Book X

. chapter xii.

[224] As to Amoebeus, see Athenaeus, p. 623. D.

[225] "Iliad," xvi. 167.

[226] Generally speaking [Greek: ethos] is the habit, [Greek: ethos] the moral character generated by habit. The former is Aristotle's [Greek: energeia], the latter his [Greek: hexis].

[227] I have adopted, it will be seen, the suggestion of Wyttenbach, "[Greek: to logismo] mutandum videtur in [Greek: ton chalinon]."

[228] Sophocles, "Oedipus Tyrannus," 4, 5. Quoted by our author again "On Abundance of Friends," Sec. vi.

[229] Reading with "Reiske," [Greek: exagetai pros to epithymein ta aischra].

[230] In the "Chrysippus" of Euripides, Fragm.

[231] Compare Romans viii. 19.

[232] "Odyssey," xii. 168, 169.

[233] This line is from Simonides, and is quoted again in "How one may be aware of one's Progress in Virtue," Sec. xiv.

[234] "Iliad," vii. 93.

[235] Reading with Reiske, [Greek: eis duo].

[236] Reading [Greek: etei] with Reiske and Wyttenbach.

[237] Euripides, "Hippolytus" 385, 386.

[238] Reading with Reiske [Greek: pathesi] for [Greek: pleiosi].

[239] See "Iliad," x. 374, sq.

[240] "Iliad," xi. 547.

[241] "De Anaxarchi supplicio nota res. v. Menage ad Diog. Laeert. 9, 59. De Magae, reguli Cyrenarum, adversus Philemonem lenitate v. De Cohibenda Ira, Sec. ix."--_Reiske._

[242] "Celebres fuere quondam Chrysippi sex libri [Greek: peri tes kata tas lezeis anomalias], in quibus auctore Varrone, _propositum habuit ostendere, similes res dissimilibus verbis et similibus dissimiles esse notatas vocabulis_. v. Menage ad Diog. Laeert. 7, 192."--_Reiske._

[243] Compare "On Contentedness of Mind," Sec. xiii.

[244] Reading with _Reiske_, [Greek: aporrezeien].

[245] "Iliad," xiii. 284, 285.

[246] "Iliad," xv. 262.

[247] "Iliad," v. 185.

[248] Compare "That Virtue may be Taught," Sec. ii.

HOW ONE MAY BE AWARE OF ONE'S PROGRESS IN VIRTUE.

Sec. I. What amount of argument, Sossius Senecio, will make a man know that he is improving in respect to virtue, if his advances in it do not bring about some diminution in folly, but vice, weighing equally with all his good intentions, "acts like the lead that makes the net go down?"[249] For neither in music nor grammatical knowledge could anyone recognize any improvement, if he remained as unskilful in them as before, and had not lost some of his old ignorance. Nor in the case of anyone ill would medical treatment, if it brought no relief or ease, by the disease somewhat yielding and abating, give any perception of improvement of health, till the opposite condition was completely brought about by the body recovering its full strength. But just as in these cases there is no improvement unless, by the abatement of what weighs them down till they rise in the opposite scale, they recognize a change, so in the case of those who profess philosophy no improvement or sign of improvement can be supposed, unless the soul lay aside and purge itself of some of its imperfection, and if it continue altogether bad until it become absolutely good and perfect. For indeed a wise man cannot in a moment of time change from absolute badness to perfect goodness, and suddenly abandon for ever all that vice, of which he could not during a long period of time divest himself of any portion. And yet you know, of course, that those who maintain these views frequently give themselves much trouble and bewilderment about the difficulty, that a wise man does not perceive that he has become wise, but is ignorant and doubtful that in a long period of time by little and little, by removing some things and adding others, there will be a secret and quiet improvement, and as it were passage to virtue. But if the change were so great and sudden that the worst man in the morning could become the best man at night, or should the change so happen that he went to bed vicious and woke up in the morning wise, and, having dismissed from his mind all yesterday's follies and errors, should say,

"False dreams, away, you had no meaning then!"[250]

who on earth could be ignorant of so great a change happening to himself, of virtue blazing forth so completely all at once? I myself am of opinion that anyone, like Caeneus,[251] who, according, to his prayer, got changed from a woman into a man, would sooner be ignorant of the transformation, than that a man should become at once, from a cowardly and senseless person with no powers of self-control, brave and sensible and perfect master of himself, and should in a moment change from a brutish life to a divine without being aware of it.

Sec. II. That was an excellent observation, Measure the stone by the mason's rule, not the rule by the stone.[252] But the Stoics, not applying dogmas to facts but facts to their own preconceived opinions, and forcing things to agree that do not by nature, have filled philosophy with many difficulties, the greatest of which is that all men but the perfect man are equally vicious, which has produced the enigma called progress, one little short of extreme folly, since it makes those who have not at once under its guidance given up all passions and disorders equally unfortunate as those who have not got rid of a single vile propensity. However they are their own confuters, for while they lay down in the schools that Aristides was as unjust as Phalaris, and Brasidas as great a craven as Dolon, and Plato actually as senseless as Meletus, in life and its affairs they turn away from and avoid one class as implacable, while they make use of the others and trust them in most important matters as most worthy people.

Sec. III. But we who see that in every kind of evil, but especially in a disordered and unsettled state of mind, there are degrees of more and less (so that the progress made differs in different cases, badness abating, as a shadow flees away, under the influence of reason, which calmly illuminates and cleanses the soul), cannot consider it unreasonable to think that the change will be perceived, as people who come up out of some ravine can take note of the progress they make upwards. Look at the case from the following point of view first. Just as mariners sailing with full sail over the gaping[253] ocean measure the course they have made by the time they have taken and the force of the wind, and compute their progress accordingly, so anyone can compute his progress in philosophy by his continuous and unceasing course, by his not making many halts on the road, and then again advancing by leaps and bounds, but by his quiet and even and steady march forward guided by reason. For the words of the poet, "If to a little you keep adding a little, and do so frequently, _it will soon be a lot_,"[254] are not only true of the increase of money, but are universally applicable, and especially to increase in virtue, since reason invokes to her aid the enormous force of habit. On the other hand the inconsistencies and dulnesses of some philosophers not only check advance, as it were, on the road, but even break up the journey altogether, since vice always attacks at its leisure and forces back whatever yields to it.[255] The mathematicians tell us that planets, after completing their course, become stationary; but in philosophy there is no such intermission or stationary position from the cessation of progress, for its nature is ever to be moving and, as it were, to be weighed in the scales, sometimes being overweighted by the good preponderating, sometimes by the bad. If, therefore, imitating the oracle given to the Amphictyones by the god, "to fight against the people of Cirrha every day and every night,"[256] you are conscious that night and day you ever maintain a fierce fight against vice, not often relaxing your vigilance, or long off your guard, or receiving as heralds to treat of peace[257] the pleasures, or idleness, or stress of business, you may reasonably go forward to the future courageously and confidently.

Sec. IV. Moreover, if there be any intermissions in philosophy, and yet your later studies are firmer and more continuous than your former ones, it is no bad indication that your sloth has been expelled by labour and exercise; for the contrary is a bad sign, when after a short time your lapses from zeal become many and continuous, as if your zeal were dying away. For as in the growth of a reed, which shoots up from the ground finely and beautifully to an even and continuous height, though at first from its great intervals it is hindered and baffled in its growth, and afterwards through its weakness is discouraged by any breath of air, and though strengthened by many and frequent joints, yet a violent wind gives it commotion and trembling, so those who at first make great launches out into philosophy, and afterwards find that they are continually hindered and baffled, and cannot perceive that they make any progress, finally get tired of it and cry off. "But he who is as it were winged,"[258] is by his simplicity borne along to his end, and by his zeal and energy cuts through impediments to his progress, as merely obstacles on the road. As it is a sign of the growth of violent love, not so much to rejoice in the presence of the loved one, for everyone does that, as to be distressed and grieved at his absence,[259] so many feel a liking for philosophy and seem to take a wonderful interest in the study, but if they are diverted by other matters and business their passion evaporates and they take it very easily. "But whoever is strongly smitten with love for his darling"[260] will show his mildness and agreeableness in the presence of and joint pursuit of wisdom with the loved one, but if he is drawn away from him and is not in his company you will see him in a stew and ill at ease and peevish whether at work or leisure, and unreasonably forgetful of his friends, and wholly impelled by his passion for philosophy. For we ought not to rejoice at discourses only when we hear them, as people like perfumes only when they smell them, and not to seek or care about them in their absence, but in the same condition as people who are hungry and thirsty are in if torn away from food and drink, we ought to follow after true proficiency in philosophy, whether marriage, or wealth, or friendship, or military service, strike in and produce a separation. For just as more is to be got from philosophy, so much the more does what we fail to obtain trouble us.

Sec. V. Either precisely the same as this or very similar is Hesiod's[261] very ancient definition of progress in virtue, namely, that the road is no longer very steep or arduous, but easy and smooth and level, its roughness being toned down by exercise, and casting the bright light of philosophy on doubt and error and regrets, such as trouble those who give themselves to philosophy at the outset, like people who leave a land they know, and do not yet descry the land they are sailing to. For by abandoning the common and familiar, before they know and apprehend what is better, they frequently flounder about in the middle and are fain to return. As they say the Roman Sextius, giving up for philosophy all his honours and offices in Rome, being afterwards discontented with philosophy from the difficulties he met with in it at first, very nearly threw himself out of window. Similarly they relate of Diogenes of Sinope,[262] when he began to be a philosopher, that the Athenians were celebrating a festival, and there were public banquets and shows and mutual festivities, and drinking and revelling all night, and he, coiled up in a corner of the market-place intending to sleep, fell into a train of thought likely seriously to turn him from his purpose and shake his resolution, for he reflected that he had adopted without any necessity a toilsome and unusual kind of life, and by his own fault sat there debarred of all the good things. At that moment, however, they say a mouse stole up and began to munch some of the crumbs of his barley-cake, and he plucked up his courage and said to himself, in a railing and chiding fashion, "What say you, Diogenes? Do your leavings give this mouse a sumptuous meal, while you, the gentleman, wail and lament because you are not getting drunk yonder and reclining on soft and luxurious couches?" Whenever such depressions of mind are not frequent, and the mind when they take place quickly recovers from them, after having put them to flight as it were, and when such annoyance and distraction is easily got rid of, then one may consider one's progress in virtue as a certainty.

Sec. VI. And since not only the things that in themselves shake and turn them in the opposite direction are more powerful in the case of weak philosophers, but also the serious advice of friends, and the playful and jeering objections of adversaries bend and soften people, and have ere now shaken some out of philosophy altogether, it will be no slight indication of one's progress in virtue if one takes all this very calmly, and is neither disturbed nor aggravated by people who tell us and mention to us that some of our former comrades are flourishing in kings' courts, or have married wives with dowries, or are attended by a crowd of friends when they come down to the forum to solicit some office or advocateship. He that is not moved or affected by all this is already plainly one upon whom philosophy has got a right hold; for it is impossible that we should cease to be envious of what most people admire, unless the admiration of virtue was strongly implanted in us. For over-confidence may be generated in some by anger and folly, but to despise what men admire is not possible without a true and steady elevation of mind. And so people in such a condition of mind, comparing it with that of others, pride themselves on it, and say with Solon, "We would not change virtue for wealth, for while virtue abides, wealth changes hands, and now one man, now another, has it."[263] And Diogenes compared his shifting about from Corinth to Athens, and again from Thebes to Corinth, to the different residences of the King of Persia, as his spring residence at Susa, his winter residence at Babylon, and his summer residence in Media. And Agesilaus said of the great king, "How is he better than me, if he is not more upright?" And Aristotle, writing to Antipater about Alexander, said, "that he ought not to think highly of himself because he had many subjects, for anyone who had right notions about the gods was entitled to think quite as highly of himself." And Zeno, observing that Theophrastus was admired for the number of his pupils,[264] said, "His choir is, I admit, larger than mine, but mine is more harmonious."

Sec. VII. Whenever then, by thus comparing the advantages of virtue with external things, you get rid of envies and jealousies and those things which fret and depress the minds of many who are novices in philosophy, this also is a great indication of your progress in virtue. Another and no slight indication is a change in the style of your discourses. For generally speaking all novices in philosophy adopt most such as tend to their own glorification; some, like birds, in their levity and ambition soaring to the height and brightness of physical things; others like young puppies, as Plato[265] says, rejoicing in tearing and biting, betake themselves to strifes and questions and sophisms; but most plunging themselves into dialectics immediately store themselves for sophistry; and some collect sentences[266] and histories and go about (as Anacharsis said he saw the Greeks used money for no other purpose but to count it up), merely piling up and comparing them, but making no practical use of them. Applicable here is that saying of Antiphanes, which someone applied to Plato's pupils. Antiphanes said playfully that in a certain city words were frozen directly they were spoken, owing to the great cold, and were thawed again in the summer, so that one could then hear what had been said in the winter. So he said of the words which were spoken by Plato to young men, that most of them only understood them late in life when they were become old men. And this is the condition people are in in respect to all philosophy, until the judgement gets into a sound and healthy state, and begins to adapt itself to those things which can produce character and greatness of mind, and to seek discourses whose footsteps turn inwards rather than outwards, to borrow the language of AEsop.[267] For as Sophocles said he had first toned down the pompous style of AEschylus, then his harsh and over-artificial method, and had in the third place changed his manner of diction, a most important point and one that is most intimately connected with the character, so those who go in for philosophy, when they have passed from flattering and artificial discourses to such as deal with character and emotion, are beginning to make genuine and modest progress in virtue.

Sec. VIII. Furthermore, take care, in reading the writings of philosophers or hearing their speeches, that you do not attend to words more than things, nor get attracted more by what is difficult and curious than by what is serviceable and solid and useful. And also, in studying poems or history, let nothing escape you of what is said to the point, which is likely either to correct the character or to calm the passions. For as Simonides says the bee hovers among the flowers "making the yellow honey,"[268] while others value and pluck flowers only for their beauty and fragrance, so of all that read poems for pleasure and amusement he alone that finds and gathers what is valuable seems capable of knowledge from his acquaintance with and friendship for what is noble and good.[269] For those who study Plato and Xenophon only for their style, and cull out only what is pure and Attic, and as it were the dew and the bloom, do they not resemble people who love drugs for their smell and colour, but care not for them as anodynes or purges, and are not aware of those properties? Whereas those who have more proficiency can derive benefit not from discourses only, but from sights and actions, and cull what is good and useful, as is recorded of AEschylus and other similar kind of men. As to AEschylus, when he was watching a contest in boxing at the Isthmus, and the whole theatre cried out upon one of the boxers being beaten, he nudged with his elbow Ion of Chios, and said, "Do you observe the power of training? The beaten man holds his peace, while the spectators cry out." And Brasidas having caught hold of a mouse among some figs, being bitten by it let it go, and said to himself, "Hercules, there is no creature so small or weak that it will not fight for its life!" And Diogenes, seeing a lad drinking water out of the palm of his hand, threw away the cup which he kept in his wallet. So much does attention and assiduous practice make people perceptive and receptive of what contributes to virtue from any source. And this is the case still more with those who mix discourses with actions, who not only, to use the language of Thucydides,[270] "exercise themselves in the presence of danger," but also in regard to pleasures and strifes, and judgements, and advocateships, and magistrateships make a display of their opinions, or rather form their opinions by their practice. For we can no more think those philosophers who are ever learning and busy and investigating what they have got from philosophy, and then straightway publish it in the market-place or in the haunt of young men, or at a royal supper-party, any more than we give the name of physicians to those who sell drugs and mixtures. Nay rather such a sophist differs very little at all from the bird described in Homer,[271] offering his scholars like it whatever he has got, and as it feeds its callow young from its own mouth, "though it goes ill with itself," so he gets no advantage or food from what he has got for himself.

Sec. IX. We must therefore see to it that our discourse be serviceable to ourselves, and that it may not appear to others to be vain-glorious or ambitious, and we must show that we are as willing to listen as to teach, and especially must we lay aside all disputatiousness and love of strife in controversy, and cease bandying fierce words with one another as if we were contending with one another at boxing, and leave off rejoicing more in smiting and knocking down one another than in learning and teaching. For in such cases moderation and mildness, and to commence arguing without quarrelsomeness and to finish without getting into a rage, and neither to be insolent if you come off best in the argument, nor dejected if you come off worst, is a sufficient sign of progress in virtue. Aristippus was an excellent example of this, when overcome in argument by the sophistry of a man, who had plenty of assurance, but was generally speaking mad or half-witted. Observing that he was in great joy and very puffed up at his victory, he said, "I who have been vanquished in the argument shall have a better night's rest than my victor." We can also test ourselves in regard to public speaking, if we are not timid and do not shrink from speaking when a large audience has unexpectedly been got together, nor dejected when we have only a small one to harangue to, and if we do not, when we have to speak to the people or before some magistrate, miss the opportunity through want of proper preparation; for these things are recorded both of Demosthenes and Alcibiades. As for Alcibiades, though he possessed a most excellent understanding, yet from want of confidence in speaking he often broke down, and in trying to recall a word or thought that slipped his memory had to stop short.[272] And Homer did not deny that his first line was unmetrical,[273] though he had sufficient confidence to follow it up by so many other lines, so great was his genius. Much more then ought those who aim at virtue and what is noble to lose no opportunity of public speaking, paying very little attention to either uproar or applause at their speeches.

Sec. X. And not only ought each to see to his discourses but also to his

## actions whether he regards utility more than show, and truth more than

display. For if a genuine love for youth or maiden seeks no witnesses, but is content to enjoy its delights privately, far more does it become the philosopher and lover of the beautiful, who is conversant with virtue through his actions, to pride himself on his silence, and not to need people to praise or listen to him. As that man who called his maid in the house, and cried out to her, "See, Dionysia, I am angry no longer,"[274] so he that does anything agreeable and polite, and then goes and spreads it about the town, plainly shows that he looks for public applause and has a strong propensity to vain-glory, and as yet has no acquaintance with virtue as a reality but only as a dream, restlessly roving about amid phantoms and shadows, and making a display of whatever he does as painters display a picture. It is therefore a sign of progress in virtue not merely to have given to a friend or done a good turn to an acquaintance without mentioning it to other people, but also to have given an honest vote among many unjust ones, and to have withstood the dishonourable request of some rich man or of some man in office, and to have been above taking bribes, and, by Zeus, to have been thirsty all night and not to have drunk, or, like Agesilaus,[275] to have resisted, though strongly tempted, the kiss of a handsome youth or maiden, and to have kept the fact to oneself and been silent about it. For one's being satisfied with one's own good opinion[276] and not despising it, but rejoicing in it and acquiescing in it as competent to see and decide on what is honourable, proves that reason is rooted and grounded within one, and that, to borrow the language of Democritus, one is accustomed to draw one's delights from oneself. And just as farmers behold with greater pleasure those ears of corn which bend and bow down to the ground, while they look upon those that from their lightness stand straight upright as empty pretenders, so also among those young men who wish to be philosophers those that are most empty and without any solidity show the greatest amount of assurance in their appearance and walk, and a face full of haughtiness and contempt that looks down on everybody, but when they begin to grow full and get some fruit from study they lay aside their proud and vain[277] bearing. And just as in vessels that contain water the air is excluded, so with men that are full of solid merit their pride abates, and their estimate of themselves becomes a lower one, and they cease to plume themselves on a long beard and threadbare cloak,[278] and transfer their training to the mind, and are most severe and austere to themselves, while they are milder in their intercourse with everybody else; and they do not as before eagerly snatch at the name and reputation of philosopher, nor do they write themselves down as such, but even if he were addressed by that title by anyone else, an ingenuous young man would say, smiling and blushing, "I am not a god: why do you liken me to the immortals?"[279] For as AEschylus says,

"I never can mistake the burning eye Of the young woman that has once known man,"[280]

so to the young man who has tasted of true progress in philosophy the following lines of Sappho are applicable, "My tongue cleaves to the roof of my month, and a fire courses all over my lean body," and his eye will be gentle and mild, and you would desire to hear him speak. For as those who are initiated come together at first with confusion and noise and jostle one another, but when the mysteries are being performed and exhibited, they give their attention with awe and silence, so also at the commencement of philosophy you will see round its doors much confusion and assurance and prating, some rudely and violently jostling their way to reputation, but he who once enters in, and sees the great light, as when shrines are open to view, assumes another air and is silent and awe-struck, and in humility and decorum follows reason as if she were a god. And the playful remark of Menedemus seems to suit these very well. He said that the majority of those who went to school at Athens became first wise, and then philosophers, after that orators, and as time went on became ordinary kind of people, the more they had to do with learning, so much the more laying aside their pride and high estimate of themselves.

