, he replied, that
 
 432 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 the youth may imitate, having the old men and governors 
 for example. 
 
 The Thasians, when he marched through their country, 
 presented him with corn, geese, sweetmeats, honey-cakes, 
 and all sorts of deli caries, both of meat and drink ; he ac- 
 cepted the corn, but commanded them to carry back the 
 rest, as useless and unprofitable to him. But they impor- 
 tunately pressing him to take all, he ordered them to be 
 given to the Helots ; and when some asked the reason, he 
 replied, They that profess bravery ought not to meddle 
 with such delicacies ; and whatever takes with slaves can- 
 not be agreeable to the free. Another time the Thasians, 
 after considerable benefits received, made him a God and 
 dedicated temples to his honor, and sent an embassy to 
 compliment him on that occasion. When he had read 
 over the honors the ambassadors had brought him, Well, 
 said he, and can your country make men Gods ? And they 
 affirming, Go to, he rejoined, make yourselves all Gods 
 first ; and when that is done, I'll believe you can make me 
 one. The Greeks in Asia decreeing him statues, he wrote 
 thus to them : Let there be no representation of me, either 
 painted, founded, or engraved. In Asia, seeing a house roofed 
 with square beams, he asked the master whether trees in 
 their country were grown square. And he replying, No, 
 but round ; What then, said he, if they grew square, would 
 you make them round? Being asked how far Sparta's 
 bounds extended, shaking a spear he replied, As far as this 
 will reach. And to another enquiring why Sparta was 
 without walls, he showed the citizens in arms, saying, Look, 
 these are the walls of Sparta. And to another that put 
 the same question he replied, Cities should be walled not 
 with stones and timber, but with the courage of the inhab- 
 itants ; and his friends he advised to strive to be rich not 
 in money, but in bravery and virtue. When lie would have 
 his soldiers do any thing quickly, he before them all put the
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 433 
 
 first hand to it ; he was proud that he wrought as much as 
 any, and valued himself more upon ruling his own desires 
 than upon being king. When one saw a lame Spartan 
 marching to the war, and endeavored to procure a horse 
 for him. How, said he, don't you know that war needs those 
 that will stay, not those that will fly? Being asked how he 
 got this great reputation, he replied, By contemning death. 
 And another time, one enquiring why the Spartans used 
 pipes and music when they fought, he said, When all move 
 in measure, it may be known who is brave and who a cow- 
 ard. When he heard one magnifying the king of Persia's 
 happiness, who was but young, Yes, said he, Priam himself 
 was not unhappy at that age. 
 
 When he had conquered a great part of Asia, he de- 
 signed to march against the King himself, to break his 
 quiet and hinder him from corrupting the popular men 
 amongst the Greeks ; but being recalled by the Epliors to 
 oppose the designs which the other Greek states, bought 
 with the King's gold, were forming against Sparta, he said, 
 A good ruler should be governed by the laws, and sailed 
 away from Asia, leaving the Greeks there extremely sorry 
 at his departure. And because the stamp of the Persian 
 money was an archer, he said, when he broke up his camp, 
 that he was driven out of Asia by thirty thousand of the 
 King's archers. For so many pieces of gold being carried 
 to Thebes and Athens by Timocrates, and distributed 
 amongst the popular men, the people were excited to 
 war upon the Spartans. And this epistle he sent to the 
 Ephors : 
 
 AGESILAUS to the EPHORS, Greeting. 
 
 We have subdued a great part of Asia, driven out the 
 barbarians, and furnished Ionia with arms. But since 
 you command me back, I follow, nay almost come before 
 this epistle ; for I am not governor for myself, but for the
 
 434 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 commonwealth. And then a king truly rules according to 
 justice, when he is governed by the laws, the Ephors, or 
 others that are in authority in the commonwealth. 
 
 Passing the Hellespont, he marched through Thrace, but 
 made no applications to any of the barbarians, only send- 
 ing to know whether he marched through the country of 
 an enemy or a friend. All the others received him as 
 friends and guided him in his march ; only the Troadians 
 (of whom, as story says, even Xerxes bought his passage) 
 demanded of Agesilaus a hundred talents of silver and as 
 many women. But he scoffingly replied, Why then do not 
 you come presently to receive what you demand ? And 
 leading on his army, he fought them ; and having destroyed 
 a considerable number, he marched through. To the king 
 of Macedon he sent the same question ; and he replying 
 that he would consider of it, Let him consider, saith he, 
 and we will be marching on. Upon which the king, sur- 
 prised at his daring temper and afraid of his force, ad- 
 mitted him as a friend. The Thessalians having assisted 
 his enemies, he wasted their country, and sent Xenocles 
 and Scythes to Larissa in order to make a treaty. These 
 being seized and detained, all others stomached it extreme- 
 ly, and were of opinion that Agcsiluus should besiege and 
 storm Larissa. But he replying that he would not give 
 either of their lives for all Thessaly, he had them deliv- 
 ered upon articles. Hearing of a battle fought near Cor- 
 inth, in which very few of the Spartans, but many of the 
 Corinthians, Athenians, and their allies were slain, he did 
 not appear joyful, or puffed up with his victory, but fetch- 
 ing a deep sigh cried out, Unhappy Greece, that hath de- 
 stroyed herself men enough to have conquered all the 
 barbarians ! The Pharsalians pressing upon him and dis- 
 tressing his forces with five hundred horse, he charged 
 them, and after the rout raised a trophy at the foot of
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 435 
 
 Narthacium. And this victory pleased him more than all 
 the others he had won, because with his single cavalry he 
 had beaten those that vaunted themselves as the best 
 horsemen in the world. Dtphridas bringing him com- 
 mands immediately upon his march to make an inroad into 
 Boeotia, though he designed the same thing in a short 
 time, when he should be better prepared, he obeyed, 
 and sending for twenty thousand men from the camp at 
 Corinth, marched into Boeotia ; and at Coronea joining 
 battle with the Thebans, Athenians, Argives, Corinthians, 
 and Locrians altogether, he won, though desperately 
 wounded himself, the greatest battle (as Xenophon af- 
 firms) that was fought in his age. And yet when he 
 returned, after so much glory and so many victories, he 
 made no alteration in his course of life. 
 
 When he saw some of ,the citizens think themselves 
 brave fellows for breeding horses for the race, he per- 
 suaded his sister Cunisca to get into a chariot and put in 
 for the prize at the Olympian games, intending by that way 
 to convince the Greeks that it was no argument of bravery, 
 but of wealth and profuse expense. Having Xenophon 
 the philosopher at his house, and treating him with great 
 consideration, he urged him to send for his children and 
 have them brought up in Sparta, where they might learn 
 the most excellent of arts, how to govern and how to be 
 governed. And at another time being asked by what 
 means the Lacedaemonians flourished above others, Be- 
 cause, says he, they are more studious than others how 
 to rule and how to obey. When Lysander was dead, 
 he found a strong faction, which Lysander upon his re- 
 turn from Asia had associated against him, and was very 
 eager to show the people what manner of citizen Lysan- 
 der was whilst he lived. And finding among Lysander's 
 papers an oration composed by Cleon of Halicarnassus, 
 about new designs and changing the government, which
 
 436 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 Lysander was to speak to the people, he resolved to publish 
 it. But when an old politician, perusing the discourse and 
 fearing its effect upon the people, advised him not to dig 
 up Lysander but rather bury the speech with him, he 
 followed the advice, and made no more of it. Those of 
 the contrary faction he did not openly molest, but by cun- 
 ning contrivance he got some of them into office, and then 
 showed them to be rascals when in power. And then 
 defending them or getting their pardon when accused, he 
 brought them over to his own side, so that he had no enemy 
 at last. To one desiring him to write to his acquaintance in 
 Asia, that he might have justice done him, he replied, My 
 acquaintance will do thee justice, though I do not write. 
 One showed him the wall of a city strongly built and well 
 fortified, and asked him whether he did not think it a fine 
 thing. Yes, by heaven, he replied, for women, but not for 
 men to live in. To a Megarian talking great things of his 
 city he said, Youth, thy words want an army. 
 
 What he saw others admire he seemed not so much as 
 to know ; and when Callipides, a man famous among the 
 Greeks for acting tragedies and caressed by all, met him 
 and saluted him, and then impudently intruding amongst 
 his companions showed himself, supposing that Agesilaus 
 would take notice of him and begin some familiar dis- 
 course, and at last asked, Doth not your majesty know me ? 
 Have not you heard who I am? he looked upon him and 
 said, Art not thou Callipides, the Merry Andrew?* (For 
 that is the name the Lacedaemonians give an actor.) Be- 
 ing once desired to hear a man imitate a nightingale, he 
 refused, saying, I have often heard the bird itself. Mcne- 
 crates the physician, for his good success in some desperate 
 diseases, was called Jupiter ; and priding himself in the 
 name, he presumed to write to Agesilaus thus : Menecrates 
 Jupiter to King Agesilaus wisheth good health. Reading 
 
 , the Spartan word for the more common v.TOKptn/f, (G.)
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 437 
 
 no more, he presently wrote back: King Agesilaus to 
 Menecrates wisheth a sound mind. 
 
 When Conon and Pharnabazus with the king's navy 
 were masters of the sea and wasted the coasts of Laconia, 
 and Athens Pharnabazus defraying the charges was 
 surrounded with a wall, the Lacedaemonians made a peace 
 with the Persian ; and sending Antalcidas, one of their citi- 
 zens, to Tiribazus, they agreed to deliver into the King's 
 hands all the Asiatic Greeks, for whose freedom Agesilaus 
 fought. Upon which account Agesilaus was not at all 
 blemished by this dishonorable treaty ; for Antalcidas was 
 his enemy, and clapped up a peace on purpose because the 
 war raised Agesilaus and got him glory. When one said, 
 The Lacedaemonians are becoming medized, he replied, 
 llather the Medes are becoming laconized. And being 
 asked which was the better virtue, courage or justice, he 
 said : Courage would be good for nothing, if there were no 
 justice ; and if all men were just, there would be no need 
 of courage. The Asians being wont to style the king of 
 Persia The Great; How, said he, is he greater than I am, 
 if he is not more just or temperate'? And he used to say, 
 The Greeks in Asia are mean-spirited freemen, but stout 
 slaves. And being asked how one might get the greuh^t 
 reputation amongst men, he replied, By speaking the best 
 and doing the bravest things. And he had this saying com- 
 monly- in his mouth, A commander should be daring against 
 his enemy, and kind and good-natured to his own soldiers. 
 When one asked him what boys should learn; That, said 
 he, which they shall use when men. When he sat judge 
 upon a cause, the accuser spake floridly and well ; but the 
 defendant meanly and -ever now and then repeated these 
 words, Agesilaus, a king should assist the laws. What, said 
 he, dost thou think, if any one dug down thy house or .took 
 away thy coat, a mason or a weaver would assist thee ? 
 
 A letter being brought him- from the king of Persia by
 
 438 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 a Persian that came with Callias the Spartan, after the 
 peace was concluded, offering him friendship and kind en- 
 tertainment, he would not receive it, bidding the messenger 
 tell the king that there was no need to send private letters 
 to him ; for if he was a friend to Sparta and meant well to 
 Greece, he would do his best to be his friend ; but if he 
 designed upon their liberty, he might know that, though 
 he received a thousand letters from him, he would be his 
 enemy. lie was very fond of his children ;' and it is re- 
 ported that once toying with them he got astride upon a 
 reed as upon a horse, and rode about the room ; and being 
 seen by one of his friends, he desired him not to speak of 
 it till he had children of his own. When he had fought 
 often with the Thebans and was wounded in the battle, 
 Antalcidas, as it is reported, said to him : Indeed, sir, you 
 have received a very fair reward for instructing the The- 
 bans, whom, when ignorant and unwilling, you have forced 
 to learn the art of war. For story tells us, the Lacedae- 
 monians at that time by frequent skirmishes had made the- 
 Thebans better soldiers than themselves. And therefore 
 Lycurgus, the old lawgiver, forbade them to fight often 
 with the same nation, lest the enemy should learn their 
 discipline. When he understood that the allies took it 
 very ill, that in their frequent expeditions they, being great 
 in number, followed the Spartans that were but few ; de- 
 bigning to show their mistake about the number, he ordered 
 all the allies to sit down in one body and the Lacedaemo- 
 nians in another by themselves. Then he made proclama- 
 tion that all the potters should rise first ; and when they 
 stood up, the braziers next ; then the carpenters, next the 
 masons, and so all other traders in order. Now almost all 
 the allies stood up and not one of the Spartans, for their 
 law forbids them all mechanical employments. Then said 
 Agesilaus, with a smile, See now how many soldiers we pro- 
 vide more than you. When at the battle of Leuctra many
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 439 
 
 of the Spartans fled and upon that account were obnoxious 
 to the laws, the Ephors, seeing the city had but few men 
 and stood in great need of soldiers at that time, would free 
 them from the infamy and yet still keep the laws in force. 
 Upon that account they put the power of making laws into 
 the hands of Agesilaus ; and he coming into the assembly 
 said, I will make no new laws, nor will I add any thing to 
 those you already have, nor take therefrom, nor change 
 them in any wise ; but I will order that the laws you 
 already have be in force from to-morrow. 
 
 Epaminondas rushing on with a torrent and tide of force, 
 and the Thebans and their allies being puffed up with this 
 victory, though he had but an inconsiderable number, Ages- 
 ilaus repulsed them from the city and forced them to 
 retreat. In the battle at Mantinea, he advised the Spartans 
 to neglect the others and fight Epaminondas only, saying : 
 The wise alone is the stout man, and the cause of victory ; 
 and therefore if we take him off', we shall quickly have 
 the rest; for they are fools and worth nothing. And it 
 happened accordingly ; for Epaminondas having the better 
 of the day and the Spartans being routed, as he turned 
 about and encouraged his soldiers to pursue, a Lacedae- 
 monian gave him his death-wound. lie falling, the Spar- 
 tans that fled with Agesilaus rallied and turned the victory ; 
 the Thebans appearing to have much the worse, and the 
 Spartans the better of the day. When Sparta had a groat 
 many hired soldiers in pay, and wanted money to carry on 
 the war, Agesilaus, upon the king of Egypt's desire, went 
 to serve him for money. But the meanness of his habit 
 brought him into contempt with the people of that coun- 
 try ; for they, according to their bad notions of princes, ex- 
 pected that the king of Sparta should appear like the 
 Persian, gaudily attired. But in a little time he sufficiently 
 convinced them that majesty and glory were to be gotten 
 by prudence and courage. Whon he found his men dis-
 
 440 LACOinC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 conraged at the number of the enemy (for they were 
 200,000) and their own fewness, just before the engage- 
 ment, without any man's privity, he contrived how to en- 
 courage them : in the hollow of his left hand he wrote 
 VICTORY, and taking the liver from the priest, he put it into 
 that hand, and held it a pretty while, pretending he was in 
 doubt and perplexity at some appearance, till the charac- 
 ters were imprinted on the flesh ; and then he showed it to 
 the soldiers, telling them the Gods gave certain signs of 
 victory by these characters. Upon which, thinking they 
 had sure evidence of good success, they marched reso- 
 lutely to the battle. When the enemy much exceeded 
 them in number and were making an entrenchment round 
 his camp, and Nectabius, whom then he assisted, urged 
 him to fight ; I would not, said he, hinder our enemies 
 from making their number as small as ours. And when 
 the trench was almost drawn round, ordering his army 
 to the space between, and so fighting upon equal terms, 
 with those few soldiers he had he routed and killed abun- 
 dance of the enemy, and sent home a great treasure. Dying 
 on his voyage from Egypt, he commanded his attendants 
 not to make any figure or representation of his body ; For, 
 said he, if I have done any brave action, that will preserve 
 my memory ; if not, neither will a thousand statues, the 
 works of base mechanics. 
 
 Of Agesipolis the Son of Cleombrotus. 
 
 Agesipolis the son of Cleombrotus, when one told him 
 that Philip had razed Olynthus in a few days, said, Well, 
 but he is not able to build such another in twice that time. 
 To one saying that whilst he was king he himself was an 
 hostage with some other youths, and not their wives or 
 children, he replied, Very good, for it is fit we ourselves 
 should suffer for our own faults. When he designed to 
 send for some whelps from home, and one said, Sir, none
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 441 
 
 must be carried out of the country, he replied, Nor men 
 heretofore, but now they may. 
 
 Of Atjesipolis the Son of Pausania$. 
 
 Agesipolis tho> son of Pausanias, when the Athenians 
 appealed to the Megarians as arbitrators of the differences 
 belwcen them, said, It is a shame, Athenians, that those 
 who wore once the lords of all Greece should understand 
 what is right and just less than the people of Megara. 
 
 Of Agis the Son of Archidamus. 
 
 Agis the son of Archidamus, when the Ephors gave 
 orders, Go take the youth, and follow this man into his 
 own country, and he shall guide thee to the very citadel, 
 said : How can it be prudent to trust so many youths to the 
 fidelity of him who betrays his own country? Being asked 
 what art was chiefly learned in Sparta, To know, he re- 
 plied, how to govern and to be governed. He used to say, 
 The Spartans do not enquire how many the enemy are, but 
 where they are. At Mantinea, being advised not to fight 
 the enemy, who exceeded him in number, he said, It is 
 necessary for him to fight a great many that would rule a 
 great many. To one enquiring how many the Spartans 
 were, Enough, he replied, to keep rascals at a distance. 
 Marching by the walls of Corinth, and perceiving them to 
 be high and strong and stretching out to a great length, he 
 said, What women live there? To an orator that said 
 speech was the best thing, he rejoined, You then, when 
 you are silent, are worth nothing. When the Argives, 
 after they had been once beaten, faced him more boldly 
 than before ; on seeing many of the allies disheartened, he 
 said, Courage, sirs ! for when we conquerors shake, what 
 do you think is the condition of the conquered? To an 
 ambassador from the Abderites, after he had ended his 
 long speech, enquiring what answer he should carry to his
 
 442 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 city, he replied, This : As long as you talked, so long I qui- 
 etly heard. Some commending the Eleans for exact justice 
 in determining the prizes at the Olympian games, he said, 
 What great wonder is it, that in four years they can he ju->t 
 one day? To some that told him he ws envied by the 
 heirs of the other royal family, Well, said he, their own 
 misfortunes will torment them, and my own and my friends' 
 success besides. When one advised him to give the flying 
 enemy room to run, he said, How shall we fight those that 
 stand to it and resist, if we dare not engage those whom 
 their cowardice makes fly? When one proposed a way to 
 free Greece, well contrived indeed but hard to be brought 
 about, he said, Friend, thy words want an army and a treas- 
 ure. To one saying, Philip won't let you set foot upon any 
 other part of Greece, he returned, Sir, we have room 
 enough in our own country. An ambassador from Perin- 
 thus to Lacedaemon, after a long tedious speech, asking 
 A\ntt answer he should carry back to the Perinthians, he 
 said, What but this ? that thou couldst hardly find an end 
 to thy talk, and I kept silent. He went by himself ambas- 
 sador to Philip; and Philip saying, What! but one? he 
 replied, I am an ambassador but to one. An old man, ob- 
 serving that the ancient laws were neglected and that new 
 evil customs crept in, said to him, when he was now grown 
 old himself, All things here at Sparta are turned topsy- 
 turvy. He replied with a joke: If it is so, it is agreeable 
 to reason ; for when I was a boy, I heard my father say 
 that all things were then topsy-turvy ; and he heard his 
 father say the same ; and it is no wonder if succeeding 
 times are worse than the preceding ; but it is a wonder if 
 they happen to be better, or but just as good. 13( 'ing 
 asked how a man could be always free, he replied, If he 
 contemns death.
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 443 
 
 Of jtgi* the Younger. 
 
 Agig the Younger, when Demades said, The Spartans' 
 swords are so short that our jugglers can easily swallow 
 them, replied, Yet the Spartans can reach their enemies 
 with these swords. A base fellow often asking who was 
 the bravest of the Spartans, he said, He that is most un- 
 like thee. 
 
 Of Agis the Last. 
 
 Agis, the last king of Lacedaemon, being taken and 
 condemned by the Ephors without hearing, as he was led 
 to the gallows, saw one of the officers weeping. L)o not 
 weep for me, he said, who, being so unjustly, so barbarously 
 condemned, am in a better condition than my murderers. 
 And having spoken thus, he quietly submitted himself to 
 the halter. 
 
 Of Acrotatus. 
 
 Acrotatus, when his parents commanded him to join in 
 some unjust action, refused for some time ; but when they 
 grew importunate, he said : When I was under your power 
 I had no notion of justice, but now you have delivered me 
 to my country and her laws, and to the best of your power 
 have taught me loyalty and justice, I shall endeavor to fol- 
 low these rather than you. And since you would have me 
 to do that which is best, and since just actions are best for 
 a private man and much more for a governor, I shall do 
 what you would. have me, and refuse what you command. 
 
 Of Alcamenes the Son of Teleclus. 
 
 Alcamenes the son of Teleclus, being asked how a ruler 
 might best secure his government, replied, By slighting 
 gain. And to another enquiring why he refused the pres- 
 ents the Messenians made him he said, Because, if I had 
 taken them, I and the laws could never have agreed.
 
 444 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 When one said that though he had wealth enough he lived 
 but meanly, he replied, Well, it is a glory for one that hath 
 abundance to live as reason not as appetite directs. 
 
 Of Alfxandridas. 
 
 Alexandridas, the son of Leo, said to one that was much 
 concerned at his banishment from the city, Good sir, be 
 not concerned that you must leave the city, but that you 
 have left justice. To one that talked to the Ephors very 
 pertinently but a great deal too much he said, Sir, your 
 discourse is very good, but ill-timed. And when one asked 
 him why they let their Helot slaves cultivate the fields, and 
 did not take care of them themselves, he replied, Because 
 we acquired our land not caring for it but for ourselves. 
 Another saying, Desire of reputation causes abundance of 
 mischief, and those are happy that are free from it ; Then, 
 he subjoined, it follows that villains are happy ; for do you 
 think that he that commits sacrilege or doth an injury takes 
 any care for credit and reputation? Another asking why 
 in a battle the Spartans venture so boldly into danger, Be- 
 cause, said he, we train ourselves to have a reverential 
 regard for our lives, not, as others do, to tremble for them. 
 Another demanding why the judges took so many days to 
 pass sentence in a capital cause, and why he that was 
 acquitted still remained liable to be brought to trial, he 
 replied : They consult so long, because if they make a mis- 
 take in judgment and condemn a man to death, they cannot 
 correct their judgment ; and the accused still remains liable, 
 because this provision might enable them to give even a 
 better judgment than before. 
 
 Of Anaxander the Son of Eurycratn. 
 
 Anaxander, the son of Eury crates, to one asking him 
 why the Spartans laid up no money in the exchequer, re- 
 plied, that the keepers of it might not be tempted to be 
 knaves.
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 445 
 
 Of Anaxilag. 
 
 Anaxilas, when one wondered for what reason the Ephors 
 did not rise up to the king, since the kings made them, 
 said, It is for the same reason for which they are appointed 
 Ephors (or overseers). 
 
 Of Androclidas. 
 
 Androclidas a Spartan, being maimed in his leg, enlisted 
 in the army ; and when some refused him because he was 
 maimed, he said, It must not be those that can run away, 
 but those that can stand to it, that must fight the enemy. 
 
 Of Anlalcidas. 
 
 Antalcidas, when he was to be initiated in the Samothra- 
 cian mysteries, and was asked by the priest what great sin 
 he had committed in all his life, replied, If I have committed 
 any, the Gods know it already. To an Athenian that called 
 the Lacedaemonians illiterate he said, True ; for we alone 
 have learned no ill from you. Another Athenian saying, 
 We have often beat you back from the Cephissus, he sub- 
 joined, But we never repulsed you from the Eurotas. To 
 another demanding how one might please most men, he 
 replied, By speaking what delights, and doing what profits 
 them. A Sophist being about to read him an encomium 
 of Hercules, he said, Why, who has blamed him? To 
 Agesilaus, when he was wounded in a battle by the The- 
 bans, he said, Sir, you have a fine reward for forcing them 
 to learn the art of war ; for, by the many skirmishes Ages- 
 ilaus had with them, they learned discipline and became 
 good soldiers. He said, The youth are the walls of Sparta, 
 and the points of their spears its bounds. To one enquir- 
 ing why the Lacedaemonians fought with such short swords 
 he replied, We come up close to our enemies.
 
 446 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 Of Antiochu*. 
 
 Antiochus, one of the Ephors, when he heard Philip had 
 bestowed some lands on the Messenians, said, Well, but 
 hath Philip also given them foroes, that they may be able 
 to defend his gift! 
 
 Of Aregeits. 
 
 Aregeus, when some praised not their own but other 
 men's wives, said : Faith, about virtuous women there 
 should be no common talk ; and what beauty they liavo 
 none but their own husbands should understand. As he 
 was walking through Selinus, a city of Sicily, he saw this 
 epitaph upon a tomb, 
 
 Those that extinguished the tyrannic flame, 
 Surprised by war and hasty fete, 
 Though they are still alive in lasting fame, 
 Lie buried near Selinus' gate ; 
 
 and said: You died deservedly for quenching it when 
 already in a flame ; for you should have hindered it from 
 coming to a blaze. 
 
 Of Ariston. 
 
 Ariston, when one commended the saying of Cleomenes, 
 who, being asked what a good king should do, replied, 
 Good turns to his friends, and evil to his enemies, said : 
 How much better is it, sir, to do good to our friends, and 
 make our enemies our friends ! Though upon all hands it 
 is agreed Socrates spoke this first, yet he hath the credit of 
 it too. To one asking how many the Spartans were in 
 number he replied, Enough to chase our enemies. An 
 Athenian making a funeral oration in praise of those that 
 fell by the hand of the Lacedaemonians, he said, What 
 brave fellows then were ours, that conquered these ! 
 
 Of Archidamidat. 
 
 Archidamidas said to one commending Charilas for 
 being kind to all alike, How can he deserve commenda-
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS 447 
 
 tion, that is gentle to the wicked and unjust? When one 
 was angry with Hecataeus the Sophist because when ad 
 mitted to the public entertainment he said nothing, he said, 
 Sir, you seem not to understand that he that knows how to 
 speak knows also when to speak. 
 