Sec. XI. Of people that need the help of the physician some, if their tooth ache or even finger smart, run at once to the doctor, others if they are feverish send for one and implore his assistance at their own home, others who are melancholy or crazy or delirious will not sometimes even see the doctor if he comes to their house, but drive him away, or avoid him, ignorant through their grievous disease that they are diseased at all. Similarly of those who have done what is wrong some are incorrigible, being hostile and indignant and furious at those who reprove and admonish them, while others are meeker and bear and allow reproof. Now, when one has done what is wrong, to offer oneself for reproof, to expose the case and reveal one's wrongdoing, and not to rejoice if it lies hid, or be satisfied if it is not known, but to make confession of it and ask for interference and admonishment, is no small indication of progress in virtue. And so Diogenes said that one who wished to do what was right ought to seek either a good friend or red-hot enemy, that either by rebuke or mild entreaty he might flee from vice. But as long as anyone, making a display of dirt or stains on his clothes, or a torn shoe, prides himself to outsiders on his freedom from arrogance, and, by Zeus, thinks himself doing something very smart if he jeers at himself as a dwarf or hunchback, but wraps up and conceals as if they were ulcers the inner vileness of his soul and the deformities of his life, as his envy, his malignity, his littleness, his love of pleasure, and will not let anyone touch or look at them from fear of disgrace, such a one has made little progress in virtue, yea rather none. But he that joins issue with his vices, and shows that he himself is even more pained and grieved about them than anyone else, or, what is next best, is able and willing to listen patiently to the reproof of another and to correct his life accordingly, he seems truly to be disgusted at his depravity and resolute to divest himself of it. We ought certainly to be ashamed of and shun every appearance of vice, but he who is more put about by his vice itself than by the bad reputation that ensues upon it, will not mind either hearing it spoken against or even speaking against it himself if it make him a better man. That was a witty remark of Diogenes to a young man, who when seen in a tavern retired into the kitchen: "The more," said he, "you retire, the more are you in the tavern."[281] Even so the more a vicious man denies his vice, the more does it insinuate itself and master him: as those people really poor who pretend to be rich get still more poor from their false display. But he who is really making progress in virtue imitates Hippocrates, who confessed publicly and put into black and white that he had made a mistake about the sutures of the skull,[282] for he will think it monstrous, if that great man declared his mistake, that others might not fall into the same error, and yet he himself for his own deliverance from vice cannot bear to be shown he is in the wrong, and to confess his stupidity and ignorance. Moreover the sayings of Bion and Pyrrho will test not so much one's progress as a greater and more perfect habit of virtue. Bion maintained that his friends might think they had made progress, when they could listen as patiently to abuse as to such language as the following, "Stranger, you look not like a bad or foolish person,"[283] "Health and joy go with you, may the gods give you happiness!"[284] While as to Pyrrho they say, when he was at sea and in peril from a storm, that he pointed out a little pig that was quietly enjoying some grain that had been scattered about, and said to his companions that the man who did not wish to be disturbed by the changes and chances of life should attain a similar composedness of mind through reason and philosophy.

Sec. XII. Look also at the opinion of Zeno, who thought that everybody might gauge his progress in virtue by his dreams, if he saw himself in his dreams pleasing himself with nothing disgraceful, and neither doing nor wishing to do anything dreadful or unjust, but that, as in the clear depths of a calm and tranquil sea, his fancy and passions were plainly shown to be under the control of reason. And this had not escaped the notice of Plato,[285] it seems, who had earlier expressed in form and outline the part that fancy and unreason played in sleep in the soul that was by nature tyrannical, "for it attempts incest," he says, "with its mother, and procures for itself unlawful meats, and gives itself up to the most abandoned desires, such as in daytime the law through shame and fear debars people from." As then beasts of burden that have been well-trained do not, even if their driver let go the reins, attempt to turn aside and leave the proper road, but go forward orderly as usual, pursuing their way without stumbling, so those whose unreason has become obedient and mild and tempered by reason, will not easily wish, either in dreams or in illnesses, to deal insolently or lawlessly through their desires, but will keep to their usual habits, which acquire their power and force by attention. For if the body can by training make itself and its members so subject to control, that the eyes in sorrow can refrain from tears, and the heart from palpitating in fear, and the passions can be calm in the presence of beautiful youths and maidens, is it not far more likely that the training of the passions and emotions of the soul will allay, tame down, and mould their propensities even in dreams? A story is told about the philosopher Stilpo,[286] that he thought he saw in a dream Poseidon angry with him because he had not sacrificed an ox to him, as was usual among the Megarians:[287] and that he, not a bit frightened, said, "What are you talking about, Poseidon? Do you come here as a peevish boy, because I have not with borrowed money filled the town with the smell of sacrifice, and have only sacrificed to you out of what I had at home on a modest scale?" Then he thought that Poseidon smiled at him, and held out his right hand, and said that for his sake he would give the Megarians a large shoal of anchovies. Those, then, that have such pleasant, clear, and painless dreams, and no frightful, or harsh, or malignant, or untoward apparition, may be said to have reflections of their progress in virtue; whereas agitation and panics and ignoble flights, and boyish delights, and lamentations in the case of sad and strange dreams, are like the waves that break on the coast, the soul not having yet got its proper composure, but being still in course of being moulded by opinions and laws, from which it escapes in dreams as far as possible, so that it is once again set free and open to the passions. Do you investigate all these points too, as to whether they are signs of progress in virtue, or of some habit which has already a settled constancy and strength through reason.

Sec. XIII. Now since entire freedom from the passions is a great and divine thing, and progress in virtue seems, as we say, to consist in a certain remissness and mildness of the passions, we must observe the passions both in themselves and in reference to one another to gauge the difference: in themselves as to whether desire, and fear, and rage are less strong in us now than formerly, through our quickly extinguishing their violence and heat by reason; and in reference to one another as to whether we are animated now by modesty more than by fear, and by emulation more than by envy, and by love of glory rather than by love of riches, and generally speaking whether--to use the language of musicians--it is in the Dorian more than in the Lydian measures that we err either by excess or deficiency,[288] whether we are plainer in our manner of living or more luxurious, whether we are slower in action or quicker, whether we admire men and their discourses more than we should or despise them. For as it is a good sign in diseases if they turn aside from vital parts of the body, so in the case of people who are making progress in virtue, when vice seems to shift to milder passions, it is a sign it will soon die out. When Phrynis added to the seven chords two chords more, the Ephors asked him which he preferred to let them cut off, the upper or lower ones;[289] so we must cut off both above and below, if we mean to attain, to the mean and to due proportion: for progress in virtue first diminishes the excess and sharpness of the passions,

"That sharpness for which madmen are so vehement,"

as Sophocles says.

Sec. XIV. I have already said that it is a very great indication of progress in virtue to transfer our judgement to action, and not to let our words remain merely words, but to make deeds of them. A manifestation of this is in the first place emulation as regards what we praise, and a zeal to do what we admire, and an unwillingness either to do or allow what we censure. To illustrate my meaning by an example, it is probable that all Athenians praised the daring and bravery of Miltiades; but Themistocles alone said that the trophy of Miltiades would not let him sleep, but woke him up of a night, and not only praised and admired him, but manifestly emulated and imitated his glorious actions. Small, therefore, can we think the progress we have made, as long as our admiration for those who have done noble things is barren, and does not of itself incite us to imitate them. For as there is no strong love without jealousy, so there is no ardent and energetic praise of virtue, which does not prick and goad one on, and make one not envious but emulous of what is noble, and desirous to do something similar. For not only at the discourses of a philosopher ought we, as Alcibiades said,[290] to be moved in heart and shed tears, but the true proficient in virtue, comparing his own deeds and actions with those of the good and perfect man, and grieved at the same time at the knowledge of his own deficiency, yet rejoicing in hope and desire, and full of impulses that will not let him rest, is, as Simonides says,

"Like sucking foal running by side of dam,"[291]

being desirous all but to coalesce with the good man. For it is a special sign of true progress in virtue to love and admire the disposition of those whose deeds we emulate, and to resemble them with a goodwill that ever assigns due honour and praise to them. But whoever is steeped in contentiousness and envy against his betters, let him know that he may be pricked on by a jealous desire for glory or power, but that he neither honours nor admires virtue.

Sec. XV. Whenever, then, we begin so much to love good men that we deem happy, "not only," as Plato[292] says, "the temperate man himself, but also the man who hears the words that flow from his wise lips," and even admire and are pleased with his figure and walk and look and smile, and desire to adapt ourselves to his model and to stick closely to him, then may we think that we are making genuine progress. Still more will this be the case, if we admire the good not only in prosperity, but like lovers who admire even the lispings and paleness of those in their flower,[293] as the tears and dejection of Panthea in her grief and affliction won the affections of Araspes,[294] so we fear neither the exile of Aristides, nor the prison of Anaxagoras, nor the poverty of Socrates, nor the condemnation of Phocion, but think virtue worthy our love even under such trials, and join her, ever chanting that line of Euripides,

"Unto the noble everything is good."[295]

For the enthusiasm that can go so far as not to be discouraged at the sure prospect of trouble, but admires and emulates what is good even so, could never be turned away from what is noble by anybody. Such men ever, whether they have some business to transact, or have taken upon them some office, or are in some critical conjuncture, put before their eyes the example of noble men, and consider what Plato would have done on the occasion, what Epaminondas would have said, how Lycurgus or Agesilaus would have dealt; that so, adjusting and re-modelling themselves, as it were, at their mirrors, they may correct any ignoble expression, and repress any ignoble passion. For as those that have learnt the names of the Idaean Dactyli[296] make use of them to banish their fear by quietly repeating them over, so the bearing in mind and remembering good men, which soon suggests itself forcibly to those who have made some progress in virtue in all their emotions and difficulties, keeps them upright and not liable to fall. Let this also then be a sign to you of progress in virtue.

Sec. XVI. In addition to this, not to be too much disturbed, nor to blush, nor to try and conceal oneself, or make any change in one's dress, on the sudden appearance of a man of distinction and virtue, but to feel confident and go and meet such a one, is the confirmation of a good conscience. It is reported that Alexander, seeing a messenger running up to him full of joy and holding out his right hand, said, "My good friend, what are you going to tell me? Has Homer come to life again?" For he thought that his own exploits required nothing but posthumous fame.[297] And a young man improving in character instinctively loves nothing better than to take pride and pleasure in the company of good and noble men, and to display his house, his table, his wife, his amusements, his serious pursuits, his spoken or written discourses; insomuch that he is grieved when he remembers that his father or guardian died without seeing him in that condition in life, and would pray for nothing from the gods so much, as that they could come to life again, and be spectators of his life and actions; as, on the contrary, those that have neglected their affairs, and come to ruin, cannot look upon their relatives even in dreams without fear and trembling.

Sec. XVII. Add, if you please, to what I have already said, as no small indication of progress in virtue, the thinking no wrong-doing small, but being on your guard and heed against all. For as people who despair of ever being rich make no account of small expenses, thinking they will never make much by adding little to little,[298] but when hope is nearer fruition, then with wealth increases the love of it,[299] so in things that have respect to virtue, not he that generally assents to such sayings as "Why trouble about hereafter?" "If things are bad now, they will some day be better,"[300] but the man who pays heed to everything, and is vexed and concerned if vice gets pardon, when it lapses into even the most trifling wrongdoing, plainly shows that he has already attained to some degree of purity, and deigns not to contract defilement from anything whatever. For the idea that we have nothing of any importance to bring disgrace upon, makes people inclined to what is little and careless.[301] To those who are building a stone wall or coping it matters not if they lay on any chance wood or common stone, or some tombstone that has fallen down, as bad workmen do, heaping and piling up pell-mell every kind of material; but those who have made some progress in virtue, whose life "has been wrought on a golden base,"[302] like the foundation of some holy or royal building, undertake nothing carelessly, but lay and adjust everything by the line and level of reason, thinking the remark of Polycletus superlatively good, that that work is most excellent, where the model stands the test of the nail.[303]

[249] See Erasmus, Adagia, "Eadem pensari trutina."

[250] Euripides, "Iphigenia in Tauris," 569.

[251] See Ovid, "Metamorphoses," xii. 189, sq.

[252] See Erasmus, "Adagia," p. 1103.

[253] Compare Shakspere, "Tempest," A. i. Sc. i. 63, "And gape at widest to glut him."

[254] Hesiod, "Works and Days," 361, 362. Quoted again by our author, "On Education," Sec. 13.

[255] "In via ad virtutem qui non progreditur, is non stat et manet, sed regreditur."--_Wyttenbach._

[256] Adopting the reading of Hercher. See Pausanias, x. 37, where the oracle is somewhat different.

[257] For the town which parleys surrenders.

[258] From Homer, "Iliad," xix. 386.

[259] Compare Aristotle, _Rhetoric_, i. 11. [Greek: kai arche de tou erotos gignetai aute pasin, otan me monon parontos chairosin, alla kai apontos memnemenoi erosin.]

[260] The line is a Fragment of Sophocles.

[261] See Hesiod, "Works and Days," 289-292.

[262] The well-known Cynic philosopher.

[263] Bergk. fr. 15. Compare Homer, "Iliad," vi. 339. [Greek: nike d' epameibetai andras].

[264] We are told by Diogenes Laeertius, v. 37, that Theophrastus had 2000 hearers sometimes at once.

[265] "Republic," vii. p. 539, B.

[266] Sentences borrowed from some author or other, such, as we still possess from the hands of Hermogenes and Aphthonius; compare the collection of bon-mots of Greek courtesans in Athenaeus.

[267] A reference to AEsop's Fable, [Greek: Leon kai Halopez]. Cf. Horace, "Epistles," i. i. 73-75.

[268] This passage is alluded to also in "On Love to one's Offspring." Sec. ii.

[269] Madvig's text.

[270] Thucydides, i. 18.

[271] Homer, "Iliad," ix. 323, 324. Quoted also in "On Love to One's Offspring," Sec. ii.

[272] The remark about Demosthenes has somehow slipped out, as Wyttenbach has suggested.

[273] Does this refer to [Greek: Peleiadeo] before [Greek: Hachileos] in "Iliad," i. 1?

[274] An allusion to some passage in a Play that has not come down to us.

[275] Compare our Author, _De Audiendis Poetis_, Sec. xi. [Greek: hosper ho Agesilaos ouk hypemeinen hypo tou kalou philethenai prosiontos].

[276] Reading with Madvig and Hercher, [Greek: to gar auton], sq.

[277] Literally _cork-like_, so vain, empty. So Horace, "levior cortice," "Odes," iii. 9, 22.

[278] Marks of a philosopher among the ancients. Compare our Author, "How one may discern a flatterer from a friend," Sec. vii.

[279] "Odyssey," xvi. 187.

[280] AEschylus, "Toxotides," Fragm. 224. Quoted again by our author, "On Love," Sec. xxi.

[281] "Turpe habitum fuisse in caupona conspici, et hoc exemplo apparet, et alia sunt indicia. Isocrates Orat. Areopagitica laudans antiquorum Atheniensium mores, p. 257: [Greek: en kapeleio de phagein e piein oudeis han oiketes epieikes etolmese]: quem locum citans Athenaeus alia etiam adfert xiii. p. 566, F."--_Wyttenbach._

[282] Wyttenbach compares Quintilian, "Institut. Orat." iii. 6, p. 255: "Nam et Hippocrates clarus arte medicinae videtur honestissime fecisse, qui quosdam errores suos, ne posteri errarent, confessus est."

[283] Homer, "Odyssey," vi. 187.

[284] Homer, "Odyssey," xxiv. 402.

[285] Plato, "Republic," ix. p. 571, D.

[286] A somewhat similar story about Stilpo is told in Athenaeus, x. p. 423, D.

[287] So Haupt and Herscher very ingeniously for [Greek: hiereusin].

[288] Adopting the suggestion of Wyttenbach as to the reading. The Dorian measure was grave and severe, the Lydian soft and effeminate.

[289] See our author, "Apophthegmata Laconica," p. 220 C.

[290] Plato, "Symposium," p. 25, E.

[291] This line is quoted again by our author, "On Moral Virtue," Sec. vii.

[292] Plato, "Laws," iv. p. 711, E.

[293] See those splendid lines of Lucretius, iv. 1155-1169.

[294] "Res valde celebrata ex Institutione Cyri Xenophontea, v. 1, 2; vi. 1, 17."--_Wyttenbach._

[295] This line is very like a Fragment in the "Danae" of Euripides. Dind. (328).

[296] On these see Pausanias, v. 7.

[297] Such as Homer could have brought. Compare Horace, "Odes," iv. ix. 25-28; and Cicero, "pro Archia," x. "Magnus ille Alexander--cum in Sigeo ad Achillis tumulum adstitisset, O fortunate, inquit, adolescens, qui tuae virtutis Homerum praeconem inveneris."

[298] Contrary to Hesiod's saw, "Works and Days," 361, 362.

[299] So Juvenal, xiv. 138-140.

[300] Like Horace's "Non si male nunc, et olim Sic erit." "Odes," ii. x. 16, 17.

[301] _Noblesse oblige_ in fact.

[302] Pindar, Frag. 206.

[303] Like Horace's _factus ad unguem_, because the sculptor tries its polish and the niceness of the joints by drawing his nail over the surface. Casaub. Pers. i. 64; Horace, "Sat." i. v. 32, 33; A. P. 294; Erasmus, "Adagia," p. 507.

WHETHER VICE IS SUFFICIENT TO CAUSE UNHAPPINESS.[304]

Sec. I. ... He who gets a dowry with his wife sells himself for it, as Euripides says,[305] but his gains are few and uncertain; but he who does not go all on fire through many a funeral pile, but through a regal pyre, full of panting and fear and sweat got from travelling over the sea as a merchant, has the wealth of Tantalus, but cannot enjoy it owing to his want of leisure. For that Sicyonian horse-breeder was wise, who gave Agamemnon as a present a swift mare, "that he should not follow him to wind-swept Ilium, but delight himself at home,"[306] in the quiet enjoyment of his abundant riches and painless leisure. But nowadays courtiers, and people who think they have a turn for affairs, thrust themselves forward of their own accord uninvited into courts and toilsome escorts and bivouacs, that they may get a horse, or brooch, or some such piece of good luck. "But his wife is left behind in Phylace, and tears her cheeks in her sorrow, and his house is only half complete without him,"[307] while he is dragged about, and wanders about, and wastes his time in idle hopes, and has to put up with much insult. And even if he gets any of those things he desires, giddy and dizzy at Fortune's rope-dance, he seeks retirement, and deems those happy who live obscure and in security, while they again look up admiringly at him who soars so high above their heads.[308]

Sec. II. Vice has universally an ill effect on everybody, being in itself a sufficient producer of infelicity, needing no instruments nor ministers. For tyrants, anxious to make those whom they punish wretched, keep executioners and torturers, and contrive branding-irons and other instruments of torture to inspire fear[309] in the brute soul, whereas vice attacks the soul without any such apparatus, and crushes and dejects it, and fills a man with sorrow, and lamentation, and melancholy, and remorse. Here is a proof of what I say. Many are silent under mutilation, and endure scourging or torture at the hand of despots or tyrants without uttering a word, whenever their soul, abating the pain by reason, forcibly as it were checks and represses them: but you can never quiet anger or smother grief, or persuade a timid person not to run away, or one suffering from remorse not to cry out, nor tear his hair, nor smite his thigh. Thus vice is stronger than fire and sword.

Sec. III. You know of course that cities, when they desire to publicly contract for the building of temples or colossuses, listen to the estimates of the contractors who compete for the job, and bring their plans and charges, and finally select the contractor who will do the work at least expense, and best, and quickest. Let us suppose then that we publicly contract to make the life of man miserable, and take the estimates of Fortune and Vice for this object. Fortune shall come forward, provided with all sorts of instruments and costly apparatus to make life miserable and wretched. She shall come with robberies and wars, and the blood-guiltiness of tyrants, and storms at sea, and lightning drawn down from the sky, she shall compound hemlock, she shall bring swords, she shall levy an army of informers, she shall cause fevers to break out, she shall rattle fetters and build prisons. It is true that most of these things are owing to Vice rather than Fortune, but let us suppose them all to come from Fortune. And let Vice stand by naked, without any external things against man, and let her ask Fortune how she will make man unhappy and dejected. Fortune, dost thou threaten poverty? Metrocles laughs at thee, who sleeps during winter among the sheep, in summer in the vestibules of temples, and challenges the king of the Persians,[310] who winters at Babylon, and summers in Media, to vie with him in happiness. Dost thou bring slavery, and bondage, and sale? Diogenes despises thee, who cried out, as he was being sold by some robbers, "Who will buy a master?" Dost thou mix a cup of poison? Didst not thou offer such a one to Socrates? And cheerfully, and mildly, without fear, without changing colour or countenance, he calmly drank it up: and when he was dead, all who survived deemed him happy, as sure to have a divine lot in Hades. And as to thy fire, did not Decius, the general of the Romans, anticipate it for himself, having piled up a funeral pyre between the two armies, and sacrificed himself to Cronos, dedicating himself for the supremacy of his country? And the chaste and loving wives of the Indians strive and contend with one another for the fire, and she that wins the day and gets burnt with the body of her husband, is pronounced happy by the rest, and her praises sung. And of the wise men in that part of the world no one is esteemed or pronounced happy, who does not in his lifetime, in good health and in full possession of all his faculties, separate soul from body by fire, and emerge pure from flesh, having purged away his mortal part. Or wilt thou reduce a man from a splendid property, and house, and table, and sumptuous living, to a threadbare coat and wallet, and begging of daily bread? Such was the beginning of happiness to Diogenes, of freedom and glory to Crates. Or wilt thou nail a man on a cross, or impale him on a stake? What cares Theodorus whether he rots above ground or below? Such was the happy mode of burial amongst the Scythians,[311] and among the Hyrcanians dogs, among the Bactrians birds, devour according to the laws the dead bodies of those who have made a happy end.

Sec. IV. Who then are made unhappy by these things? Those who have no manliness or reason, the enervated and untrained, who retain the opinions they had as children. Fortune therefore does not produce perfect infelicity, unless Vice co-operate. For as a thread saws through a bone that has been soaked in ashes and vinegar, and as people bend and fashion ivory only when it has been made soft and supple by beer, and cannot under any other circumstances, so Fortune, lighting upon what is in itself faulty and soft through Vice, hollows it out and wounds it. And as the Parthian juice, though hurtful to no one else nor injurious to those who touch it or carry it about, yet if it be communicated to a wounded man straightway kills him through his previous susceptibility to receive its essence, so he who will be upset in soul by Fortune must have some secret internal ulcer or sore to make external things so piteous and lamentable.

Sec. V. Does then Vice need Fortune to bring about infelicity? By no means. She lashes not up the rough and stormy sea, she girds not lonely mountain passes with robbers lying in wait by the way, she makes not clouds of hail to burst on the fruitful plains, she suborns not Meletus or Anytus or Callixenus as accusers, she takes not away wealth, excludes not people from the praetorship to make them wretched; but she scares the rich, the well-to-do, and great heirs; by land and sea she insinuates herself and sticks to people, infusing lust, inflaming with anger, afflicting them with superstitious fears, tearing them in pieces with envy.

[304] The beginning of this short Treatise is lost. Nor is the first paragraph at all clear. We have to guess somewhat at the meaning.

[305] In a fragment of the "Phaethon." Compare also "On Education," Sec. 19.

[306] "Iliad," xxiii. 297, 298.

[307] "Iliad," ii. 700, 701.

[308] 'Tis ever so. Compare Horace, "Sat." i. i. 1-14.

[309] Adopting Reiske's reading.

[310] Proverbial for extreme good fortune. Cf. Horace, "Odes," iii. ix. 4, "Persarum vigui rege beatior."

[311] See Herodotus, iv. 72.

WHETHER THE DISORDERS OF MIND OR BODY ARE WORSE.

Sec. I. Homer, looking at the mortality of all living creatures, and comparing them with one another in their lives and habits, gave vent to his thoughts in the words,

"Of all the things that on the earth do breathe, Or creep, man is by far the wretchedest;"[312]

assigning to man an unhappy pre-eminence in extreme misfortune. But let us, assuming that man is, as thus publicly declared, supreme in infelicity and the most wretched of all living creatures, compare him with himself, in the estimate of his misery dividing body and soul, not idly but in a very necessary way, that we may learn whether our life is more wretched owing to Fortune or through our own fault. For disease is engendered in the body by nature, but vice and depravity in the soul is first its own doing, then its settled condition. And it is no slight aid to tranquillity of mind if what is bad be capable of cure, and lighter and less violent.

Sec. II. The fox in AEsop[313] disputing with the leopard as to their respective claims to variety, the latter showed its body and appearance all bright and spotted, while the tawny skin of the former was dirty and not pleasant to look at. Then the fox said, "Look inside me, sir judge, and you will see that I am more full of variety than my opponent," referring to his trickiness and versatility in shifts. Let us similarly say to ourselves, Many diseases and disorders, good sir, thy body naturally produces of itself, many also it receives from without; but if thou lookest at thyself within thou wilt find, to borrow the language of Democritus, a varied and susceptible storehouse and treasury of what is bad, not flowing in from without, but having as it were innate and native springs, which vice, being exceedingly rich and abundant in passion, produces. And if diseases are detected in the body by the pulse and by pallors and flushes,[314] and are indicated by heats and sudden pains, while the diseases of the mind, bad as they are, escape the notice of most people, the latter are worse because they deprive the sufferer of the perception of them. For reason if it be sound perceives the diseases of the body, but he that is diseased in his mind cannot judge of his sufferings, for he suffers in the very seat of judgement. We ought to account therefore the first and greatest of the diseases of the mind that ignorance,[315] whereby vice is incurable for most people, dwelling with them and living and dying with them. For the beginning of getting rid of disease is the perception of it, which leads the sufferer to the necessary relief, but he who through not believing he is ill knows not what he requires refuses the remedy even when it is close at hand. For amongst the diseases of the body those are the worst which are accompanied by stupor, as lethargies, headaches, epilepsies, apoplexies, and those fevers which raise inflammation to the pitch of madness, and disturb the brain as in the case of a musical instrument,

"And move the mind's strings hitherto untouched."[316]

Sec. III. And so doctors wish a man not to be ill, or if he is ill to be ignorant of it, as is the case with all diseases of the soul. For neither those who are out of their minds, nor the licentious, nor the unjust think themselves faulty--some even think themselves perfect. For no one ever yet called a fever health, or consumption a good condition of body, or gout swift-footedness, or paleness a good colour; but many call anger manliness, and love friendship, and envy competition, and cowardice prudence. Then again those that are ill in body send for doctors, for they are conscious of what they need to counteract their ailments; but those who are ill in mind avoid philosophers, for they think themselves excellent in the very matters in which they come short. And it is on this account that we maintain that ophthalmia is a lesser evil than madness, and gout than frenzy. For the person ill in body is aware of it and calls loudly for the doctor, and when he comes allows him to anoint his eye, to open a vein, or to plaster up his head; but you hear mad Agave in her frenzy not knowing her dearest ones, but crying out, "We bring from the mountain to the halls a young stag recently torn limb from limb, a fortunate capture."[317] Again he who is ill in body straightway gives up and goes to bed and remains there quietly till he is well, and if he toss and tumble about a little when the fit is on him, any of the people who are by saying to him,

"Gently, Stay in the bed, poor wretch, and take your ease,"[318]

restrain him and check him. But those who suffer from a diseased brain are then most active and least at rest, for impulses bring about action, and the passions are vehement impulses. And so they do not let the mind rest, but when the man most requires quiet and silence and retirement, then is he dragged into the open air, and becomes the victim of anger, contentiousness, lust, and grief, and is compelled to do and say many lawless things unsuitable to the occasion.

Sec. IV. As therefore the storm which prevents one's putting into harbour is more dangerous than the storm which will not let one sail, so those storms of the soul are more formidable which do not allow a man to take in sail, or to calm his reason when it is disturbed, but without a pilot and without ballast, in perplexity and uncertainty through contrary and confusing courses, he rushes headlong and falls into woeful shipwreck, and shatters his life. So that from these points of view it is worse to be diseased in mind than body, for the latter only suffer, but the former do ill as well as suffer ill. But why need I speak of our various passions? The very times bring them to our mind. Do you see yon great and promiscuous crowd jostling against one another and surging round the rostrum and forum? They have not assembled here to sacrifice to their country's gods, nor to share in one another's rites; they are not bringing to Ascraean Zeus the firstfruits of Lydian produce,[319] nor are they celebrating in honour of Dionysus the Bacchic orgies on festival nights with common revellings; but a mighty plague stirring up Asia in annual cycles drives them here for litigation and suits at law at stated times: and the mass of business, like the confluence of mighty rivers, has inundated one forum, and festers and teems with ruiners and ruined. What fevers, what agues, do not these things cause? What obstructions, what irruptions of blood into the air-vessels, what distemperature of heat, what overflow of humours, do not result? If you examine every suit at law, as if it were a person, as to where it originated, where it came from, you will find that one was produced by obstinate temper, another by frantic love of strife, a third by some sordid desire.[320]

[312] Homer, "Iliad," xvii. 446, 447.

[313] See the Fable [Greek: Alopex kai Pardalis]. No. 42, Ed. Halme.

[314] Reading with Wyttenbach, [Greek: ochriasesi kai erythemasi].

[315] Forte [Greek: agnoian]."--_Wyttenbach._ The ordinary reading is [Greek: anoian]. "E coelo descendit [Greek: gnothi seauton]," says Juvenal truly, xi. 27.

[316] Compare the image in Shakspere, "Hamlet," A. iii. Sc. I. 165, 166.

"Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh."

[317] Euripides, "Bacchae," 1170-1172. Agave's treatment of her son Pentheus was a stock philosophical comparison. See for example Horace, ii. "Sat." iii. 303, 304, and context.

[318] Euripides, "Orestes," 258.

[319] "_Aurum_ puta. Pactolus enim aurum fert. Videtur dictio e Pindaro desumta esse."--_Reiske._

[320] "Libellus hic fine carere videtur. Quare autem opusculum hoc Plutarcho indignum atque suppositum visum Xylandro fuerit, non intelligo."--_Reiske._

ON ABUNDANCE OF FRIENDS.

Sec. I. Menon the Thessalian, who thought he was a perfect adept in discourse, and, to borrow the language of Empedocles, "had attained the heights of wisdom," was asked by Socrates, what virtue was, and upon his answering quickly and glibly, that virtue was a different thing in boy and old man, and in man and woman, and in magistrate and private person, and in master and servant, "Capital," said Socrates, "you were asked about one virtue, but you have raised up a whole swarm of them,"[321] conjecturing not amiss that the man named many because he knew not one. Might not someone jeer at us in the same way, as being afraid, when we have not yet one firm friendship, that we shall without knowing it fall upon an abundance of friends? It is very much the same as if a man maimed and blind should be afraid of becoming hundred-handed like Briareus or all eyes like Argus. And yet we wonderfully praise the young man in Menander, who said that he thought anyone wonderfully good, if he had even the shadow of a friend.[322]

Sec. II. But among many other things what stands chiefly in the way of getting a friend is the desire for many friends, like a licentious woman who, through giving her favours indiscriminately, cannot retain her old lovers, who are neglected and drop off;[323] or rather like the foster-child of Hypsipyle, "sitting in the meadow and plucking flower after flower, snatching at each prize with gladsome heart, insatiable in its childish delight,"[324] so in the case of each of us, owing to our love of novelty and fickleness, the recent flower ever attracts, and makes us inconstant, frequently laying the foundations of many friendships and intimacies that come to nothing, neglecting in love of what we eagerly pursue what we have already possession of. To begin therefore with the domestic hearth,[325] as the saying is, with the traditions of life that time has handed down to us about constant friends, let us take the witness and counsel of antiquity, according to which friendships go in pairs, as in the cases of Theseus and Pirithous, Achilles and Patroclus, Orestes and Pylades, Phintias and Damon, Epaminondas and Pelopidas. For friendship is a creature that goes in pairs, and is not gregarious, or crow-like,[326] and to think a friend a second self, and to call him companion as it were second one,[327] shows that friendship is a dual relation. For we can get neither many slaves nor many friends at small expense. What then is the purchase-money of friendship? Benevolence and complaisance conjoined with virtue, and yet nature has nothing more rare than these. And so to love or be loved very much cannot find place with many persons; for as rivers that have many channels and cuttings have a weak and thin stream, so excessive love in the soul if divided out among many is weakened. Thus love for their young is most strongly implanted in those that bear only one, as Homer calls a beloved son "the only one, the child of old age,"[328] that is, when the parents neither have nor are likely to have another child.

Sec. III. Not that we insist on only one friend, but among the rest there should be one eminently so, like a child of old age, who according to that well-known proverb has eaten a bushel of salt with one,[329] not as nowadays many so-called friends contract friendship from drinking together once, or playing at ball together, or playing together with dice, or passing the night together at some inn, or meeting at the wrestling-school or in the market. And in the houses of rich and leading men people congratulate them on their many friends, when they see the large and bustling crowd of visitors and handshakers and retainers: and yet they see more flies in their kitchens, and as the flies only come for the dainties, so they only dance attendance for what they can get. And since true friendship has three main requirements, virtue, as a thing good; and familiarity, as a thing pleasant; and use, as a thing serviceable; for we ought to choose a friend with judgement, and rejoice in his company, and make use of him in need; and all these things are prejudicial to abundance of friends, especially judgement, which is the most important point; we must first consider, if it is impossible in a short time to test dancers who are to form a chorus, or rowers who are to pull together, or slaves who are to act as stewards of estates, or as tutors of one's sons, far more difficult is it to meet with many friends who will take off their coats to aid you in every fortune, each of whom "offers his services to you in prosperity, and does not object to share your adversity." For neither does a ship encounter so many storms at sea, nor do they fortify places with walls, or harbours with defences and earthworks, in the expectation of so many and great dangers, as friendship tested well and soundly promises defence and refuge from. But if friends slip in without being tested, like money proved to be bad,

"Those who shall lose such friends may well be glad, And those who have such pray that they may lose them."[330]

Yet is it difficult and by no means easy to avoid and bring to a close an unpleasant friendship: as in the case of food which is injurious and harmful, we cannot retain it on the stomach without damage and hurt, nor can we expel it as it was taken into the mouth, but only in a putrid mixed up and changed form, so a bad friend is troublesome both to others and himself if retained, and if he be got rid of forcibly it is with hostility and hatred, and like the voiding of bile.

Sec. IV. We ought not, therefore, lightly to welcome or strike up an intimate friendship with any chance comers, or love those who attach themselves to us, but attach ourselves to those who are worthy of our friendship. For what is easily got is not always desirable: and we pass over and trample upon heather and brambles that stick to us[331] on our road to the olive and vine: so also is it good not always to make a friend of the person who is expert in twining himself around us, but after testing them to attach ourselves to those who are worthy of our affection and likely to be serviceable to us.

Sec. V. As therefore Zeuxis, when some people accused him of painting slowly, replied, "I admit that I do, but then I paint to last," so ought we to test for a long time the friendship and intimacy that we take up and mean to keep. Is it not easy then to put to the test many friends, and to associate with many friends at the same time, or is this impossible? For intimacy is the full enjoyment of friendship, and most pleasant is companying with and spending the day with a friend. "Never again shall we alive, apart from dear friends, sit and take counsel alone together."[332] And Menelaus said about Odysseus, "Nor did anything ever divide or separate us, who loved and delighted in one another, till death's black cloud overshadowed us."[333] The contrary effect seems to be produced by abundance of friends. For the friendship of a pair of friends draws them together and puts them together and holds them together, and is heightened by intercourse and kindliness, "as when the juice of the fig curdles and binds the white milk,"[334] as Empedocles says, such unity and complete union will such a friendship produce. Whereas having many friends puts people apart and severs and disunites them, by transferring and shifting the tie of friendship too frequently, and does not admit of a mixture and welding of goodwill by the diffusing and compacting of intimacy. And this causes at once an inequality and difficulty in respect of acts of kindness, for the uses of friendship become inoperative by being dispersed over too wide an area. "One man is acted upon by his character, another by his reflection."[335] For neither do our natures and impulses always incline in the same directions, nor are our fortunes in life identical, for opportunities of action are, like the winds, favourable to some, unfavourable to others.

Sec. VI. Moreover, if all our friends want to do the same things at the same time, it will be difficult to satisfy them all, whether they desire to deliberate, or to act in state affairs, or wish for office, or are going to entertain guests. If again at the same time they chance to be engaged in different occupations and interests and ask you all together, one who is going on a voyage that you will sail with him, another who is going to law that you will be his advocate, another who is going to try a case that you will try it with him, another who is selling or buying that you will go into partnership with him, another who is going to marry that you will join him in the sacrifice, another who is going to bury a relation that you will be one of the mourners,

"The town is full of incense, and at once Resounds with triumph-songs and bitter wailing,"[336]

that is the fruit of many friends; to oblige all is impossible, to oblige none is absurd, and to help one and offend many is grievous.

"No lover ever yet fancied neglect."[337]

And yet people bear patiently and without anger the carelessness and neglect of friends, if they get from them such excuses as "I forgot," "I did it unwittingly." But he who says, "I did not assist you in your lawsuit, for I was assisting another friend," or "I did not visit you when you had your fever, for I was helping so-and-so who was entertaining his friends," excusing himself for his inattention to one by his attention to another, so far from making the offence less, even adds jealousy to his neglect. But most people in friendship regard only, it seems, what can be got out of it, overlooking what will be asked in return, and not remembering that he, who has had many of his own requests granted, must oblige others in turn by granting their requests. And as Briareus with his hundred hands had to feed fifty stomachs, and was therefore no better provided than we are, who with two hands have to supply the necessities of only one belly, so in having many friends[338] one has to do many services for them, one has to share in their anxiety, and to toil and moil with them. For we must not listen to Euripides when he says, "mortals ought to join in moderate friendships for one another, and not love with all their heart, that the spell may be soon broken, and the friendship may either be ended or become closer at will,"[339] that so it may be adjusted to our requirements, like the sail of a ship that we can either slacken or haul tight. But let us transfer, Euripides, these lines of yours to enmities, and bid people make their animosities moderate, and not hate with all their heart, that their hatred, and wrath, and querulousness, and suspicions, may be easily broken. Recommend rather for our consideration that saying of Pythagoras, "Do not give many your right hand,"[340] that is, do not make many friends, do not go in for a common and vulgar friendship, which is sure to cause anyone much trouble; for its sharing in others' anxieties and griefs and labours and dangers is quite intolerable to free and noble natures. And that was a true saying of the wise Chilo[341] to one who told him he had no enemy, "Neither," said he, "do you seem to me to have a friend." For enmities inevitably accompany and are involved in friendships.