 Of Archidamus the Son of Zeuxidamu*. 
 
 Archidamus the son of Zeuxidamus, when one asked 
 him who were governors at Sparta, replied, The laws, and 
 the magistrates according to those laws. To one that 
 praised a fiddler and admired his skill he said, How must 
 you prize brave men, when you can give a fiddler such a 
 commendation! When one recommending a musician to 
 him said, This man plays well upon the harp, he returned, 
 And we have this man who makes broth well ; as if it 
 were no more to raise pleasure and tickle with a sound 
 than with meats and broths. To one that promised to make 
 his wine sweet he said, To what purpose? for we shall 
 spend the more, and ruin our public mess. When he 
 besieged Corinth, seeing some hares started under the 
 very walls, he said to his soldiers, Our enemies may be 
 easily surprised. Two choosing him arbitrator, he brought 
 them both into the temple of Minerva of the Brazen House, 
 and made them swear to stand to his determination ; and 
 when they had both sworn, he said, I determine that you 
 shall not go out of this temple, till you have ended all the 
 differences between you. Dionysius the Sicilian tyrant 
 sending his daughters some very rich apparel, he refu>r<l 
 it, saying, When this is on, I am afraid they will look ugly 
 and deformed. When he saw his son rashly engaging the 
 Athenians, he said, Pray get more strength or less spirit 
 
 Of Archidamus the Son of Agesihut. 
 
 Archidamus the son of Agesilaus, when Philip after the 
 battle at Chaeronea sent him a haughty letter, returned
 
 448 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 this answer, If you measure your shadow, you will find it 
 no greater than before the victory. And being asked how 
 much laud the Spartans possessed, he said, As much as 
 tlu-ir spears reach. Periander, a physician, being well 
 skilled in his profession and of good credit, but writing 
 very bad poems, he said to him, Why, Periander, instead 
 of a good physician are you eager to be called a bad poet ? 
 In the war with Philip, when some advised him to fight at 
 some distance from his own country, he replied, Let us not 
 mind that, but whether we shall fight bravely and beat our 
 enemies. To some who commended him for routing the 
 Arcadians he said, It had been better if we had been too 
 hard for them in policy rather than in strength. When he 
 invaded Arcadia, understanding that the Eleans were ready 
 to oppose him, he wrote thus : Archidamus to the Eleans ; 
 It is good to be quiet. The allies in the Peloponnesian 
 war consulting what treasure would be sufficient to carry 
 on the war, and desiring to set the tax, he said, War cannot 
 be put on a certain allowance. As soon as ever he saw a 
 dart shot out of an engine brought from Sicily, he cried 
 out, Good God ! true valor is gone for ever. When the 
 Greeks refused to obey him or to stand to those conditions 
 which he had made with Antigonus and Craterus the 
 Macedonians, but would be free, alleging that the 
 Spartans would prove more rigorous lords than the Ma- 
 cedonians, he said : A sheep always uses the same voice, 
 but a man various and many, till he hath perfected his 
 designs. 
 
 Of Aitycratidas. 
 
 Astycratidas, after Agis the king was beaten by Anti- 
 gonus at Megalopolis, was asked, What will you Spartans 
 do? will you serve the Macedonians? He replied, Why 
 so, can Antipater hinder us from dying in the defence 
 of Sparta?
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 449 
 
 Of Bias. 
 
 Bias being surprised by an ambush that Iphicratcs the 
 Athenian general had laid, and his soldiers demanding 
 what must be done, he replied, You must provide for your 
 own safety, and I must fight manfully and die. 
 
 Of Brasidas. 
 
 Brasidas catching a mouse amongst some dry figs, the 
 mouse bit him ; upon which he let her go, and said to his 
 companions, There is nothing so little but it may preserve 
 itself, if it dares resist the invaders. In a battle, being 
 shot through the shield into the body, he drew the dart 
 out and with it killed the enemy. And one asking how 
 his wound came, he replied, By the treachery of my shield. 
 As he was leading forth his army, he wrote to the Ephors, 
 I will accomplish what I wish in this war, or I will die for 
 it. Being killed as he fought to free the Greeks in Thrace, 
 the ambassadors that were sent to Sparta to condole his 
 loss made a visit to his mother Argileonis. And the first 
 question she asked was, whether Brasidas died bravely. 
 And, the Thracians extolling him and saying there was no 
 such man in the world ; You mistake, sir, said she, it is 
 true, Brasidas was a good man, but Sparta can show many 
 who are better. 
 
 Of Damonidcu. 
 
 Damonidas, when the master of the festival set him in 
 the lowest place in the choral dance, said, Well, sir, you 
 have found a way to make this place, which was infamous 
 before, noble and honorable. 
 
 Of Damis. 
 
 Damis to some letters that were sent to him by Alexan- 
 der, intimating that he should vote Alexander a God,
 
 450 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 returned this answer : We are content that Alexander (if 
 he will) be called a God. 
 
 Of Damindas. 
 
 Damindas, when Philip invaded Peloponnesus, and one 
 said that the Spartans would suffer great mischiefs unless 
 they accepted his proposals, said, Thou woman-man, what 
 misery can we suffer that despise death? 
 
 Of Dercyllidas. 
 
 Dercyllidas, being sent ambassador to Pyrrhus, who 
 was then with his army on the borders of Sparta, and re- 
 quired them either to receive their king Cleonymus, or 
 he would make them know they were no better than 
 other men, replied, If he is a God, we do not fear him, 
 for we have committed no fault ; if a man, we are as good 
 as he. 
 
 Of Demaratui. 
 
 Demaratus, when O.-ontes talked very roughly to him, 
 and one said, Demaratus, Orontcs uses you very roughly, 
 replied, I have no reason to be angry, for those that speak 
 to please do the mischief, not those thiit talk out of malice. 
 To one enquiring why they disgrace those that lose their 
 shields in a battle and not those that lose their head-pieces 
 or breastplates, he answered, Because these serve for their 
 private safety only, but their shield for the common de- 
 fence and strength of the whole army. Hearing one play 
 upon the harp, he said, The man seems to play the fool 
 well. In a certain assembly, when he was asked whether 
 he held his tongue because he was a fool or for want of 
 words, he replied, A fool cannot hold his tongue. When 
 one asked him why being king he fled Sparta, he answered, 
 Brrause the laws rule there. A Persian having by many 
 presents enticed the boy that he loved from him, and say-
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 451 
 
 ing, Spartan, I have caught your love ; No, faith, he an- 
 swered, but you have bought him. One having revolted 
 from the king of Persia, and by Demaratus's persuasion 
 returning again to his obedience, and the king design- 
 ing his death, Uemaratus said : It is dishonorable, O king, 
 whilst he was an enemy not to be able to punish him for 
 his revolt, and to kill him now he is a friend. To a para- 
 site of the king that often jeered him about his exile he 
 said : Sir, I will not fight you, for you have lost your 
 post in life.* 
 
 Of Emprepes. 
 
 Emprepes, one of the Ephors, cut out two of the nine 
 strings of Phrynis the musician's harp with a hatchet, say- 
 ing, Do not abuse music. 
 
 Of Epaenetus. 
 
 Epaenetus said that liars were the cause of all villanies 
 and injustice in the world. 
 
 Of Euboidas. 
 
 Euboidas, hearing some commend another man's wife, 
 disliked it and said, Strangers who are not of the house 
 should never speak of the manner of any woman. 
 
 Of Eudamidas the Son of Archidamu*. 
 
 Eudamidas, the son of Archidamus and brother of Agis, 
 seeing Xenocrates, now grown old, philosophizing in the 
 Academy with some of his acquaintance, asked what old 
 man that was. And it being answered, He is a wise man, 
 and one of those that seek after virtue ; he replied, When 
 will he use it, if he is seeking of it now ? Another time, 
 when he heard a philosopher discoursing that none but a 
 
 Following Wyttenbach's emendation for " I have lost my poet" (G.)
 
 452 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 learned man could be a good general, he said, Indeed the 
 discourse is admirable, but he that makes it is of no credit 
 in this matter, for he hath never heard a trumpet sound. 
 Just as Xenocrates had finished his discourse, Eudamidas 
 came into his school, and when one of his companions said, 
 As soon as we came he ended ; So he ought, he replied, if 
 he had spoken all that was needful on the subject. And 
 the other saying, Yet it were a pleasant thing to hear him, 
 he replied, If we visited one that had supped already, 
 should we desire him to sit down again? When one asked 
 him why, when all the citizens voted a war with the 
 Macedonians, he appeared for peace, he answered, Because 
 I have no mind to convince them of their mistake. And 
 when another encouraged them to this war, mentioning 
 their various victories over the Persians, he said, Sir, you 
 appear not to see that this would be as absurd as to set 
 upon fifty wolves because you have beaten a thousand 
 sheep. A musician playing very well, some asked him 
 what manner of man he was in his opinion, and he an- 
 swered, A great seducer in a small matter. Hearing one 
 commending Athens, he said, Who could have reason to 
 praise that city which no man ever loved because he had 
 been made better in it? An Argive saying that the Spar- 
 tans being taken from their own customs grew worse by 
 travel, he replied, But you, when you come into Sparta, do 
 not return worse, but much better. When Alexander 
 ordered by public proclamation in the Olympic games, 
 that all exiles whatever, except the Thebans, had free 
 liberty to return to their own country, Eudamidas said : 
 This is a woful proclamation to you Thebans, but yet hon- 
 orable ; for of all the Grecians Alexander fears only you. 
 Being asked why before a battle they sacrificed to the 
 Muses, he replied, That our brave actions may be worthily 
 recorded.
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 453 
 
 Of Eurycratidas the Son of Anazandridat. 
 
 Eurycratidas the son of Anaxandridas, when one asked 
 him why the Ephor sat every day to determine causes 
 about contracts, replied, That we may learn to keep our 
 word even with our enemies. 
 
 Of Zeuxidamus. 
 
 Zeuxidamus, when one asked him why they did not set 
 down all their laws concerning bravery and courage in 
 writing and let the young men read them, answered, Be- 
 cause they should be accustomed to mind valiant actions, 
 rather than books and writings. An Aetolian saying that 
 war was better than peace for those that would be brave 
 men, No, faith, said he, but death is better than life. 
 
 Of Herondas. 
 
 Heron das, when one at Athens was condemned for idle- 
 ness, being informed of it desired one to show him the 
 man that had been convicted of so gentlemanly an offence. 
 
 Of Thearidas. ' 
 
 Thearidas whetting his sword, being asked, Is it sharp, 
 Thearidas'? replied, Yes, sharper than a slander. 
 
 Of Themisteas. 
 
 Themisteas the prophet foretold to King Leonidas his 
 own and his soldiers' destruction at Thermopylae, and be- 
 ing commanded by Leonidas to return to Sparta, under 
 pretence of informing the state how affairs stood, but really 
 that he might not perish with the rest, he refused, saying, 
 1 was sent as a soldier, not as a courier to carry news. 
 
 Of Theopompui. 
 
 Theopompus, when one asked him how a monarch may be 
 safe, replied, If he will give liis friends just freedom to speak
 
 454 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 the truth, and to the best of his power not allow his sub- 
 jects to be oppressed. To a guest of his that said, In my 
 own country I am called a lover of the Spartans, he replied, 
 It would be more honorable for you to be called a lover of 
 your citizens than a lover of the Spartans. An ambassa- 
 dor from Elis saying that his city sent him because he w;is 
 the only man amongst them that admired and followed the 
 Spartan way of living, Theopompus asked, And pray, sir, 
 which way is best, yours or the other citizens 1 And the 
 ambassador replying, Mine ; he subjoined, How then can 
 that city stand, hi which amongst so many inhabitants 
 there is but one good man? When one said that Sparta 
 was preserved because the kings knew how to govern ; ^o, 
 he replied, but because the citizens know how to be gov- 
 erned. The Pylians voting him greater honors, he wrote to 
 them thus, Moderate honors time augments, but it defaces 
 the immoderate. 
 
 Of Thorycion. 
 
 Thorycion on his return from Delphi, seeing Philip's 
 army possessed of the narrow passage at the Isthmus, said, 
 Peloponnesus hath very bad porters in you Corinthians. 
 
 Of Thectamenes. 
 
 Thectamenes, when the Ephors condemned him to die, 
 went away smiling; and one of the company asked him 
 whether he despised the judicial proceedings of Sparta. 
 No, said he, but I am glad that I am ordered to pay a fine 
 which I can pay out of my own stock, without being be- 
 holden to any man or taking up money upon interest. 
 
 Of Hippodamus. 
 
 Ilippndamus, when Agis was joined in command with 
 Archidumus, being sent with Agis to Sparta to look after 
 affairs there, said, But shall I not die a more glorious death
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 455 
 
 fighting valiantly in defence of Sparta 1 He was above 
 fourscore years of age, yet he put on his armor, fought on 
 the right hand of the king, and died bravely. 
 
 Of Hippocratida$. 
 
 Hippocratidas, when the governor of Caiia sent him 
 word that he had a Spartan in his hands who concealed a 
 conspiracy that he was privy to, and asked how he should 
 deal with him, returned this answer : If you have done 
 him any great kindness, kill him ; if not, banish him as a 
 base fellow, too mean-spirited to be good. A youth whom 
 his lover followed meeting him and blushing at the en- 
 counter, he said : You should keep such company that, 
 whoever sees you, you will have no reason to change color. 
 
 Of Callicratidas. 
 
 Callicratidas the admiral, when some of Lysander's 
 friends desired him to permit them to kill one of the enemy, 
 and offered fifty talents for the favor, though he Avanted 
 money extremely to buy provision for his soldiers, refused ; 
 and when Oleander urged him, and said, Sir, I would have 
 taken the money if I were you, he replied, So would I, 
 were I Oleander. When he came to Sardis to Cyrus the 
 Younger, who was then an ally of the Lacedaemonians, 
 about a sum of money to equip his navy, on the first day 
 he ordered his officers to tell Cyrus that he desired audi- 
 ence ; but being told that he was drinking, Well, said he, 
 I shall stay till he hath done. But understanding that he 
 could not be admitted that day, he presently left the court, 
 and thereupon was thought a rude and uncivil fellow. On 
 the next day, when he received the same answer and could 
 not be admitted, he said, I must not be so eager for money 
 as to dc any thing unbecoming Sparta. And presently he 
 returned to Ephesus, cursing those who had first endured 
 the insolence of the barbarians, and had taught them to
 
 456 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 rely upon their wealth and abuse others ; and he swore to 
 his companions that as soon as ever he came to Sparta, ho 
 would do all that lay in his power to reconcile the Greek 
 states, that they might be more dreadful to the barbarians, 
 and not forced to seek assistance from them to ruin one 
 another. Being asked what manner of men the loniaus 
 were, he replied, Bad freemen, but good slaves. When 
 Cyrus sent his soldiers their pay, and some particular pres- 
 ents to himself, he received the pay, but sent back the 
 presents, saying that there was no need of any private 
 friendship between them, for the common league with the 
 Lacedaemonians included him. Designing to engage near 
 Arginusae, when Hermon the pilot said, It is advisable to 
 tack about, for the Athenians exceed us in number ; he ex- 
 claimed : What then ! it is base and dishonorable to Sparta 
 to fly, but to stand to it and die or conquer is brave and 
 noble. As he was sacrificing before the battle, when he 
 heard the priest presaging that the army would conquer 
 but the captain fall, undauntedly he said : Sparta doth not 
 depend on one man ; my country will receive no great loss 
 by my death, but a considerable one by my yielding to the 
 enemy. And ordering Oleander to succeed as admiral, he 
 readily engaged, and died in the battle. 
 
 Of Cleombrotus the Son of Pansanias. 
 
 Cleombrotus, the son of Pausanias, when a friend of his 
 contended with his father which was the best man, said, 
 Sir, my father must be better than you, till you get a son 
 as well as he. 
 
 Of Cleomenes the Son of Anaxandridat. 
 
 ? 
 Cleomenes, the son of Anaxandridas, was wont to say 
 
 that Homer was the poet of the Lacedaemonians, Ilesiod 
 of the Helots ; for one taught the art of war, and the other 
 husbandry. Having made a truce for seven days with the
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 457 
 
 Argives, he watched his opportunity the third night, and 
 perceiving them secure and negligent by reason of the 
 truce, he fell upon them whilst they were asleep, killed 
 some, and took others prisoners. Upon this being up- 
 braided tor breach of articles, he said that his oath did not 
 extend to night as well as day, and to hurt a man's enemies 
 any way, both before God and man, was much better than 
 to be just. It happened that he missed taking Argos, in 
 hopes of which he broke his oath ; for the women taking 
 the old arms out of the temples defended the city. And 
 afterwards running stark mad, he seized a knife, and ripped 
 himself up from the very ankles to the vital parts, and thus 
 died grinning and laughing. The priest advising him not 
 to march to Argos, for he would be forced to a dishon- 
 orable retreat, when he came near the city and saw the 
 gates shut and the women upon the walls, he said : What, 
 sir priests, will this be a dishonorable retreat, when, the 
 men being all lost, the women have shut the gates ? When 
 some of the Argives railed at him as an impious and for- 
 sworn wretch, he said, Well, it is in your power to rail at 
 me, and in mine to mischief you. The Samian ambassa- 
 dors urging him to make war on the tyrant Polycrates, and 
 making long harangues on that account, he said : The be- 
 ginning of your speech I don't remember, and therefore I 
 cannot understand the middle, and the last I don't like. A 
 pirate spoiling the country, and when he was token saying, 
 I had no provision for my soldiers, and therefore went to 
 those who had store and would not give it willingly, to force 
 it from them ; Cleomenes said, True villainy goes the 
 shortest way to work. A base fellow railing at him, he 
 said, Well, I think thou railest at everybody, that being 
 employed to defend ourselves, we may have no time to 
 speak of thy baseness. 
 
 One of the citizens saying that a good king should be 
 always mild and gracious, True, said he, as long as he doth
 
 458 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 not make himself contemptible. Being tormented with a 
 long disease, he consulted the priests and expiators, to 
 whom he formerly gave no credit ; and when a friend of 
 his wondered at the action, Why dost thou wonder, said he, 
 for I am not the same man I was then ; and since I am not 
 the same, I do not approve the same things. A Sophist 
 discoursing of courage, he laughed exceedingly ; and the 
 Sophist saying, Why do you laugh, Cleomenes, when you 
 hear one treat of courage, especially since you arc a king ? 
 Because, sir, said he, if a swallow should discourse of it, I 
 should laugh ; but if an eagle, I should hearken atten- 
 tively. 
 
 When the Argives boasted that they would retrieve their 
 defeat by a new battle, he said, I wonder if the addition of 
 two syllables * has made you braver than you were before. 
 When one railed at him, and said, Thou art luxurious, 
 Cleomenes ; Well, he replied, that is better than to be 
 unjust ; but thou art covetous, although thou art master of 
 abundance of superfluities. A friend willing to recom- 
 mend a musician to him, besides other large commendations, 
 said he was the best musician in all Greece. Cleomenes, 
 pointing to one that stood by, said, Faith, sir, that fellow is 
 my best cook. Maeander the Samian tyrant, flying to Sparta 
 upon the invasion of the Persian, discovering what treasure 
 he had brought, and offering Cleomenes as much as he 
 would have, Cleomenes refused, and beside took care that 
 he should not give any of the citizens a farthing ; but going 
 to the Ephors, told them that it would be good for Sparta 
 to send that Samian guest of his out of Peloponnesus, lest 
 he should persuade any of the Lacedaemonians to be a 
 knave. And they taking his advice ordered Maeander to 
 be gone that very day. One asking why, since they had 
 beaten the Arrives so often, they did not totally destroy 
 them, he replied, That we may have some to exercise our 
 
 That i>, clanging piixtcQai (to fyjld) into uvafut^caOai (to retrieve a defeat). (G.)
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 459 
 
 youth. One demanding why the Spartans did not dedicate 
 the spoils of their enemies to the Gods, Because, said he, 
 they are taken from cowards ; and such things as are 
 betrayed to us by the cowardice of the possessors are fit 
 neither for our youth to see, nor to be dedicated to the 
 Gods. 
 
 Of Cleomenes the Son of Cleombrotus. 
 
 Cleomenes, the son of Cleombrotus, to one that presented 
 him some game-cocks, and said, Sir, these will die before 
 they run, returned : Pray let me have some of that breed 
 which will kill these, for certainly they are the better of 
 the two. 
 
 Of Labotus. 
 
 Labotus said to one that made a long discourse : Why 
 such great preambles to so small a matter ? A speech 
 should be no bigger than the subject. 
 
 Of Leotychidas. 
 
 Leotychidas the First, when one said he was very incon- 
 stant, replied, My inconstancy proceeds from the variety of 
 times, and not as yours from innate baseness. And to an- 
 other asking him what was the best way to secure his pres- 
 ent happiness, he answered, Not to trust all to Fortune. 
 And to another enquiring what free-born boys should prin- 
 cipally learn, That, said he, which will profit them when 
 they are grown men. And to another asking why the 
 Spartans drink little, he replied, That we may consult con- 
 cerning others, and not others concerning us. 
 
 Of Leotychidas the Son of Aristo. 
 
 Leotychidas the son of Aristo, when one told him that 
 Demaratus's sons spake ill of him, replied, Faith, no 
 wonder, for not one of them can speak well. A serpent
 
 460 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 twisting about the key of his inmost door, and the priests 
 declaring it a prodigy ; I cannot think it so, said he, but it 
 h-.id been one if the key had twisted round the serpent. 
 To Philip, a priest of Orpheus's mysteries, in extreme pov- 
 erty, saying that those whom he initiated were very happy 
 after death, he said, Why then, you sot, don't you die 
 quickly, and bewail your poverty and misery no more ? 
 
 Of Leo tJie Son of Encratidas. 
 
 Leo the son of Eucratidas, being asked in what city a 
 man might live with the greatest safety, replied, In that 
 where the inhabitants have neither too much nor too little ; 
 where justice is strong and injustice weak. Seeing the 
 racers in the Olympian games very solicitous at starting to 
 get some advantage of one another, he said, How much 
 more careful are these racers to be counted swift than just ! 
 To one discoursing of some profitable matters out of due 
 season he said. Sir, you do a very good thing at a very bad 
 time. 
 
 Of Leonidas the Son of Anaxandridas. 
 
 Loonidas, the son of Anaxandridas and brother to Cleo- 
 mcnes, when one said to him, Abating that you arc king, 
 you are no better than we, replied, But unless I had been 
 better than you, I had not been king. His wife Gorgo, 
 whon he went forth to Thermopylae to fight the Persian, 
 asked him what command he left with her ; and he replied, 
 Marry brave men. and bear them brave children. The 
 Ephors saying, You lead but few to Thermopylae ; They 
 are many, said he, considering on what design we ^o. And 
 when they again asked him whether he had any other en- 
 terprise in his thought, he replied, I pretend to go to hinder 
 the barbarians' passage, but really to die fighting for the 
 Greeks. When he was at Thermopylae, he said to his 
 soldiers : They report the enemy is at hand, and we lose
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 time ; for we must either beat the barbarian or die our- 
 selves. And to another saying, What, the flights of the 
 Persian arrows will darken the very sun, he said, Therefore 
 it will be pleasant for us to fight in the shade. And an- 
 other saying, What, Leonidas, do you come to fight so great 
 a number with so few ? he returned : If you esteem num- 
 ber, all Greece is not able to match a small part of that 
 army ; if courage, this number is sufficient. And to an- 
 other discoursing after the same manner he said, I have 
 enough, since they are to be killed. When Xerxes wrote 
 to him thus, Sir, you may forbear to fight against the Gods, 
 but may follow my interest and be lord of all Greece, he 
 answered : If you understood wherein consisted the happi- 
 ness of life, you would not covet other men's ; but know 
 that I would rather die for the liberty of Greece than be a 
 monarch over my countrymen. And Xerxes writing to him 
 again thus, Send me thy arms, he returned, Come and take 
 them. When he resolved to fall upon the enemy, and his 
 captains of the war told him he must stay till the forces of 
 the allies had joined him, he said : Do you think all those 
 that intend to fight are not here already? Or do you not 
 understand that those only fight who fear and reverence 
 their kings? And he ordered his soldiers so to dine, as if 
 they were to sup in another world. And being asked why 
 the bravest men prefer an honorable death before an inglo- 
 rious life, he replied, Because they believe one is the gift 
 of Nature, while the other is peculiarly their own. Being 
 desirous to save the striplings that were with him, and 
 knowing very well that if he dealt opculy with them none 
 would accept his kindness, he gave each of them privately 
 letters to carry to the Ephors. He desired likewise to save 
 three of those that were grown men ; but they having some 
 notice of his design refused the letters. And one of them 
 said, I came, sir, to be a soldier, and not a courier ; and 
 the second, I shall be a better man if here than if away ;
 
 462 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 and the third, I will not be behind these, but the first in 
 
 the fight. 
 
 Of Lochagits. 
 
 Lochagus the father of Polyaenides and Siron, when 
 one told him one of his sons was dead, said, I knew long 
 ago that he must die. ' 
 
 Of Lycurgus the Lawgiver. 
 