Sec. VII. It is impossible I say not to share with a friend in his injuries and disgraces and enmities, for enemies at once suspect and hate the friend of their enemies, and even friends are often envious and jealous and carp at him. As then the oracle given to Timesias about his colony foretold him, "that his swarm of bees would soon be followed by a swarm of wasps," so those that seek a swarm of friends have sometimes lighted unawares on a wasp's-nest of enemies. And the remembrance of wrongs done by an enemy and the kindness of a friend do not weigh in the same balance. See how Alexander treated the friends and intimates of Philotas and Parmenio, how Dionysius treated those of Dion, Nero those of Plautus, Tiberius those of Sejanus, torturing and putting them to death. For as neither the gold nor rich robes of Creon's daughter[342] availed her or her sire, but the flame that burst out suddenly involved him in the same fate as herself, as he ran up to embrace her and rescue her, so some friends, though they have had no enjoyment out of their friends' prosperity, are involved in their misfortunes. And this is especially the case with philosophers and kind people, as Theseus, when his friend Pirithous was punished and imprisoned, "was also bound in fetters not of brass."[343] And Thucydides tells us that during the plague at Athens those that most displayed their virtue perished with their friends that were ill, for they neglected their own lives in going to visit them.[344]

Sec. VIII. We ought not therefore to be too lavish with our virtue, binding it together and implicating it in various people's fortunes, but we ought to preserve our friendship for those who are worthy of it, and are capable of reciprocating it. For this is indeed the greatest argument against many friends that friendship is originated by similarity. For seeing that even the brutes can hardly be forced to mix with those that are unlike themselves, but crouch down, and show their dislike, and run away, while they mix freely with those that are akin to them and have a similar nature, and gently and gladly make friends with one another then, how is it possible that there should be friendship between people differing in characters and temperaments and ideas of life? For harmony on the harp or lyre is attained by notes in unison and not in unison, sharp and flat somehow or other producing concord, but in the harmony of friendship there must be no unlike, or uneven, or unequal element, but from all alike must come agreement in opinions and wishes and feeling, as if one soul were put into several bodies.

Sec. IX. What man then is so industrious, so changeable, and so versatile, as to be able to make himself like and adapt himself to many different persons, and not to laugh at the advice of Theognis, "Imitate the ingenuity of the polypus, that takes the colour of whatever stone it sticks to."[345] And yet the changes in the polypus do not go deep but are only on the surface, which, from its thickness or thinness takes the impression of everything that approaches it, whereas friends endeavour to be like one another in character, and feeling, and language, and pursuits, and disposition. It requires a not very fortunate or very good Proteus,[346] able by jugglery to assume various forms, to be frequently at the same time a student with the learned, and ready to try a fall with wrestlers, or to go a hunting with people fond of the chase, or to get drunk with tipplers, or to go a canvassing with politicians, having no fixed character of his own.[347] And as the natural philosophers say of unformed and colourless matter when subjected to external change, that it is now fire, now water, now air, now solid earth, so the soul suitable for many friendships must be impressionable, and versatile, and pliant, and changeable. But friendship requires a steady constant and unchangeable character, a person that is uniform in his intimacy. And so a constant friend is a thing rare and hard to find.

[321] Plato, "Men." p. 71 E.

[322] Quoted more fully by our author, "De Fraterno Amore," Sec. iii.

[323] "Eadem comparatione utitur Lucianus in Toxari T. ii. p. 351: [Greek: hostis an polyphilos he homoios hemin dokei tais koinais tautais kai moicheuomenais gynaixi; kai oiometh' ouketh' homoios ischyran ten philian autou einai pros pollas eunoias diairetheisan]."--_Wyttenbach._

[324] From the "Hypsipyle" of Euripides.

[325] A well-known proverb for beginning at the beginning. Aristophanes, "Vespae." 846; Plato, "Euthryphro," 3 A; Strabo, 9.

[326] An allusion to the well-known proverb, [Greek: koloios poti koloion]. See Erasmus, "Adagia," p. 1644.

[327] The paronomasia is on [Greek: hetairos, heteros].

[328] "Iliad," ix. 482; "Odyssey," xvi. 19.

[329] Cf. Cicero, "De Amicitia," xix.

[330] Sophocles, Fragm. 741. Quoted again by our author, "On Love," Sec. xxiii.

[331] For the image compare Lucio's speech, Shakspere, "Measure for Measure," A. iv. Sc. iii. 189, 190: "Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick."

[332] "Iliad," xxiii. 77, 78.

[333] "Odyssey," iv. 178-180.

[334] "Iliad," v. 902, altered somewhat.

[335] Bergk. p. 1344^3.

[336] Sophocles, "Oedipus Tyrannus," 4, 5. Quoted again "On Moral Virtue," Sec. vi.

[337] A line from Menander. Quoted again "De Fraterno Amore," Sec. xx.

[338] Reading with Halm and Hercher [Greek: en toi pollois philois chresthai.]

[339] Euripides, "Hippolytus," 253-257, where Dindorf and Hercher agree in the reading.

[340] Compare "On Education," Sec. xvii.

[341] Chilo was one of the Seven Wise Men. See Pausanias, iii. 16; X. 24.

[342] For the circumstances see Euripides, "Medea," 1136 sq.

[343] For the friendship of Theseus and Pirithous, see Pausanias, i. 17; x. 29. The line is from Euripides, "Pirithous," Fragm. 591. Cf. "On Shyness," Sec. x.

[344] Thucydides, ii. 51.

[345] Bergk. p. 500^3.

[346] On Proteus, see Verg. "Georg." iv. 387 sq.; Ovid, "Art." i. 761; "Met." ii. 9; "Fasti," i. 367 sq., and especially Horace, "Epistles," i. i. 90: "Quo teneam vultus mutantem Protea nodo?"

[347] Literally, "having no hearth of character," the hearth being an emblem of stability. Compare "How One may Discern a Flatterer from a Friend," Sec. vii., where the same image is employed.

HOW ONE MAY DISCERN A FLATTERER FROM A FRIEND.

Sec. I. Plato says,[348] Antiochus Philopappus, that all men pardon the man who acknowledges that he is excessively fond of himself, but that there is among many other defects this very grave one in self-love, that by it a man becomes incapable of being a just and impartial judge about himself, for love is blind in regard to the loved object, unless a person has learnt and accustomed himself to honour and pursue what is noble rather than his own selfish interests. This gives a great field for the flatterer in friendship, who finds a wonderful base of operations in our self-love, which makes each person his own first and greatest flatterer, and easily admits a flatterer from without, who will be, so he thinks and hopes, both a witness and confirmer of his good opinion of himself. For he that lies open to the reproach of being fond of flatterers is very fond of himself, and owing to his goodwill to himself wishes to possess all good qualities, and thinks he actually does; the wish is not ridiculous, but the thought is misleading and requires a good deal of caution. And if truth is a divine thing, and, according to Plato,[349] the beginning of all good things both to the gods and men, the flatterer is likely to be an enemy to the gods, and especially to Apollo, for he always sets himself against that famous saying, "Know thyself,"[350] implanting in everybody's mind self-deceit and ignorance of his own good or bad qualities, thus making his good points defective and imperfect, and his bad points altogether incorrigible.

Sec. II. If however, as is the case with most other bad things, the flatterer attacked only or chiefly ignoble or worthless persons, the evil would not be so mischievous or so difficult to guard against. But since, as wood-worms breed most in soft and sweet wood, those whose characters are honourable and good and equitable encourage and support the flatterer most,--and moreover, as Simonides says, "rearing of horses does not go with the oil-flask,[351] but with fruitful fields," so we see that flattery does not join itself to the poor, the obscure, or those without means, but is the snare and bane of great houses and estates, and often overturns kingdoms and principalities,--it is a matter of no small importance, needing much foresight, to examine the question, that so flattery may be easily detected, and neither injure nor discredit friendship. For just as lice leave dying persons, and abandon bodies when the blood on which they feed is drying up, so one never yet saw flatterers dancing attendance on dry and cold poverty, but they fasten on wealth and position and there get fat, but speedily decamp if reverses come. But we ought not to wait to experience that, which would be unprofitable, or rather injurious and dangerous. For not to find friends at a time when you want them is hard, as also not to be able to exchange an inconstant and bad friend for a constant and good one. For a friend should be like money tried before being required, not found faulty in our need. For we ought not to have our wits about us only when the mischief is done, but we ought to try and prevent the flatterer doing any harm to us: for otherwise we shall be in the same plight as people who test deadly poisons by first tasting them, and kill or nearly kill themselves in the experiment. We do not praise such, nor again all those who, looking at their friend simply from the point of view of decorum and utility, think that they can detect all agreeable and pleasant companions as flatterers in the very act. For a friend ought not to be disagreeable or unpleasant, nor ought friendship to be a thing high and mighty with sourness and austerity, but even its decorous deportment ought to be attractive and winning,[352] for by it

"The Graces and Desire have pitched their tents,"[353]

and not only to a person in misfortune "is it sweet to look into the eyes of a friendly person," as Euripides[354] says, but no less does it bring pleasure and charm in good fortune, than when it relieves the sorrows and difficulties of adversity. And as Evenus said "fire was the best sauce,"[355] so the deity, mixing up friendship with life, has made everything bright and sweet and acceptable by its presence and the enjoyment it brings. How else indeed could the flatterer insinuate himself by the pleasure he gives, unless he knew that friendship admitted the pleasurable element? It would be impossible to say. But just as spurious and mock gold only imitates the brightness and glitter of real gold, so the flatterer seems to imitate the pleasantness and agreeableness of the real friend, and to exhibit himself ever merry and bright, contradicting and opposing nothing. We must not however on that account suspect all who praise as simple flatterers. For friendship requires praise as much as censure on the proper occasion. Indeed peevishness and querulousness are altogether alien to friendship and social life: but when goodwill bestows praise ungrudgingly and readily upon good actions, people endure also easily and without pain admonition and plainspeaking, believing and continuing to love the person who took such pleasure in praising, as if now he only blamed out of necessity.

Sec. III. It is difficult then, someone may say, to distinguish between the flatterer and the friend, if they differ neither in the pleasure they give nor in the praise they bestow; for as to services and attentions you may often see friendship outstripped by flattery. Certainly it is so, I should reply, if we are trying to find the genuine flatterer who handles his craft with cleverness and art, but not if, like most people, we consider those persons flatterers who are called their own oil-flask-carriers and table-men, men who begin to talk, as one said, the moment their hands have been washed for dinner,[356] whose servility, ribaldry, and want of all decency, is apparent at the first dish and glass. It did not of course require very much discrimination to detect Melanthius the parasite of Alexander of Pherae of flattery, who, to those who asked how Alexander was murdered, answered, "Through his side into my belly": or those who formed a circle round a wealthy table, "whom neither fire, nor sword, nor steel, would keep from running to a feast":[357] or those female flatterers in Cyprus, who after they crossed over into Syria were nicknamed "step-ladders,"[358] because they lay down and let the kings' wives use their bodies as steps to mount their carriages.

Sec. IV. What kind of flatterer then must we be on our guard against? The one who neither seems to be nor acknowledges himself to be one: whom you will not always find in the vicinity of your kitchen, who is not to be caught watching the dial to see how near it is to dinner-time,[359] nor gets so drunk as to throw himself down anyhow, but one who is generally sober, and a busybody, and thinks he ought to have a hand in your affairs, and wishes to share in your secrets, and as to friendship plays rather a tragic than a satyric or comic part. For as Plato says, "it is the height of injustice to appear to be just when you are not really so,"[360] so we must deem the most dangerous kind of flattery not the open but the secret, not the playful but the serious. For it throws suspicion even upon a genuine friendship, which we may often confound with it, if we are not careful. When Gobryas pursued one of the Magi into a dark room, and was on the ground wrestling with him, and Darius came up and was doubtful how he could kill one without killing both, Gobryas bade him thrust his sword boldly through both of them;[361] but we, since we give no assent to that saying, "Let friend perish so the enemy perish with him,"[362] in our endeavour to distinguish the flatterer from the friend, seeing that their resemblances are so many, ought to take great care that we do not reject the good with the bad, nor in sparing what is beneficial fall in with what is injurious. For as wild grains mixed up with wheat, if very similar in size and appearance, are not easily kept apart, for if the sieve have small holes they don't pass through, and if large holes they pass with the corn, so flattery is not easily distinguished from friendship, being mixed up with it in feeling and emotion, habit and custom.

Sec. V. Because however friendship is the most pleasant of all things, and nothing more glads the heart of man, therefore the flatterer attracts by the pleasure he gives, pleasure being in fact his field. And because favours and good services accompany friendship, as the proverb says "a friend is more necessary than fire or water,"[363] therefore the flatterer volunteers all sorts of services, and strives to show himself on all occasions zealous and obliging and ready. And since friendship is mainly produced by a similarity of tastes and habits, and to have the same likes and dislikes first brings people together and unites them through sympathy,[364] the flatterer observing this moulds himself like material and demeans himself accordingly, seeking completely to imitate and resemble those whom he desires to ingratiate himself with, being supple in change, and plausible in his imitations, so that one would say,

"Achilles' son, O no, it is himself."[365]

But his cleverest trick is that, observing that freedom of speech, is both spoken of and reckoned as the peculiar and natural voice of friendship, while not speaking freely is considered unfriendly and disingenuous, he has not failed to imitate this trait of friendship also. But just as clever cooks infuse bitter sauces and sharp seasoning to prevent sweet things from cloying, so these flatterers do not use a genuine or serviceable freedom of speech, but merely a winking and tickling innuendo. He is therefore difficult to detect, like those creatures which naturally change their colour and take that of the material or place near them.[366] But since he deceives and conceals his true character by his imitations, it is our duty to unmask him and detect him by the differences between him and the true friend, and to show that he is, as Plato says, "tricked out in other people's colours and forms, from lack of any of his own."[367]

Sec. VI. Let us examine the matter then from the beginning. I said that friendship originated in most cases from a similar disposition and nature, generally inclined to the same habits and morals, and rejoicing in the same pursuits, studies, and amusements, as the following lines testify: "To old man the voice of old man is sweetest, to boy that of boy, to woman is most acceptable that of woman, to the sick person that of sick person, while he that is overtaken by misfortune is a comforter to one in trouble." The flatterer knowing then that it is innate in us to delight in, and enjoy the company of, and to love, those who are like ourselves, attempts first to approach and get near a person in this direction, (as one tries to catch an animal in the pastures,) by the same pursuits and amusements and studies and modes of life quietly throwing out his bait, and disguising himself in false colours, till his victim give him an opportunity to catch him, and become tame and tractable at his touch. Then too he censures the things and modes of life and persons that he knows his victim dislikes, while he praises those he fancies immoderately, overdoing it indeed[368] with his show of surprise and excessive admiration, making him more and more convinced that his likes and dislikes are the fruits of judgement and not of caprice.

Sec. VII. How then is the flatterer convicted, and by what differences is he detected, of being only a counterfeit, and not really like his victim? We must first then look at the even tenor and consistency of his principles, if he always delights in the same things, and always praises the same things, and directs and governs his life after one pattern, as becomes the noble lover of consistent friendship and familiarity. Such a person is a friend. But the flatterer having no fixed character of his own,[369] and not seeking to lead the life suitable for him, but shaping and modelling himself after another's pattern, is neither simple nor uniform, but complex and unstable, assuming different appearances, like water poured from vessel to vessel, ever in a state of flux and accommodating himself entirely to the fashion of those who entertain him. The ape indeed, as it seems, attempting to imitate man, is caught imitating his movements and dancing like him, but the flatterer himself attracts and decoys other men, imitating not all alike, for with one he sings and dances, with another he wrestles and gets covered with the dust of the palaestra, while he follows a third fond of hunting and the chase all but shouting out the words of Phaedra,

"How I desire to halloo on the dogs, Chasing the dappled deer,"[370]

and yet he has really no interest in the chase, it is the hunter himself he sets the toils and snares for. And if the object of his pursuit is some young scholar and lover of learning, he is all for books then, his beard flows down to his feet,[371] he's quite a sight with his threadbare cloak, has all the indifference of the Stoic, and speaks of nothing but the rectangles and triangles of Plato. But if any rich and careless fellow fond of drink come in his way,

"Then wise Odysseus stript him of his rags,"[372]

his threadbare cloak is thrown aside, his beard is shorn off like a fruitless crop, he goes in for wine-coolers and tankards, and laughs loudly in the streets, and jeers at philosophers. As they say happened at Syracuse, when Plato went there, and Dionysius was seized with a furious passion for philosophy, and so great was the concourse of geometricians that they raised up quite a cloud of dust in the palace, but when Plato fell out of favour, and Dionysius gave up philosophy, and went back again headlong to wine and women and trifles and debauchery, then all the court was metamorphosed, as if they all had drunk of Circe's cup, for ignorance and oblivion and silliness reigned rampant. I am borne out in what I say by the behaviour of great flatterers and demagogues,[373] the greatest of whom Alcibiades, a jeerer and horse-rearer at Athens, and living a gay and merry life, wore his hair closely shaven at Lacedaemon, and washed in cold water, and attired himself in a threadbare cloak; while in Thrace he fought[374] and drank; and at Tissaphernes' court lived delicately and luxuriously and in a pretentious style; and thus curried favour and was popular with everybody by imitating their habits and ways. Such was not the way however in which Epaminondas or Agesilaus acted, for though they associated with very many men and states and different modes of life, they maintained everywhere their usual demeanour, both in dress and diet and language and behaviour. So Plato[375] at Syracuse was exactly the same man as in the Academy, the same with Dionysius as with Dion.

Sec. VIII. As to the changes of the flatterer, which resemble those of the polypus,[376] a man may most easily detect them by himself pretending to change about frequently, and by censuring the kind of life he used formerly to praise, and anon approving of the words actions and modes of life that he used to be displeased with. He will then see that the flatterer is never consistent or himself, never loving hating rejoicing grieving at his own initiative, but like a mirror, merely reflecting the image of other people's emotions and manners and feelings. Such a one will say, if you censure one of your friends to him, "You are slow in finding the fellow out, he never pleased me from the first." But if on the other hand you change your language and praise him, he will swear by Zeus that he rejoices at it, and is himself under obligations to the man, and believes in him. And if you talk of the necessity of changing your mode of life, of retiring from public life to a life of privacy and ease, he says, "We ought long ago to have got rid of uproar[377] and envy." But if you think of returning again to public life, he chimes in, "Your sentiments do you honour: retirement from business is pleasant, but inglorious and mean." One ought to say at once to such a one, "'Stranger, quite different now you look to what you did before.'[378] I do not need a friend to change his opinions with me and to assent to me in everything, my shadow will do that better, but I need one that will speak the truth and help me with his judgement." This is one way of detecting the flatterer.

Sec. IX. We must also observe another difference in the resemblance between the friend and flatterer. The true friend does not imitate you in everything, nor is he too keen to praise, but praises only what is excellent, for as Sophocles says,

"He is not born to share in hate but love,"[379]

yes, by Zeus, and he is born to share in doing what is right and in loving what is noble, and not to share in wrong-doing or misbehaviour, unless it be that, as a running of the eyes is catching, so through companionship and intimacy he may against his will contract by infection some vice or ill habit, as they say Plato's intimates imitated his stoop, Aristotle's his lisp, and king Alexander's his holding his head a little on one side, and rapidity of utterance in conversation,[380] for people mostly pick up unawares such traits of character. But the flatterer is exactly like the chameleon,[381] which takes every colour but white, and so he, though unable to imitate what is worth his while, leaves nothing that is bad unimitated. And just as poor painters unable to make a fine portrait from inefficiency in their craft, bring out the likeness by painting all the wrinkles, moles and scars, so the flatterer imitates his friend's intemperance, superstition, hot temper, sourness to domestics, suspicion of his friends and relations. For he is by nature inclined to what is worst, and thinks that imitation of what is bad is as far as possible removed from censure. For those are suspected who have noble aims in life, and seem to be vexed and disgusted at their friends' faults, for that injured and even ruined Dion with Dionysius, Samius with Philip, and Cleomenes with Ptolemy. But he that wishes to be and appear at the same time both agreeable and trustworthy pretends to rejoice more in what is bad, as being through excessive love for his friend not even offended at his vices, but as one with him in feeling and nature in all matters. And so they claim to share in involuntary and chance ailments, and pretend to have the same complaints, in flattery to those who suffer from any, as that their eyesight and sense of hearing are deficient, if their friends are somewhat blind or deaf, as the flatterers of Dionysius, who was rather short-sighted, jostled one another at a dinner party, and knocked the dishes off the table, _as if from defect of vision_.[382] And some to make their cases more similar wind themselves in closer, and dive even into family secrets for parallels. For seeing that their friends are unfortunate in marriage, or suspicious about the behaviour of their sons or relations, they do not spare themselves, but make quite a Jeremiad about their own sons, or wife, or kinsfolk, or relations, proclaiming loudly their own family secrets. For similarity in situation makes people more sympathetic, and their friends having received as it were hostages by their confessions, entrust them in return with their secrets, and having once made confidants of them, dare not take back their confidence.[383] I actually know of a man who turned his wife out of doors because his friend had put away his; but as he secretly visited her and sent messages to her, he was detected by his friend's wife noticing his conduct. So little did he know the nature of a flatterer that thought the following lines more applicable to a crab than a flatterer, "His whole body is belly, his eye is on everything, he is a creature creeping on his teeth," for such is a true picture of the parasite, "friends of the frying-pan, hunting for a dinner," to borrow the language of Eupolis.