 Lycurgus the lawgiver, designing to reclaim his citizens 
 from their former luxury and bring them to a more sober 
 course of life and make them brave men (for they were 
 then loose and delicate), bred up two whelps of the same 
 litter ; one he kept at home, bred him tenderly, and fed 
 him well ; but the other he taught to hunt, and used him 
 to the chase. Both these dogs he brought out into the 
 public assembly, and setting down some scraps of meat and 
 letting go a hare at the same time, each of the dogs ran 
 greedily to what they had been accustomed. And the 
 hunter catching the hare, Lycurgus said : See, countrymen, 
 how these two, though of the same litter, by my breeding 
 them are become very different ; and that custom and exer- 
 cise conduces more than Nature to make things brave and 
 excellent. Some say that he did not bring out two whelps 
 of the same kind, but one a house dog and the other a 
 hunter ; the former of which (though the baser kind) he 
 had accustomed to the woods, and the other (though more 
 noble) kept lazily at home ; and when in public, each of 
 them pursuing his usual delight, he had given a clear evi- 
 dence that education is of considerable force in raising bad 
 or good inclinations, he said : Therefore, countrymen, our 
 honorable extraction, that idol of the crowd, though from 
 Hercules himself, profits us little, unless we learn and ex- 
 ercise all our life in such famous exploits as made him 
 accounted the most noble and the most glorious in the 
 world.
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 463 
 
 When he made a division of the land, giving each man 
 an equal portion, it is reported that some while after, in 
 his return from a journey, as he past through the country 
 in harvest time and saw the cocks of wheat all equal and 
 lying promiscuously, he was extremely pleased, and with a 
 smile said to his companions, All Sparta looks like the pos- 
 session of many loving brothers who have lately divided 
 their estate. Having discharged every man from his debts, 
 he endeavored likewise to divide all movables equally 
 amongst all, that he might have no inequality in his com- 
 monwealth. But seeing that the rich men would hardly 
 endure this open and apparent spoil, he cried down all 
 gold and silver coin, and ordered nothing but iron to be 
 current ; and rated every man's estate and defined how 
 much it was worth upon exchange for that money. By 
 this means all injustice was banished Sparta ; for none 
 would steal, none take bribes, none cheat or rob any man 
 of that which he could not conceal, which none would 
 envy, which could not be used without discovery, or carried 
 into other countries with advantage. Besides, this contriv- 
 ance freed them from all superfluous arts ; for no merchant, 
 Sophist, fortune-teller, or mountebank would live amongst 
 them ; no carver, no contriver ever troubled Sparta ; be- 
 cause he cried down all money that was advantageous to 
 them, and permitted none but this iron coin, each piece 
 of which was an Aegina pound in weight, and less than a 
 penny in value.* Designing farther to check all luxury 
 and greediness after wealth, he instituted public meals, 
 where all the citizens were obliged to eat. And wheu 
 some of his friends demanded what he designed by this 
 institution and why he divided the citizens, when in arms, 
 into small companies, he replied : That they may more 
 
 * According to Plutarch, the Spartan iron coin weighed an Aeginetan mint 
 (about U HIS. avoir.), and was of the value of four chalci (or 3J farthings, about H 
 cents). (G.J
 
 4G4 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 easily hear the word of command ; and if there are any 
 designs against the state, the conspiracy may join but 
 few ; and besides, that there may be an equality in the 
 provision, and that neither in meat nor drink, seats, tables, 
 or any furniture, the rich may be better provided than the 
 poor. AVhcn he had by this contrivance made wealth less 
 desirable, it being unfit both for use and show, he said to 
 his familiars, AY hat a brave thing is it, my friends, by our 
 actions to make Plutus appear (as he is indeed) blind ! 
 He took care that none should sup at home and afterwards, 
 when they were full of other victuals, come to the public 
 entertainments ; for all the rest reproached him that did 
 not feed with them as a glutton and of too delicate a pal- 
 ate for the public provision ; and when he was discovered, 
 he was severely punished. And therefore Agis the king, 
 when after a long absence he returned from the camp (the 
 Athenians were beaten in the expedition), willing to sup 
 at home with his wife* once, sent a servant for his allow- 
 ance ; the officers refused, and the next day the Ephors 
 fined him for the fault. 
 
 The wealthy citizens being offended at these constitu- 
 tions made a mutiny against him, abused, threw stones, 
 and designed to kill him. Thus pursued, he ran through 
 the market-place towards the temple of Minerva of the 
 Brazen House, and reached it before any of the others ; 
 only Alcandcr pursuing close struck him as he turned 
 about, and beat out one eye. Afterward the commonwealth 
 delivered up this Alcander to his mercy ; but he neither 
 inflicted any punishment nor gave him an ill word, but 
 kindly entertained him at his own house, and brought him 
 to be his friend, an admirer of his course of life, and very 
 well affected to all his laws. Yet he built a monument of 
 this sad disaster in the temple of Minerva, naming it Op- 
 tiletis, for the Dorians in that country call eyes opliloi. 
 Being asked why he used no written laws, he replied, Be-
 
 LACONIC Al'OPHTHEGMS. 465 
 
 cause those that are well instructed are able to suit matters 
 to the present occasion. And another time, when some 
 enquired why he had ordained that the timber which 
 roofed the houses should be wrought with the axe only, 
 and the doors with no other instrument but the saw, he 
 answered : That my citizens might be -moderate in every 
 thing which they bring into their houses, and possess noth- 
 ing which others so much prize and value. And hence 
 it is reported that King Leotychides the First, supping with 
 a friend and seeing the roof curiously arched and richly 
 wrought, asked him whether in that country the trees grew 
 square. And some demanding why he forbade them to 
 war often with the same nation, he replied, Lest being 
 often forced to stand on their defence, they should get ex- 
 perience and be masters of our art. And therefore it was a 
 great fault in Agesilaus, that by his frequent incursions 
 into Boeotia he made the Thebans a match for the Lace- 
 daemonians. And another asking why he exercised the 
 virgins' bodies with racing, wrestling, throwing the bar, and 
 the like, he answered : That the first rooting of the children 
 being strong and firm, their growth might be proportion- 
 able ; and that the women might have strength to bear and 
 more easily undergo the pains of travail, or, if necessity 
 should require, be able to fight for themselves, their coun- 
 try, and their children. Some being displeased that the 
 virgins went about naked at certain solemnities, and de- 
 manding the reason of that custom, he replied : That using 
 the same exercises with men, they might equal them in 
 strength and health of body and in courage and bravery 
 of mind, and be above that mean opinion which the vulgar 
 had of them. And hence goes the story of Gorgo, wife 
 of Leonidas, that when a stranger, a friend of hers, said, 
 You Spartan women alone rule men, she replied, Good 
 reason, for we alone bear men. By ordering that no bache- 
 lor should be admitted a spectator of these naked solemnities
 
 466 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 and fixing some other disgrace on them, he made them all ea- 
 ger to be married and get children ; besides, he deprived them 
 of that honor and observnm e which the young men were 
 bound to pay their elders. And upon that account none 
 can blame what was said to Uercyllidas, though a brave 
 captain ; for as he approached, one of the young men 
 refused to rise up and give him place, saying, You have 
 not begotten any to give place to me. 
 
 When one asked him why he allowed no dowry to be 
 given with a maid, he answered, that none might be slighted 
 for their poverty or courted for their wealth, but that every 
 one, considering the manners of the maid, might choose 
 for the sake of virtue. And for the same reason ho for- 
 bade ;ill painting of the face and curiousness in dress and 
 ornament. To one that asked him why he made a law 
 that before such an age neither sex should marry, he an- 
 swered, that the children might be lusty, being born of 
 persons of full age. And to one wondering why he would 
 not suffer the husband to lie all night with his wife, but 
 commanded them to be most of the day and all the night 
 with their fellows, and creep to their wives cautiously and 
 by stealth, he said : I do it that they may be strong in 
 body, having never been satiated and surfeited with pleas- 
 ure ; that they may be always fresh in love, and their chil- 
 dren more strong and lusty. He forbade all perfumes, as 
 nothing but good oil corrupted, and the dyer's art, as a 
 flatterer and enticer of the sense ; and he ejected all skilled 
 in ornament and dressing, as those who by their lewd de- 
 vices corrupt the true arts of decency and living well. At 
 that time the women were so chaste and such strangers to 
 that lightness to which they were afterwards addicted, that 
 adultery was incredible ; and there goes a saying of Ge- 
 rad;ita<. one of the ancient Spartans, who being asked by 
 a stranger what punishment the Spartans appointed for 
 adulterers (for Lycurgus mentioned none), he said, Sir, we
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 467 
 
 have no adulterers amongst us. And he replying, But sup- 
 pose there should be ? Geradatas made the same reply ; 
 For how (said he) could there be an adulterer in Sparta, 
 where wealth, delicacy, and all ornaments are disesteemed, 
 and modesty, neatness, and obedience to the governors only 
 are in request? When one desired him to establish a de- 
 mocracy in Sparta, he said, Pray, sir, do you first set up that 
 form in your own family. And to another demanding why 
 he ordered such mean sacrifices he answered, That we may 
 always be able to honor the Gods. He permitted the citi- 
 zens those exercises only in which the hand is not stretched 
 out ; and one demanding his reason, he replied, That none 
 in any labor may be accustomed to be weary. And an- 
 other enquiring why he ordered that in a war the camp 
 should be often changed, he answered, That we may damage 
 our enemies the more. Another demanding why he for- 
 bade to storm a castle, he said, Lest my brave men should 
 be killed by a woman, a boy, or some man of as mean 
 courage. 
 
 When the Thebans asked his advice about the sacrifices 
 and lamentation which they instituted in honor of Leuoo- 
 thea, he gave them this : If you think her a Goddess, do 
 not lament ; if a woman, do not sacrifice to her as a God- 
 dess. To some of the citizens enquiring, How shall we 
 avoid the invasions of enemies, he replied, If you are 
 poor, and one covets no more than another. And to others 
 demanding why he did not wall his city he said, That city 
 is not unwalled which is encompassed with men and not 
 brick. The Spartans are curious in their hair, and tell us 
 that Lycurgus said, It makes the handsome more amiable, 
 and the ugly more terrible. He ordered that in a war they 
 should pursue the routed enemy so far as to secure the 
 victory, and then retreat, saying, it was unbecoming the 
 Grecian bravery to butcher those that fled ; and beside, 
 it was useful, for their enemies, knowing that they spared
 
 4G8 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 all that yielded and cut in pieces the opposers, would 
 easily conclude that it was safer to fly than to stand stoutly 
 to it and resist. When one asked him why he charged his 
 soldiers not to meddle with the spoil of their slain enemies, 
 he replied, Lest while they are eager on their prey they 
 neglect their fighting, but also that they may keep their 
 order and their poverty together. 
 
 Of Lysander. 
 
 Lysander, when Dionysius sent him two gowns, and bade 
 him choose which he would to carry to his daughter, said, 
 She can choose best; and so took both away with him. 
 This Lysander being a very crafty fellow, frequently using 
 subtle tricks and notable deceits, placing all justice and 
 honesty in profit -and advantage, would confess that truth 
 indeed was better than a lie, but the worth 'and dignity of 
 either was to be defined by their usefulness to our affairs. 
 And to some that were bitter upon him for these deceitful 
 practices, as unworthy of Hercules's family, and owing his 
 success to little mean tricks and not plain force and open 
 dealing, he answered with a smile, When the lion's skin 
 cannot prevail, a little of the fox's must be used. And to 
 others that upbraided him for breaking his oaths made at 
 Miletus he said, Boys must be cheated with cockal-bones, 
 and men with oaths. Having surprised the Athenians by 
 an ambush near the Goat Rivers and routed them, and after- 
 wards by famine forced the city to surrender, he wrote to 
 the Ephors, Athens is taken. When the Argives were in 
 a debate with the Lacedaemonians about their confines and 
 seemed to have the better reasons on their side, drawing his 
 sword, he said, He that hath this is the best pleader about 
 confines. Leading his army through Boeotia, and finding 
 that state wavering and not fixed on either party, he sent to 
 know whether he should march through their country with 
 his spears up or down. At an assembly of the states of
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 4(J9 
 
 Greece, when a Megarian talked saucily to him, he said. Sir, 
 your words want a city. The Corinthians revolting, and he 
 approaching to the walls that he saw the Spartans not eager 
 to storm, while at the same time hares were skipping over 
 the trenches of the town ; Are not you ashamed (said he) 
 to be afraid of those enemies whose slothfulness suffers 
 even hares to sleep upon their walls ? At Samothrace, as 
 he was consulting the oracle, the priests ordered him to 
 confess the greatest crime he had been guilty of in his 
 whole life. What, said he, is this your own, or the God's 
 command 1 And the priests replying, The God's ; said he, 
 Do you withdraw, and I will tell them, if they make any 
 . such demand. A Persian asking him what polity he liked, 
 That, he replied, which assigns stout men and cowards suit- 
 able rewards. To one that said, Sir, I always commend 
 you and speak in your behalf, Well, said he, I have two 
 oxen in the field, and though neither says one word, I know 
 very well which is the laborious and which the lazy. To 
 one that railed at him he said, Speak, sir, let us have it all 
 fast, if thou canst empty thy soul of those wicked thoughts 
 which thou seemest full of. Some time after his death, 
 there happening a difference between the Spartans and 
 their allies, Agesilaus went to Lysander's house to inspect 
 some papers that lay in his custody relating to that matter ; 
 and there found an oration composed for Lysander con- 
 cerning the government, setting forth that it was expedient 
 to set aside the families of the Europrotidae and Agidae, to 
 admit all to an equal claim, and choose their king out of 
 the worthiest men, that the crown might be the reward not 
 of those that shared in the blood of Hercules, but of those 
 who were like him for virtue and courage, that virtue that 
 exalted him into a God. This oration Agesilaus was i 
 solved to publish, to show the Spartans how much they 
 were mistaken in Lysander and to discredit his friends; 
 but they say, Cratidas the president of the Ephors fearing
 
 470 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS 
 
 this oration, if published, would prevail upon the people, 
 advised Agesilaus to be quiet, telling him that he should 
 not dig up Lysaudcr, but rather bury that oration with him, 
 being so cunningly contrived, so powerful to persuade. 
 Those that courted his daughters, and when at his death 
 he appeared to be poor forsook them, the Ephors fined, 
 because whilst they thought him rich they caressed him, 
 but scorned him when by his poverty they knew him to be 
 just and honest. 
 
 Of Namertes. 
 
 Namertes being on an embassy, when one of that country 
 told him he was a happy man in having so many friends. 
 asked him if he knew any certain way to* try whether a 
 man had many friends or not ; and the other being earnest 
 to be told, Namertes replied, Adversity. 
 
 Of Nicander. 
 
 Nicander, when one told him that the Argives spake 
 very ill of him, said, Well, they suffer for speaking ill of 
 good men. And to one that enquired why they wore long 
 hair and long beards, he answered, Because man's natural 
 ornaments are the handsomest and the cheapest. An Athe- 
 nian saying, Nicander, you Spartans are extremely idle; 
 You say true, he answered, but we do not busy ourselves 
 like you in every trifle. 
 
 Of Panthoidas. 
 
 When Panthoidas was ambassador in Asia and some 
 showed him a strong fortification, Faith, said he, it is a 
 fine cloister for women. In the Academy, when the phil- 
 osophers had made a great many and excellent discourses, 
 and asked Panthoidas how he liked them ; Indeed, said he, 
 1 think them very good, but of no profit at all, since you 
 yourselves do not use them.
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 471 
 
 Of Pausanias the Son of Cleombrotus. 
 
 Pausanias the son of Cleombrotus, when the Delians 
 pleaded their title to the island against the Athenians, and 
 urged that according to their law no women were ever 
 brought to bed or any carcass buried in the isle, said. 
 How then can that be your country, in which not one of 
 you was born or shall ever lie ? The exiles urging him to 
 march against the Athenians, and saying that, when he 
 was proclaimed victor in the Olympic games, these alone 
 hissed ; How, says he, since they hissed whilst we did them 
 good, what do you think they will do when abused ? When 
 one asked him why they made Tyrtaeus the poet a citizen, 
 he answered, That no foreigner should be our captain. A 
 man of a weak and puny body advising to fight the enemy 
 both by sea and land ; Pray, sir, says he, will you strip ahd 
 show what a man you are who advise to engage ? When 
 some amongst the spoils of the barbarians admired the 
 richness of their clothes ; It had been better, he said, that 
 they had been men of . worth themselves than that they 
 should possess things of worth. After the victory over 
 the Medes at Plataea, he commanded his officers to set 
 before him the Persian banquet that was already dressed ; 
 which appearing very sumptuous, By heaven, quoth he, 
 the Persian is an abominable glutton, who, when he hath 
 such delicacies at home, comes to eat our barley-cakes. 
 
 Of Pausanias the Son of Plistoanax. 
 
 Pausanias the son of Plistoanax replied to one that 
 asked him why it wa^ not lawful for the Spartans to abro- 
 gate any of their old laws, Because men ought to be sub- 
 ject to laws, and not the laws to men. When banished 
 and at Tegea, he commended the Lacedaemonians. One 
 said to him, Why then did you not stay at Sparta? Ami 
 he returned, Physicians are conversant not amongst the
 
 472 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 healthy, but the diseased. To one asking him how they 
 should conquer the Thracians, he replied, If we make the 
 best man our captain. A physician, after he had felt his 
 pulse and considered his constitution, saying, He ails noth- 
 ing ; It is because, sir, he replied, I use none of your 
 physic. When one of his friends blamed him for giving 
 a physician an ill character, since he had no experience of 
 his skill nor received any injury from him ; No, faith, said 
 he, for had I tried him, I had not lived to give this charac- 
 ter. And when the physician said, Sir, you are an old man ; 
 That happens, he replied, because you were never my doc- 
 tor. And he was used to say, that he was the best physi- 
 cian, who did not let his patients rot above ground, but 
 quickly buried them. 
 
 Of Paedarettu. 
 
 Paedaretus, when one told him the enemies were numer- 
 ous, said, Therefore we shall get the greater reputation, for 
 we shall kill the more. Seeing a man soft by nature and 
 a coward commended by the citizens for his lenity and good 
 disposition, he said, We should not praise men that are like 
 women, nor women that are like men, unless some extrem- 
 ity forceth a woman to stand upon her guard. When he 
 was not chosen into the three hundred (the chief order in 
 the city), he went away laughing and very jocund ; and the 
 Ephors calling him back and asking why he laughed, Why, 
 said he, I congratulate the happiness of the city, that en- 
 joys three hundred citizens better than myself. 
 
 Of P/istarcfntt. 
 
 
 
 Plistarchus the son of Leonidas, to one asking him why 
 they did not take their names from the first kings, replied, 
 Because the former were rather captains than kings, but 
 the later otherwise. A certain advocate using a thousand 
 little jests in his pleading ; Sir, said he, you do not con-
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 473 
 
 sider that, as those that often wrestle are wrestlers at last, 
 so you by often exciting laughter will become ridiculous 
 yourself. When one told him that an notorious railor 
 spoke well of him ; I'll lay my life, said he, somebody hath 
 told him I am dead, for he can speak well of no man 
 living. 
 
 Of Pliitoanax. 
 
 Plistoanax the son of Pausanias, when an Athenian 
 orator called the Lacedaemonians unlearned fellows, said, 
 Tis true, for we alone of all the Greeks have not learned 
 any ill from you. 
 
 Of Polydorus. 
 
 Polydorus the son of Alcamenes, when one often threat- 
 ened hig enemies, said to him, Do not you perceive, sir, 
 that you waste a great part of your revenge? As he 
 marched his army against Messene, a friend asked him if 
 he would fight against his brothers? No, said he, but I 
 put in for an estate to which none, as yet, hath any good 
 title. The Arrives after the fight of the three hundred 
 being totally routed in a set battle, the allies urged him not 
 to let the opportunity slip, but storm and take the city of 
 the enemy ; for it would be very easy, now all the men 
 were destroyed and none but women left. He replied : I 
 love to vanquish my enemies when I fight on equal terms ; 
 nor do I think it just in him who was commissioned to 
 contest about the confines of the two states, to desire to be 
 master of the city ; for I came only to recover our own 
 territories and not to seize theirs. Being asked onco 
 why the Spartans ventured so bravely in battle ; Because, 
 said he, we have learned to reverence and not fear our 
 leaders.
 
 474 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 Of Polycratidat. 
 
 Polycratidas being joined with others in an embassy to 
 the lieutenants of the king, being asked whether they came 
 a> private or public persons, returned, If we obtain our 
 demands, as public ; if not, as private. 
 
 Of Phoelidas. 
 
 Phoebidas, just before the battle at Leuctra, when some 
 said, This day will show who is a brave man, replied, Tis 
 a fine day indeed that can show a brave man alive. 
 
 Of Soos. 
 
 It is reported of Soos that, when his army was shut up 
 by the Clitorians in a disadvantageous strait and wanted 
 water, he agreed to restore all the places he had taken, 
 
 if all his men should drink of the neighboring fountain. 
 
 > 
 
 Now the enemy had secured the spring and guarded it. 
 These articles being sworn to, he convened his soldiers, 
 and promised to give him the kingdom who would forbear 
 drinking ; but none accepting it, he went to the water, 
 sprinkled himself, and so departed, whilst the enemies 
 looked on ; and he therefore refused to restore the places, 
 because he himself had not drunk. 
 
 Of Telecrut. 
 
 Telecrus, to one reporting that his father spake ill of 
 him, replied, He would not speak so unless he had reason 
 for it. When his brother said, The citizens have not that 
 kindness for me they have for you, but use me more coarse- 
 ly, though bom of the same parents, he replied, You do 
 not know how to bear an injury, and I do. Being asked 
 what was the reason of that custom among the Spartans 
 for the younger to rise up in reverence to the elder, Be- 
 cause, said he, by this behavior towards those to whom
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 475 
 
 they have no relation, they may learn to reverence their 
 parents more. To one enquiring what wealth he had, he 
 returned, No more than enough. 
 
 Of Charillus. 
 
 Charillus being asked why Lycurgus made so few laws ; 
 Because, he replied, those whose words are few need but 
 few laws. Another enquiring why their virgins appear in 
 public unveiled, and their wives veiled ; Because, said he, 
 virgins ought to find husbands, married women keep those 
 they [have. To a slave saucily opposing him he said, I 
 would kill thee if I were not angry. And being asked 
 what polity he thought best ; That, said he, in which most 
 of the citizens without any disturbance contend about vir- 
 tue. And .to a friend enquiring why amongst them all the 
 images of the Gods were armed he replied, That those 
 reproaches we cast upon men for their cowardice may not 
 reflect upon the Gods, and that our youth may not suppli- 
 cate the Deities unarmed. 
 
 THE REMARKABLE SPEECHES OP SOME OBSCURE 
 MEN AMONGST THE SPARTANS. 
 
 WHEN the Samian ambassadors had made a long har- 
 angue, the Spartans answered, We have forgot the first 
 part, and so cannot understand the last. To the Thcbans 
 violently contesting with them about something they replied, 
 Your spirit should be less, or your forces greater. A Lace- 
 daemonian being asked why he kept his beard so long; 
 That seeing my gray hairs, he replied, I may do nothing
 
 4f(5 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 * 
 
 but what becomes tbem. One commending the best war- 
 riors, a Spartan that overheard said, At Troy. Another, 
 hearing that some forced their guests to drink after supper. 
 said, What! not to eat too? Pindar in his poems having 
 called Athens the prop of Greece, a Spartan said, Greece 
 would soon fall if it leaned on such a prop. When one, 
 seeing the Athenians pictured killing the Spartans, said, 
 The Athenians are stout fellows ; Yes, subjoined a Spartan, 
 in a picture. To one that was very attentive to a scandal- 
 ous accusation a Spartan said, Pray, sir, be not prodigal of 
 your ears against me. And to one under correction that 
 cried out, I offend against my will, another said, Therefore 
 suffer against thy will. One seeing some journeying in a 
 chariot said, God forbid that I should sit where I cannot 
 rise up to reverence my elders. Some Chian travellers 
 vomiting after supper in the consistory, and dunging in the 
 very seats of the Ephors, first they made strict inquiry 
 whether the offenders were citizens or not ; but finding they 
 were Chians, they publicly proclaimed that they gave the 
 Cliians leave to be filthy and uncivil. 
 
 When one saw a merchant sell hard almonds at double 
 the price that others were usually sold at, he said, Are 
 stones scarce "? Another pulling a nightingale, and finding 
 but a very small body, said, Thou art voice and nothing 
 else. Another Spartan, seeing Diogenes the Cynic in very 
 cold weather embrace a brazen statue, asked whether he 
 was not very coM ; and he replying, No, he rejoined, What 
 great matter then is it that you do ? A Metapontine, being 
 jeered by a Spartan for cowardice, replied, Nay, sir, we are 
 masters of some of the territories of other states ; Then, said 
 the Spartan, you are not only cowards but unjust. A travel- 
 ler at Sparta, standing long upon one leg, said to a Lacedae- 
 monian. I do not believe you can do as much ; True, said 
 he, but every goose can. To one valuing himself upon 
 his skill in oratory a Spartan said, By heaven, there never
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 47-7 
 
 was and never can be any art without truth. An Argive 
 saying, We have the tombs of many Spartans amongst us ; 
 a Spartan replied, But we cannot show the grave of one 
 Argive ; meaning that they had often invaded Argos, but 
 the Argives never Sparta. A Spartan that was taken cap- 
 tive and to be sold, when the crier said, Here's a Spartan 
 to be sold, stopped his mouth, saying, Cry a captive. One 
 of the soldiers of Lysimachus, being asked by him whether 
 he was a true Spartan or one of the Helot slaves, replied, 
 Do you imagine a Lacedaemonian would serve you for a 
 groat a day ? The Thebans, having beaten the Lacedae- 
 monians at Leuctra, marched to the river Eurotas itself, 
 where one of them boasting said, Where are the Spartans 
 now 1 To whom a captive replied, They are not at hand, 
 sir, for if they had been, you had not come so far. The 
 Athenians, having surrendered their own city to the Spar- 
 tans, requested that they might be permitted to enjoy Samos 
 only ; upon which the Spartans said, When you are not at 
 your own disposal, would you be lords of others ? And 
 hence came-that proverb, He that is not master of himself 
 begs Samos. 
 