Sec. X. However let us put off all this to its proper place in the discourse. But let us not fail to notice the wiliness of the flatterer's imitation, in that, even if he imitates any good points in the person he flatters, he always takes care to give him the palm. Whereas among real friends there is no rivalry or jealousy of one another, but they are satisfied and contented alike whether they are equal or one of them is superior. But the flatterer, ever remembering that he is to play second fiddle,[384] makes his copy always fall a little short of the original, for he admits that he is everywhere outstripped and left behind, except in vice. For in that alone he claims pre-eminence, for if his friend is peevish, he says he is atrabilious; if his friend is superstitious, he says he is a fanatic; if his friend is in love, he says he is madly in love; if his friend laughs, he will say, "You laughed a little unseasonably, but I almost died of laughter." But in regard to any good points his action is quite the opposite. He says he can run quickly, but his friend flies; he says he can ride pretty well, but his friend is a Centaur on horseback. He says "I am not a bad poet, and don't write very bad lines",

"'But your sonorous verse is like Jove's thunder.'"

Thus he shows at once that his friend's aims in life are good, and that his friend has reached a height he cannot soar to. Such then are the differences in the resemblances between the flatterer and the friend.

Sec. XI. But since, as has been said before, to give pleasure is common to both, for the good man delights in his friends as much as the bad man in his flatterers, let us consider the difference between them here too. The difference lies in the different aim of each in giving pleasure. Look at it this way. There is no doubt a sweet smell in perfume. So there is also in medicine. But the difference is that while in perfume pleasure and nothing else is designed, in medicine either purging, or warming, or adding flesh to the system, is the primary object, and the sweet smell is only a secondary consideration. Again painters mix gay colours and dyes: there are also some drugs which are gay in appearance and not unpleasing in colour. What then is the difference between these? Manifestly we distinguish by the end each aims at. So too the social life of friends employs mirth to add a charm to some good and useful end,[385] and sometimes makes joking and a good table and wine, aye, and even chaff and banter, the seasoning to noble and serious matters, as in the line,

"Much they enjoyed talking to one another,"[386]

and again,

"Never did ought else Disturb our love or joy in one another."[387]

But the flatterer's whole aim and end is to cook up and season his joke or word or action, so as to produce pleasure. And to speak concisely, the flatterer's object is to please in everything he does, whereas the true friend always does what is right, and so often gives pleasure, often pain, not wishing the latter, but not shunning it either, if he deems it best. For as the physician, if it be expedient, infuses saffron or spikenard, aye, or uses some soothing fomentation or feeds his patient up liberally, and sometimes orders castor,

"Or poley,[388] that so strong and foully smells,"

or pounds hellebore and compels him to drink it,--neither in the one case making unpleasantness, nor in the other pleasantness, his end and aim, but in both studying only the interest of his patient,--so the friend sometimes by praise and kindness, extolling him and gladdening his heart, leads him to what is noble, as Agamemnon,

"Teucer, dear head, thou son of Telamon, Go on thus shooting, captain of thy men;"[389]

or Diomede,

"How could I e'er forget divine Odysseus?"[390]

But where on the other hand there is need of correction, then he rebukes with biting words and with the freedom worthy of a friend,

"Zeus-cherished Menelaus, art thou mad, And in thy folly tak'st no heed of safety?"[391]

Sometimes also he joins action to word, as Menedemus sobered the profligate and disorderly son of his friend Asclepiades, by shutting him out of his house, and not speaking to him. And Arcesilaus forbade Bato his school, when he wrote a line in one of his plays against Cleanthes, and only got reconciled with him after he repented and made his peace with Cleanthes. For we ought to give our friend pain if it will benefit him, but not to the extent of breaking off our friendship; but just as we make use of some biting medicine, that will save and preserve the life of the patient. And so the friend, like a musician, in bringing about an improvement to what is good and expedient, sometimes slackens the chords, sometimes tightens them, and is often pleasant, but always useful. But the flatterer, always harping on one note, and accustomed to play his accompaniment only with a view to please and to ingratiate himself, knows not how either to oppose in deed, or give pain in word, but complies only with every wish, ever chiming in with and echoing the sentiments of his patron. As then Xenophon says Agesilaus took pleasure in being praised by those who would also censure him,[392] so ought we to think that to please and gratify us is friendly in the person who can also give us pain and oppose us, but to feel suspicion at an intercourse which is merely for pleasure and gratification, and never pungent, aye and by Zeus to have ready that saying of the Lacedaemonian, who, on hearing king Charillus praised, said, "How can he be a good man, who is not severe even to the bad?"

Sec. XII. They say the gadfly attacks bulls, and the tick dogs, in the ear: so the flatterer besieges with praise the ears of those who are fond of praise, and sticks there and is hard to dislodge. We ought therefore here to make a wide-awake and careful discrimination, whether the praise is bestowed on the action or the man. It is bestowed on the action, if people praise the absent rather than the present, if also those that have the same aims and aspirations praise not only us but all that are similarly disposed, and do not evidently say and do one thing at one time, and the direct contrary at another; and the greatest test is if we are conscious, in the matters for which we get the praise, that we have not regretted them, and are not ashamed at them, and would not rather have said and done differently. For our own inward judgement, testifying the contrary and not admitting the praise, is above passion, and impregnable and proof against the flatterer. But I know not how it is that most people in misfortune cannot bear exhortation, but are captivated more by condolence and sympathy, and when they have done something wrong and acted amiss, he that by censure and blame implants in them the stings of repentance is looked upon by them as hostile and an accuser, while they welcome and regard as friendly and well-disposed to them the person who bestows praise and panegyric on what they have done. Those then that readily praise and join in applauding some word or

## action on the part of someone whether in jest or earnest, only do

temporary harm for the moment, but those who injure the character by their praise, aye, and by their flattery undermine the morals, act like those slaves who do not steal from the bin, but from the seed corn.[393] For they pervert the disposition, which is the seed of actions, and the character, which is the principle and fountain of life, by attaching to vice names that belong properly only to virtue. For as Thucydides says,[394] in times of faction and war "people change the accustomed meaning of words as applied to acts at their will and pleasure, for reckless daring is then considered bravery to one's comrades, and prudent delay specious cowardice, and sober-mindedness the cloak of the coward, and taking everything into account before action a real desire to do nothing." So too in the case of flattery we must observe and be on our guard against wastefulness being called liberality, and cowardliness prudence, and madness quick-wittedness, and meanness frugality, and the amorous man called social and affectionate, and the term manly applied to the passionate and vain man, and the term civil applied to the paltry and mean man. As I remember Plato[395] says the lover is a flatterer of the beloved one, and calls the snub nose graceful, and the aquiline nose royal, and swarthy people manly, and fair people the children of the gods, and the olive complexion is merely the lover's phrase to gloss over and palliate excessive pallor. And yet the ugly man persuaded he is handsome, or the short man persuaded he is tall, cannot long remain in the error, and receives only slight injury from it, and not irreparable mischief: but praise applied to vices as if they were virtues, so that one is not vexed but delighted with a vicious life, removes all shame from wrong-doing, and was the ruin of the Sicilians, by calling the savage cruelty of Dionysius and Phalaris detestation of wickedness and uprightness. It was the ruin of Egypt, by styling Ptolemy's effeminacy, and superstition, and howlings, and beating of drums, religion and service to the gods.[396] It was nearly the overthrow and destruction of the ancient manners of the Romans, palliating the luxury and intemperance and display of Antony as exhibitions of jollity and kindliness, when his power and fortune were at their zenith. What else invested Ptolemy[397] with his pipe and fiddle? What else brought Nero[398] on the tragic stage, and invested him with the mask and buskins? Was it not the praise of flatterers? And are not many kings called Apollos if they can just sing a song,[399] and Dionysuses if they get drunk, and Herculeses if they can wrestle, and do they not joy in such titles, and are they not dragged into every kind of disgrace by flattery?

Sec. XIII. Wherefore we must be especially on our guard against the flatterer in regard to praise; as indeed he is very well aware himself, and clever to avoid suspicion. If he light upon some dandy, or rustic in a thick leather garment, he treats him with nothing but jeers and mocks,[400] as Struthias insulted Bias, ironically praising him for his stupidity, saying, "You have drunk more than king Alexander,"[401] and, "that he was ready to die of laughing at his tale about the Cyprian."[402] But when he sees people more refined very much on their guard, and observing both time and place, he does not praise them directly, but draws off a little and wheels round and approaches them noiselessly, as one tries to catch a wild animal. For sometimes he reports to a man the panegyric of other persons upon him, (as orators do, introducing some third person,) saying that he had a very pleasant conversation in the market with some strangers and men of worth, who mentioned how they admired his many good points. On another occasion he concocts and fabricates some false and trifling charges against him, pretending he has heard them from other people, and runs up with a serious face and inquires, where he said or did such and such a thing. And upon his denying he ever did, he pounces on him at once[403] and compliments his man with, "I thought it strange that you should have spoken ill of your friends, seeing that you don't even treat your enemies so: and that you should have tried to rob other people, seeing that you are so lavish with your own money."

Sec. XIV. Other flatterers again, just as painters heighten the effect of their pictures by the combination of light and shade, so by censure abuse detraction and ridicule of the opposite virtues secretly praise and foment the actual vices of those they flatter. Thus they censure modesty as merely rustic behaviour in the company of profligates, and greedy people, and villains, and such as have got rich by evil and dishonourable courses; and contentment and uprightness they call having no spirit or energy in action; and when they associate with lazy and idle persons who avoid all public duties, they are not ashamed to call the life of a citizen wearisome meddling in other people's affairs, and the desire to hold office fruitless vain-glory. And some ere now to flatter an orator have depreciated a philosopher, and others won favour with wanton women by traducing those wives who are faithful to their husbands as constitutionally cold and countrybred. And by an acme of villainy flatterers do not always spare even themselves. For as wrestlers stoop that they may the easier give their adversaries a fall, so by censuring themselves they glide into praising others. "I am a cowardly slave," says such a one, "at sea, I shirk labour, I am madly in rage if a word is said against me; but this man fears nothing, has no vices, is a rare good fellow, patient and easy in all circumstances." But if a person has an excellent idea of his own good sense, and desires to be austere and self-opinionated, and in his moral rectitude is ever spouting that line of Homer,

"Tydides, neither praise nor blame me much,"[404]

the artistic flatterer does not attack him as he attacked others, but employs against such a one a new device. For he comes to him about his own private affairs, as if desirous to have the advice of one wiser than himself; he has, he says, more intimate friends, but he is obliged to trouble him; "for whither shall we that are deficient in judgement go? whom shall we trust?" And having listened to his utterance he departs, saying he has received an oracle not an opinion. And if he notices that somebody lays claim to experience in oratory, he gives him some of his writings, and begs him to read and correct them. So, when king Mithridates took a fancy to play the surgeon, several of his friends offered themselves for operating upon, as for cutting or cauterizing, flattering in deed and not in word, for his being credited by them would seem to prove his skill.[405]

"For Providence has many different aspects."[406]

But we can test this kind of negative praise, that needs more wary caution, by purposely giving strange advice and suggestions, and by adopting absurd corrections. For if he raises no objection but nods assent to everything, and approves of everything, and is always crying out, "Good! How admirable!" he is evidently

"Asking advice, but seeking something else,"

wishing by praise to puff you up.

Sec. XV. Moreover, as some have defined painting to be silent poetry,[407] so is there praise in silent flattery. For as hunters are more likely to catch the objects of their chase unawares, if they do not openly appear to be so engaged, but seem to be walking, or tending their sheep, or looking after the farm, so flatterers obtain most success in their praise, when they do not seem to be praising but to be doing something else. For he who gives up his place or seat to the great man when he comes in, and while making a speech to the people or senate breaks off even in the middle, if he observes any rich man wants to speak, and gives up to him alike speech and platform, shows by his silence even more than he would by any amount of vociferation that he thinks the other the better man, and superior to him in judgement. And consequently you may always see them occupying the best places at theatres and public assembly rooms, not that they think themselves worthy of them, but that they may flatter the rich by giving up their places to them; and at public meetings they begin speaking first, and then make way as for better men, and most readily take back their own view, if any influential or rich or famous person espouse the contrary view. And so one can see plainly that all such servility and drawing back on their

## part is a lowering their sails, not to experience or virtue or age, but

to wealth and fame. Not so Apelles the famous painter, who, when Megabyzus sat with him, and wished to talk about lines and shades, said to him, "Do you see my lads yonder grinding colours, they admired just now your purple and gold, but now they are laughing at you for beginning to talk about what you don't understand."[408] And Solon, when Croesus asked him about happiness, replied that Tellus, an obscure Athenian, and Bito and Cleobis were happier than he was.[409] But flatterers proclaim kings and rich men and rulers not only happy and fortunate, but also pre-eminent for wisdom, and art, and every virtue.

Sec. XVI. Now some cannot bear to hear the assertion of the Stoics[410] that the wise man is at once rich, and handsome, and noble, and a king; but flatterers declare that the rich man is at once orator and poet, and (if he likes) painter, and flute-player, and swift-footed, and strong, falling down if he wrestles with them, and if contending with him in running letting him win the race, as Crisso of Himera purposely allowed Alexander to outrun him, which vexed the king very much when he heard of it.[411] And Carneades said that the sons of rich men and kings learnt nothing really well and properly except how to ride, for their master praised and flattered them in their studies, and the person who taught them wrestling always let them throw him, whereas the horse, not knowing or caring whether his rider were a private person or ruler, rich or poor, soon threw him over his head if he could not ride well. Simple therefore and fatuous was that remark of Bion, "If you could by encomiums make your field to yield well and be fruitful, you could not be thought wrong in tilling it so rather than digging it and labouring in it: nor would it be strange in you to praise human beings if by so doing you could be useful and serviceable to them." For a field does not become worse by being praised, but those who praise a man falsely and against his deserts puff him up and ruin him.

Sec. XVII. Enough has been said on this matter: let us now examine outspokenness. For just as Patroclus put on the armour of Achilles, and drove his horses to the battle, only durst not touch his spear from Mount Pelion, but let that alone, so ought the flatterer, tricked out and modelled in the distinctive marks and tokens of the friend, to leave untouched and uncopied only his outspokenness, as the special burden of friendship, "heavy, huge, strong."[412] But since flatterers, to avoid the blame they incur by their buffoonery, and drinking, and gibes, and jokes, sometimes work their ends by frowns and gravity, and intermix censure and reproof, let us not pass this over either without examination. And I think, as in Menander's Play the sham Hercules comes on the stage not with a club stout and strong, but with a light and hollow cane, so the outspokenness of the flatterer is to those who experience it mild and soft, and the very reverse of vigorous, and like those cushions for women's heads, which seem able to stand their ground, but in reality yield and give way under their pressure; so this sham outspokenness is puffed up and inflated with an empty and spurious and hollow bombast, that when it contracts and collapses draws in the person who relies on it. For true and friendly outspokenness attacks wrong-doers, bringing pain that is salutary and likely to make them more careful, like honey biting but cleansing ulcerated parts of the body,[413] but in other respects serviceable and sweet. But we will speak of this anon.[414] But the flatterer first exhibits himself as disagreeable and passionate and unforgiving in his dealings with others. For he is harsh to his servants, and a terrible fellow to attack and ferret out the faults of his kinsmen and friends, and to look up to and respect nobody who is a stranger, but to look down upon them, and is relentless and mischief-making in making people provoked with others, hunting after the reputation of hating vice, as one not likely knowingly to mince matters with the vicious, or ingratiate himself with them either in word or deed. Next he pretends to know nothing of real and great crimes, but he is a terrible fellow to inveigh against trifling and external shortcomings, and to fasten on them with intensity and vehemence, as if he sees any pot or pipkin out of its place, or anyone badly housed, or neglecting his beard or attire, or not adequately attending to a horse or dog. But contempt of parents, and neglect of children, and bad treatment of wife, and haughtiness to friends, and throwing away money, all this he cares nothing about, but is silent and does not dare to make any allusion to it: just as if the trainer in a gymnasium were to allow the athlete to get drunk and live in debauchery,[415] and yet be vexed at the condition of his oil-flask or strigil if out of order; or as if the schoolmaster scolded a boy about his tablet and pen, but paid no attention to a solecism or barbarism. The flatterer is like a man who should make no comment on the speech of a silly and ridiculous orator, but should find fault with his voice, and chide him for injuring his throat by drinking cold water; or like a person bidden to read some wretched composition, who should merely find fault with the thickness of the paper, and call the copyist a dirty and careless fellow. So too when Ptolemy seemed to desire to become learned, his flatterers used to spin out the time till midnight, disputing about some word or line or history, but not one of them all objected to his cruelty and outrages, his torturing and beating people to death.[416] Just as if, when a man has tumours and fistulas, one were to cut his hair and nails with a surgeon's knife, so flatterers use outspokenness only in cases where it gives no pain or distress.

Sec. XVIII. Moreover some of them are cleverer still and make their outspokenness and censure a means of imparting pleasure. As Agis the Argive,[417] when Alexander bestowed great gifts on a buffoon, cried out in envy and displeasure, "What a piece of absurdity!" and on the king turning angrily to him and saying, "What are you talking about?" he replied, "I admit that I am vexed and put out, when I see that all you descendants of Zeus alike take delight in flatterers and jesters, for Hercules had his Cercopes, and Dionysus his Sileni, and with you too I see that such are held in good repute." And on one occasion, when the Emperor Tiberius entered the senate, one of his flatterers got up and said, that being free men they ought to be outspoken, and not suppress or conceal anything that might be important, and having by this exordium engaged everybody's attention, a dead silence prevailing, and even Tiberius being all attention, he said, "Listen, Caesar, to what we all charge you with, although no one ventures to tell you openly of it; you neglect yourself, and are careless about your health, and wear yourself out with anxiety and labour on our behalf, taking no rest either by night or day." And on his stringing much more together in the same strain, they say the orator Cassius Severus said, "This outspokenness will ruin the man."

Sec. XIX. These are indeed trifling matters: but the following are more important and do mischief to foolish people, when flatterers accuse them of the very contrary vices and passions to those to which they are really addicted; as Himerius the flatterer twitted a very rich, very mean, and very covetous Athenian with being a careless spendthrift, and likely one day to want bread as well as his children; or on the other hand if they rail at extravagant spendthrifts for meanness and sordidness, as Titus Petronius railed at Nero; or exhort rulers who make savage and cruel attacks on their subjects to lay aside their excessive clemency, and unseasonable and inexpedient mercy. Similar to these is the person who pretends to be on his guard against and afraid of a silly stupid fellow as if he were clever and cunning; and the one who, if any person fond of detraction, rejoicing in defamation and censure, should be induced on any occasion to praise some man of note, fastens on him and alleges against him that he has an itch for praising people. "You are always extolling people of no merit: for who is this fellow, or what has he said or done out of the common?" But it is in regard to the objects of their love that they mostly attack those they flatter, and additionally inflame them. For if they see people at variance with their brothers, or despising their parents, or treating their wives contemptuously, they neither take them to task nor scold them, but fan the flame of their anger still more. "You don't sufficiently appreciate yourself," they say, "you are yourself the cause of your being put upon in this way, through your constant submissiveness and humility." And if there is any tiff or fit of jealousy in regard to some courtesan or adulteress, the flatterer is at hand with remarkable outspokenness, adding fuel to flame,[418] and taking the lady's part, and accusing her lover of acting in a very unkind harsh and shameful manner to her,

"O ingrate, after all those frequent kisses!"[419]

Thus Antony's friends, when he was passionately in love with the Egyptian woman,[420] persuaded him that he was loved by her, and twitted him with being cold and haughty to her. "She," they said, "has left her mighty kingdom and happy mode of life, and is wasting her beauty, taking the field with you like some camp-follower,

"The while your heart is proof 'gainst all her charms,"[421]

as you neglect her love-lorn as she is." But he that is pleased at being reproached with his wrong-doing, and delights in those that censure him, as he never did in those that praised him, is unconscious that he is really perverted also by what seems to be rebuke. For such outspokenness is like the bites of wanton women,[422] that while seeming to hurt really tickle and excite pleasure. And just as if people mix pure wine, which is by itself an antidote against hemlock, with it and so offer it, they make the poison quite deadly, being rapidly carried to the heart by the warmth,[423] so ill-disposed men, knowing that outspokenness is a great antidote to flattery, make it a means of flattering. And so it was rather a bad answer Bias[424] made, to the person who inquired what was the most formidable animal, "Of wild animals the tyrant, and of tame the flatterer." For it would have been truer to observe that tame flatterers are those that are found round the baths and table, but the one that intrudes into the interior of the house and into the women's apartments with his curiosity and calumny and malignity, like the legs and arms of the polypus, is wild and savage and unmanageable.

Sec. XX. Now one kind of caution against his snares is to know and ever remember that, whereas the soul contains true and noble and reasoning elements, as also unreasoning and false and emotional ones, the friend is always a counsellor and adviser to the better instincts of the soul, as the physician improves and maintains health, whereas the flatterer works upon the emotional and unreasoning ones, and tickles and titillates them and seduces them from reason, employing sensuality as his bait. As then there are some kinds of food which neither benefit the blood or spirit, nor brace up the nerves and marrow, but stir the passions, excite the lower nature, and make the flesh unsound and rotten, so the language of the flatterer adds nothing to soberness and reason, but encourages some love passion, or stirs up foolish rage, or incites to envy, or produces the empty and burdensome vanity of pride, or joins in bewailing woes, or ever by his calumnies and hints makes malignity and illiberality and suspicion sharp and timid and jealous, and cannot fail to be detected by those that closely observe him. For he is ever anchoring himself upon some passion, and fattening it, and, like a bubo, fastens himself on some unsound and inflamed parts of the soul. Are you angry? Have your revenge, says he. Do you desire anything? Get it. Are you afraid? Let us flee. Do you suspect? Entertain no doubts about it. But if he is difficult to detect in thus playing upon our passions, since they often overthrow reason by their intensity and strength, he will give a handle to find him out in smaller matters, being consistent in them too. For if anyone feels a little uneasy after a surfeit or excess in drink, and so is a little particular about his food and doubts the advisability of taking a bath, a friend will try and check him from excess, and bid him be careful and not indulge, whereas the flatterer will drag him to the bath, bid him serve up some fresh food, and not starve himself and so injure his constitution. And if he see him reluctant about a journey or voyage or some business or other, he will say that there is no hurry, that it's all one whether the business be put off, or somebody else despatched to look after it. And if you have promised to lend or give some money to a friend, but have repented of your offer, and yet feel ashamed not to keep your promise, the flatterer will throw his influence into the worse scale, he will confirm your desire to save your purse, he will destroy your reluctance, and will bid you be careful as having many expenses, and others to think about besides that person. And so, unless we are entirely ignorant of our desires, our shamelessness, and our timidity, the flatterer cannot easily escape our detection. For he is ever the advocate of those passions, and outspoken when we desire to repress them.[425] But so much for this matter.

Sec. XXI. Now let us pass on to useful and kind services, for in them too the flatterer makes it very difficult and confusing to detect him from the friend, seeming to be zealous and ready on all occasions and never crying off. For, as Euripides says,[426] a friend's behaviour is, "like the utterance of truth, simple," and plain and inartificial, while that of the flatterer "is in itself unsound, and needs wise remedies," aye, by Zeus, and many such, and not ordinary ones. As for example in chance meetings the friend often neither speaks nor is spoken to, but merely looks and smiles, and then passes on, showing his inner affection and goodwill only by his countenance, which his friend also reciprocates, but the flatterer runs up, follows, holds out his hand at a distance, and if he is seen and addressed first, frequently protests with oaths, and calls witnesses to prove, that he did not see you. So in business friends neglect many unimportant points, are not too punctilious and officious, and do not thrust themselves upon every service, but the flatterer is persevering and unceasing and indefatigable in it, giving nobody else either room or place to help, but putting himself wholly at your disposal, and if you will not find him something to do for you, he is troubled, nay rather altogether dejected and lamenting loudly.[427]

Sec. XXII. To all sensible people all this is an indication, not of true or sober friendship, but of a meretricious one, that embraces you more warmly than there is any occasion for. Nevertheless let us first look at the difference between the friend and flatterer in their promises. For it has been well said by those who have handled this subject before us, that the friend's promise is,

"If I can do it, and 'tis to be done,"

but the flatterer's is,

"Speak out your mind, whate'er it is, to me."[428]

And the comic dramatists put such fellows on the stage,

"Nicomachus, pit me against that soldier, See if I beat him not into a jelly, And make his face e'en softer than a sponge."[429]

In the next place no friend participates in any matter, unless he has first been asked his advice, and put the matter to the test, and set it on a suitable and expedient basis. But the flatterer, if anyone allows him to examine a matter and give his opinion on it, not only wishes to gratify him by compliance, but also fearing to be looked upon with suspicion as unwilling and reluctant to engage in the business, gives in to and even urges on his friend's desire. For there is hardly any king or rich man who would say,

"O that a beggar I could find, or worse Than beggar, if, with good intent to me, He would lay bare his heart boldly and honestly;"[430]

but, like the tragedians, they require a chorus of sympathizing friends, or the applause of a theatre. And so Merope gives the following advice in the tragedy,

"Choose you for friends those who will speak their mind, For those bad men that only speak to please See that you bolt and bar out of your house."[431]

But they act just the contrary, for they turn away with horror from those who speak their mind, and hold different views as to what is expedient, while they welcome those bad and illiberal impostors (that only speak to please them) not only within their houses, but also to their affections and secrets. Now the simpler of these do not think right or claim to advise you in important matters, but only to assist in the carrying out of them: but the more cunning one stands by during the discussion, and knits his brows, and nods assent with his head, but says nothing, but if his friend express an opinion, he then says, "Hercules, you only just anticipated me, I was about to make that very remark." For as the mathematicians tell us that surfaces and lines neither bend nor extend nor move of themselves, being without body and only perceived by the mind, but only bend and extend and change their position with the bodies whose extremities they are: so you will catch the flatterer ever assenting with, and agreeing with, aye, and feeling with, and being angry with, another, so easy of detection in all these points of view is the difference between the friend and the flatterer. Moreover as regards the kind of good service. For the favour done by a friend, as the principal strength of an animal is within, is not for display or ostentation, but frequently as a doctor cures his patient imperceptibly, so a friend benefits by his intervention, or by paying off creditors, or by managing his friend's affairs, even though the person who receives the benefit may not be aware of it. Such was the behaviour of Arcesilaus on various occasions, and when Apelles[432] of Chios was ill, knowing his poverty, he took with him twenty drachmae when he visited him, and sitting down beside him he said, "There is nothing here but those elements of Empedocles, 'fire and water and earth and balmy expanse of air,' but you don't lie very comfortably," and with that he moved his pillow, and privately put the money under it. And when his old housekeeper found it, and wonderingly told Apelles of it, he laughed and said, "This is some trick of Arcesilaus." And the saying is also true in philosophy that "children are like their parents."[433] For when Cephisocrates had to stand his trial on a bill of indictment, Lacydes (who was an intimate friend of Arcesilaus) stood by him with several other friends, and when the prosecutor asked for his ring, which was the principal evidence against him, Cephisocrates quietly dropped it on the ground, and Lacydes noticing this put his foot on it and so hid it. And after sentence was pronounced in his favour, Cephisocrates going up to thank the jury, one of them who had seen the artifice told him to thank Lacydes, and related to him all the matter, though Lacydes had not said a word about it to anybody. So also I think the gods do often perform benefits secretly, taking a natural delight in bestowing their favours and bounties.[434] But the good service of the flatterer has no justice, or genuineness, or simplicity, or liberality about it; but is accompanied with sweat, and running about, and noise, and knitting of the brow, creating an impression and appearance of toilsome and bustling service, like a painting over-curiously wrought in bold colours, and with bent folds wrinkles and angles, to make the closer resemblance to life. Moreover he tires one by relating what journeys and anxieties he has had over the matter, how many enemies he has made over it, the thousand bothers and annoyances he has gone through, so that you say, "The affair was not worth all this trouble." For being reminded of any favour done to one is always unpleasant and disagreeable and insufferable:[435] but the flatterer not only reminds us of his services afterwards, but even during the very moment of doing them upbraids us with them and is importunate. But the friend, if he is obliged to mention the matter, relates it modestly, and says not a word about himself. And so, when the Lacedaemonians sent corn to the people of Smyrna that needed it, and the people of Smyrna wondered at their kindness, the Lacedaemonians said, "It was no great matter, we only voted that we and our beasts of burden should go without our dinner one day, and sent what was so saved to you."[436] Not only is it handsome to do a favour in that way, but it is more pleasant to the receivers of it, because they think those who have done them the service have done it at no great loss to themselves.

Sec. XXIII. But it is not so much by the importunity of the flatterer in regard to services, nor by his facility in making promises, that one can recognize his nature, as by the honourable or dishonourable kind of service, and by the regard to please or to be of real use. For the friend is not as Gorgias defined him, one who will ask his friend to help him in what is right, while he will himself do many services for his friend that are not right.

"For friend should share in good not in bad action."[437]

He will therefore rather try and turn him away from what is not becoming, and if he cannot persuade him, good is that answer of Phocion to Antipater, "You cannot have me both as friend and flatterer,"[438] that is, as friend and no friend. For one must indeed assist one's friend but not do anything wrong for him, one must advise with him but not plot with him, one must bear witness for him but not join him in fraud, one must certainly share adversity with him but not crime. For since we should not wish even to know of our friends' dishonourable acts, much less should we desire to share their dishonour by acting with them. As then the Lacedaemonians, when conquered in battle by Antipater, on settling the terms of peace, begged that he would lay upon them what burdens he pleased, provided he enjoined nothing dishonourable, so the friend, if any necessity arise involving expense or danger or trouble, is the first to desire to be applied to and share in it with alacrity and without crying off, but if there be anything disgraceful in connection with it he begs to have nothing to do with it. The flatterer on the contrary cries off from toilsome and dangerous employments, and if you put him to the test by ringing him,[439] he returns a hollow and spurious sound, and finds some excuse; whereas use him in disgraceful and low and disreputable service, and trample upon him, he will think no treatment too bad or ignominious. Have you observed the ape? He cannot guard the house like the dog, nor bear burdens like the horse, nor plough like the ox, so he has to bear insult and ribaldry, and put up with being made sport of, exhibiting himself as an instrument to produce laughter. So too the flatterer, who can neither advocate your cause, nor give you useful counsel, nor share in your contention with anybody, but shirks all labour and toil, never makes any excuses in underhand transactions, is sure to lend a helping hand in any love affair, is energetic in setting free some harlot, and not careless in clearing off the account of a drinking score, nor remiss in making preparations for banquets, and obsequious to concubines, but if ordered to be uncivil to your relations, or to help in turning your wife out of doors, he is relentless and not to be put out of countenance. So that he is not hard to detect here too. For if ordered to do anything you please disreputable or dishonourable, he is ready to take any pains to oblige you.

Sec. XXIV. One might detect again how greatly the flatterer differs from the friend by his behaviour to other friends. For the friend is best pleased with loving and being beloved by many, and also always tries to contrive for his friend that he too may be much loved and honoured, for he believes in the proverb "the goods of friends are common property,"[440] and thinks it ought to apply to nothing more than to friends; but the false and spurious and counterfeit friend, knowing how much he debases friendship, like debased and spurious coin, is not only by nature envious, but shows his envy even of those who are like himself, striving to outdo them in scurrility and gossip, while he quakes and trembles at any of his betters, not by Zeus "merely walking on foot by their Lydian chariot," but, to use the language of Simonides, "not even, having pure lead by comparison with their refined gold."[441] Whenever then, being light and counterfeit and false, he is put to the test at close quarters with a true and solid and cast-iron friendship, he cannot stand the test but is detected at once, and imitates the conduct of the painter that painted some wretched cocks, for he ordered his lad to scare away all live cocks as far from his picture as possible. So he too scares away real friends and will not let them come near if he can help it, but if he cannot prevent that, he openly fawns upon them, and courts them, and admires them as his betters, but privately runs them down and spreads calumnies about them. And when secret detraction has produced a sore feeling,[442] if he has not effected his end completely, he remembers and observes the teaching of Medius, who was the chief of Alexander's flatterers, and a leading sophist in conspiracy against the best men. He bade people confidently sow their calumny broadcast and bite with it, teaching them that even if the person injured should heal his sore, the scar of the calumny would remain. Consumed by these scars, or rather gangrenes and cancers, Alexander put to death Callisthenes, and Parmenio, and Philotas; while he himself submitted to be completely outwitted by such as Agnon, and Bagoas, and Agesias, and Demetrius, who worshipped him and tricked him up and feigned him to be a barbaric god. So great is the power of flattery, and nowhere greater, as it seems, than among the greatest people. For their thinking and wishing the best about themselves makes them credit the flatterer, and gives him courage.[443] For lofty heights are difficult of approach and hard to reach for those who endeavour to scale them, but the highmindedness and conceit of a person thrown off his balance by good fortune or good natural parts is easily reached by mean and petty people.

Sec. XXV. And so we advised at the beginning of this discourse, and now advise again, to cut off self-love and too high an opinion of ourselves; for that flatters us first, and makes us more impressionable and prepared for external flatterers. But if we hearken to the god, and recognize the immense importance to everyone of that saying, "Know thyself,"[444] and at the same time carefully observe our nature and education and training, with its thousand shortcomings in respect to good, and the large proportion of vice and vanity mixed up with our words and deeds and feelings, we shall not make ourselves so easy a mark for flatterers. Alexander said that he disbelieved those who called him a god chiefly in regard to sleep and the sexual delight, for in both those things he was more ignoble and emotional than in other respects.[445] So we, if we observe the blots, blemishes, shortcomings, and imperfections of our private selves, shall perceive clearly that we do not need a friend who shall bestow upon us praise and panegyric, but one that will reprove us, and speak plainly to us, aye, by Zeus, and censure us if we have done amiss. For it is only a few out of many that venture to speak plainly to their friends rather than gratify them, and even among those few you will not easily find any who know how to do so properly, for they think they are outspoken when they abuse and scold. And yet, just as in the case of any other medicine, to employ freedom of speech unseasonably is only to give needless pain and trouble, and in a manner to do so as to produce vexation the very thing the flatterer does so as to produce pleasure. For it does people harm not only to praise them unseasonably but also to blame them unseasonably, and especially exposes them to the successful attack of flatterers, for, like water, they abandon the rugged hills for the soft grassy valleys. And so outspokenness ought to be tempered with kindness, and reason ought to be called in to correct its excessive tartness, (as we tone down the too powerful glare of a lamp), that people may not, by being troubled and grieved at continual blame and rebuke, fly for refuge to the shade of the flatterer, and turn aside to him to free themselves from annoyance. For we ought, Philopappus, to banish all vice by virtue, not by the opposite vice, as some hold,[446] by exchanging modesty for impudence, and countrified ways for town ribaldry, and by removing their character as far as possible from cowardice and effeminacy, even if that should make people get very near to audacity and foolhardiness. And some even make superstition a plea for atheism, and stupidity a plea for knavery, perverting their nature, like a stick bent double, from inability to set it straight. But the basest disowning of flattery is to be disagreeable without any purpose in view, and it shows an altogether inelegant and clumsy unfitness for social intercourse to shun by unpleasing moroseness the suspicion of being mean and servile in friendship; like the freedman in the comedy who thought railing only enjoying freedom of speech. Seeing then, that it is equally disgraceful to become a flatterer through trying only to please, as in avoiding flattery to destroy all friendship and intimacy by excessive freedom of speech, we must avoid both these extremes, and, as in any other case, make our freedom of speech agreeable by its moderation. So the subject itself seems next to demand that I should conclude it by discussing that point.

Sec. XXVI. As then we see that much trouble arises from excessive freedom of speech, let us first of all detach from it any element of self-love, being carefully on our guard that we may not appear to upbraid on account of any private hurt or injury. For people do not regard a speech on the speaker's own behalf as arising from goodwill, but from anger, and reproach rather than admonition. For freedom in speech is friendly and has weight, but reproach is selfish and little. And so people respect and admire those that speak their mind freely, but accuse back and despise those that reproach them: as Agamemnon would not stand the moderate freedom of speech of Achilles, but submitted to and endured the bitter attack and speech of Odysseus,

"Pernicious chief, would that thou didst command Some sorry host, and not such men as these!"[447]

for he was restrained by the carefulness and sobriety of his speech, and also Odysseus had no private motive of anger but only spoke out on behalf of Greece,[448] whereas Achilles seemed rather vexed on his own account. And Achilles himself, though not sweet-tempered or mild of mood, but "a terrible man, and one that would perchance blame an innocent person,"[449] yet silently listened to Patroclus bringing against him many such charges as the following,

"Pitiless one, thy sire never was Knight Peleus, nor thy mother gentle Thetis, But the blue sea and steep and rocky crags Thy parents were, so flinty is thy heart."[450]

For as Hyperides the orator bade the Athenians consider not only whether he spoke bitterly, but whether he spoke so from interested motives,[451] so the rebuke of a friend void of all private feeling is solemn and grave and what one dare not lightly face. And if anyone shows plainly in his freedom of speech, that he altogether passes over and dismisses any offences his friend has done to himself, and only blames him for other shortcomings, and does not spare him but gives him pain for the interests of others, the tone of his outspokenness is invincible, and the sweetness of his manner even intensifies the bitterness and austerity of his rebuke. And so it has well been said, that in anger and differences with our friends we ought more especially to act with a view to their interest or honour. And no less friendly is it, when it appears that we have been passed over and neglected, to boldly put in a word for others that are neglected too, and to remind people of them, as Plato, when he was out of favour with Dionysius, begged for an audience, and Dionysius granted it, thinking that Plato had some personal grievance and was going to enter into it, but Plato opened the conversation as follows, "If, Dionysius, you knew that some enemy had sailed to Sicily with a view to do you some harm, but found no opportunity, would you allow him to sail back again, and go off scot-free?" "Certainly not, Plato," replied Dionysius, "for we must not only hate and punish the deeds of our enemies, but also their intentions." "If then," said Plato, "anyone has come here for your benefit, and wishes to do you good, and you do not find him an opportunity, is it right to let him go away with neglect and without thanks?" And on Dionysius asking, who he meant, he replied, "I mean AEschines, a man of as good a character as any of Socrates' pupils whatever, and able to improve by his conversation any with whom he might associate: and he is neglected, though he has made a long voyage here to discuss philosophy with you." This speech so affected Dionysius, that he at once threw his arms round Plato and embraced him, admiring his benevolence and loftiness of mind, and treated AEschines well and handsomely.