 When the Lacedaemonians had taken a town by storm, 
 the Ephors said, The exercise of our youth is lost, for now 
 they will have none to contend with them. The Persian 
 offering to raze a city that had frequent quarrels and skir- 
 mishes with the Spartans, they desired him to forbear and 
 not take away the whetstone of their youth. They ap- 
 pointed no masters to instruct their boys in wrestling, that 
 they might contend not in sleights of art and little tricks, 
 but in strength and courage ; and therefore Lysander, 
 being asked by what means Charon was too hard for him, 
 replied, By sleights and cunning. When Philip, having 
 entered their territories, sent to know whether he should 
 come as an enemy or a friend, the Spartans returned, 
 Neither. Hearing fhat the ambassador they had sent to
 
 478 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 
 
 Antigonus the son of Demetrius had called him king, they 
 fined him, though he had obtained of him in a time of 
 scarcity a bushel of wheat for every person in the city. A 
 vicious person giving excellent good counsel, they received 
 it, but took it from him and attributed it to another, a man 
 regular and of a good life. When some brothers differed, 
 they fined the father for neglecting his sons and suffering 
 them to be at strife. They fined likewise a musician that 
 came amongst them, for playing the harp with his fingers. 
 Two boys fighting, one wounded the other mortally with a 
 hook. And when his acquaintance, just as he was dying, 
 vowed to revenge his death and have the blood of him that 
 killed him ; By no means, saith he, it is unjust, for I had 
 done the same thing if I had been stout and more speedy 
 in my stroke. Another boy, at the time when freemen's 
 sons are allowed to steal what they can and it is a disgrace 
 to be discovered, when some of his companions had stolen 
 a young fox and delivered it to him, and the owners came 
 to search, hid it under his gown ; and though the angry 
 little beast bit through his side to his very guts, he en- 
 dured it quietly, that he might not be discovered. When 
 the searchers were gone and the boys saw what had hap- 
 pened, they chid him roundly, saying, It had been better to 
 produce the fox, than thus, to conceal him by losing your 
 own life ; No, no ! he replied, it is much better to die in 
 torments, than to let my softness betray me and suffer a 
 life that had been scandalous. Some meeting certain 
 Spartans upon the road said, Sirs, you have good luck, for 
 the robbers are just gone. Faith, they replied, they have 
 good luck that they did not meet with us. A Lacedae- 
 monian, being asked what he knew, answered, To be free. 
 A Spartan boy, being taken by Antigonus and sold, obeyed 
 his master readily in every thing that he thought not below 
 a freeman to do ; but when he was commanded to bring a 
 chamber-pot, unable to contain he said, I will not serve ;
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 479 
 
 but his master pressing him, he ran to the top of the 
 house, and saying, You shall find what you have bought, 
 threw himself down headlong and died. Another bein^ in 
 be sold, when the chapman asked him, Wilt thou be tow- 
 ardly if 1 buy thee ? Yes, he returned, and if you do not 
 buy me. Another captive, when the crier said, Here's a 
 slave to be sold, cried out, You villain, why not a captive ? 
 A Spartan, who had a fly engraven on his shield no bigger 
 than Nature hath made that creature, when some jeered 
 him as if he did it on purpose that he might not be taken 
 notice of, replied : It is that I may be known ; for I ad- 
 vance so near my enemies that they can well perceive my 
 impress, as little as it is. Another, when at an entertain- 
 ment a harp was brought in, said, It is not the custom of 
 the Spartans to play the fool. A Spartan being asked 
 whether the way to Sparta was safe or not, replied : That 
 is according as you go down thither ; for lions that ap- 
 proach rue their coming, and hares we hunt in their very 
 coverts. A Spartan wrestling, when he could not make 
 his adversary that had got the upper hand of him loose his 
 hold, and was unable to avoid the fall, bit him by the arm ; 
 and the other saying, Spartan, thou bitest like a woman ; 
 No, said he, but like a lion. A lame man, marching out 
 to war and being laughed at, said, There is no need of 
 those that can run away, but of those that can stand to it 
 and defend their post. Another being shot through said 
 with his last, breath : It doth not trouble me that I die, but 
 that I should be killed by a woman before I had performed 
 some notable exploit. One coming into an inn and giving 
 the host a piece of meat to make ready for him, when 
 the host, demanded some cheese and oil besides, What ! 
 says the Spartan, if I had cheese should I want moat ? 
 When one called Lampis of Aegina happy, because he 
 seemed a rich man, having many ships of his own at 
 a Spartan said, I do not like that happiness that hangs by
 
 480 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 a cord. One telling a Spartan that he lied, the Spartan 
 returned : True, for we are free ; but others, unless they 
 speak truth, will suffer for it When one had undertaken 
 to make a carcass stand upright, and tried every way to no 
 purpose ; Faith, said he, there wants something within. 
 Tynnichus bore his son Thrasybulus's death very patiently, 
 and there is this epigram made upon him : 
 
 Stout Thrasybulus on his shield was brought 
 
 From bloody fields, where he had bravely fought j 
 
 The Arrives beat, and as he stoutly prest, 
 
 Seven spears, and Death attending, pierced his breast. 
 
 The father took the corpse, and as he bled, 
 
 He laid it on the funeral pile, and said : 
 
 Be cowards mourned, I'll spend no tear nor groan, 
 
 Whilst thus I burn a Spartan and ray son. 
 
 The keeper of the bath allowing more water than ordinary 
 to Alcibiades the Athenian, a Spartan said, What ! is he 
 more foul, that he wants more than others ? Philip mak- 
 ing an inroad upon Sparta, and all the Spartans expecting 
 to be cut off, he said to one of them, Now what will you 
 Spartans do ? And he replied : What, but to die bravely ? 
 for only we of all the Greeks have learned to be free and 
 not endure a yoke. When Agis was beaten and Antipatcr 
 demanded fifty boys for hostages, Eteoclcs, one of the then 
 Ephors, answered : Boys we will not give, lest swerving 
 from the customs of their country they prove slothful and 
 untoward, and so incapable of the privilege of citizens ; 
 but of women and old men you shall have twice as many. 
 And when upon refusal he threatened some sharp afflic- 
 tions, he returned : If you lay upon us somewhat worse 
 than death, we shall die the more readily. An old man 
 in the Olympic games being desirous to see the sport, and 
 unprovided of a seat, went about from place to place, was 
 laughed and jeered at, but none offered him the civility ; 
 but when he came to the Spartans' quarter, all the boys 
 and some of the men rose from their seats, and made him 
 room. At this, all the Greeks clapped and praised their
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 481 
 
 behavior ; upon which the good old man shaking his hoary 
 hairs, with tears in his eyes, said : Good God ! how well 
 all the Greeks know what is good, and yet only the Lace- 
 daemonians practise it ! And some say the same thing was 
 done at Athens. For at the great solemnity of the Athe- 
 
 
 
 nians, the Panathenaic festival, the Attics abused an old 
 man, calling him as if they designed to make room for 
 him, and when he came putting him off again ; and when 
 after this manner he had passed through almost all, he 
 came to that quarter where the Spartan spectators sat, and 
 all of them preser dy rose up and gave him place ; the 
 whole multitude. 3xtremely taken with this action, clapped 
 and shouted ; upon which one of the Spartans said : By 
 Heaven, these Athenians know what should be done, but 
 are not much for doing it. A beggar asking an alms of a 
 Lacedaemonian, he said : Well, should I give thee any 
 thing, th on wilt be the greater beggar, for he that first gave 
 thee money made thee idle, and is the cause of this base 
 and dishonorable way of living. Another Spartan, seeing 
 a fellow gathering charity for the Gods' sake, said, I will 
 never regard those as Gods that are poorer than myself. 
 Another, having taken one in adultery with an ugly whore, 
 cried out, Poor man, how great was thy necessity ! Another, 
 hearing an orator very lofty and swelling in his speech, 
 said, Faith, this is a brave man, how excellently he rolls 
 his tongue about nothing ! A stranger being at Sparta, and 
 observing how much the young men reverenced the old, 
 said, At Sparta alone it is desirable to be old. A Lacedae- 
 monian, being asked what manner of poet Tyrtaeus was, 
 replied, Excellent to whet the courage of our youth. 
 Another that had very sore eyes listed himself a soldier ; 
 when some said to him, Poor man, whither in that con- 
 dition, and what wilt thou do in a fight? He returned, If 
 I can do nothing else, I shall blunt the enemies' sword. 
 Buris and Spertis, two Lacedaemonians, going voluntarily
 
 482 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 to Xerxes the Persian to suffer that pimishment which the 
 oracle had adjudged due to Sparta for killing those ambas- 
 sadors the King had sent, as soon as they came desired 
 Xerxes to put them to death as he pleased, that they 
 might make satisfaction for the Spartans. But he, sur- 
 prised at this gallantry, forgave the men and desired their 
 tservice in his court ; to which they replied, How can we 
 stay here, and leave our country, our laws, and those mm 
 for whom we came so far to die? Indarnes the general 
 pressing them to make peace, and promising them equal 
 honors with the King's greatest favorites, they returned, Sir, 
 you seem to be ignorant of the value of liberty, which no 
 man in his wits would change for the Persian empire. A 
 Spartan in a journey, when a friend of his had purposely 
 avoided him the day before, and the next day, having ob- 
 tained very rich furniture, splendidly received him, trampled 
 on his tapestry saying, This was the cause why I had not 
 so much as a mat to sleep upon last night. Another com- 
 ing to Athens, and seeing the Athenians crying salt-fish and 
 dainties to sell up and down the streets, others gathering 
 taxes, keeping stews, and busied about a thousand such 
 dishonest trades, and looking on nothing as base and unbe- 
 coming ; after his return, when his acquaintance enquired 
 how things were at Athens, he replied, All well ; inti- 
 mating by this irony that all things there were esteemed 
 good and commendable, and nothing base. Another, being 
 questioned about something, denied it; and the enquirer 
 rejoining, Thou liest, he replied : And art not thou a fool 
 to ask me what you know yourself very well ? Some 
 Lacedaemonians being sent ambassadors to the tyrant 
 Lygdamis, pretending sickness he deferred their audience 
 a long time. They said to one of his officers, Pray, sir, 
 assure him that we did not come to wrestle but to treat 
 with him. A priest initiating a Spartan in holy mysteries 
 asked him what was the greatest wickedness he was ever
 
 LACONIC APOPHTHEGMS. 483 
 
 guilty of. And he replying, The Gods know very well, 
 and the priest pressing him the more and saying he must 
 needs discover, the Spartan asked, To whom ? to thee or 
 the God ? And the priest saying, To the God, he rejoined, 
 Then do you withdraw. Another at night passing by a 
 tomb and imagining he saw a ghost, made towards it with 
 his spear, and striking it through cried out, Whither dost 
 thou fly, poor twice dead ghost? Another having vowed 
 to throw himself headlong from the Leucadian rock, when 
 he came to the top and saw the vast precipice, he went 
 down again ; upon which being jeered by an acquaintance, 
 he said, I did not imagine that one vow needed another 
 that was greater. Another in a battle had his sword lifted 
 up to kill his enemy, but the retreat being sounded, he did 
 not let the blow fall ; and when one asked him why, when 
 his enemy was at his mercy, he did not use the advantage, 
 Because, said he, it is better to obey my leader than kill 
 my enemy. One saying to a Spartan that was worsted in 
 the Olympic games, Spartan, thy adversary was the better 
 man ; No, he replied, but the better tripper.
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OR REMARKABLE SAYINGS OF 
 KINGS AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 PLUTARCH TO TRAJAN THE EMPEROR WISHETH PROSPERITY. 
 
 ARTAXERXES, King of Persia, O Caesar Trajan, greatest 
 of princes, esteemed it no less royal and bountiful kindly 
 and cheerfully to accept small, than to make great presents ; 
 and when he was in a progress, and a common country 
 laborer, having nothing else, took up water with both his 
 hands out of the river and presented it to 'him, he smiled 
 and received it pleasantly, measuring the kindness not by 
 the value of the gift, but by the affection of the giver. 
 And Lycurgus ordained in Sparta very cheap sacrifices, 
 that they might always worship the Gods readily and 
 easily with such things as were at hand. Upon the same 
 account, when I bring a mean and slender present of the 
 common first-fruits of philosophy, accept also (I beseech 
 you) with my good affection these short memorials, if they 
 may contribute any thing to the knowledge of the manners 
 and dispositions of great men, which are more apparent in 
 their words than in their actions. My former treatise con- 
 tains the lives of the most eminent princes, lawgivers, ;nid 
 generals, both Romans and Grecians ; but most of their 
 actions admit a mixture of fortune, whereas such speeches 
 and answers as happened amidst their employments, pas- 
 sions, and events afford us (as in a looking-glass) a clear 
 discovery of each particular temper and disposition. Ac- 
 cordingly Siramnes the Persian, to such as wondered that
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 485 
 
 he usually spoke like a wise man and yet was unsuccessful 
 in his designs, replied : I myself am master of my words, 
 but the king and fortune have power over my actions. 
 In the former treatise speeches and actions are mingled 
 together, and require a reader that is at leisure ; but in this 
 the speeches, being as it were the seeds and the illustrations 
 of those lives, are placed by themselves, and will not (I 
 think) be tedious to you, since they will give you in a few 
 words a review of many memorable persons. 
 
 CYRUS. The Persians affect such as are hawk-nosed 
 and think them most beautiful, because Cyrus, the most 
 beloved of their kings, had a nose of that shape. - Cyrus 
 said that those that would not do good for themselves 
 ought to be compelled to do good for others ; and that no- 
 body ought to govern, unless he was better than those he 
 governed. When the Persians were desirous to exchange 
 their hills and rocks for a plain and soft country, he would 
 not suffer them, saying that both the seeds of plants and the 
 lives of men resemble the soil they inhabit. 
 
 DARIUS. Darius the father of Xerxes used to praise 
 himself, saying that he became even wiser in battles and 
 dangers. When he laid a tax upon his subjects, he sum- 
 moned his lieutenants, and asked them whether the tax 
 was burthensome or not? When they told him it was 
 moderate, he commanded them to pay half as much as was 
 at first demanded. As he was opening a pomegranate, 
 one asked him what it was of which he would wish for 
 a number equal to the seeds thereof. He said, Of men 
 like Zopyrus, who was a loyal person and his friend. 
 This Zopyrus, after he had maimed himself by cutting off 
 his nose and ears, beguiled the Babylonians ; and being 
 trusted by them, he betrayed the city to Darius, who often 
 said that he would not have had Zopyrus maimed to guiii 
 a hundred Babylons. 
 
 SEMIRAMIS. Semiramis built a monument for herself, with
 
 486 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 this inscription : Whatever king wants treasure, if he open 
 this tomb, he may be satisfied. Darius therefore opening it 
 found no treasure, but another inscription of this import : 
 If thou wert not a wicked person and of insatiable covetous- 
 ness, thou wouldst not disturb the mansions of the dead. 
 
 XERXES. Arimenes came out of Bactria as a rival for 
 the kingdom with his brother Xerxes, the son of Darius. 
 Xerxes sent presents to him, commanding those that 
 brought them to say : With these your brother Xerxes now 
 honors you ; and if he chance to be proclaimed king, you 
 shall be the next person to himself in the kingdom. When 
 Xerxes was declared king, Arimenes immediately did him 
 homage and placed the crown upon his head ; and Xerxes 
 gave him the next place to himself. Being offended with 
 the Babylonians, who rebelled, and having overcome 
 them, he forbade them weapons, but commanded they 
 should practise singing and playing on the flute, keep 
 brothel-houses and taverns, and wear loose coats. He 
 refused to eat Attic figs that were brought to be sold, until 
 he had conquered the country that produced them. W T hen 
 he caught some Grecian scouts in his camp, he did them 
 no harm, but having allowed them to view his army as 
 much as they pleased, he let them go. 
 
 ARTAXERXES. Artaxerxes, the son of Xerxes, surnamed 
 Longimanus (or Long-hand) because he had one hand 
 longer than the other, said, it was more princely to add 
 than to take away. He first gave leave to those that 
 hunted with him. if they would and saw occasion, to throw 
 their darts before him. He also first ordained that puni>h- 
 ment for his nobles who had offended, that they should be 
 stripped and their garments scourged instead of their bodies ; 
 and whereas their hair should have been plucked out, that 
 the same should be done to their turbans. When Satibar- 
 zanes, his chamberlain, petitioned him in an unjust matter, 
 and he understood he did it to gain thirty thousand pieces
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 4g7 
 
 of money, he ordered his treasurer to bring the said sum, 
 and gave them to him, saying : O Satibarzanes ! take it ; 
 for when I have given you this, I shall not be poorer, but I 
 had been more unjust if I had granted your petition. 
 
 CYRUS THE YOUNGER. Cyrus the Younger, when he was 
 exhorting the Lacedaemonians to side with him in the war, 
 said that he had a stronger heart than his brother, and 
 could drink more wine unmixed than he, and bear it better ; 
 that his brother, when he hunted, could scarce sit his 
 horse, or when ill news arrived, his throne. He exhorted 
 them to send him men, promising he would give horses 
 to footmen, chariots to horsemen, villages to those that 
 had farms, and those that possessed villages he would make 
 lords of cities ; and that he would give them gold and 
 silver, not by tale but by weight. 
 
 ARTAXERXES MNEMON. Artaxerxes, the brother of Cyrus 
 the Younger, called Mnemon, did not only give very free 
 and patient access to any that would speak with him, but 
 commanded the queen his wife to draw the curtains of her 
 chariot, that petitioners might have the same access to her 
 also. When a poor man presented him with a very fair 
 and great apple, By the Sun, said he, 'tis my opinion, if this 
 person were entrusted with a small city, he would make it 
 great. In his flight, when his carriages were plundered, 
 and he was forced to eat dry figs and barley-bread, Of how 
 great pleasure, said he, have I hitherto lived ignorant ! 
 
 PARYSATIS. Parysatis, the mother of Cyrus and Arta- 
 xerxes, advised him that would discourse freely with the 
 king, to use words of fine linen. 
 
 ORONTES. Orontes, the son-in-law of King Artaxcrxr*. 
 falling into disgrace and being condemned, said : As arith- 
 meticians count sometimes myriads on their fingers, some- 
 times units only ; in like manner the favorites of kings 
 sometimes can do every thing with them, sometimes little 
 or nothing.
 
 488 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 MEMNON. Memnon, one of King D anus's generals against 
 Alexander, when a mercenary soldier excessively and im- 
 pudently reviled Alexander, struck him with his spear, 
 adding, I pay you to fight against Alexander, not to re- 
 proach him. 
 
 EGYPTIAN KINGS. The Egyptian kings, according unto 
 their law, used to swear their judges that they should not 
 obey the king when he commanded them to give an unjust 
 sentence. 
 
 POLTYS. Poltys king of Thrace, in the Trojan war, 
 being solicited both by the Trojan and Grecian ambassa- 
 dors, advised Alexander to restore Helen, promising to give 
 him two beautiful women for her. 
 
 TERES. Teres, the father of Sitalces, said, when he was 
 out of the army and had nothing to do, he thought there 
 was no difference between him and his grooms. 
 
 COTYS. Cotys, when one gave him a leopai*4, gave him 
 a lion for it. He was naturally prone to anger, and severe- 
 ly punished the miscarriages of his servants. When a 
 stranger brought him some earthen vessels, thin and brittle, 
 but delicately shaped and admirably adorned with sculp- 
 tures, he requited the stranger for them, and then brake 
 them all in pieces, Lest (said he) my passion should pro- 
 voke me to punish excessively those that brake them. 
 
 IDATHYRSUS. Idathyrsus, King of Scythia, when Darius 
 invaded him, solicited the Ionian tyrants that they would 
 assert their liberty by breaking down the bridge that was 
 made over the Danube : which they refusing to do because 
 they had sworn fealty to Darius, he called them good, 
 honest, lazy slaves. 
 
 ATEAS. Ateas wrote to Philip : You reign over the Ma- 
 cedonians, men that have learned fighting ; and I over the 
 Sruhians, which can fight witli hunger and thirst. As he 
 was rubbing his horse, turning to the ambassadors of Philip, 
 be asked whether Philip did so or not. He took prisoner
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 4g9 
 
 Ismenias, an excellent piper, and commanded him to play ; 
 and when others admired him, he swore it was more pleas- 
 ant to hear a horse neigh. 
 
 SCILURUS. Scilurus on his death-bed, being about to 
 leave fourscore sons surviving, offered a bundle of darts to 
 each of them, and bade them break them. When all refused, 
 drawing out one by one, he easily broke them ; thus teach- 
 ing them that, if they held together, they would continue 
 strong, but if they fell out and were divided, they would 
 become weak. 
 
 GELO. Gelo the tyrant, after he had overcome the Car- 
 thaginians at Himera, made peace with them, and among 
 other articles compelled them to subscribe this, that they 
 should no more sacrifice their children to Saturn. He 
 often marched the Syracusans out to plant their fields, as 
 if it had been to war, that the country might be improved 
 by husbandry, and they might not be corrupted by idleness. 
 When he demanded a sum of money of the citizens, and 
 thereupon a tumult was raised, he told them he would but 
 borrow it ; and after the war was ended, he restored it to 
 them again. At a feast, when a harp was offered, and 
 others one after another tuned it and played upon it, he 
 sent for his horse, and with an easy agility leaped upon 
 him. 
 
 HIERO. Hiero, who succeeded Gelo in the tyranny, said 
 he was not disturbed by any that freely spoke against him. 
 He judged that those that revealed a secret did an injury 
 to those to whom they revealed it ; for we hate not only 
 those who tell, but them also that hear what we would not 
 have disclosed. One upbraided him with his stinking 
 breath, and he blamed his wife that never told him of it ; 
 but she said, I thought all men smelt so. To Xenophanes 
 the Colophonian, who said he had much ado to maintain 
 two servants, he replied : But Homer, whom you disparage, 
 maintains above ten thousand, although he is dead. He
 
 490 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 fined Epicharmus the comedian, for speaking unseemly 
 when his wife was by. 
 
 DIONYSIUS. Dionysius the Elder, when the public ora- 
 tors cast lots to know in what order they should speak, 
 drew as his lot the letter M. And when one said to him, 
 MaMMlo'/ci^ You will make a foolish speech, O Dionysius, 
 You are mistaken, said he, Mov<tQ-/j t aw, I shall be a monarch. 
 And as soon as his speech was ended, the Syracusans chose 
 him general. In the beginning of his tyranny, the citizens 
 rebelled and besieged him ; and his friends advised him to 
 resign the government, rather than to be taken and slain 
 by them. But he, seeing a cook butcher an ox and the ox 
 immediately fall down dead, said to his friends : Is it not 
 a hateful thing, that for fear of so short a death we should 
 resign so great a government? When his son, whom he 
 intended to make his successor in the government, had 
 been detected in debauching a freeman's wife, he asked 
 him in anger, When did you ever know me guilty of such 
 a crime? But you, sir, replied the son, had not a tyrant 
 for your father. Nor will you, said he, have a tyrant for 
 your son, unless you mend your manners. And another 
 time, going into his son's house and seeing there abundance 
 of silver and gold plate, he cried out : Thou art not capa- 
 ble of being a tyrant, who hast made never a friend with 
 all the plate I have given thee. When he exacted money 
 of the Syracusans, and they lamenting and beseeching him 
 pretended they had none, he still exacted more, twice or 
 thrice renewing his demands, until he heard them lau^h 
 and jeer at him as they went to and fro in the market-place, 
 and then he gave over. Now, said he, since they contemn 
 me, it is a sign they have nothing left. When his mother, 
 being ancient, requested him to find a husband for her, I 
 can, said he, overpower the laws of the city, but I cannot 
 force the laws of Nature. Although he punished other 
 malefactors severely, he favored -such as stole clothes, that
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 491 
 
 the Syracusans might forbear feasting and drunken clubs. 
 A certain person told him privately, he could show him a 
 way how he might know beforehand such as conspired 
 against him. Let us know, said he, going aside. Give 
 me, said the person, a talent, that everybody may believe 
 that I have taught you the signs and tokens of plotters ; 
 and he gave it him, pretending he had learned them, much 
 admiring the subtilty of the man. Being asked whether 
 he was at leisure, he replied : God forbid that it should 
 ever befall me. Hearing that two young men very much 
 reviled him and his tyranny in their cups, he invited both 
 of them to supper ; and perceiving that one of them prat- 
 tled freely and foolishly, but the other drank warily and 
 sparing, he dismissed the first as a drunken fellow whose 
 treason lay no deeper than his wine, and put the other to 
 death as a disaffected and resolved traitor. Some blaming 
 him for rewarding and preferring a wicked man, and one 
 hated by the citizens ; I would have, said he, somebody 
 hated more than myself. When he gave presents to the 
 ambassadors of Corinth, and they refused them because 
 their law forbade them to receive gifts from a prince to 
 whom they were sent in embassy, he said they did very ill 
 to destroy the only advantage of tyranny, and to declare 
 that it was dangerous to receive a kindness from a tyrant. 
 Hearing that a citizen had buried a quantity of gold in his 
 house, he sent for it ; and when the party removed to an- 
 other city, and bought a farm with part of his treasure 
 which he had concealed, Uionysius sent for him and bade 
 him take back the rest, since he had now begun to use his 
 money, and was no longer making a useful thing useless. 
 
 DIONYSIUS THE YOUNGER said that he maintained many 
 Sophists ; not that he admired them, but that he might be 
 admired for their sake. When Polyxenus the logician told 
 him he had baffled him ; Yes, said he, in words, but I have 
 caught you in deeds ; for you, leaving your own fortune,
 
 492 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 attend me and mine. When he was deposed from his gov- 
 ernment, and one asked him what he got by Plato and 
 philosophy, he answered, That I may bear so great a 
 change of fortune patiently. Being asked how it came to 
 pass that his father, a private and poor man, obtained the 
 government of Syracuse, and he already possessed of it, 
 and the son of a tyrant, lost it, My father, said he, en- 
 tered upon affairs when the democracy was hated, but I, 
 when tyranny was become odious. To another that asked 
 him the same question, he replied : My father bequeathed 
 to me his government, but not his fortune. 
 
 AGATHOCLES was the son of a potter. When he became 
 lord and was proclaimed king of Sicily, he was wont to 
 place earthen and golden vessels together, and show them 
 to young men, telling them, Those I made first, but now 
 I make these by my valor and industry. As he was besieg- 
 ing a city, some from the walls reviling him, saying, Do 
 you hear, potter, where will you have money to pay your 
 soldiers? he gently answered, I'll tell you, if I take this 
 city. And having taken it by storm, he sold the prisoners, 
 telling them, If you reproach me again, I will complain to 
 your masters. Some inhabitants of Ithaca complained of 
 his mariners, that making a descent on the island they had 
 'taken away some cattle ; But your king, said he, came to 
 Sicily, and did not only take away sheep, but put out the 
 shepherd's eyes, and went his way. 
 
 DION. Dion, that deposed Dionysius from the tyranny, 
 when he heard Callippus, whom of all his friends and 
 attendants he trusted most, conspired against him, refused 
 to question him for it, saying : It is better for him to die 
 than to live, who must be weary not only of his enemies, 
 but of his friends too. 
 