Sec. XXVII. In the next place, let us clear away as it were and remove all insolence, and jeering, and mocking, and ribaldry, which are the evil seasonings of freedom of speech. For as, when the surgeon performs an operation, a certain neatness and delicacy of touch ought to accompany his use of the knife, but all pantomimic and venturesome and fashionable suppleness and over-finicalness ought to be far away from his hand, so freedom of speech admits of dexterity and politeness, provided that a pleasant way of putting it does not destroy the power of the rebuke, for impudence and coarseness and insolence, if added to freedom of speech, entirely mar and ruin the effect. And so the harper plausibly and elegantly silenced Philip, who ventured to dispute with him about proper playing on the harp, by answering him, "God forbid that you should be so unfortunate, O king, as to understand harping better than me." But that was not a right answer of Epicharmus, when Hiero a few days after putting to death some of his friends invited him to supper, "You did not invite me," he said, "the other day, when you sacrificed your friends." Bad also was that answer of Antiphon, who, when Dionysius asked him "which was the best kind of bronze," answered, "That of which the Athenians made statues of Harmodius and Aristogiton." For this unpleasant and bitter kind of language profits not those that use it, nor does scurrility and puerile jesting please, but such kind of speeches are indications of an incontinent tongue inspired by hate, and full of malignity and insolence, and those who use such language do but ruin themselves, recklessly dancing on the verge of a well.[452] For Antiphon was put to death by Dionysius, and Timagenes lost the friendship of Augustus, not by using on any occasion too free a tongue, but at supper-parties and walks always declining to talk seriously, "only saying what he knew would make the Argives laugh,"[453] and thus virtually charging friendship with being only a cloak for abuse. For even the comic poets have introduced on the stage many grave sentiments well adapted to public life, but joking and ribaldry being mixed with them, like insipid sauces with food, destroy their effect and make them lose their nourishing power, so that the comic poets only get a reputation for malignity and coarseness, and the audience get no benefit from what is said. We may on other occasions jest and laugh with our friends, but let our outspokenness be coupled with seriousness and gravity, and if it be on important matters, let our speech be trustworthy and moving from its pathos, and animation, and tone of voice. And on all occasions to let an opportunity slip by is very injurious, but especially does it destroy the usefulness of freedom of speech. It is plain therefore that we must abstain from freedom of speech when men are in their cups. For he disturbs the harmony of a social gathering[454] who, in the midst of mirth and jollity, introduces a topic that shall knit the brows and contract the face, and shall act as a damper to the Lysian[455] god, who, as Pindar says, "looses the rope of all our cares and anxieties." There is also great danger in such ill-timed freedom of speech. For wine makes people easily slip into rage, and oftentimes freedom of speech in liquor makes enemies. And generally speaking it is not noble or brave but cowardly to conceal your ideas when people are sober and to give free vent to them at table, snarling like cowardly dogs. We need say no more therefore on this head.

Sec. XXVIII. But since many people do not think fit or even dare to find fault with their friends when in prosperity, but think that condition altogether out of the reach and range of rebuke, but inveigh against them if they have made a slip or stumble, and trample upon them if they are in dejection and in their power, and, like a stream swollen above its banks, pour upon them then the torrent of all their eloquence,[456] and enjoy and are glad at their reverse of fortune, owing to their former contempt of them when they were poor themselves, it is not amiss to discuss this somewhat, and to answer those words of Euripides,

"What need of friends, when things go well with us?"[457]

for those in prosperity stand in especial need of friends who shall be outspoken to them, and abate their excessive pride. For there are few who are sensible in prosperity, most need to borrow wisdom from others, and such considerations as shall keep them lowly when puffed up and giving themselves airs owing to their good fortune. But when the deity has abased them and stripped them of their conceit, there is something in their very circumstances to reprove them and bring about a change of mind. And so there is no need then of a friendly outspokenness, nor of weighty or caustic words, but truly in such reverses "it is sweet to look into the eyes of a friendly person,"[458] consoling and cheering one up: as Xenophon[459] tells us that the sight of Clearchus in battle and dangers, and his calm benevolent face, inspired courage in his men when in peril. But he who uses to a man in adversity too great freedom and severity of speech, like a man applying too pungent a remedy to an inflamed and angry eye, neither cures him nor abates his pain, but adds anger to his grief, and exasperates his mental distress. For example anyone well is not at all angry or fierce with a friend, who blames him for his excesses with women and wine, his laziness and taking no exercise, his frequent baths, and his unseasonable surfeiting: but to a person ill all this is unsufferable, and even worse than his illness to hear, "All this has happened to you through your intemperance, and luxury, your dainty food, and love for women." The patient answers, "How unseasonable is all this, good sir! I am making my will, the doctors are preparing me a dose of castor and scammony, and you are scolding me and plying me with philosophy." And thus the affairs of the unfortunate do not admit of outspokenness and a string of Polonius-like saws, but they require kindness and help. For when children fall down their nurses do not run up to them and scold, but pick them up, and clean them, and tidy their dress, and afterwards find fault and correct them. The story is told of Demetrius of Phalerum, when an exile from his native country, and living a humble and obscure life at Thebes, that he was not pleased to see Crates approaching, for he expected to receive from him cynical outspokenness and harsh language. But as Crates talked kindly to him, and discussed his exile, and pointed out that there was no evil in it, or anything that ought to put him about, for he had only got rid of the uncertainties and dangers of public life, and at the same time bade him trust in himself and his condition of mind, Demetrius cheered up and became happier, and said to his friends, "Out upon all my former business and employments, that left me no leisure to know such a man as this!"

"For friendly speech is good to one in grief, While bitter language only suits the fool."[460]

This is the way with generous friends. But the ignoble and low flatterers of those in prosperity, as Demosthenes says fractures and sprains always give us pain again when the body is not well,[461] adhere to them in reverses, as if they were pleased at and enjoyed them. But indeed if there be any need of reminding a man of the blunders he committed through unadvisedly following his own counsel, it is enough to say, "This was not to my mind, indeed I often tried to dissuade you from it."[462]

Sec. XXIX. In what cases then ought a friend to be vehement, and when ought he to use emphatic freedom of language? When circumstances call upon him to check some headlong pleasure or rage or insolence, or to curtail avarice, or to correct some foolish negligence. Thus Solon spoke out to Croesus, who was corrupted and enervated by insecure good fortune, bidding him look to the end.[463] Thus Socrates restrained Alcibiades, and wrung from him genuine tears by his reproof, and changed his heart.[464] Such also was the plain dealing of Cyrus with Cyaxares, and of Plato with Dion, for when Dion was most famous and attracted to himself the notice of all men, by the splendour and greatness of his exploits, Plato warned him to fear and be on his guard against "pleasing only himself, for so he would lose all his friends."[465] Speusippus also wrote to him not to plume himself on being a great person only with lads and women, but to see to it that by adorning Sicily with piety and justice and good laws he might make the Academy glorious. On the other hand Euctus and Eulaeus, companions of Perseus, in the days of his prosperity ingratiated themselves with him, and assented to him in all things, and danced attendance upon him, like all the other courtiers, but when he fled after his defeat by the Romans at Pydna, they attacked him and censured him bitterly, reminding him and upbraiding him in regard to everything he had done amiss or neglected to do, till he was so greatly exasperated both from grief and rage that he whipped out his sword and killed both of them.

Sec. XXX. Let so much suffice for general occasions of freedom of speech. There are also particular occasions, which our friends themselves furnish, that one who really cares for his friends will not neglect, but make use of. In some cases a question, or narrative, or the censure or praise of similar things in other people, gives as it were the cue for freedom of speech. Thus it is related that Demaratus came to Macedonia from Corinth at the time when Philip was at variance with his wife and son, and when the king asked if the Greeks were at harmony with one another, Demaratus, being his well-wisher and friend, answered, "It is certainly very rich of you, Philip, inquiring as to concord between the Athenians and Peloponnesians, when you don't observe that your own house is full of strife and variance."[466] Good also was the answer of Diogenes, who, when Philip was marching to fight against the Greeks, stole into his camp, and was arrested and brought before him, and the king not recognizing him asked if he was a spy, "Certainly," replied he, "Philip, I have come to spy out your inconsiderate folly, which makes you, under no compulsion, come here and hazard your kingdom and life on a moment's[467] cast of the die." This was perhaps rather too strong a remark.

Sec. XXXI. Another suitable time for reproof is when people have been abused by others for their faults, and have consequently become humble, and abated their pride. The man of tact will ingeniously seize the occasion, checking and baffling those that used the abuse, but privately speaking seriously to his friend, and reminding him, that he ought to be more careful if for no other reason than to take off the edge of his enemies' satire. He will say, "How can they open their mouths against you, or what can they urge, if you give up and abandon what you get this bad name about?" Thus pain comes only from abuse, but profit from reproof. And some correct their friends more daintily by blaming others; censuring others for what they know are their friends' faults. Thus my master Ammonius in afternoon school, noticing that some of his pupils had not dined sufficiently simply, bade one of his freedmen scourge his own son, charging him with being unable to get through his dinner without vinegar,[468] but in acting thus he had an eye to us, so that this indirect rebuke touched the guilty persons.

Sec. XXXII. We must also beware of speaking too freely to a friend in the company of many people, remembering the well-known remark of Plato. For when Socrates reproved one of his friends too vehemently in a discussion at table, Plato said, "Would it not have been better to have said this privately?" Whereupon Socrates replied, "And you too, sir, would it not have become you to make this remark also privately?" And Pythagoras having rebuked one of his pupils somewhat harshly before many people, they say the young fellow went off and hung himself, and from that moment Pythagoras never again rebuked anyone in another's presence. For, as in the case of some foul disease, so also in the case of wrong-doing we ought to make the detection and exposure private, and not ostentatiously public by bringing witnesses and spectators. For it is not the part of a friend but a sophist to seek glory by the ill-fame of another, and to show off in company, like the doctors that perform wonderful cures in the theatres as an advertisement.[469] And independently of the insult, which ought not to be an element in any cure, we must remember that vice is contentious and obstinate. For it is not merely "love," as Euripides says, that "if checked becomes more vehement," but an unsparing rebuke before many people makes every infirmity and vice more impudent. As then Plato[470] urges old men who want to teach the young reverence to act reverently to them first themselves, so among friends a gentle rebuke is gently taken, and a cautious and careful approach and mild censure of the wrong-doer undermines and destroys vice, and makes its own modesty catching. So that line is most excellent, "holding his head near, that the others might not hear."[471] And most especially indecorous is it to expose a husband in the hearing of his wife, or a father before his children, or a lover in the presence of the loved one, or a master before his scholars. For people are beside themselves with pain and rage if reproached before those with whom they desire to be held in good repute. And I think it was not so much wine that exasperated Alexander with Clitus, as his seeming to put him down in the presence of many people. And Aristomenes, the tutor of Ptolemy,[472] because he went up to the king and woke him as he was asleep in an audience of some ambassadors, gave a handle to the king's flatterers who professed to be indignant on his behalf, and said, "If after your immense state-labours and many vigils you have been overpowered by sleep, he ought to have rebuked you privately, and not put his hands upon you before so many people." And Ptolemy sent for a cup of poison and ordered the poor man to drink it up. And Aristophanes said Cleon blamed him for "railing against the state when strangers were present,"[473] and so irritating the Athenians. We ought therefore to be very much on our guard in relation to this point too as well as others, if we wish not to make a display and catch the public ear, but to use our freedom of speech for beneficial purposes and to cure vice. Moreover, what Thucydides has represented the Corinthians saying of themselves, that "they had a right to blame their neighbours,"[474] is not a bad precept for those to remember who intend to use freedom of speech. Lysander, it seems, on one occasion said to a Megarian, who was speaking somewhat boldly on behalf of Greece among the allies, "Your words require a state to back them":[475] similarly every man's freedom of speech requires character behind it, and especially true is this in regard to those who censure and correct others. Thus Plato said that his life was a tacit rebuke to Speusippus: and doubtless Xenocrates by his mere presence in the schools, and by his earnest look at Polemo, made a changed man of him. Whereas a man of levity and bad character, if he ventures to rebuke anybody, is likely to hear the line,

"He doctors others, all diseased himself."[476]

Sec. XXXIII. Yet since circumstances frequently call on people who are bad themselves in association with other such to reprove them, the most convenient mode of reproof will be that which contrives to include the reprover in the same indictment as the reproved, as in the case of the line,

"Tydides, how on earth have we forgot Our old impetuous courage?"[477]

and,

"Now are we all not worth one single Hector."[478]

In this mild way did Socrates rebuke young men, as not himself without ignorance, but one that needed in common with them to prosecute virtue, and seek truth. For they gain goodwill and influence, who seem to have the same faults as their friends, and desire to correct themselves as well as them. But he who is high and mighty in setting down another, as if he were himself perfect and without any imperfections, unless he be of a very advanced age, or has an acknowledged reputation for virtue and worth, does no good, but is only regarded as a tiresome bore. And so it was wisely done of Phoenix to relate his own mishaps, how he had meant killing his father, but quickly repented at the thought "that he would be called by the Achaeans parricide,"[479] that he might not seem to be rebuking Achilles, as one that had himself never suffered from excess of rage. For kindness of this sort has great influence, and people yield more to those who seem to be sympathetic and not supercilious. And since we ought not to expose an inflamed eye to a strong light, and a soul a prey to the passions cannot bear unmixed reproof and rebuke, one of the most useful remedies will be found to be a slight mixture of praise, as in the following lines,

"Ye will not sure give up your valiant courage, The best men in the host! I should not care If any coward left the fight, not I; But you to do so cuts me to the heart."[480]

And,

"Where is thy bow, where thy wing'd arrows, Pandarus, Where thy great fame, which no one here can match?"[481]

Such language again plainly cheers very much those that are down as,

"Where now is Oedipus, and his famous riddles?"[482]

and,

"Does much-enduring Hercules say this?"[483]

For not only does it soften the harsh imperiousness of censure, but also, by reminding a man of former noble deeds, implants a desire to emulate his former self in the person who is ashamed of what is low, and makes himself his own exemplar for better things. But if we make a comparison between him and other men, as his contemporaries, his fellow-citizens, or his relations, then the contentious spirit inherent in vice is vexed and exasperated, and is often apt to chime in angrily, "Why don't you go off to my betters then, and leave off bothering me?" We must therefore be on our guard against praising others, when we are rebuking a man, unless indeed it be their parents, as Agamemnon says in Homer,

"Little like Tydeus is his father's son!"[484]

or as Odysseus in the play called "The Scyrians,"[485]

"Dost thou card wool, and thus the lustre smirch Of thy illustrious sire, thy noble race?"

Sec. XXXIV. But it is by no means fitting when rebuked to rebuke back, and when spoken to plainly to answer back, for that soon kindles a flame and causes dissension; and generally speaking such altercation will not look so much like a retort as an inability to bear freedom of speech. It is better therefore to listen patiently to a friend's rebuke, for if he should afterwards do wrong himself and so need rebuke, he has set you the example of freedom of speech. For being reminded without any malice, that he himself has not been accustomed to spare his friends when they have done wrong, but to convince them and show them their fault, he will be the more inclined to yield and give himself up to correction, as it will seem a return of goodwill and kindness rather than scolding or rage.

Sec. XXXV. Moreover, as Thucydides says "he is well advised who [only] incurs envy in the most important matters,"[486] so the friend ought only to take upon himself the unpleasant duty of reproof in grave and momentous cases. For if he is always in a fret and a fume, and rates his acquaintances more like a tutor than a friend, his rebuke will be blunt and ineffective in cases of the highest importance, and he will resemble a doctor who dispenses some sharp and bitter, but important and costly, drug in trifling cases of common occurrence, where it was not at all needed, and so will lose all the advantages that might come from a judicious use of freedom of speech. He will therefore be very much on his guard against continual fault-finding, and if his friend is always pettifogging about minute matters, and is needlessly querulous, it will give him a handle against him in more important shortcomings. Philotimus the doctor, when a patient who had abscesses on his liver showed him his sore finger, said to him, "My friend, it is not the whitlow that matters."[487] So an opportunity sometimes offers itself to a friend to say to a man, who is always finding fault on small and trivial points, "Why are we always discussing mere child's play, tippling,[488] and trifles? Let such a one, my dear sir, send away his mistress, or give up playing at dice, he will then be in my opinion in all respects an excellent fellow." For he who receives pardon on small matters is content that his friend should rebuke him on matters of more moment: but the man who is ever on the scold, everywhere sour and glum, knowing and prying into everything, is scarcely tolerable to his children or brothers, and insufferable to his slaves.

Sec. XXXVI. But since "neither," to use the words of Euripides, "do all troubles proceed only from old age,"[489] nor from the stupidity of our friends, we ought to observe not only the shortcomings but also the good points of our friends, aye, by Zeus, and to be ready to praise them first, and only censure them afterwards. For as iron receives its consistency and temper by first being submitted to fire and so made soft and then dipped into cold water, so when friends have been first warmed and melted with praises we can afterwards use gentle remonstrance, which has a similar effect to that of dipping in the case of the metal. For an opportunity will offer itself to say, "Are those actions worthy to be compared with these? Do you see what fruits virtue yields? These are the things we your friends ask of you, these become you, for these you are designed by nature; but all that other kind of conduct we must reject with abhorrence, 'cast it away on a mountain, or throw it into the roaring sea.'"[490] For as a clever doctor would prefer to cure the illness of his patient by sleep and diet rather than by castor or scammony, so a kind friend and good father or teacher delight to use praise rather than blame to correct the character. For nothing makes rebuke less painful or more beneficial than to refrain from anger, and to inveigh against wrong-doing mildly and kindly. And so we ought not sharply to drive home the guilt of those who deny it, or prevent their making their defence, but even contrive to furnish them with specious excuses, and if they seem reluctant to give a bad motive for their

## action we ought ourselves to find for them a better, as Hector did for

his brother Paris,

"Unhappy man, thy anger was not good,"[491]

suggesting that his absconding from the battle was not running away or cowardice, but only anger. And Nestor says to Agamemnon,

"You only yielded to your lofty passion."[492]

For it has, I think, a better moral tendency to say "You forgot," or "You did it inadvertently," than to say "You acted unfairly," or "You behaved shamefully:" as also "Don't contend with your brother," than "Don't envy your brother;" and "Avoid the woman who is your ruin," than "Stop ruining the woman." Such is the language employed in rebuke that desires to reform and not to wound; that rebuke which looks merely at the effect to be produced acts on another principle. For when it is necessary to stop people on the verge of wrong-doing, or to check some violent and irregular impulse, or if we wish to rouse and infuse vigour in those who prosecute virtue only feebly and languidly, we may then assign strange and unbecoming motives for their behaviour. As Odysseus in Sophocles' play,[493] striving to rouse Achilles, says he is not angry about his supper,[494] but "that he is afraid now that he looks upon the walls of Troy," and when Achilles was vexed at this, and talked of sailing home again, he said,

"I know what 'tis you shun: 'tis not ill fame: But Hector's near, it is not safe to beard him."

Thus by frightening the high-spirited and courageous man by the imputation of cowardice, and the sober and orderly man by that of licentiousness, and the liberal and munificent man by that of meanness and avarice, people urge them on to what is good, and deter them from what is bad, showing moderation in cases past remedy, and exhibiting in their freedom of speech more sorrow and sympathy than fault-finding; but in the prevention of wrong-doing and in earnest fighting against the passions they are vehement and inexorable and assiduous: for that is the time for downright plainness and truth. Besides we see that enemies censure one another for what they have done amiss, as Diogenes said,[495] he who wished to lead a good life ought to have good friends or red-hot enemies, for the former told you what was right, and the latter blamed you if you did what was wrong. But it is better to be on our guard against wrong actions, through listening to the persuasion of those that advise us well, than to repent, after we have done wrong, in consequence of the reproaches of our enemies. And so we ought to employ tact in our freedom of speech, as it is the greatest and most powerful remedy in friendship, and always needs a well-chosen occasion, and moderation in applying it.

Sec. XXXVII. Since then, as I have said before, freedom of speech is often painful to the person who is to receive benefit from it, we must imitate the surgeons, who, when they have performed an operation, do not leave the suffering part to pain and smart, but bathe and foment it; so those who do their rebuking daintily run[496] off after paining and smarting, and by different dealing and kind words soothe and mollify them, as statuaries smooth and polish images which have been broken or chipped. But he that is broken and wounded by rebuke, if he is left sullen and swelling with rage and off his equilibrium, is henceforth hard to win back or talk over. And so people who reprove ought to be especially careful on this point, and not to leave them too soon, nor break off their conversation and intercourse with their acquaintances at the exasperating and painful stage.

[348] Plato, "Laws," v. p. 731 D, E.

[349] "Laws," v. p. 730 C.

[350] Inscribed in the vestibule of the temple of Apollo at Delphi. See Pausanias, x. 24.

[351] Used here apparently proverbially for poverty or low position in life.

[352] Wyttenbach well compares Cicero, "De Amicitia," xviii.: "Accedat huc suavitas quaedam oportet sermonum atque morum, haudquaquam mediocre condimentum amicitiae. Tristitia autem et in omni re severitas, habet illa quidem gravitatem: sed amicitia remissior esse debet, et liberior, et dulcior, et ad omnem comitatem facilitatemque proclivior."