 ARCHELACS. Archelaus, when one of his companions 
 (and none of the best) begged a golden cup of him, bade 
 the boy give it Euripides ; and when the man wondered
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 493 
 
 at him, You, said he, are worthy to ask, but he is worthy 
 to receive it without asking. A prating barber asked him 
 how he would be trimmed. He answered, In silence. 
 When Euripides at a banquet embraced fair Agatho and 
 kissed him, although he was no longer beardless, he said, 
 turning to his friends : Do not wonder at it, for the beauty 
 of such as are handsome lasts after autumn. 
 
 Timotheus the harper, receiving of him a reward less 
 than his expectation, twitted him for it not obscurely ; and 
 once singing the short verse of the chorus, You commend 
 earth-born silver, directed it to him. And Archelaus 
 answered him again singing, But you beg it. When one 
 sprinkled water upon him, and his friends would have had 
 him punish the man, You are mistaken, said he, he did not 
 sprinkle me, but some other person whom he took me 
 to be. 
 
 PHILIP. Theophrastus tells us that Philip, the father of 
 Alexander, was not only greater in his port and success, 
 but also freer from luxury than other kings of his time. 
 He said the Athenians were happy, if they could find every 
 year ten fit to be chosen generals, since in many years he 
 could find but one fit to be a general, and that was 
 Parmenio. When he had news brought him of divers and 
 eminent successes in one day, O Fortune, said he, for all 
 these so great kindnesses do me some small mischief. 
 After he had conquered Greece, some advised him to place 
 garrisons in the cities. No, said he, I had rather be called 
 merciful a great while, than lord a little while. His friends 
 advised him to banish a railer his court, I will not do it, 
 said he, lest he should go about and rail in many places. 
 Smicythus accused Nicanor for one that commonly spoke 
 evil of King Philip ; and his friends advised him to send for 
 him and punish him. Truly, said he, Nicanor is not the 
 worst of the Macedonians ; we ought therefore to consider 
 whether we have given him any cause or not. When he
 
 494 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 understood therefore that Nicanor, being slighted by the 
 king, was much afflicted with poverty, he ordered a boon 
 should be given him. And when Smicythus reported that 
 Nicanor was continually abounding in the king's praises, 
 You see then, said he, that whether we will be well or ill 
 spoken of is in our own power. He said he was beholden 
 to the Athenian orators, who by reproaching him made him 
 better both in speech and behavior ; for I will endeavor, 
 said he, both by my words and actions to prove them liars. 
 Such Athenians as he took prisoners in the fight at Chae- 
 ronea he dismissed without ransom. When they also de- 
 manded their garments and quilts, and on that account 
 accused the Macedonians, Philip laughed and said, Uo ye 
 not think these Athenians imagine we beat them at cockal ? 
 In a fight he broke his collar-bone, and the surgeon that 
 had him in cure requested him daily for his reward. Take 
 what you will, said he, for you have the key.* There 
 were two brothers called Both and Either ; perceiving 
 Either was a good understanding busy fellow and Both a 
 silly fellow and good for little, he said : Either is Both, and 
 Both is Neither. To some that advised him to deal severely 
 with the Athenians he said : You talk absurdly, who would 
 persuade a man that suffers all things for the sake of glory, 
 to overthrow the theatre of glory. Being arbitrator betwixt 
 two wicked persons, he commanded one to fly out of Mace- 
 donia and the other to pursue him. Being about to pitch 
 his camp in a likely place, and hearing there was no hay 
 to be had for the cattle, What a life, said he, is ours, since 
 we must live according to the convenience of asses ! De- 
 signing to take a strong fort, which the scouts told him was 
 exceeding difficult and impregnable, he asked whether it 
 was so difficult that an ass could not come at it laden with 
 gold. Lasthenes the Olynthian and his friends being 
 aggrieved, and complaining that some of Philip's retinue 
 
 The Greek *<( (cUris), a key, signifies also the collar-lotx. (G.)
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 495 
 
 called them traitors, These Macedonians, said he, are a rude 
 and clownish people, that call a spade a spade. He ex- 
 horted his son to behave himself courteously toward the 
 Macedonians, and to acquire influence with the people, 
 while he could be affable and gracious during the reign of 
 another. He advised him also to make fiiends of men 
 of interest in the cities, both good and bad, that afterwards 
 he might make use of these, and suppress those. To Philo 
 the Theban, who had been his host and given him entertain- 
 ment while he remained an hostage at Thebes, and after- 
 wards refused to accept any present from him, he said : Do 
 not take from me the title of invincible, by making me inferior 
 to you in kindness and bounty. Having taken many prison- 
 ers, he was selling them, sitting in an unseemly posture, with 
 his tunic tucked up ; when one of the captives to be sold 
 cried out, Spare me, Philip, for our fathers were friends. 
 When Philip asked him, Prithee, how or from whence ? 
 Let me come nearer, said he, and I'll tell you. When he 
 was come up to him, he said : Let down your cloak a little 
 lower, for you sit indecently. Whereupon said Philip : Let 
 him go, in truth he wisheth me well and is my friend, though 
 I did not know him. Being invited to supper, he carried 
 many he took up by the way along with him ; and perceiv- 
 ing his host troubled (for his provision was not sufficient), 
 he sent to each of his friends, and bade them reserve a place 
 for thf cake. They, believing and expecting it, ate little, 
 and so the supper was enough for all. It appeared he 
 grieved much at the death of Hipparchus the Euboean. 
 For when somebody said it was time for him to die, For 
 himself, said he, but he died too soon for me, prevent ini; 
 me by his death from returning him the kindness his friend- 
 ship deserved. Hearing that Alexander blamed him for 
 having children by several women, Therefore, saith he to 
 him, since you have many rivals with you for the kingdom, 
 be just and honorable, that you may not receive the king-
 
 496 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 dom as my gift, but by your own merit. He charged him 
 to be observant of Aristotle, and study philosophy, That 
 you may not, said he, do many things which I now repent 
 of doing. He made one of Anti pater's recommendation a 
 judge ; and perceiving afterwards that his hair and board 
 were colored, he removed him, saying, I could not think 
 one that was faithless in his hair could be trusty in his (U-eiN. 
 As he sate judge in the cause of one Machaetas, he fell 
 asleep, and for want of minding his arguments, gave judg- 
 ment against him. And when being enraged he cried out, 
 I appeal; To whom, said he, wilt thou appeal? To you 
 yourself, O king, said he, when you are awake to hear me 
 with attention. Then Philip rousing and coming to him- 
 self, and perceiving Machaetas was injured, although he 
 did not reverse the sentence, he paid the fine himself. 
 When Harpalus, in behalf of Crates his kinsman and 
 intimate friend, who was charged with disgraceful crimes, 
 begged that Crates might pay the fine and so cause the action 
 to be withdrawn and avoid public disgrace ; It is better, 
 said he, that he should be reproached upon his own account, 
 than we for him. His friends being enraged because the 
 Peloponnesians, to whom he had shown favor, hissed at 
 him in the Olympic games, What then, said he, would they 
 do if we should abuse them] Awaking after he had 
 overslept himself in the army ; I slept, said he, securely, 
 for Antipater watched. Another time, being asleep n the 
 day-time, while the Grecians fretting with impatience 
 thronged at the gates ; Do not wonder, said Parmrnio to 
 them, if Philip be now asleep, for while you slept he was 
 awake. When he corrected a musician at a banquet, and 
 discoursed with him concerning notes and instruments, the 
 musician replied: Far be that dishonor from your majesty. 
 that you should understand these things better than I do. 
 While he was at variance with his wife Olympia and his son, 
 Demaratus the Corinthian came to him, and Philip asked
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 497 
 
 him how the Grecians held together. Demaratus replied : 
 You had need to enquire how the Grecians agree, who 
 agree so well with your nearest relations. Whereupon he 
 let fall his anger, and was reconciled to them. A poor old 
 woman petitioned and dunned him often to hear her cause ; 
 and he answered, I am not at leisure ; the old woman 
 bawled out, Do not reign then. He admired the speech, 
 and immediately heard her and others. 
 
 ALEXANDER. While Alexander was a boy, Philip had 
 great success in his affairs, at which he did not rejoice, but 
 told the children that were brought up with him, My father 
 will leave me nothing to do. The children answered, Your 
 father gets all this for you. But what good, saith he, will 
 it do me, if I possess much and do nothing ? Being nim- 
 ble and light-footed, his father encouraged him to run in 
 the Olympic race ; Yes, said he, if there were any kings 
 there to run with me. A wench being brought to lie with 
 him late in the evening, he asked why she tarried so long. 
 She answered, I staid until my husband was abed ; and he 
 sharply reproved his pages, because through their careless- 
 ness he had almost committed adultery. As he was sacri- 
 ficing to the Gods liberally, and often offered frankincense, 
 Leonidas his tutor standing by said. O son, thus generously 
 will you sacrifice, when you have conquered the country 
 that bears frankincense. And when he had conquered it, 
 he sent him this letter : I have sent you an hundred talents 
 of frankincense and cassia, that hereafter you may not be 
 niggardly towards the Gods, when you understand I have 
 conquered the country in which perfumes grow. The 
 night before he fought at the river Granicus, he exhorted 
 the Macedonians to sup plentifully and to bring out all 
 they had, as they were to sup the next day at the charge 
 of their enemies. Perillus, one of his friends, begged of 
 him portions for his daughters ; and he ordered him to 
 receive fifty talents. And when he said, Ten were enough,
 
 498 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 Alexander replied : Enough for you to receive, but not for 
 me to give. He commanded his steward to give Anaxar- 
 chus the philosopher as much as he should ask for. lie 
 asketh> said the- steward, for an hundred talents. He doth 
 well, said he, knowing he hath a friend that both can and 
 will bestow so much on him. Seeing at Miletus many 
 statues of wrestlers that had overcome in the Olympic 
 and Pythian games, And where, said he, were these lusty 
 fellows when the barbarians assaulted your city? When 
 Ada queen of Caria was ambitious often to send him 
 sauces and sweetmeats delicately prepared by the best 
 cooks and artists, he said, I have better confectioners of 
 my own, viz., my night-travelling for my breakfast, and my 
 spare breakfast for my dinner. All things being prepared 
 for a fight, his captains asked him whether he had any tiling 
 else to command them. Nothing, said he, but that the 
 Macedonians should shave their beards. Parmenio won- 
 dering at it, Do you not know, said he, there is no better 
 hold in a fight than the beard ? When Darius offered him 
 ten thousand talents, and to divide Asia equally with him ; 
 I would accept it, said Parmenio, were I Alexander. And 
 so truly would I, said Alexander, if I were Parmenio. 
 Hut he answered Darius, that the earth could not bear 
 two suns, nor Asia two kings. When he was going to 
 fight for the world at Arbela, against ten hundred thousand 
 enemies set in array against him, some of his friends came 
 to him, and told him the discourse of the soldiers in their 
 tents, who had agreed that nothing of the spoils should be 
 brought into the treasury, but they would have all them- 
 selves. You tell me good news, said he, for I hear the 
 discourse of men that intend to fight, and not to run away. 
 Several of his soldiers came to him and said : O King ! be 
 of good courage, and fear not the multitude of your ene- 
 mies, for they will not be able to endure the very stink of 
 our sweat. The army being marshalled, he saw a soldier
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 499 
 
 fitting his thong to his javelin, and dismissed him as a use- 
 less fellow, for fitting his weapons when he should use 
 them. As he was reading a letter from his mother, con- 
 taining secrets and accusations of Anti pater, Hephaestion 
 also (as he was wont) read it along with him. Alexander 
 did not hinder him ; but when the letter was read, he took * 
 his ring off his finger, and laid the seal of it upon He- 
 phaestion's mouth. Being saluted as the son of Jupiter in 
 the temple of Ammon by the chief priest ; It is no won- 
 der, said he, for Jupiter is by nature the father of all, and 
 calls the best men his sons. When he was wounded with 
 an arrow in the ankle, and many ran to him that were 
 wont to call him a God, he said smiling : That is blood, as 
 you see, and not, as Homer saith, 
 
 Such humor aa distils from blessed Gods.* 
 
 To some that commended the frugality of Antipater, whose 
 diet was sober and without luxury ; Outwardly, said he, 
 Antipater wears white clothes, but within he is all purple. 
 In a cold winter day one of his friends invited him to a 
 banquet, and there being a little fire on a small hearth, he 
 bid him fetch either wood or frankincense. Antipatridas 
 brought a beautiful singing woman to supper with him ; 
 Alexander, being taken with her visage, asked Antipatridas 
 whether she was his miss or not. And when he confessed 
 she was ; O villain, said he, turn her immediately out 
 from the banquet. Again, when Cassander forced a kiss 
 from Pytho, a boy beloved by Evius the piper, and Alex- 
 ander perceived that Evius was concerned at it, he was ex- 
 tivmcly enraged at Cassander, and said with a loud voice, 
 It seems nobody must be loved if you can help it. When 
 he sent such of the Macedonians as were sick and maimed to 
 the sea, they showed him one that was in health ami yet 
 subscribed his name among the sick ; being brought into 
 
 II. V. 340.
 
 500 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 the presence and examined, he confessed he used that pre- 
 tence for the love of Telesippa, who was going to the sea. 
 Alexander asked, of whom he could make inquiries about 
 this Telesippa, and hearing she was a free woman, he said. 
 Therefore, my Antigenes, let us persuade her to stay with 
 us, for to force her to do so when she is a free woman is 
 not according to my custom. Of the mercenary Grecians 
 that fought against him he took many prisoners. He com- 
 manded the Athenians should be kept in chains, because 
 they served for wages when they were allowed a public 
 maintenance ; and the Thessalians. because when they had 
 a fruitful country they did not till it ; but he set the The- 
 bans free, saying, To them only I have left neither city nor 
 country. He took captive an excellent Indian archer that 
 said he could shoot an arrow through a ring, and com- 
 manded him to show his skill ; and when the man refused 
 to do this, he commanded him in a rage to be put to death. 
 The man told them that led him to execution that, not 
 having practised for many days, he was afraid he should 
 miss. Alexander, hearing this, wondered at him and dis- 
 missed him with rewards, because he chose rather to die 
 than show himself unworthy of his reputation. Taxilcs, 
 one of the Indian kings, met Alexander, and advised him 
 not to make war nor fight with him, but if he were a 
 meaner person than himself, to receive kindness from him, 
 or if he were a better man, to show kindness to him. He 
 answered, that was the very thing they must fight for, who 
 should exceed the other in bounty. When he heard the 
 rock called Aoraus in India was by its situation impregna- 
 ble, but the commander of it was a coward ; Then, said 
 he, the place is easy to be taken. Another, commanding 
 a rock thought to be invincible, surrendered himself and 
 the rock to Alexander, who committed the said rock and 
 the adjacent country to his government, saying : I take this 
 for a wise man, who chose rather to commit himself to a
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 501 
 
 good man than to a strong place. When the rock was 
 taken, his friends said that it exceeded the deeds of Hercu- 
 les. But I, said he, do not think my actions and all my 
 empire to be compared with one word of Hercules. He 
 fined some of his friends whom he caught playing at dice 
 in earnest. Of his chief and most powerful friends, he 
 seemed most to respect Craterus, and to love Hephaestion. 
 Craterus, said he, is the friend of the king ; but Hephaes- 
 tion is the friend of Alexander. He sent fifty talents to 
 Xenocrates the philosopher, who would not receive them, 
 saying he was not in want. And he asked whether Xeno- 
 crates had no friend either ; For as to myself, said he, the 
 treasure of Darius is hardly sufficient for me to bestow 
 among my friends. He demanded of Porus, after the fight, 
 how he should treat him. Royally, said he, like a king. 
 And being again asked, what farther he had to request ; 
 All things, said he, are in that word royally. Admiring 
 his wisdom and valor, he gave him a greater government 
 than he had before. Being told a certain person reviled 
 him, To do good, said he, and to be evil spoken of is 
 kingly. As he was dying, looking upon his friends, I see, 
 said he, my funeral tournament will be great. When he 
 was dead, Demades the rhetorician likened the Macedonian 
 army without a general to Polyphemus the Cyclops when 
 his eye was put out. 
 
 PTOLEMY. Ptolemy, the son of Lagus, frequently supped 
 with his friends and lay at their houses ; and if at any 
 time he invited them to supper, he made use of their fur- 
 niture, sending for vessels, carpets, and tables ; for he him- 
 self had only things that were of constant use about him, 
 saying it was more becoming a king to make others rich 
 than to be rich himself. 
 
 ANTIGONUS. Antigonus exacted money severely. When 
 one told him that Alexander did not do so, It may be so, 
 said he ; Alexander reaped Asia, and I but glean after him.
 
 502 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 Seeing some soldiers playing at ball in head-pieces and 
 breast-plates, he was pleased, and sent for their officers, 
 * intending to commend them ; but when he heard the offi- 
 cers were drinking, he bestowed their commands on the 
 soldiers. When all men wondered that in his old age his 
 government was mild and easy ; Formerly, said he, I sought 
 for power, but now for glory and good-will. To Philip his 
 son, who asked him in the presence of many when the 
 army would march, What, said he, are you afraid that you 
 only should not hear the trumpet ? The same young man 
 being desirous to quarter at a widow's house that had three 
 handsome daughters. Antigonus called the quartermaster to 
 him : Prithee, said he, help my son out of these straits. 
 Recovering from a slight disease, he said : No harm ; this 
 distemper puts me in mind not to aim at great things, since 
 we are mortal. Hermodotus in his poems called him Son 
 of the Sun. He that attends my close-stool, said he, sings 
 me no such song. When one said, All things in kings are 
 just and honorable, Indeed, said he, for barbarian kings ; 
 but for us only honorable things are honorable, and only 
 just things are just. Marsyas his brother had a cause de- 
 pending, and requested him it might be examined at his 
 house. Nay, said he, it shall be heard in the judgment- 
 hall, that all may hear whether we do exact justice or not. 
 In the whiter being forced to pitch his camp where neces- 
 saries were scarce, some of his soldiers reproached him, 
 not knowing he was near. He opened the tent with his 
 cane, saying : Woe be to you, unless you get you farther off 
 when you revile me. Aristodemus, one of his friends, 
 supposed to be a cook's son, advised him to moderate his gifts 
 and expenses. Thy words, said he, Aristodemus, smell of 
 the apron. The Athenians, out of a respect to him, gave 
 one of his servants the freedom of their city. And I would 
 not, said he, have any Athenian whipped by my com- 
 mand. A youth, scholar to Aiiaximcucs the rhetorician,
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 503 
 
 spoke in his presence a prepared and studied speech ; 
 and he asking something which he desired to learn, the 
 youth was silent. What do you say, said he, is all that 
 you have said written in your table-book ? When he heard 
 another rhetorician say, The snow-spread season makes 
 the country fodder spent ; Will you not stop, said he, 
 prating to me as you do to the rabble ? Thrasyllus the 
 Cynic begged a drachm of him. That, said he, is too littlu 
 for a king to give. Why then, said the other, give me a 
 talent. And that, said he, is too much for a Cynic (or 
 for a dog) to receive. Sending his son Demetrius with 
 ships and land-forces to make Greece free ; Glory, said 
 he, from preece, as from a watch-tower, will shine through- 
 out the world. Antagoras the poet was boiling a conger, 
 and Antigonus, coming behind him as he was stirring his 
 skillet, said : Do you think, Antagoras, that Homer boiled 
 congers, when he wrote the deeds of Agamemnon 1 An- 
 tagoras replied: Do you think, O King, that Agamemnon, 
 when he did such exploits, was a peeping in his army to 
 see who boiled congers ? After he had seen in a dream 
 Mithridates mowing a golden harvest, he designed to kill 
 him, and acquainted Demetrius his son with his design, 
 making him swear to conceal it. But Demetrius, taking 
 Mithridates aside and walking with him by the seaside, 
 with the pick of his spear wrote on the shore, " Fly, 
 Mithridates ; " which he understanding, fled into Poutus, 
 and there reigned until his death. 
 
 DEMETRIUS. Demetrius, while he was besieging Rhodes, 
 found in one of the suburbs the picture of lalysus made 
 by Protogenes the painter. The Rhodians sent a herald to 
 him, beseeching him not to deface the picture. I will 
 sooner, said he, deface my father's statues, than such a 
 picture. When he made a league with the Rhodian. he 
 left behind him an engine, called the City Taker, that it 
 might be a memorial of his magnificence and of their cour-
 
 504 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 age. When the Athenians rebelled, and he took the city, 
 which had been distressed for want of provision, he called 
 an assembly and gave them corn. And while he made a 
 speech to them concerning that affair, he spoke improp- 
 erly ; and when one that sat by told him how the word 
 ought to be spoken, he said : For this correction I bestow 
 upon you five thousand bushels more. 
 
 ANTIGONUS THE SLCOND. Antigonus the Second when 
 his father was a prisoner, and sent one of his friends to 
 admonish him to pay no regard to any thing that he might 
 write at the constraint of Seleucus, and to enter into no 
 obligation to surrender up the cities wrote to Seleucus 
 that he would give up his whole kingdom, and himself for 
 an hostage, that his father might be set free. Being about 
 to fight by sea with the lieutenants of Ptolemy, and the 
 pilot telling him the enemy outnumbered him in ships, he 
 said : But how many ships do you reckon my presence to 
 be worth ? Once when he gave ground, his enemies press- 
 ing upon him, he denied that he fled ; but he betook him- 
 self (as he said) to an advantage that lay behind him. To 
 a youth, son of a valiant father, but himself no very great 
 soldier, petitioning he might receive his father's pay ; Young 
 man, said he, I pay and reward men for their own, not for 
 their fathers' valor. "When Zeno of Citium, whom he 
 admired beyond all philosophers, died, he said, The theatre 
 of my actions is fallen. 
 
 LYSIMACHUS. Lysimachus, when he was overcome by 
 Dromichaetas in Thrace and constrained by thirst, sur- 
 rendered himself and his army. When he was a prisoner, 
 and had drunk ; O Gods, said he, for how small a satisfac- 
 tion have I made myself a slave from a king ! To Pliilip- 
 pides the comedian, his friend and companion, he said : 
 What have I that I may impart to you 1 He answered, 
 What you please, except your secrets. 
 
 ANTIPATER. Antipater, hearing that Parmenio was slain
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 505 
 
 by Alexander, said : If Parmenio conspired against Alex- 
 ander, whom may we trust? but if he did not, what is to 
 be done ? Of Demades the rhetorician, now grown old, be 
 said : As of sacrifices when finished, so there is nothing left 
 of him but his belly and tongue. 
 
 ANTIOCHUS THE THIRD. Antiochus the Third wrote to 
 the cities, that if he should at any time write for any thing 
 to be done contrary to the law, they should not obey, but 
 suppose it to be done out of ignorance. When he saw 
 . the Priestess of Diana, that she was exceeding beautiful, 
 he presently removed from Ephesus, lest he should be 
 swayed, contrary to his judgment, to commit some unholy 
 act. 
 
 ANTIOCHUS HIERAX. Antiochus, surnamed the Hawk, 
 warred with his brother Seleucus for the kingdom. After 
 Seleucus was overcome by the Galatians, and was not to be 
 heard of, but supposed to be slain in the fight, he laid aside 
 his purple and went into mourning. A while after, hearing 
 his brother was safe, he sacrificed to the Gods for the good 
 news, and caused the cities under his dominion to put on 
 garlands. 
 
 EUMEN'ES. Eumenes was thought to be slain by a con- 
 spiracy of Perseus. That report being brought to Perga- 
 mus, Attains his brother put on the crown, married his 
 wife, and took upon him the kingdom. Ilenrinu: after- 
 wards his brother was alive and upon the way, he met him. 
 as he used to do, with his life-guard, and a spear in his 
 hand. Eumenes embraced' him kindly, and whispered in 
 his ear : 
 
 If a widow you will wed, 
 
 Wait till you're sure her husband's dead. 
 
 But he never afterwards did or spake any thing that showed 
 any suspicion all his lifetime ; but when he died, be be- 
 queathed to him his queen and kingdom. In requital of 
 
 * Mi) crzovJe }>7/u, npiiv rcP.nmfaavr' lift. From Sophocles 's Tyro, Frag. 596.
 
 506 
 
 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 which, his brother bred up none of his own children, 
 although he had many ; but when the son of Eumenes 
 grown up, he bestowed the kingdom on him in his 
 own lifetime. 
 
 PYRRHUS THE EPIROT. Pyrrhus was asked by his sons, 
 when they were boys, to whom he would leave the king- 
 dom. To him of you, saith he, that hath the sharpest 
 sword. Being asked whether Pytho or Caphisius was the 
 better piper,*Polysperchon, said he, is the best general. 
 He joined in battle with the Romans, and twice overcame 
 them, but with the loss of many friends and captains. If 
 I should overcome the Romans, said he, in another fight, 
 I were undone. Not being able to keep Sicily (as he said) 
 from them, turning to his friends he said: What a fine 
 wrestling ring do we leave to the Romans and Carthagi- 
 nians ! His soldiers called him Eagle ; And I may deserve 
 the title, said he, while I am borne upon the wings of your 
 arms. Hearing some young men had spoken many re 
 proachful words of him in their drink, he summoned them 
 all to appear before him next day ; when they appeared, 
 ne asked the foremost whether they spake such things of 
 him or not. The young man answered : Such words were 
 spoken, O King, and more we had spoken, if we had had 
 more wine. 
 
 ANTIOCIIUS. Antiochus, who twice made an inroad into 
 Parthia, as he was once a hunting, lost his friends and ser- 
 vants in the pursuit, and went into a cottage of poor people 
 who did not know him. As they were at supper, he threw 
 out discourse concerning the king ; they said for the most 
 part he was a good prince, but overlooked many things he 
 left to the management of debauched courtiers, and out of 
 love of hunting often neglected his necessary affairs ; and 
 there they stopped. At break of day the guard arrived at 
 tin- cottage-, and the kinu; was recognized when the crown 
 and purple robes were brought. From the day, said he,
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF RINGS 507 
 
 on which I first received these, I never heard truth con- 
 cerning myself till yesterday. When he besieged Jerusa- 
 lem, the Jews, in respect of their great festival, begged 
 of him seven days', truce ; which he not only granted, but 
 preparing oxen with gilded horns, with a great quantity of 
 incense and perfumes, he went before them to the very 
 gates, and having delivered them as a sacrifice to their 
 priests, he returned back to his army. The Jews won- 
 dered at him, and as soon as their festival was finished, 
 surrendered themselves to him. 
 
 THEMISTOCLES. Themistocles in his youth was much 
 given to wine and women. But after Miltiades the gen- 
 eral overcame the Persian at Marathon, Themistocles 
 utterly forsook his former disorders ; and to such as won- 
 dered at the change, he said, The trophy of Miltiades will 
 neither suffer me to sleep nor to be idle. Being asked 
 whether he would rather be Achilles or Homer, And 
 pray, said he, which would you rather be, a conqueror in 
 the Olympic games, or the crier that proclaims who are 
 conquerors ? When Xerxes with that great navy made a 
 descent upon Greece, he fearing, if Epicydes (a popular, 
 but a covetous, corrupt, and cowardly person) were made 
 general, the city might be lost, bribed him with a sum of 
 money to desist from that pretence. Adimantus was 
 afraid to hazard a sea-fight, whereunto Themistocles prr- 
 suaded and encouraged the Grecians. O Themistocles, 
 said he, those that start before their time in the Olympic 
 games are always scourged. Aye ; but, Adimantus, said 
 the other, they that are left behind are not crowned. 
 Eurybiades lifted up his cane at him, as if he would strike 
 him. Strike, said he, but hear me. When he could not 
 persuade Eurybiades to fight in the straits of the sea. ho 
 sent privately to Xerxes, advising him that he need not 
 fear the Grecians, for they were running away. X 
 upon this persuasion, fighting hi a place advantageous for
 
 508 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 the Grecians, was worsted ; and then he sent him another 
 message, and bade him fly with all speed over the Helles- 
 pont, for the Grecians designed to break down his bridge ; 
 that under pretence of saving him he might secure the 
 Grecians. A man from the little island Seriphus told 
 him, he was famous not upon his own account but through 
 the city where he lived. You say true, said he, for if I 
 had been a Seriphian, I had not been famous ; nor would 
 you, if you had been an Athenian. To Antiphatus, a beau- 
 tiful person that avoided and despised Themistocles when 
 he formerly loved him, but came to him and flattered him 
 when he was in great power and esteem ; Hark you, lad, 
 said he, though late, yet both of us are wise at last. To 
 Simonides desiring him to give an unjust sentence, You 
 would not be a good poet, said he, if you should sing out 
 of tune ; nor I a good governor, if I should give judgment 
 contrary to law. When his son was a little saucy towards 
 his mother, he said that this boy had more power than all 
 the Grecians, for the Athenians governed Greece, he the 
 Athenians, his wife him, and his son his wife. He pre- 
 ferred an honest man that wooed his daughter, before a rich 
 man. I would rather, said he, have a man that wants 
 money, than money that wants a man. Having a farm to 
 sell, he bid the crier proclaim also that it had a good 
 neighbor. When the Athenians reviled him ; Why do you 
 complain, said he, that the same persons so often befriend 
 you? And he compared himself to a row of plane-trees, 
 under which in a storm passengers run for shelter, but in 
 fair weather they pluck the leaves off and abuse them. 
 Scoffing at the Eretrians, he said, Like the sword-fish, they 
 have a sword indeed, but no heart. Being banished first 
 out of Athens and afterwards out of Greece, he betook 
 himself to the king of Persia, who bade him speak his 
 mind. Speech, he said, was like to tapestry ; and like 
 it, when it was spread, it showed its figures, but when
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 509 
 
 it was folded up, hid and spoiled them. And therefore he 
 requested time until he might learn the Persian tongue, 
 and could explain himself without an interpreter. Having 
 there received great presents, and being enriched of a sud- 
 den ; O lads, said he to his sons, we had been undone if 
 we had not been undone. 
 
 MYRONIDES. Myronides summoned the Athenians to 
 fight against the Boeotians. When the time was almost 
 come, and the captains told him they were not near all 
 come out ; They are come, said he, all that intend to fight. 
 And marching while their spirits were up, he overcame 
 his enemies. 
 
 ARISTIDES. Aristides the Just always managed his offices 
 himself, and avoided all political clubs, because power got- 
 ten by the assistance of friends was an encouragement to 
 the unjust. When the Athenians were fully bent to banish 
 him by an ostracism, an illiterate country fellow came to 
 him with his shell, and asked him to write in it the name 
 of Aristides. Friend, said he, do you know Aristides? 
 Not 1, said the fellow, but I do not like his surname of 
 Just. He said no more, but wrote his name in the shell 
 and gave it him. He was at variance with Themistocles, 
 who was sent on an embassy with him. Are you content, 
 said he, Themistocles, to leave our enmity at the borders ? 
 and if you please, we will take it up again at our return. 
 When he levied an assessment upon the Greeks, he re- 
 turned poorer by so much as he spent in the journey. 
 
 Aeschylus wrote these verses on Amphiaraus : 
 
 His shield no emblem bears ; his generous soul 
 Wishes to be, not to appear, the best ; 
 While the deep furrows of his noble mind 
 Harvests of wise and prudent counsel bear.* 
 
 * 2rj.ua <P OVK 
 
 Ov yap AOKCIV uptorof <M.' tivai 
 HaOtiav uArwi <Jtu 
 
 Aesch. Sept. 591. Thus the passage stands in all MSS. of Aeschylus ; but it la
 
 510 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 And when they wore pronounced in the theatre, all turned 
 their eyes upon Aristides. 
 
 PERICLES. Whenever he entered on his command as gen- 
 eral, while he was putting on his war-cloak, he used thus 
 to bespeak himself: Remember, Pericles, you govern free- 
 ini'ii, Grecians, Athenians. He advised the Athenians to 
 demolish Aegina, as a dangerous eyesore to the haven of 
 Piraeus. To a friend that wanted him to bear false wit- 
 ness and to bind the same with an oath, he said : 1 am a 
 friend only as far as the altar. When he lay on his death- 
 bed, he blessed himself that no Athenian ever went into 
 mourning upon his account. 
 
 ALCIBIADES. Alcibiades while he was a boy, wrestling 
 in a ring, seeing he could not break his adversary's hold, 
 bit him by the hand ; who cried out, You bite like a 
 woman. Not so, said he, but like a lion. He had a very 
 handsome dog, that cost him seven thousand drachmas ; 
 and he cut off his tail, that, said he, the Athenians may 
 have this story to tell of me, and may concern themselves 
 no farther with me. Coming into a school, he called for 
 Homer's Iliads ; and when the master told him he had 
 none of Homer's works, he gave him a box on the ear, and 
 went his way. He came to Pericles's gate, and being told 
 he was busy a preparing his accounts to be given to the 
 people of Athens, Had he not better, said he, contrive 
 how he might give no account at all ? Being summoned by 
 the Athenians out of Sicily to plead for his life, he ab- 
 sconded, saying, that criminal was a fool who studied a 
 defence when he might fly for it. But, said one, will you 
 not trust your country with your cause ? No, said he, nor 
 my mother either, lest she mistake and cast a black pebble 
 
 quoted by Plutarch in his Life of Aristides. 3, with iinatof in the second verse in 
 the place of upumf. It has been plausibly conjectured, that the actor who spoke the 
 part intentionally substituted the word iinruor as a compliment to Aristides, on seeing 
 him in a conspicuous place among the spectators. See Hermann's note on the passage 
 in his edition of Aeschylus. (Q.)
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 511 
 
 instead of a white one. When he heard death was de- 
 creed to him and his associates, Let us convince them, said 
 he v , that we are alive. And passing over to Lacedaemon, 
 he stirred up the Decelean war against the Athenians. 
 
 L.AMACHUS. Lamachus chid a captain for a fault ; and 
 when he had said he would do so no more, Sir, said he, in 
 war there is no room for a second miscarriage. 
 
 IPIIICRATES. Iphicrates was despised because he was 
 thought to be a shoemaker's sou. The exploit that fir>t 
 brought him into repute was this : when he was wounded 
 himself, he caught up one of the enemies and carried him 
 alive and in his armor to his own ship. He once pitched 
 his camp in a country belonging to his allies and confed- 
 erates, and yet he fortified it exactly with a trench and 
 bulwark. Said one to him, What are ye afraid of? Of all 
 speeches, said he, none is so dishonorable for a general, as 
 1 should not have thought it. As he marshalled his army 
 to fight with barbarians, I am afraid, said he, they do not 
 know Iphicrates, for his very name used to strike terror 
 into other enemies. Being accused of a capital crime, he 
 said to the informer : O fellow ! what art thou doing, who, 
 when war is at hand, dost advise the city to consult con- 
 cerning me, and not with me ? To Ilarmodius, descended 
 from the ancient Harmodius, when he reviled him for his 
 mean birth, My nobility, said he, begins in me, but yours 
 ends in you. A rhetorician asked him in an assembly, 
 who he was that he took so much upon him, horseman, 
 or footman, or archer, or shield-bearer. Neither of them, 
 said he, but one that understands how to command all 
 those. 
 
 TIMOTHEUS. Timotheus was reputed a successful gen- 
 eral, and some that envied him painted cities falling under 
 his net of their own accord, while he was asleep. Said 
 Timotheus, If I take such cities when I am asleep, what 
 do you think I shall do when I am awake ? A confident
 
 512 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 commander showed the Athenians a wound he had re- 
 ceived. But I, said he, when I was your general in 
 Samos, was ashamed that a dart from an engine fell near 
 me. The orators set up Chares as one they thought fit to 
 be general of the Athenians. Not to be general, said 
 Timotheus, but to carry the general's baggage. 
 
 CHABRTAS. Chabrias said, they were the best commanders 
 who best understood the affairs of their enemies. lie was 
 once indicted for treason with Iphicrates, who blamed him 
 for exposing himself to danger, by going to the place of 
 exercise, and dining at his usual hour. If the Athenians, 
 said he, deal severely with us, you will die all foul and 
 gut-foundered ; I'll die clean and anointed, with my dinner 
 in my belly. He was wont to say, that an army of stags, 
 with a lion for their commander, was more formidable than 
 an army of lions led by a stag. 
 
 HEGESIPPUS. When Ilcgcsippus, surnamed Crobylus 
 (i.e. Top-knot), instigated the Athenians against Philip, 
 one of the assembly cried out, You would not persuade us 
 to a war ? Yes, indeed, would I, said he, and to mourning 
 clothes and to public funerals and to funeral speeches, 
 if we intend to live free and not submit to the pleasure 
 of the Macedonians. 
 
 "" PYTHEAS. Pytheas, when he was a young man, stood 
 forth to oppose the decrees made concerning Alexander. 
 One said: Have you, young man, the confidence to speak 
 in such weighty affairs ? And why not ? said he : Alexander, 
 whom you voted a God, is younger than I am. 
 
 PHOCION. Phocion the Athenian was never seen to 
 laugh or cry. In an assembly one told him, You seem to 
 be thoughtful, Phocion. You guess right, said he, for I 
 am contriving how to contract what I have to say to the 
 people of Athens. The Oracle told the Athenians, there 
 was one man in the city of a contrary judgment to all the 
 rest ; and the Athenians in a hubbub ordered search to be
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 5] 3 
 
 made, who this should be. I, said Phocion, am the man ; 
 I alone am Ceased with nothing the common people say 
 or do. Once when he had delivered an opinion which 
 pleased the people, and perceived it was entertained by a 
 general consent, he turned to his friend, and said : Have I 
 not unawares spoken some mischievous thing or other ? 
 The Athenians gathered a benevolence for a certain sacri- 
 fice ; and when others contributed to it, he being often 
 spoken to said : I should be ashamed to give to you, and 
 not to pay this man, pointing to one of his creditors. 
 Demosthenes the orator told him, If the Athenians should 
 be mad, they would kill you. Like enough, said he, me 
 if they were mad, but you if they were wise. Aristo- 
 giton the informer, being condemned and ready to be 
 executed in prison, entreated that PLocion would come to 
 him. And when his friends would not suffer him to go to 
 so vile a person ; And where, said he, would you discourse 
 with Aristogiton more pleasantly ? The Athenians were 
 offended with the Byzantines, for refusing to receive Chares 
 into their city, who was sent with forces to assist them 
 against Philip. Said Phocion, You ought not to be dis- 
 pleased with the distrust of your confederates, but with 
 your commanders that are not to be trusted. Whereupon 
 he was chosen general, and being trusted by the Byzantines, 
 he forced Philip to return without his errand. King 
 Alexander sent him a present of a hundred talents ; an. I 
 he asked those that brought it, what it should mean that, 
 of all the Athenians, Alexander should be thus kind to 
 him. They answered, because he esteemed him alone to 
 be a worthy and upright person. Pray therefore, said he, 
 let him suffer me to seem as well as to be so. Alexander 
 sent to them for some ships, and the people calling for 
 Phocion by name, bade him speak his opinion. He stood 
 up and told them : I advise you either to conquer your- 
 selves, or else to side with the conqueror. An uncertain
 
 514 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 rumor happened, that Alexander was dead. Immediately 
 the orators leaped into the pulpit, and advised them to 
 make war without delay ; but Phocion entreated them to 
 tarry awhile and know the certainty : For, said he, if he 
 is dead to-day, he will be dead to-morrow, and so forwards. 
 Leosthenes hurried the city into a war, with fond hopes 
 conceited at the name of liberty and command. Phocion 
 compared his speeches to cypress-trees ; They are tall, said 
 he, and comely, but bear no fruit. However, the first 
 attempts were successful ; and when the city was sacrific- 
 ing for the good news, he was asked whether he did not 
 wish he had done this himself. I would, said he, have 
 done what has been done, but have advised what I did. 
 When the Macedonians invaded Attica and plundeied the 
 seacoasts, he drew out the youth. When many came to 
 him and generally persuaded him by all means to possess 
 himself of such an ascent, and thereon to marshal his 
 army, O Hercules ! said he, how many commanders do I 
 see, and how few soldiers ? Yet he fought and overcame, 
 and slew Nicion, the commander of the Macedonians. 
 But in a short time the Athenians were overcome, and 
 admitted a garrison sent by Antipater. Mcnyllus, the 
 governor of that garrison, offered money to Phocion, who 
 u -;IN enraged thereby and said : This man is no better than 
 Alexander ; and what I refused then I can with less honor 
 receive now. Antipater said, of the two friends he had 
 at Athens, he could never persuade Phocion to accept a 
 ; indent, nor could he ever satisfy Demades with presents. 
 When Antipater requested him to do some indirect tiling 
 or other. Autipater, said he, you cannot have Phocion for 
 your friend and flatterer too. After the death of Antipater, 
 democracy was established in Athens, and the assembly 
 derrced the death of Phocion and his friends. The rest 
 were led weeping to execution ; but as Phocion passed 
 bileutly, one of his enemies met him and spat in his face.
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 515 
 
 But he turned himself to the magistrates, and said, Will 
 nobody restrain this insolent fellow? One of those that 
 were to suffer with him lamented and took on : Why, 
 Euippus, said he, are you not pleased that you die with 
 Phocion'? When the cup of hemlock was brought to him, 
 being asked whether he had any thing to say to his son ; I 
 command you, said he, and entreat you not to think of 
 any revenge upon the Athenians. 
 
 PISISTUATUS. Pisistratus, tyrant of Athens, when some 
 of his party revolted from him and possessed themselves 
 of Phyle, came to them bearing his baggage on his back. 
 They asked him what he meant by it. Eithei, said he, to 
 persuade you to return with me, or if I cannot persuade 
 you, to tarry with you ; and therefore I come prepared 
 accordingly. An accusation was brought to him against 
 hjs mother, that she was in love and used secret familiarity 
 with a young man, who out of fear for the most part re- 
 fused her. This young man he invited to supper, and as 
 they were at supper asked him how he liked his entertain- 
 ment. He answered, Very well. Thus, said he, you shall 
 be treated daily, if you please my mother. Thrasybulus 
 was in love with his daughter, and as he met her, kissed 
 her ; whereupon his wife would have incensed him against 
 Thrasybulus. If, said he, we hate those that love us, 
 what shall we do to them that hate us I and he gave 
 the maid in marriage to Thrasybulus. Some lascivious 
 drunken persons by chance met his wife, and used un- 
 seemly speech and behavior to her ; but the next day they 
 begged his pardon with tears. As for you, said he, learn 
 to be sober for the future ; but as for my wife, yesterday 
 she was not abroad at all. He designed to marry another 
 wife, and his children asked him whether he could blame 
 them for any thing. By no means, said he, but I com- 
 mend you, and desire to have more such children as you 
 are.
 
 516 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 DEMETRIUS PHALEREUS. Demetrius Phalcreus persuaded 
 King Ptolemy to get and study such books as treated of 
 government and conduct ; for those things are written in 
 books which the friends of kings dare not advise. 
 
 LYCURGUS. Lycurgus the Lacedaemonian brought long 
 hair into fashion among his countrymen, saying that it 
 rendered those that were handsome more beautiful, and 
 those that were deformed more terrible. To one that ad- 
 vised him to set up a democracy in Sparta, Pray, said he, 
 do you first set up a democracy in your own house. He 
 ordained that houses should be built with saws and axes 
 only, thinking they would be ashamed to bring plate, 
 tapestry, and costly tables into such pitiful houses. He 
 forbade them to contend at boxing or in the double contest 
 of boxing and wrestling, that they might not accustom 
 themselves to be conquered, no, not so much as in jest. 
 He forbade them also to war often against the same 
 people, lest they should make them the more warlike. 
 Accordingly, many years after, when Agesilaus was wound- 
 ed, Antalcidas told him the Thebans had rewarded him 
 worthily for teaching and accustoming them to war, whether 
 they would or no. 
 
 CHARILLUS. King Charillus, being asked why Lycurgus 
 made so few laws, answered, They who use few words do 
 not need many laws. When one of the Helots behaved 
 rather too insolently towards him, By Castor and Pollux, 
 said he, I would kill you, were I not angry. To one that 
 asked him why the Spartans wore long hair, Because, said 
 he. of all ornaments that is the cheapest. 
 
 TELECLUS. King Teleclus, when his brother inveighed 
 against the citizens for not giving him that respect which 
 they did to the king, said to him, No wonder, you do not 
 know how to bear injury. 
 
 THEOPOMPUS. Theopompus, to one that showed him the 
 walls of a city, and asked him if they were not high and
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 517 
 
 beautiful, answered, No, not even if they are built for 
 women. 
 
 ARCHIDAMUS. Archidamus, in the Peloponnesian war, 
 when his allies requested him to appoint them their quota 
 of tributes, replied, War has a very irregular appetite. 
 
 BRASIDAS. Brasidas caught a mouse among his dried 
 figs, which bit him, and he let it go. Whereupon, turning 
 to the company, Nothing, said he, is so small which may 
 not save itself, if it have the valor to defend itself 
 against its aggressors. In a fight he was shot through his 
 shield, and plucking the spear out of his wound, with the 
 same he slew his adversary. When he was asked how he 
 came to be* wounded, My shield, said he, betrayed me. 
 It was his fortune to be slain in battle, as he endeavored to 
 liberate the Grecians that were in Thrace. These sent an 
 embassy to Lacedaemon, which made a visit to his mother, 
 who first asked them whether Brasidas died honorably. 
 When the Thracians praised him, and affirmed that there 
 would never be such another man, My friends, said she, 
 you are mistaken ; Brasidas indeed was a valiant man, but 
 Lacedaemon hath many more valiant men than he. 
 
 AGIS. King Agis said, The Lacedaemonians are not wont 
 to ask how many, but where the enemy are. At Mantiuea 
 he was advised not to fight the enemy that exceeded him 
 in number. It is necessary, said he, for him to fight with 
 many, who would rule over many. The Elcans were com- 
 mended for managing the Olympic games honorably. What 
 wonder, said he, do they do, if one day in four \< ui they 
 do justice? When the same persons enlarged in their 
 commendation, What wonder is it, said he, if they in- 
 justice honorably, which is an honorable thing ? To a 
 lewd person, that often asked who was the best man anuuii; 
 the Spartans, he answered. He that is most unlike you. 
 When another asked what was the number of the Lacedae- 
 monians, Sufficient, said he, to defend themselves from
 
 518 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 wicked men. To another that asked him the same ques- 
 tion, If you should see them fight, said he, you would 
 think them to be many. 
 
 LYSANDER. Dionysius the Tyrant presented Lysander's 
 daughters with rich garments, which he refused to accept, 
 he feared they would seem more deformed in the in. 
 
 To such as blamed him for managing much of his affairs 
 by stratagems, which was unworthy of Hercules from 
 whom he was descended, he answered, Where the lion's 
 skin will not reach, it must be pieced with the fox's. When 
 the citizens of Argos seemed to make out a better title than 
 the Lacedaemonians to a country that was in dispute be- 
 tween them, drawing his sword, He that is master of this, 
 said he, can best dispute about bounds of countries. When 
 the Lacedaemonians delayed to assault the walls of Corinth, 
 and he saw a hare leap out of the trench ; Do you fear, said 
 he, such enemies as these, whose laziness suffers hares to 
 sleep on their walls ? To an inhabitant of Megara, that in 
 a parley spoke confidently unto him, Your words, said he, 
 want the breeding of the city. 
 
 AGESILAUS. Agesilaus said that the inhabitants of Asia 
 were bad freemen and good servants. When they were wont 
 to call the king of Persia the Great King, Wherein, said he, 
 is he greater than I, if he is not more just and wise than I am? 
 1 Ving asked which was better, valor or justice, he answered, 
 We should have no need of valor, if we were all jusc. 
 When he broke up his camp suddenly by night in the ene- 
 my's country, and saw a lad he loved left behind by reason 
 of sickness, and weeping, It is a hard thing, said he, to be 
 pitiful and wise at the same time. Menecrates the phy- 
 hirian, surnamcd Jupiter, inscribed a letter to him thus: 
 Menecrates Jupiter to King Agesilaus wisheth joy. And 
 he returned in answer : King Agesilaus to Menecrates 
 wishrth his wits. When the Lacedaemonians overcame 
 the Athenians and their confederates at Corinth, and he
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS .",1'.! 
 
 heard the number of the enemies that were slain ; Alas, 
 said he, for Greece, who hath destroyed so many of her men 
 as were enough to have conquered all the barbarians to- 
 gether. He had received an answer from the Oracle of 
 Jupiter in Olympia, which was to his satisfaction. After- 
 wards the Ephori bade him consult Apollo in the same 
 case ; and to Delphi he went, and asked that God whether 
 he was of the same mind with his father. He interceded 
 for one of his friends with Idrieus of Caria, and wrote to 
 him thus : If Nicias has not offended, set him free ; but 
 if he is guilty, set him free for my sake; by all means 
 set him free. Being exhorted to hear one that imitated 
 the voice of a nightingale, I have often, said he, heard 
 nightingales themselves. The law ordained that such as 
 ran away should be disgraced. After the fight at Leuctra, 
 the Ephori, seeing the city void of men, were willing 
 to dispense with that disgrace, and empowered Agesilaus 
 to make a law to that purpose. But he standing in the 
 midst commanded that after the next day the laws should 
 remain in force as before. He was sent to assist the king 
 of Egypt, with whom he was besieged by enemies that 
 outnumbered his own forces ; and when they had en- 
 trenched their camp, the king commanded him to go out 
 and fight them. Since, said he, they intend to make them- 
 selves equal to us, I will not hinder them. When the 
 trench was almost finished, he drew up his men in the void 
 space, and so fighting with equal advantage he overcame 
 them. When he was dying, he charged his friends that 
 no fiction or counterfeit (so he called >tatues) should be 
 made for him ; For ff, said he, I have done any honorable 
 exploit, that is my monument ; but if I have done none, all 
 your statues will signify nothing. 
 
 ARCHIDAMUS. When Archidamus, the son of ALresilaus. 
 beheld a dart to be shot from an engine newly brought out 
 of Sicily, he cried out, O Hercules ! the valor of man is 
 at an end.
 
 520 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 AGIS THE YOUNGER. Dcmadcs said, the Laconians* 
 swords were so small, that jugglers might swallow them. 
 That may be, said Agis, but the Lacedaemonians can reach 
 their enemies very well with them. The Ephori ordered 
 him to deliver his soldiers to a traitor. I will not, said 
 he, entrust him with strangers, who betrayed his own 
 men. 
 
 CLEOMENES. To one that promised to give him hardy 
 cocks, that would die fighting, Prithee, said he, give me 
 cocks that will kill fighting. 
 
 PAEDARETUS. Paedaretus, when he was not chosen 
 among the Three Hundred (which was the highest office 
 and honor in the city), went away cheerfully and smiling, 
 saying, he was glad if the city had three hundred better 
 citizens than himself. 
 
 DAMONIDAS. Damonidas, being placed by him that or- 
 dered the chorus in the last rank of it, said : Well done, 
 you have found a way to make this place also honorable. 
 
 XICOSTRATUS. Archidamus, general of the Argives, en- 
 ticed Nicostratus to betray a fort, by promises of a great 
 sum, and the marriage of what Lacedaemonian lady he 
 pleased except the king's daughters. He answered, that 
 Archidamus was none of the offspring of Hercules, for he 
 went about to punish wicked men, but Archidamus to cor- 
 rupt honest men. 
 
 EUDAEMONIDAS. Eudaemonidas beholding Xenocrates, 
 when he was old, in the Academy reading philosophy to 
 his scholars, and being told he was in quest of virtue, 
 a-ked: And when does he intend to practise it? Another 
 time, when he heard a philosopher iTr^uing that only tin- 
 wise man can be a good general, This is a wonderful 
 .-peech, said he, but he that saith it never heard the sound 
 of trumpets. 
 
 AMKK in s. Antiorhus being Ephor, when he heard 
 Philip had given the Messenians a country, asked whether
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 521 
 
 he had granted them that they should be victorious when 
 they fought for that country. 
 
 ANTALCIDAS. To an Athenian that called the Lacedae- 
 monians unlearned, Therefore we alone, said Antalc ida<. 
 have learned no mischief of you. To another Athenian 
 that told him, Indeed, we have often driven you from the 
 Cephissus, he replied, But we never drove you from 
 the Eurotas. When a Sophist was beginning to recite 
 the praise of Hercules ; And who, said he, ever spoke 
 against him? 
 
 EPA.MINONDAS. No panic fear ever surprised the army 
 of the Thebans while Epaminondas was their general. 
 He said, to die in war was the most honorable death, 
 and the bodies of armed men ought to be exercised, 
 not as wrestlers, but in a warlike manner. Where- 
 fore he hated fat men, and dismissed one of them, say- 
 ing, that three or four shields would scarce serve to secure 
 his belly, which would not suffer him to see his members. 
 He was so frugal in his diet that, being invited by a 
 neighbor to supper, and finding there dishes, oint- 
 ments, and junkets in abundance, he departed imme- 
 diately, saying : I thought you were sacrificing, and not 
 displaying your luxury. When his cook sjave an account 
 to his colleagues of the charges for several days, he was 
 offended only at the quantity of oil ; and when his col- 
 leagues wondered at him, I am not, said he, troubled at 
 the charge, but that so much oil should be received into 
 my body. When the city kept a festival, and all gave 
 themselves to banquets and drinking, he was mot by one 
 of his acquaintance unadorned and in a thoughtful postuiv. 
 He wondering asked him why he of all men should walk 
 about in that manner. That all of you, said he. may he 
 drunk and revel securely. An ill man, that had committed 
 no great fault, he refused to discharge at the request of 
 Pelopidas ; when his miss entreated for him, he dismissed
 
 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 him, saying : Whores arc fitting to receive such presents, 
 .tnd not generals. The Lacedaemonians invaded the 
 Thebans, and oracles were brought to Thebes, some that 
 promised victory, others that foretold an overthrow. He 
 ordered those to be placed on the right hand of the judg- 
 ment seat, and these on the left. "When they were placed 
 accordingly, he rose up and said : If you will obey your 
 commanders and unanimously resist your enemies, these 
 are your oracles, pointing to the better; but if you 
 play the cowards, those, pointing to the worscr. An- 
 other time, as he drew nigh to the enemy, it thundered, 
 and some that were about him asked him what he thought 
 the Gods would signify by it. They signify, said he, that 
 the enemy is thunderstruck and demented, since he pitches 
 his camp in a bad place, when he was nigh to a better. 
 Of all the happy and prosperous events that befell him, 
 he said that in this he took most satisfaction, that he over- 
 came the Lacedaemonians at Leuctra while his father and 
 mother, that begot him, were living. Whereas he was 
 wont to appear with his hotly anointed and a cheerful 
 countenance, the day after that fight he came abroad meanly 
 habited and dejected ; and when his friends asked him 
 whether any misfortune had befallen him, No, said he, but 
 rday I was pleased more than became a wise man, and 
 therefore to-day I chastise that immoderate joy. Perceiv- 
 ing the Spartans concealed their disasters, and desiring to 
 discover the greatness of their loss, he did not give them 
 leave to take away their dead altogether, but allowed each 
 city to bury its own; whereby it appeared that above a 
 thousand Lacedaemonians were slain. Jason, monarch of 
 Thessaly. was at Thebes as their confederate, and sent two 
 thousand pieces of gold to Epaminondas, then in great 
 want ; but he refused the gold, and when he saw Jason, he 
 said : You are the first to commit violence. And borrow- 
 ing fifty drachms of a citizen, with that money to supply
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 523 
 
 his army he invaded Peloponnesus. Another time, when 
 the Persian king sent him thirty thousand darics, he chid 
 Diomedon severely, asking him whether he sailed so far to 
 bribe Epaminondas ; and bade him tell the king, as long 
 as he wished the prosperity of the Thebans, Epaminondas 
 would be his friend gratis, but when he was otherwise 
 minded, his enemy. When the Argives were confederates 
 with the Thebans, the Athenian ambassadors then in 
 Arcadia complained of both, and Callistratus the orator 
 reproached the cities with Orestes and Oedipus. But 
 Epaminondas stood up and said : We confess there hath 
 been one amongst us that killed his father, and among the 
 Argives one that killed his mother; but we banished those 
 that did such things, and the Athenians entertained them. 
 To some Spartans that accused the Thebans of many and 
 great crimes, These indeed, said he, are they that have put 
 an end to your short dialect. The Athenians made friend- 
 ship and alliance with Alexander the tyrant of Pherae, who 
 was an enemy to the Thebans, and who had promised to 
 furnish them with flesh at half an obol a pound. And we, 
 said Epaminondas, will supply them with wood to that flesh 
 gratis ; for if they grow meddlesome, we will make bold 
 to cut all the wood in their country for them. Being de- 
 sirous to keep the Boeotians, that were grown rusty by 
 idleness, always in arms, when he was chosen their chief 
 magistrate, he used to exhort them, saying : Yet consider 
 what you do, my friends ; for if I am your general, you 
 must be my soldiers. He called their country, which was 
 plain and open, the stage of war, which they could keep 
 no longer than their hands were upon their shields. C'lia- 
 brias, having slain a few Thebans near Corinth, that en- 
 gaged too hotly near the walls, erected a trophy, which 
 Epaminondas laughed at, saying, it was not a trophy, but 
 a statue of Trivia, which they usually placed in the high- 
 way before the gates. One told him that the Athenians
 
 524 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 had sent an army into Peloponnesus adorned with new 
 armor. What then ? said he, doth Antigenidas sigh because 
 Telles hath got new pipes? (Now Antigenidas was an 
 excellent piper, but Telles a vile one.) Undeatanding his 
 shield-bearer had taken a great deal of money from a pris- 
 oner, Come, said he, give me the shield, and buy you a 
 victualling-house to live in ; for now you are grown rich 
 and wealthy, you will not hazard your life as you did for- 
 merly. Being asked whether he thought himself or Clia- 
 brias or Iphicrates the better general, It is hard, said he, 
 to judge while we live. After he returned out of Laconia, 
 he was tried for his life, with his fellow-commanders, for 
 continuing Boeotarch four months longer than the law 
 allowed. He bade the other commanders lay the blame 
 upon him, as if he had forced them, and for himself, he 
 said, his actions were his best speech ; but if any tiling at 
 all were to be answered to the judges, he entreated them, 
 if they put him to death, to write his fault upon his monu- 
 ment, that the Grecians might know that Epaminondas 
 compelled the Thebans against their will to plunder and fire 
 Laconia, which in five hundred years before had ne\vr 
 suffered the like. to build Messene two hundred and 
 thirty years after it was sacked, to unite the Arcadians, 
 and to restore liberty to Greece; for those things were 
 done in that expedition. Whereupon the judges arose 
 witli <;rcat laughter, and refused even to receive the votes 
 against him. In his last fight, being wounded and carried 
 into his tent, he called for Uiaphantes and after him for 
 lollidas ; and when he heard they were slain, he advised 
 the Thebans to make their peace with the enemy, since 
 they had never a general left them ; as by the event proved 
 true. So well did he understand his countrymen. 
 
 PELOPIDAS. Pelopidas, Epaminondas'f colleague, when 
 his friends told him that he neglected a nee < ury IMIMI; 
 that was the gathering of money, replied : In good deed
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS. 525 
 
 money is necessary for this Nicomedas, pointing to a lame 
 man that could not go. As he was going out to fight, his 
 wife beseeched him to have a care of himself. To others 
 you may give this advice, said he ; but a commander and 
 general you must advise that he should save his country- 
 men. A soldier told him, We are fallen among the ene- 
 mies. Said he, How are we fallen among them, more than 
 they among us 1 When Alexander, the tyrant of Pherae, 
 broke his faith and cast him into prison, he reviled him ; 
 and when the other told him he did but hasten his death, 
 That is my design, said he, that the Thebans may be exas- 
 perated against you, and be revenged on you the sooner. 
 Thebe, the wife of the tyrant, came to him, and told him 
 she wondered to see him so merry in chains. He answered, 
 he wondered more at her, that she could endure Alexan- 
 der without being chained. When Epaminondas caused 
 him to be released, he said : I thank Alexander, for I have 
 now found by trial that I have not only courage to fight, 
 but to die. 
 
 ROMAN APOPHTHEGMS. 
 
 M.' CURIUS. When some blamed M.' Curias for distribut- 
 ing but a small part of a country he took from the enemy, 
 and preserving the greater part for the commonwealth, he 
 prayed there might be no Roman who would think that 
 estate little which was enough to maintain him. The 
 Samnites after an overthrow came to him to offer him 
 gold, and found him boiling rape-roots. Ho ausworod the 
 Samnites that he that could sup so wanted no gold, ami 
 that he had rather rule over those who had gold than have 
 it himself.
 
 526 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 C. FABRICIUS. C. Fabricius, hearing Pyrrhus had over- 
 thrown the Romans, told Labienus, it was Pyrrhus, not 
 the Epirots, that beat the Romans. He went to treat 
 about exchange of prisoners with Pyrrhus, who offered 
 him a great sum of gold, which ho refused. The next day 
 Pyrrhus commanded a very larije elephant should secretly 
 be placed behind Fabricius, and discover himself by roar- 
 ing ; whereupon Fabricius turned and smiled, saying, I was 
 not astonished either at your gold yesterday or at your beast 
 to-day. Pyrrhus invited him to tarry with him, and to 
 accept of the next command under him : That, said he, 
 will be inconvenient for you; for, when the Epirots know 
 us both, they will rather have me for their king than you. 
 When Fabricius was consul, Pyrrhus's physician sent him 
 a letter, wherein he promised him that, if he commanded 
 him, he would poison Pyrrhus. Fabricius sent the letter 
 to Pyrrhus, and bade him conclude that he was a very bad 
 judge both of friends and enemies. The plot w r as discov- 
 ered ; Pyrrhus hanged his physician, and sent the Roman 
 prisoners he had taken without ransom as a present to Fa- 
 bricius. He, however, refused to accept them, but returned 
 the like number, lest he might seem to receive a reward. 
 Neither did he disclose the conspiracy out of kindness to 
 Pyrrhus, but that the Romans might not seem to kill him 
 by treachery, as if they despaired to conquer him in open 
 war. 
 
 FABIDS MAXIMUS. Fabius Maximus would not fight, 
 but chose to spin away the time with Hannibal, who 
 wanted both money and provision for his army, by 
 pursuing and facing him in rocky and mountainous plarr<. 
 When many laughed at him and called him Hannibal's 
 schoolmaster, he took little notice of them, but pursued 
 his own design, and told his friends : He that is afraid of 
 scoffs and reproaches is more a coward than he that 
 flies from the enemy. When Minucius, his fellow-consul,
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 527 
 
 upon routing a party of the enemy, was highly extolled as 
 a man worthy of Rome; I am. more afraid, said he, of 
 Minucius's success than of his misfortune. And not long 
 after he fell into an ambush, and was in danger of perill- 
 ing with his forces, until Fabius succored him, slew many 
 of the enemy, and brought him off. Whereupon Hannibal 
 told his friends : Did I not often presage that cloud on the 
 hills would some time or other break upon us ? After the 
 city received the great overthrow at Cannae, he was chosen 
 consul with Marcellus, a daring person and murh desirous 
 to fight Hannibal, whose forces, if nobody fought him, he 
 hoped would shortly disperse and be dissolved. Therefore 
 Hannibal said, he feared fighting Marcellus less than 
 Fabius who would not fight. He was informed of a 
 Lucanian soldier that frequently wandered out of the 
 camp by night after a woman he loved, but otherwise an 
 admirable soldier; he caused his mistress to be seized 
 privately and brought to him. When she came, he sent 
 for the soldier and told him : It is known you lie out 
 a nights, contrary to the law ; but your former good be- 
 havior is not forgotten, therefore your faults are forgiven 
 to your merits. Henceforwards you shall tarry with me, 
 for I have your surety. And he brought out the woman 
 to him. Hannibal kept Tarentum with a garrison, all 
 but the castle ; and Fabius drew the enemy far from it, 
 and by a stratagem took the town and plundered it. 
 When his secretary asked what was his pleasure as to 
 the holy images, Let us leave, said he, the Tarentines 
 their offended Gods. When M. Livius, who kept a 
 garrison in the castle, said he took Tarentum by his 
 assistance, others laughed at him ; but said Fabius, You 
 say true, for if you had not lost the city, I had not re- 
 took it. When he was ancient, his son was consul, and 
 as he was discharging his office publicly with many 
 attendants, he met him on horseback. The young man
 
 528 ANT) GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 sent a sergeant to command him to alight ; when others 
 were at a stand, Fabius* presently alighted, and running 
 faster than for his age might be expected, embraced his 
 son. Well done, son, said he, I see you are wise, and 
 know whom you govern, and the grandeur of the office 
 you have undertaken. 
 
 SCIPIO THE ELDER. Scipio the Elder spent on his 
 studies what leisure the campaign and government would 
 allow him, saying, that he did most when he was idle. 
 When he took Carthage by storm, some soldiers took 
 prisoner a very beautiful virgin, and came and presented 
 her to him. I would receive her, said he, with all 
 my heart, if I were a private man and not a governor. 
 While he was besieging the city of Badia, wherein 
 appeared above all a temple of Venus, he ordered 
 appearances to be given for actions to be tried before 
 him within three days in that temple of Venus ; and he 
 took the city, and was as good as his word. One asked 
 him in Sicily, on what confidence he presumed to pavs 
 with his navy against Carthage. He showed him three 
 hundred disciplined men in armor, and pointed to* a 
 high tower on the shore ; There is not one of tin -si-, 
 said he, that would not at my command go to the top 
 of that tower, and cast himself down headlong. Over 
 he went, landed, and burnt the enemy's camp, and the 
 Carthaginians sent to him, and covenanted to surrender 
 their elephants, ships, and a sum of money. But win n 
 Hannibal was sailed back from Italy, their reliance on 
 him made them repent of those conditions. This coining 
 to Scipio's ear, Xor will I, said lie. stand to the agreement 
 if they will, unless they pay me five thousand talents more 
 for sending for Hannibal. The Carthaginians, when they 
 utterly overthrown, sent ambassadors to make peace 
 and league with him ; he hade tho-e that came return im- 
 mediately, us refusing to hear them before they brought
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 529 
 
 L. Terentius with them, a good man, whom the Carthagi- 
 nians had taken prisoner. When they brought him, he 
 placed him in the council next himself, on the judgment- 
 seat, and then he transacted with the Carthaginians and 
 put an end to the war. And Terentius followed him when 
 he triumphed, wearing the cap of one that was made free ; 
 and when he died, Scipio gave wine mingled with honey to 
 those that were at the funeral, and performed other funeral 
 rites in his honor. But these things were done afterwards. 
 King Antiochus, after the Romans invaded him, sent to 
 Scipio in Asia for peace ; That should have been done 
 before, said he, not now when you have received a bridle 
 and a rider. The senate decreed him a sum of money out 
 of the treasury, but the treasurers refused to open it on 
 that day. Then, said he, I will open it myself, for the 
 moneys with which I filled it caused it to be shut. 
 When Paetilius and Quintus accused him of many crimes 
 before the people, On this very day, said he, I conquered 
 Hannibal and Carthage ; I for my part am going with 
 my crown on to the Capitol to sacrifice ; and let him that 
 pleaseth stay and pass his vote upon me. Having thus 
 said, he went his way ; and the people followed him, leav- 
 ing his accusers declaiming to themselves. 
 
 T. QUINCTIUS. T. Quinctius was eminent so early, that 
 before he had been tribune, praetor, or aedile, he WM 
 chosen consul. Being sent as general against Philip, lie 
 was persuaded to come to a conference with him. And 
 when Philip demanded hostages of him, because he was 
 accompanied with many Romans while the Macedonians 
 had none but himself; You, said Quinctius, have created 
 this solitude for yourself, by killing your friends and kin- 
 dred. Having overcome Philip in buttle, he proclaimed 
 in the Isthmian games that the Grecians wnv free and 
 to be governed by their own laws. And the Grecians 
 redeemed all the Roman prisoners that in lluuiiibars days
 
 530 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 were sold for slaves in Greece, each of them with two 
 hundred drachms, and made him a present of them ; and 
 they followed him in Rome in his triumph, wearing caps 
 on their heads such as they use to wear who are made free. 
 lie advised the Achaeans, who designed to make war 
 upon the Island Zacynthus, to take heed lest, like a tortoise, 
 they should endanger their head by thrusting it out of 
 Peloponnesus. When King Antiochus was coming upon 
 Greece with great forces, and all men trembled at the 
 report of his numbers and equipage, he told the Achaeans 
 this story : Once I dined with a friend at Chalcis, and 
 when I wondered at the variety of dishes, said my host, 
 ' All these are pork, only in dressing and sauces they dif- 
 fer." And therefore be not you amazed at the king's 
 forces, when you hear talk of spearmen and men-at-arms 
 and choice footmen and horse-archers, for all these are but 
 Syrians, with some little difference in their weapons. Phil- 
 opoemen, general of the Achaeans, had good store of 
 horses and men-at-arms, but could not tell what to do for 
 money ; and Quinctius played upon him, saying, Philopoe- 
 men had arms and legs, but no belly ; and it happened 
 his body was much after that shape. 
 
 CNEUS DOMITIUS. Cneus Domitius, whom Scipio the 
 Great sent in his stead to attend his brother Lucius in the 
 war against Antiochus, when he had viewed the ene- 
 my's army, and the commanders that were with him ad- 
 1 him to set upon them presently, said to them: Wr 
 shall scarce have time enough now to kill so many thou- 
 sands, plunder their baggage, return to our camp, and 
 refresh ourselves too ; but we shall have time enough to 
 do all this to-morrow. The next day he engaged them, 
 and slew fifty thousand of the enemy. 
 
 IVm.irs LICIMUS. PuMius Licinius, consul and general, 
 Ix'inL,' worsted in a horse engagement by Perseus king of 
 Mutedon, with what were slain and what were took pris-
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 531 
 
 oners, lost two thousand eight hundred men. Presently 
 after the fight, Perseus sent ambassadors to make peace 
 and league with him ; and although he was overcome, yet 
 he advised the conqueror to submit himself and his affairs 
 to the pleasure of the Romans. 
 
 PAULUS AEMILIUS. Paulus Aemilius, when he stood for 
 his second consulship, was rejected. Afterwards, the war 
 with Perseus and the Macedonians being prolonged by the 
 ignorance and effeminacy of the commanders, they chose 
 him consul. I thank, said he, the people for nothing; 
 they choose me general, not because I want the office, but 
 because they want an officer. As he returned from the 
 hall to his own house, and found his little daughter Tertia 
 Avceping, he asked her what she cried for? Perseus, 
 said she (so her little dog was called), is dead. Luckily 
 hast thou spoken, girl, said he, and I accept the omen. 
 AVhcn he found in the camp much confident prating among 
 the soldiers, who pretended to advise him and busy them- 
 selves as if they had been all officers, he bade them be quiet 
 and only whet their swords, and leave other things to his 
 care. 
 
 He ordered night-guards should be kept without swords 
 or spears, that they might resist sleep, when they had 
 nothing wherewith to resist the enemy. He invaded Mace- 
 donia by the way of the mountains ; and seeing the enemy 
 drawn up, when Nasica advised him to set upon them pres- 
 ently, he replied : So I should, if I were of your age ; but 
 long experience forbids me, after a march, to fight an army 
 marshalled regularly. Having overcome Perseus, he feasted 
 his friends for joy of the victory, saying, it required the 
 same skill to make an army very terrible to the enemy, and 
 a banquet very acceptable to our friends. When Perseus 
 was taken prisoner, he told Paulus that he would not be 
 led in triumph. That, said he, is as you please, mean- 
 ing he might kill himself. He found an infinite quantity
 
 f:;-J AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 of money, but kept none for himself; only to his son-in- 
 law Tubcro he gave a silver bowl that weighed five pounds, 
 as a reward of his valor ; and that, they say, was the first 
 piece of plate that belonged to the Aemilian family. Of 
 the four sons he had, he parted with two that were adopted 
 into other families ; and of the two that lived with him, 
 one of them died at the age of fourteen years, but five 
 days before his triumph; and five days after the triumph, 
 at the age of twelve years died the other. When the 
 people that met him bemoaned and compassionated his 
 calamities, Now, said he, my fears and jealousies for my 
 country are over, since Fortune hath discharged her revenge 
 for our success on my house, and I have paid for all. 
 
 CATO THE ELDER. Cato the Elder, in a speech to the 
 people, inveighed against luxury and intemperance. IIow 
 hard, said he, is it to persuade the belly, that hath no 
 ears ? And he wondered how that city was preserved 
 wherein a fish was sold for more than an ox ! Once he 
 scoffed at the prevailing imperiousness of women: All 
 other men, said he, govern their wives ; but we command 
 all other men, and our wives us. He said he had rather 
 not be rewarded for his good deeds than not punished for 
 his evil deeds ; and at any time he could pardon all other 
 offenders besides himself. He instigated the magistrates 
 to punish all offenders, saying, that they that did not pre- 
 vent crimes when they might encouraged them. Of young 
 men, he liked them that blushed better than those who 
 looked pule ; and hated a soldier that moved his hands as 
 he walked and his feet as he fought, and whose sn< 
 was louder than his outcry when lie charged. He said, he 
 was the worst governor who could not govern himself. It 
 was his opinion that every one ought especially to rever- 
 ence himself; for every one was always in his own pres- 
 ence. When he saw many had their statues set up. I had 
 rather, says he, men should ask why Cato had no statue,
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 533 
 
 than why he had one. He exhorted those in power to be 
 sparing of exercising their power, that they might continue 
 in pOAver. They that separate honor from virtue, said he, 
 separate virtue from youth. A governor, said he, or jud^o 
 ought to do justice without entreaty, not injustice upon en- 
 treaty. He said, that injustice, if it did not endanger the 
 authors, endangered all besides. He requested old men 
 not to add the disgrace of wickedness to old age, which 
 was accompanied with many other evils. He thought an 
 angry man differed from a madman only in the shorter 
 time which his passion endured. He thought that they 
 who enjoyed their fortunes decently and moderately, were 
 far from being envied ; For men do not envy us, said he, 
 but our estates. He said, they that were serious in ridicu- 
 lous matters would be ridiculous in serious affairs. Hon- 
 orable actions ought to succeed honorable sayings ; Lest, 
 said he, they lose their reputation. He blamed the people 
 for always choosing the same men officers ; For either you 
 think, said he, the government little worth, or very few fit 
 to govern. He pretended to wonder at one that sold an 
 estate by the seaside, as if he were more powerful than 
 the sea; for he had drunk up that which the sea could 
 hardly drown. When he stood for the consulship, and saw 
 others begging and flattering the people for votes, he 
 cried out aloud : The people have need of a sharp phy- 
 sician and a great purge ; therefore not the mildest but 
 the most inexorable person is to be chosen. For which 
 word he was chosen before all others. Encouraging younij 
 men to fight boldly, he oftentimes said, The speech and 
 voice terrify and put to flight the enemy more than the 
 hand and sword. As he warred against Baetiea. he \\ ifl 
 outnumbered by the enemy, and in danger. The Celtibe- 
 rians offered for two hundred talents to send him a supply, 
 and the Romans would not suffer him to engage to pay wa- 
 ges to barbarians. You are out, said he ; for if we overcome,
 
 534 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 not we but the enemy must pay them ; if we are routed, 
 there will be nobody to demand nor to pay cither. Hav- 
 ing taken more cities, as he saith, than he stayed days in 
 the enemies' country, he reserved no more of the prey for 
 himself than what he ate or drank. He distributed to 
 every soldier a round of silver, saying, It was better many 
 should return out of the campaign with silver than a few 
 with gold ; for governors ought to gain nothing by their 
 governments but honor. Five servants waited on him in 
 the army, whereof one had bought three prisoners ; and 
 understanding Cato knew it, before he came into his pres- 
 ence he hanged himself. Being requested by Scipio Africa- 
 nus to befriend the banished Achaeans, that they might 
 return to their own country, he made as if he would not be 
 concerned in that business ; but when the matter was dis- 
 puted in the senate, rising up, he said : We sit here, as 
 if we had nothing else to do but to argue about a few old 
 Grecians, whether they shall be carried to their graves by 
 our bearers or by those of their own country. Post hu- 
 mus Albinus wrote a history in Greek, and in it begs the 
 pardon of his readers. Said Cato, jeering him, If the Am- 
 phietyonic Council commanded him to write it, he ought to 
 be pardoned. 
 
 Scino JUNIOR. It is reported that Scipio Junior never 
 bought nor sold nor built any thing for the space of fifty- 
 four years, and so long as he lived ; and that of so great 
 an estate, he left but thirty-three pounds of silver, and two 
 of gold behind him, although he was lord of Carthage, 
 .and enriched his soldiers more than other generals, lie 
 observed the precept of Polybius, and endeavored never to 
 return from the forum, until by some means or other he 
 
 had rniriiifed some one he lighted on to be his friend or com- 
 panion. While he was yet -young, he had such a repute 
 for valor and knowledge, that Cato the Elder, bring asked 
 his opinion of the commanders in Africa, of whom Scipio 
 was one, answered in that Greek verse,
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS ;",3.', 
 
 Others like shadows fly ; 
 He only is wise.* 
 
 When he came from the army to Rome, the people pre- 
 ferred him, not to gratify him, but because they hoped by 
 his assistance to conquer Carthage with more ease and 
 . speed. After he was entered the walls, the Carthaginians 
 defended themselves in the castle, separated by the sea, 
 not very deep. Polybius advised him to scatter caltrops 
 in the water, or planks with iron spikes, that the enemy 
 might not pass over to assault their bulwark. He an- 
 swered, that it was ridiculous for those who had taken 
 the walls and were within the city to contrive how they 
 might not fight with the enemy. He found the city full of 
 Greek statues and presents brought thither from Sicily, and 
 made proclamation that such as were present from those 
 cities might claim and carry away what belonged to them. 
 When others plundered and carried away the spoil, he 
 would not suffer any that belonged to him, either slave 
 or freeman, to take, nor so much as to buy any of it. He 
 assisted C. Laelius, his most beloved friend, when he stood 
 to be consul, and asked Pompey (who was thought to be a 
 piper's son) whether he stood or not. He replied, No; 
 and besides promised to join with them in going about and 
 procuring votes, which they believed and expected, but 
 were deceived ; for news was brought that Pompey was 
 in the forum, fawning on and soliciting the citizens for 
 himself; whereat others being enraged. Scipio laughed. 
 We may thank our own folly for this, said he. that, as if we 
 were not to request men but the Gods, we lose our time 
 in waiting for a piper. When he stood to be censor, Ap- 
 pius Claudius, his rival, told him that he could salute all 
 the Romans by their names, whereas Scipio scarce knew any 
 of them. You say true, said he, for it hath been my . 
 not to know many, but that all might know me. He ad- 
 
 See Odyss. X. 496.
 
 536 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 vised the city, which then had an army in Celtiheria, to 
 send them both to the army, cither as tribunes or lieuten- 
 ants, that thus the soldiers might be witnesses and judges 
 of the valor of each of them. When he was made censor, 
 he took away his horse from a young man, who, in the 
 time while Carthage was besieged, made a costly supper, 
 in which was a honey-cake, made after the shape of that 
 city, which he named Carthage and set before his guests 
 to be plundered by them ; and when the young man asked 
 the reason why he took his horse from him, he said, Be- 
 cause you plundered Carthage before me. As he saw C. 
 Licinius coming towards him, I know, said he, that man is 
 perjured ; but since nobody accuses him, I cannot be his 
 accuser and judge too. The senate sent him thrice, as 
 Clitomachus saith, to take cognizance of men, cities, and 
 manners, as an overseer of cities, kings, and countries. 
 As he came to Alexandria and landed, he went with his 
 head covered, and the Alexandrians running about him en- 
 treated he would gratify them by uncovering and showing 
 them his desirable face. When he uncovered his head, 
 they clapped their hands with a loud acclamation. The 
 king, by reason of his laziness and corpulency, making a 
 hard shift to keep pace with them, Scipio whispered softly 
 to Panaetius : The Alexandrians have already received 
 some benefit of our visit, for upon our account they have 
 seen their king walk. There travelled with him one 
 friend, Panaetius the philosopher, and five servants, whereof 
 one dying in the journey, he would not buy another, but 
 sent for one to Rome. The Numantines seemed invinci- 
 ble, and having overcome several generals, the people the 
 second time chose Scipio general in that war. When 
 great numbers strived to list them in his army, even that 
 the senate forbade, as if Italy thereby would be left desti- 
 tute. Nor did they allow him money that was in bank, but 
 ordered him to receive the revenues of tributes that were
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 537 
 
 not yet payable. As to money, Scipio said he wanted none, 
 for of his own and by his friends he could be supplied ; 
 but of the decree concerning the soldiers he complained, 
 for the war (he said) was a hard and difficult one, whether 
 their defeat had been caused by the valor of the enemy or 
 by the cowardice of their own men. When he came to 
 the army, he found there much disorder, intemperance, 
 superstition, and luxury. Immediately he drove away the 
 soothsayers, priests, and panders. He ordered them to 
 send away their household stuff, all except kettles, a spit, 
 and an earthen cup. He allowed a silver cup, weighing 
 not more than two pounds, to such as desired it. He for- 
 bade them to bathe ; and those that anointed themselves 
 were to rub themselves too ; for horses wanted another to 
 rub them, he said, only because they had no hand of their 
 own. He ordered them to eat their dinner standing, and 
 to have only such food as was dressed without fire ; but 
 they might sit down at supper, to bread, plain porridge, and 
 flesh boiled or roasted. He himself walked about clothed 
 in a black cassock, saying, he mourned for the disgrace 
 of the army. He met by chance with the pack-horses of 
 Memmius, a tribune that carried wine-coolers set witli 
 precious stones, and the best Corinthian vessels. Since 
 you arc such a one, said he, you have nvide yourself use- 
 less to me and to your country for thirty days, but to your- 
 self all your life long. Another showed him a shield well 
 adorned. The shield, said he, yonnu: man. is a fine one, 
 but it becomes a Roman to have his confidence pi 
 rather in his right hand than in hi* left. To one that was 
 building the rampart, saying his burthen was very heavy. 
 And deservedly, said he, for you trust more to this wood 
 than to your sword. When he saw the rash confidence of 
 the enemy, he said that ho bought security with time : for 
 a good general, like a good physician, nseth iron as hi< last 
 remedy. And yet he fought when he saw it convenient,
 
 538 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 and routed the enemy. When they were worsted, the elder 
 iiH-n chid them, and asked why they fled from those they 
 had pursued so often. It is said a Xumantine answered, 
 The sheep are the same still, hut they have another shop- 
 herd. After he had taken Xumantia and triumphed a 
 second time, he had a controversy with C. Gracchus con- 
 cerning the senate and the allies ; and the ( abusive people 
 made a tumult about him as he spake from the pulpit ; 
 The outcry of the army, said he, when they charge, never 
 disturbed rne, much less the clamor of a rabble of new- 
 comers, to whom Italy is a step-mother (I am well assured) 
 and not a mother. And when they of Gracchus's party 
 cried out, Kill the Tyrant, No wonder, said he, that they 
 who make war upon their country would kill me first; for 
 Rome cannot fall while Scipio stands, nor can Scipio live 
 when Rome is fallen. 
 
 CAECILIUS METELLUS. Caccilius Metcllus designing to 
 reduce a strong fort, a captain told him he would under- 
 take to take it with the loss only of ten men ; and he 
 a-ked him, whether he himself would be one of those ten. 
 A young colonel asked him what design he had in the 
 wheel. If I thought my shirt knew, said he, I would 
 pluck it off and burn it. lie was at variance with Seipio 
 in his lifetime, but he lamented at his death, and commanded 
 his sons to assist at the hearse ; and said, he gave the Gods 
 thanks in the behalf of Rome, that Scipio was born in no 
 other country. 
 
 C. MARIUS. C. Marius was of obscure parentage, pur- 
 suing offices by his valor. He pretended to the chief 
 aedileship. and perceiving he could not reach it, the same 
 day he stood for the lesser, and mining of that also, yet 
 for all that he did not despair of being consul. Having a 
 wen on each leg. he suffered one to be cut, and endured 
 the surgeon without binding, not so much as sighing or 
 once contracting his eyebrows ; but when the surgeon
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 
 
 would cut the other, he did not suffer him, saying the cure 
 was not worth the pain. In his second consulship, Lucius 
 his sister's son offered unchaste force to Trehonius, a sol- 
 dier, who slew him ; when many pleaded against him, he 
 did not deny but confessed he killed the colonel, and told 
 the reason why. Hereupon Marias called for a crown, the 
 reward of extraordinary valor, and put it upon Trebonius's 
 head. He had pitched his -camp, when he fought against 
 the Teutons, in a place where water was wanting ; when 
 the soldiers told him they were thirsty, he showed them a 
 river running by the enemy's trench. Look you, said he, 
 there is water for you, to be bought for blood ; and they 
 desired him to conduct them to fight, while their blood was 
 fluent and not all dried up with thirst. In the Cimbrian 
 war, he gave a thousand valiant Camertines the freedom of 
 Rome, which no law did allow ; and to such as blamed 
 him for it he said, I could not hear the laws for the cla>h 
 of arrows. In the civil war, he lay patiently entrenched 
 and besieged, waiting for a fit opportunity ; when Popcdins 
 Silon called to him,Marius, if you are so great a general rome 
 down and fight. And do you, said he, if you are so great 
 a commander, force me to fight against my will, if you can. 
 
 LUTATIUS CATULUS. Lutatius Catulus in the Cimbrian 
 war lay encamped by the side of the river Athcsis, and his 
 soldiers, seeing the barbarians attempting to pass the river, 
 gave back ; when he could not make them stand, he 
 hastened to the front of them that fled, that they might 
 not seem to fly from their enemies but to follow their com- 
 mander. 
 
 SYLLA. Sylla, surnamcd the Fortunate, reckoned these 
 two things as the chirfest of his felicities, the friend- 
 ship of Metellus Pius, and that he had spared and not 
 destroyed the city of Athens. 
 
 C. POFILIUS. C. Popilius was sent to Antiochus with a 
 letter from the senate, commanding him to withdraw his
 
 540 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 army out of Egypt, and to renounce the protection of that 
 kingdom during the minority of Ptolemy's children. When 
 he came towards him in his camp, Antiochus kindly saluted 
 him at a distance, but without returning his salutation lie 
 delivered his letter ; which being read, the long answered, 
 that, he would consider, and give his answer. Whereupon 
 Popilius with his wand made a circle round him, saying, Con- 
 sider and answer before you go out of this place ; and when 
 Antiochus answered that he would give the Romans satis- 
 faction, then at length Popilius saluted and embraced him. 
 
 LrcuLLUs. Lucullus in Armenia, with ten thousand foot in 
 armor and a thousand horse, was to fight Tigranes and his 
 army of a hundred and fifty thousand, the day before the 
 nones of October, the same day on which formerly Scipio's 
 army was destroyed by the Cimbrians. When one told 
 him, The Romans dread and abominate that day; Therefore, 
 said he, let us fight to-day valiantly, that we may change 
 this day from a black and unlucky one to a joyful and 
 festival day for the Romans. His soldiers were most afraid 
 of their men-at-arms ; but he bade them be of good courage, 
 for it was more labor to strip than to overcome them. He 
 first came up to their counterscarp, and perceiving the 
 confusion of the barbarians, cried out, Fellow-soldiers, the 
 day's our own ! And when nobody stood him, he pursued, 
 and, with the loss of five Romans, slew above a hundred 
 thousand of them. 
 
 Cx. POMI'EIUS. Cn. Pompeius was as much beloved by 
 the Romans as his father was hated. When he was youii.u, 
 he wholly sided with Sylla, and before he had borne many 
 offices or was chosen into the senate, he enlisted many 
 soldiers in Italy. When Sylla sent for him, he returned 
 answer, that he would not muster his forces in the presence 
 of his general, unfleshed and without spoils ; nor did he 
 come before that in several fights he had overcome the 
 captains of the enemy. He was sent by Sylla lieutenant-
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 541 
 
 general into Sicily, and being told that the soldiers turned 
 out of the way and forced and plundered the country, he 
 scaled the swords of such as he sent abroad, and punished 
 all other stragglers and wanderers. He had resolved to 
 put the Mamertines, that were of the other side, all to the 
 sword ; but Sthenius the orator told him, He would do in- 
 justice if he should punish many that were innocent for 
 the sake of one that was guilty ; and that he himself 
 was the person that persuaded his friends and forced his 
 enemies to side with Marius. Pompey admired the man, 
 and said, "he could not blame the Mamertines for being 
 inveigled by a person who preferred his country beyond 
 his own life ; and forgave both the city and Sthenius 
 too. When he passed into Africa against Domitius and 
 overcame him in a great battle, the soldiers saluted him 
 Imperator. He answered, he could not receive that 
 honor, so long as the fortification of the enemy's camp 
 stood undcmolished ; upon this, although it rained hard, 
 they rushed on and plundered the camp. At his re- 
 turn, among other courtesies and honors wherewith Sylla 
 entertained him, he styled him The Great ; yet when he 
 was desirous to triumph, Sylla would not consent, because 
 he was not yet chosen into the senate. But when Pompey 
 said to those that were about him, Sylla doth not know 
 that more worship the rising than the setting sun, Sylla 
 cried aloud, Let him triumph. Ilereat Servilius, one of 
 the nobles, was displeased ; the soldiers also withstood his 
 triumph, until he had bestowed a largess among them. 
 But when Pompey replied, I would rather forego my 
 triumph than flatter them, Xo\v, said Servilius, I see 
 Pompey is truly great and worthy of a triumph. It ^ 
 custom in Rome, that knights who had served in the wars 
 the time appointed by the laws should bring their horse 
 into the forum before the censors, and there ^ive an 
 account of their warfare and the commanders under whom
 
 542 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 they had served. Pompey, then consul, brought also his 
 horse before the censors, Gellius and Lentulus ; and when 
 they asked him, as the manner is, whether he had served 
 all his campaigns, All, said he, and under myself as 
 general. Having gotten into his hands the writings of 
 Sertorius in Spain, among which were letters from 
 several leading men in Home, inviting Sertorius to Rome 
 to innovate and change the government, he burnt them 
 all, by that means giving opportunity to ill-affected per- 
 sons to repent and mend their manners. Phraates, king 
 of Parthia, sent to him requesting that the river Euphrates 
 might be his bounds. He answered, the Romans had 
 rather the right should be their bounds towards Parthia. 
 L. Lucullus, after he left the army, gave himself up to 
 pleasure and luxury, jeering at Pompey for busying himself 
 in affairs unsuitable to his age. He answered, that govern- 
 ment became old age better than luxury. In a fit of sick- 
 ness, his physician prescribed him to eat a thrush ; but 
 when none could be gotten, because they were out of 
 season, one said, that Lucullus had some, for he kept them 
 all the year. It seems then, said he, Pompey must not live, 
 unless Lucullus play the glutton; and dismissing the phy- 
 sician, he ate such thini^ at vrere ra^y to be gotten. In a 
 great dearth at Rome, he was chosen by title overseer of 
 the market, but in reality lord of sea and land, and sailed 
 to Africa, Sardinia, and Sicily. Having procured great 
 quantities of wheat, he hastened back to Rome ; and when 
 by reason of a great tempest the pilots were loath to hoist 
 sail, he went first aboard himself, and commanding the 
 anchor to be weighed, cried out aloud, There is a necessity 
 of sailing, but there is no necessity of living. When the 
 difference betwixt him and Caesar broke out, and Murcel- 
 linus, one of those whom he had preferred, revolted to 
 Caesar and inveighed much a<jain>t Pompe.y in the senate ; 
 Art thou not ashamed, said he, Marcelliims, to reproach
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS 
 
 me, who taught you to speak when you were dumb, and 
 fed you full even to vomiting when you were starved ? To 
 Cuto, who severely blamed him became, when he had 
 often informed him of the growing power of Caesar, such 
 as was dangerous to a democracy, he took little notice of 
 it, he answered, Your counsels were more presaging, but 
 mine more friendly. Concerning himself he freely pro- 
 fessed, that he entered all his offices sooner than he ex- 
 pected, and resigned them sooner than was expected by 
 others. After the fight at Pharsalia, in his flight towards 
 Egypt, as he was going out of the ship into the fisher-boat 
 the king sent to attend him, turning to his wife and son, he 
 said nothing to them beside those two verses of Sophocles : 
 
 Whoever comes within a tyrant's door 
 Becomes his slave, though he were free before. 
 
 As he came out of the boat, when he was struck with a 
 sword, he said nothing ; but gave one groan, and covering 
 his head submitted to the murderers. 
 
 CICERO. Cicero the orator, when his name was played 
 upon and his friends advised him to change it, answered, 
 that he would make the name of Cicero more honorable 
 than the name of the Catos, the Catuli, or the Scauri. He 
 dedicated to the Gods a silver cup with a cover, witli the 
 first letters of his other names, and instead of Cicero a 
 chick-pea (deer) engraven. Loud bawling orators, he 
 said, were driven by their weakness to noise, as lame men 
 to take horse. Verres had a son that in his vouth had not 
 
 w 
 
 well secured his chastity ; yet he reviled Cicero for his 
 effeminacy, and called him catamite. Do you not know, 
 said he, that children are to be rebuked at home within 
 doors'? Metellus Xepos told him he had slain more by his 
 testimony than lie had saved by his pleadings. You say 
 true, said he, my honesty exceed-* my eloquence. When 
 Metellus asked him who his father was, Your mother, said 
 he, hath made that question a harder one for you to answer
 
 ;, 1 1 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 than for me. For she was unchaste, while Metellus him- 
 self was a light, inconstant, and passionate man. The 
 same Metellus. when Diodotus his master in rhetoric died, 
 cnu-ed a marble crow to be placed on his monument; and 
 Cicero said, he returned his master a very suitable gratu- 
 ity, who had taught him to fly but not to declaim. Hearing 
 that Vatinius, his enemy and otherwise a lewd person, was 
 dead, and the next day that he was alive, A mischief on 
 him. said he, for lying. To one that seemed to be an 
 African, who said he could not hear him when he pleaded, 
 And yet, said he, your ears are of full bore, lie had sum- 
 moned Popilius Cotta, an ignorant blockhead that pretended 
 to the law, as a witness in a cause ; and when he told the 
 court he knew nothing of the business, On my conscience, 
 I'll warrant you, said Cicero, he thinks you ask him a 
 question in the law. Verres sent a golden sphinx ; 
 present to Hortensius the orator, who told Cicero, when 
 he spoke obscurely, that he was not skilled in riddle^. 
 That's strange, said he, since you have a sphinx in your 
 house. Meeting Voconius with his three daughters that 
 were hard favored, he told his friends softly that verse, 
 
 Children he hath got, 
 Though Apollo favored not. 
 
 When Faustus the son of Sylla, being very much in 
 debt, set up a writing that he would sell his goods by auc- 
 tion, he said. I like this proscription better than his fatl; 
 When Pompey and Caesar fell out, he said, I know whom 
 to fly from, but I know not whom to fly to. He blamed 
 Pompey for leaving the city, and for imitating Themistoc 1< s 
 rather than Pericles, when his affairs did not resemble the 
 former's but the hitter's. He changed his mind and went 
 over to Pompey, who asked him where he left his son-in- 
 law Piso. lie answered. With your father-in-law Ca< 
 To one that went over from Caesar to Pompey. sa\iiig that 
 in his haste and eagerness he had left his horse behind him,
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS .' j .' 
 
 he said, You have taken better care of your horse than of 
 yourself. To one that brought news that the friends of 
 Caesar looked sourly, You do as good as call them, 
 he, Caesar's enemies. After the battle in Pharsalia. when 
 Pompey was fled, one Nonius said they had seven eagles 
 left still, and advised to try what they would do. Your 
 advice, said he, were good, if we were to fight with jack- 
 daws. Caesar, now conqueror, honorably restored the 
 statues of Pompey that were thrown down; whereupon 
 Cicero said, that Caesar by erecting Pompey's statues had 
 secured his own. He set so high a value on oratory, and 
 did so lay out himself especially that way, that having a 
 cause to plead before the centum viri, when the day ap- 
 proached and his slave Eros brought him word it was 
 deferred until the day following, he presently made him 
 free. 
 
 C. CAESAR. Caius Caesar, when he was a young man, 
 fled from Sylla, and fell into the hands of pirates, who first 
 demanded of him a sum of money ; and he laughed at the 
 rogues for not understanding his quality, and promised 
 them twice as much as they asked him. Afterwards, when 
 he was put into custody until he raised the money, he 
 commanded them to be quiet and silent while he slept. 
 While he was in prison, he made speeches and v< 
 which he read to them, and when they commended them 
 but coldly, he called them barbarians and blockheads, and 
 threatened them in jest that he would hang them. Rut 
 after a while he was as good as his word ; for when the money 
 for his ransom was brought and he discharged, he gathered 
 men and ships out of Asia, seized the pirates and crucified 
 them. At Rome he stood to be chief priest against Catuln<. i 
 man of great interest among the Romans. To his mother, 
 who brought him to the gate, he said, To-day, mother, 
 will have your son high priest or banished. He divo: 
 his wife Pompeia, because she was reported to be over
 
 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 familiar with Clodius ; yet when Clodius was brought to 
 trial upon that account, and he was cited as a witness, he 
 spake no evil against his wife ; and when the accuser asked 
 him, \Yliy then did you divorce her ? Because, said he, 
 1 -ui's wife ought to be free even from suspicion. A-; 
 he was reading the exploits of Alexander, he wept and 
 told his friends, He was of my age when he conquered 
 Darius, and I hitherto have done nothing. He passed by 
 a little inconsiderable town in the Alps, and his friends 
 said, they wondered whether there were any contentions 
 and tumults for offices in that place. He stood, and after 
 a little pause answered, I had rather be the first in this 
 town than second in Rome. He said, great and surprising 
 enterprises were not to be consulted upon, but done. And 
 coming against Pompey out of his province of Gaul, he 
 passed the river Rubicon, saying, Let every die be thrown. 
 After Pompey fled to sea from Rome, he went to take 
 money out of the treasury : when Metellus, who had the 
 charge of it, forbade him and shut it against him, he 
 threatened to kill him ; whereupon Metellus being aston- 
 ished, he said to him, This, young man, is harder for me to 
 say than to do. When his soldiers were having a tedious 
 passage from Brundisium to Dyrrachium, unknown to all 
 he went aboard a small vessel, and attempted to pass the 
 sea ; and when the vessel was in danger of being overset, 
 he discovers himself to the pilot, crying out, Trust Fortune, 
 and know that you carry Caesar. But the tempest being 
 vehement, his soldiers coming about him and expostulating 
 .onately with him, a^kin^ whether he distrusted them 
 and was looking for another army, would not suffer him to 
 at. that time. They fought, and Pompey had the bet- 
 ter of it; but instead of following his blow he retreated to 
 imp. To day. <aid ( 1 ae-;ir. the enemy had the victory. 
 but none of them know how to conquer. Pompey com- 
 manded his army to stand in array at Pharsalia in their
 
 THE Al'oI'IlTHKfiM.S OF KINGS f, | ~ 
 
 place, and to receive the charge from the enemy. In this 
 Caesar said he was out, thereby suffering the ea s of 
 
 his soldiers' spirits, when they were up and inspired with 
 rage and success, in the midst of their career to lanijiiMi 
 and expire. After he routed Pharnaces Ponticus at the 
 first assault, he wrote thus to his friends, I came, I saw, I 
 conquered.* After Scipio was worsted in Africa and tied, 
 and Cato had killed himself, he said : I envy thee thy death, 
 O Cato ! since thou didst envy me the honor of saving thee. 
 Antonius and Dolabella were suspected by his friends, who 
 advised him to secure them ; he answered, I fear none of 
 those fat and lazy fellows, but those pale and lean ones. 
 meaning Brutus and Cassius. As he was at supper, the 
 discourse was of death, which sort was the best That, 
 said he, which is unexpected. 
 
 CAESAR AUGUSTUS. Caesar, who was the first surnamed 
 Augustus, being yet young, demanded of Antony the twen- 
 ty-five millions of money f which he had taken out of the 
 house of Julius Caesar when he was slain, that he might 
 pay the Romans the legacies he had left them, every man 
 seventy-five drachms. But when Antony detained the 
 money, and bade him, if he were wise, let fall his demand, 
 he sent the crier to offer his own paternal estate for >ale. 
 and therewith discharged the legacies ; by which means 
 he procured a general respect to himself, and to Antony 
 the hatred of the Romans. Rymetalces, king of Thrace, 
 forsook Antony and went over to Caesar; but brai^in^ 
 immoderately in his drink, and nauseously reproaching his 
 new confederates, Caesar drank to one of the other 
 kings, and told him, I love treason but do not commend 
 
 * 'HAflov, tldov, lviKi}oa, veni, ruii, rid. 
 
 t It is doubtful wlmt amount is lierc intended by Plutarch. If sesterce* are un- 
 derstood, the amount is much less than it is commonly stated ; and even if we un- 
 derstand drachmas (or deiwrii), we shall still fall bolow the amount commonly 
 which is 700,000,000 sesterces (or about $28,000,000). See, for example, Veil 
 1'aterc. II. 60, 4 : Sestertium septiens milieus. (Q.)
 
 AND GREAT COMMANDERS. 
 
 traitors. The Alexandrians, when he had taken their city, 
 expected great severity from him ; but when he came upon 
 the judgment-seat, he placed Anus the Alexandrian by 
 him. and told them : I spare this city, first because it is 
 great and beautiful, secondly for the sake of its founder, 
 Alexander, and thirdly for the sake of Arius my friend. 
 When it was told him that Eros, his steward in Egypt, 
 having bought a quail that beat all he came near and was 
 never worsted by any, had roasted and eaten it, he sent for 
 him ; and when upon examination he confessed the fact, 
 he ordered him to be nailed on the mast of the ship. He 
 removed Theodorus, and in his stead made Arius his fac- 
 tor in Sicily, whereupon a petition was presented to him, 
 in which was written, Theodorus of Tarsus is either a bald- 
 pate or a thief, what is your opinion? Caesar read it, and 
 subscribed, I think so. Mecaenas, his intimate companion, 
 ]) rescn ted him yearly on his birthday with a piece of plate. 
 Athenodorus the philosopher, by reason of his old age, 
 begged leave that he might retire from court, which Caesar 
 granted ; and as Athenodorus was taking his leave of him, 
 Remember, said he, Caesar, whenever you are angry, to 
 s;iy or do nothing before you have repeated the four-and- 
 t \\enty letters to yourself. Whereupon Caesar caught him 
 by the hand and said, I have need of your presence still ; 
 and he kept him a year longer, saying, The reward of 
 >ilence is a secure reward. He heard Alexander at the 
 of thirty-two years had subdued the greatest part of 
 the world and was at a loss what he should do with the 
 rest of his time. But he wondered Alexander should not 
 think it a lesser labor to gain a great empire than to set in 
 order what he had gotten. lie made a law concerning 
 adulterers, wherein was determined how the accused were 
 to be tried and how the guilty were to be punished. Af- 
 terwards, meeting with a young man that was reported to 
 have been familiar with his daughter Julia, being enraged
 
 THE APOPHTHEGMS OF KINGS. 
 
 he struck him with his hands ; but when the young man 
 cried out, O Qa'esar! you have made a law, he was so 
 troubled at it that he refrained from supper that day. 
 When he sent Caius his daughter's son into Armenia, he 
 begged of the Gods that the favor of Pompey, the valor 
 of Alexander, and his own fortune might attend him. 
 He told the Romans he would leave them one to succeed 
 him in the government that never consulted twice in the 
 same affair, meaning Tiberius. He endeavored to pacify 
 some young men that were imperious in their offices ; and 
 when they gave little heed to him, but still kept a stir, 
 Young men, said he, hear an old man to whom old men 
 hearkened when he was young. Once, when the Athenians 
 had offended him, he wrote to them from Aegina : I suppose 
 you know I am angry with you, otherwise I had not win- 
 tered at Aegina. Besides this, he neither said nor did any 
 thing to them. One of the accusers of Eurycles prated 
 lavishly and unreasonably, proceeding so far as to say, If 
 these crimes, O Caesar, do not seem great to you, command 
 him to repeat to me the seventh book of Thucydides; 
 wherefore Caesar being enraged commanded him to prison. 
 But afterwards, when he heard he was descended from 
 Brasidas, he sent for him again, and dismissed him with a 
 moderate rebuke. When Piso built his house from top to 
 bottom with great exactness, You cheer my heart, said he, 
 who build as if Rome would be eternal.
 
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