[353] Hesiod, "Theogony," 64.

[354] Euripides, "Ion," 732.

[355] Our author assigns this saying to Prodicus, "De Sanitate Praecepta," Sec. viii. But to Evenus, "Quaest. Conviv." Lib. vii. Prooemium, and "Platonicae Quaestiones," x. Sec. iii.

[356] As was usual. See Homer, "Odyssey," i. 146. Cf. Plautus, "Persa," v. iii. 16: "Hoc age, accumbe: hunc diem suavem meum natalem agitemus amoenum: date aquam manibus: apponite mensam."

[357] From a play of Eupolis called "The Flatterers." Cf. Terence, "Eunuchus," 489-491.

[358] See Athenaeus, 256 D. Compare also Valerius Maximus, ix. 1.

[359] "Videatur Casaubonus ad Athenaeum, vi. p. 243 A."--_Wyttenbach._

[360] "Republic," p. 361 A.

[361] See Herodotus, iii. 78.

[362] See Erasmus, "Adagia," p. 1883.

[363] "Proverbium etiam a Cicerone laudatum 'De Amicitia,' cap. vi.: Itaque non aqua, non igne, ut aiunt, pluribus locis utimur, quam amicitia. Notavit etiam Erasmus 'Adag.' p. 112."--_Wyttenbach._

[364] Compare Sallust, "De Catilinae Conjuratione," cap. xx.: "Nam idem velle atque idem nolle, ea demum firma amicitia est."

[365] "Proverbiale, quo utitur Plutarchus in Alcibiade, p. 203 D. Iambus Tragici esse videtur, ad Neoptolemum dictus."--_Wyttenbach._

[366] As the polypus, or chameleon.

[367] Plato, "Phaedrus," p. 239 D.

[368] Wyttenbach compares Juvenal, iii. 100-108.

[369] See my note "On Abundance of Friends," Sec. ix. Wyttenbach well points out the felicity of the expression here, "siquidem parasitus est [Greek: aoikos kai anestios]."

[370] Euripides, "Hippolytus," 219, 218. Cf. Ovid, "Heroides," iv. 41, 42.

[371] Compare "How one may be aware of one's progress in virtue," Sec. x. Cf. also Horace, "Satires," ii. iii. 35; Quintilian, xi. 1.

[372] "Odyssey," xxii. 1.

[373] The demagogue is a kind of flatterer. See Aristotle, "Pol." iv. 4.

[374] Cf. Aristophanes, "Acharnians," 153, [Greek: hoper machimotaton thrakon ethnos].

[375] Plato was somewhat of a traveller, he three times visited Syracuse, and also travelled in Egypt.

[376] As to the polypus, see "On Abundance of Friends," Sec. ix.

[377] As "Fumum et opes _strepitumque_ Romae."--Horace, "Odes," iii. 29. 12.

[378] Homer, "Odyssey," xvi. 181.

[379] Sophocles, "Antigone," 523.

[380] As to these traits in Plato and Aristotle, compare "De Audiendis Poetis," Sec. viii. And as to Alexander, Plutarch tells us in his Life that he used to hold his head a little to the left, "Life," p. 666 B. See also "De Alexandri Fortuna aut Virtute," Sec. ii.

[381] "De Chamaeleonte Aristoteles 'Hist. Animal.' i. 11; 'Part. Animal.' iv. 11; Theophrastus Eclog. ap. Photium edit. Aristot. Sylburg. T. viii. p. 329: [Greek: metaballei de ho chamaileon eis panta ta chromata; plen ten eis to leukon kai to eruthron ou dechetai metabolen.] Similiter Plinius 'Hist. Nat.' viii. 51."--_Wyttenbach._

[382] See Athenaeus, 249 F; 435 E.

[383] Cf. Juv. iii. 113; "Scire volunt secreta domus, atque inde timeri."

[384] Cf. Menander apud Stob. p. 437: [Greek: Ta deuter aiei ten gynaika dei legein, Ten d' egemonian ton olon ton andr' echein].

[385] As Lord Stowell used to say that "dinners lubricated business."

[386] Homer, "Iliad," xi. 643.

[387] Homer, "Odyssey," iv. 178, 179.

[388] Perhaps the poley-germander. See Pliny, "Nat. Hist," xxi. 84. The line is from Nicander Theriac. 64.

[389] "Iliad," viii. 281, 282.

[390] "Iliad," x. 243.

[391] "Iliad," vii. 109, 110.

[392] Xenophon, "Agesilaus," xi. 5. p. 673 C.

[393] To filch the grain from the bin or granary would not of course be so important a theft as to steal the seed-stock preserved for sowing. So probably Cato, "De Re Rustica," v. Sec. iv.: "Segetem ne defrudet," sc. villicus.

[394] Thucydides, iii. 82.

[395] Plato, "Republic," v. p. 474 E. Compare also Lucretius, iv. 1160-1170; Horace, "Satires," i. 3. 38 sq.

[396] This Ptolemy was a votary of Cybele, and a spiritual ancestor of General Booth. The worship of Cybele is well described by Lucretius, ii. 598-643.

[397] This was Ptolemy Auletes, as the former was Ptolemy Philopator.

[398] See Suetonius, "Nero," ch. 21.

[399] "Plerumque _minuta voce cantillare_."--_Wyttenbach._ What Milton would have called "a lean and flashy song."

[400] Naso suspendit adunco, as Horace, "Sat." i. 6. 5.

[401] See Athenaeus, p. 434 C.

[402] As Gnatho in Terence, "Eunuch." 496-498.

[403] Reading [Greek: Helon], as Courier, Hercher.

[404] "Iliad," x. 249. They are words of Odysseus.

[405] This was carrying flattery rather far. "Mithridatis medicinae scientia multis memorata veterum."--_Wyttenbach._

[406] Euripides, "Alcestis," 1159.

[407] Our author gives this definition to Simonides, "De Gloria Atheniensium," Sec. iii.

[408] So our author again, "On Contentedness of Mind," Sec. xii.

[409] See Herodotus, i. 30, 33; Juvenal, x. 274, 275; and Pausanias, ii. 20.

[410] "Nobile Stoae Paradoxum. Cicero Fin. iii. 22, ex persona Catonis. Horatius ridet Epistol. i. 1. 106-108. Ad summam sapiens uno minor est Jove: dives, Liber, honoratus, pulcher, rex denique regum; Praecipue sanus, nisi quum pituita molesta est."--_Wyttenbach._

[411] See also "On Contentedness of Mind," Sec. xii.

[412] Homer, "Iliad," xvi. 141. See the context also from 130 sq.

[413] Our author has used this illustration again in "Phocion," p. 742 B.

[414] Namely in Sec. xxvii. where [Greek: parrhesia] is discussed.

[415] Contrary to the severe training he ought to undergo, well expressed by Horace, "De Arte Poetica," 412-414.

[416] Reading with Hercher [Greek: apotympanizontos kai streblountos]. This was Ptolemy Physcon.

[417] "Unus ex Alexandri adulatoribus: memoratus Curtio viii. 5, 6."--_Wyttenbach._

[418] A common proverb among the ancients. See "Conjugal Precepts," Sec. xl.; Erasmus, "Adagia," pp. 1222, 1838.

[419] A line out of AEschylus' "Myrmidons." Quoted again by our author, "Of Love," Sec. V.

[420] Cleopatra.

[421] Homer, "Odyssey," x. 329. They are the words of Circe to Odysseus. But the line was suspected even by old grammarians, and is put in brackets in modern editions of the "Odyssey."

[422] See Lucretius, iv. 1079-1085.

[423] So Pliny, "Hist. Nat." xxv. 95: "Remedio est (cicutae), priusquam perveniat ad vitalia, vini natura excalfactoria: sed in vino pota irremediabilis existimatur."

[424] Assigned to Pittacus by our author, "Septem Sapientum Convivium," Sec. ii.

[425] So Wyttenbach, who reads [Greek: enstaseis], and translates, "et libertate loquendi in nobis reprehendendis utitur, quando nos cupiditatibus morbisque animi nostri non indulgere, sed resistere, volumus."

[426] "Phoenissae," 469-472.

[427] Like Juvenal's "Graeculus esuriens in caelum, jusseris, ibit."--Juvenal, iii, 78.

[428] These are two successive lines found three times in Homer, "Iliad," xiv. 195, 196; xviii. 426, 427; "Odyssey," v. 89, 90. The two lines are in each case spoken by one person.

[429] Probably lines from "The Flatterer" of Menander.

[430] From the "Ino" of Euripides.

[431] From the "Erechtheus" of Euripides.

[432] We know from Athenaeus, p. 420 D, that Apelles and Arcesilaus were friends.

[433] An allusion to Hesiod, "Works and Days," 235. Cf. Horace, "Odes," iv. 5. 23.

[434] See the beautiful story of Baucis and Philemon, Ovid, "Metamorphoses," viii. 626-724: "Cura pii dis sunt, et qui coluere coluntur."

[435] Compare Terence, "Andria," 43, 44. So too Seneca, "De Beneficiis," ii. 10: "Haec enim beneficii inter duos lex est: alter statim oblivisci debet dati, alter accepti nunquam. Lacerat animum et premit frequens meritorum commemoratio."

[436] A similar story about the Samians and Lacedaemonians is told by Aristotle, "Oeconom." ii. 9.

[437] A line from Euripides, "Iphigenia in Aulis," 407.

[438] Also in "Conjugal Precepts," Sec. xxix.

[439] See Persius, iii. 21, 22, with Jahn's Note.

[440] See "On Love," Sec. xxi.

[441] "Auri plumbique oppositio fere proverbialis est. Petronius, 'Satyricon,' 43. Plane fortunae filius: in manu illius plumbum aureum fiebat."--_Wyttenbach._ The passage about the Lydian chariot is said to be by Pindar in our author, "Nicias," p. 523 D.

[442] Wyttenbach compares Seneca, "Epist." cxxiii. p. 495: "Horum sermo multum nocet: nam etiamsi non statim officit, semina in animo relinquit, sequiturque nos etiam cum ab illis discesserimus, resurrecturum postea malum."

[443] Compare Cicero, "De Amicitia," xxvi.: "Assentatio, quamvis perniciosa sit, nocere tamen nemini potest, nisi ei, qui eam recipit atque ea delectatur. Ita fit, ut is assentatoribus patefaciat aures suas maxime, qui ipse sibi assentetur et se maxime ipse delectet."

[444] Compare Sec. i.

[445] Compare our Author, "Quaestiones Convivalium," viii. p. 717 F.

[446] So Horace, "Satires," i. 2, 24: "Dum vitant stulti vitia in contraria currunt."

[447] Homer, "Iliad," xiv. 84, 85.

[448] Compare Cicero, "De Officiis," i. 25: "Omnis autem animadversio et castigatio contumelia vacare debet: neque ad ejus, qui punitur aliquem aut verbis fatigat, sed ad reipublicae utilitatem referri."

[449] "Iliad," xi. 654.

[450] "Iliad," xvi. 33-35.

[451] Cf. Plutarch, "Phocion," p. 746 D.

[452] A proverb of persons on the brink of destruction. Wells among the ancients were uncovered.

[453] "Iliad," ii. 215, of Thersites. As to Theagenes, see Seneca, "De Ira," ii. 23.

[454] Literally, "brings a cloud over fair weather."

[455] The MSS. have Lydian. Lysian Dionysus is also found in Pausanias, ix. 16. Lyaeus is suggested by Wyttenbach, and read by Hercher. Lysius or Lyaeus will both be connected with [Greek: luo], and so refer to Dionysus as the god that looses or frees us from care. See Horace, "Epodes," ix. 37, 38.

[456] Compare Juvenal, iii. 73, 74: "Sermo Promptus et Isaeo torrentior."

[457] "Orestes," 667.

[458] Euripides, "Ion," 732.

[459] "Anabasis," ii. 6, 11.

[460] Perhaps by Euripides.

[461] "Olynth." ii. p. 8 C; "Pro Corona," 341 C.

[462] Homer, "Iliad," ix. 108, 109. They are the words of Nestor to Agamemnon.

[463] See Herodotus, i. 30-32.

[464] See Plato's "Symposium," p. 215 E.

[465] See Plato, "Epist." iv. p. 321 B.

[466] See our author, "Apophthegmata," p. 179 C.

[467] Compare Horace, "Satires," i. 1. 7, 8: "Quid enim, concurritur: horae Momento cita mors venit aut victoria laeta."

[468] And so being dainty. See Athenaeus, ii. ch. 76.

[469] We see from this and other places that the mountebanks and quacks of the Middle Ages and later times existed also among the ancients. Human nature in its great leading features is ever the same. "Omne ignotum pro magnifico est."

[470] "Laws," p. 729 C.

[471] Homer, "Odyssey," i. 157; iv. 70; xvii. 592.

[472] Ptolemy V., Epiphanes. The circumstances are related by Polybius, xv. 29; xvii. 35.

[473] See "Acharnians," 501, 502.

[474] Thucydides, i. 70: [Greek: kai hama, eiper tines kai alloi, nomizomen axioi einai tois pelas psogon epenenkein].

[475] See our Author, "Apophthegmata," p. 190 E.

[476] A line of Euripides, quoted again in "How a Man may be benefited by his Enemies," Sec. iv.

[477] Homer, "Iliad," xi. 313.

[478] Do. viii. 234, 235.

[479] Do. ix. 461.

[480] "Iliad," xiii. 116-119.

[481] Do. v. 171, 172.

[482] Euripides, "Phoenissae," 1688.

[483] Euripides, "Hercules Furens," 1250.

[484] "Iliad," v. 800. Athene is the speaker.

[485] A play by Sophocles, now only in fragments, relating the life of Achilles in the island of Scyros, the scene of his amour with Deidamia, the daughter of Lycomedes, by whom he became the father of Pyrrhus.

[486] Thucydides, ii. 64. Quoted again in "On Shyness," Sec. xviii.

[487] See also "De Audiendo," Sec. x.

[488] [Greek: potous] comes in rather curiously here. Can any other word lurk under it?

[489] "Phoenissae," 528, 529.

[490] Homer, "Iliad," vi. 347.

[491] Do. vi. 326.

[492] Homer, "Iliad," ix. 109, 110.

[493] In Dindorf's "Poetae Scenici Graeci," Fragment 152.

[494] As it is not quite clear why Achilles should have been angry about his supper, [Greek: dia to deipnon], apropos of the context, Wyttenbach ingeniously suggests, as this lost play of Sophocles was called [Greek: Syn deipnon], that Plutarch may have written [Greek: en to Deipno].

[495] Compare "How One may be aware of one's Progress in Virtue," Sec. xi.

[496] "Ductum e proverbiali dictione [Greek: balonta ekpheugein], emisso telo aufugere."--_Wyttenbach._

HOW A MAN MAY BE BENEFITED BY HIS ENEMIES.

Sec. I. I am well aware, Cornelius Pulcher, that you prefer the mildest manners in public life, by which you can be at once most useful to the community, and most agreeable in private life to those who have any dealings with you. But since it is difficult to find any region without wild beasts, though it is related of Crete;[497] and hitherto there has been no state that has not suffered from envy, rivalry, and strife, the most fruitful seeds of hostility; (for, even if nothing else does, our friendships involve us in enmities, as Chilo[498] the wise man perceived, who asked the man who told him he had no enemy, whether he had a friend either), it seems to me that a public man ought not only to examine the whole question of enemies in its various ramifications, but also to listen to the serious remark of Xenophon,[499] that a sensible man will receive profit even from his enemies. The ideas therefore that lately occurred to me to deliver, I have now put together nearly in the identical words and send them to you, with the exception of some matter also in "Political Precepts,"[500] a treatise which I have often noticed in your hands.

Sec. II. People in old times were well satisfied if they were not injured by strange and wild beasts, and that was the only motive of their fights with them, but those of later days have by now learnt to make use of them, for they feed on their flesh, and clothe themselves with their wool, and make medical use of their gall and beestings, and turn their hides into shields, so that we might reasonably fear, if beasts failed man, that his life would become brutish, and wild, and void of resources. Similarly since all others are satisfied with not being injured by their enemies, but the sensible will also (as Xenophon says) get profit out of them, we must not be incredulous, but seek a method and plan how to obtain this advantage, seeing that life without an enemy is impossible. The husbandman cannot cultivate every tree, nor can the hunter tame every kind of animal, so both seek means to derive profit according to their several necessities, the one from his barren trees, the other from his wild animals. Sea-water also is undrinkable and brackish, but it feeds fish, and is a sort of vehicle to convey and transport travellers anywhere. The Satyr, when he saw fire for the first time, wished to kiss it and embrace it, but Prometheus warned him,

"Goat, thou wilt surely mourn thy loss of beard."[501]

For fire burns whoever touches it, but it also gives light and warmth, and is an instrument of art to all those who know how to use it.[502] Consider also in the case of the enemy, if he is in other respects injurious and intractable, he somehow or other gives us a handle to make use of him by, and so is serviceable. And many things are unpleasant and detestable and antagonistic to those to whom they happen, but you must have noticed that some use even illnesses as a period of rest for the body, and others by excessive toil have strengthened and trained their bodily vigour, and some have made exile and the loss of money a passage to leisure and philosophy, as did Diogenes and Crates. And Zeno, when he heard of the wreck of the ship which contained all his property, said, "Thou hast done well, Fortune, to confine me to my threadbare cloak."[503]

For as those animals that have the strongest and healthiest stomachs eat and digest serpents and scorpions, and some even feed on stones and shells, which they convert into nourishment by the strength and heat of their stomachs, while fastidious people out of health almost vomit if offered bread and wine, so foolish people spoil even their friendships, while the wise know how to turn to account even their enmities.

Sec. III. In the first place then it seems to me that what is most injurious in enmity may become most useful to those that pay attention to it? To what do I refer? Why, to the way in which your enemy ever wide awake pries into all your affairs, and analyzes your whole life, trying to get a handle against you somewhere, able not only to look through a tree, like Lynceus,[504] or through stones and shells, but through your friend and domestic and every intimate acquaintance, as far as possible detecting your doings, and digging and ferreting into your designs. For our friends are ill and often die without our knowing anything about it through our delay and carelessness, but we almost pry into even the dreams of our enemies; and our enemy knows even more than we do ourselves of our diseases and debts and differences with our wives.[505] But they pay most attention to our faults and hunt them out: and as vultures follow the scent of putrid carcases, and cannot perceive sound and wholesome ones, so the diseases and vices and crimes of life attract the enemy, and on these those that hate us pounce, these they attack and tear to pieces. Is not this an advantage to us? Certainly it is. For it teaches us to live warily and be on our guard, and neither to do or say anything carelessly or without circumspection, but ever to be vigilant by careful mode of living that we give no handle to an enemy. For the cautiousness that thus represses the passions and follows reason implants a care and determination to live well and without reproach. For as those states that have been sobered by wars with their neighbours and continual campaigns love the blessings of order and peace, so those people who are compelled to lead a sober life owing to their enemies, and to be on their guard against carelessness and negligence, and to do everything with an eye to utility, imperceptibly glide into a faultless mode of life, and tone down their character, even without requiring much assistance from precepts. For those who always remember the line,

"Ah! how would Priam and his sons rejoice,"[506]

are by it diverted from and learn to shun all such things as their enemies would rejoice and laugh at. Again we see actors[507] and singers on the stage oftentimes slack and remiss, and not taking sufficient pains about their performances in the theatres when they have it all to themselves; but when there is a competition and contest with others, they not only wake up but tune their instruments, and adjust their chords, and play on the flute with more care. Similarly whoever knows that his enemy is antagonistic to his life and character, pays more attention to himself, and watches his behaviour more carefully, and regulates his life. For it is peculiar to vice to be more afraid of enemies than friends in regard to our faults. And so Nasica, when some expressed their opinion that the Roman Republic was now secure, since Carthage was rased to the ground and Achaia reduced to slavery, said, "Nay rather we are now in a critical position, since we have none left to fear or respect."

Sec. IV. Consider also that very philosophical and witty answer of Diogenes to the man who asked, "How shall I avenge myself on my enemy?" "By becoming a good and honest man."[508] Some people are terribly put about if they see their enemies' horses in a good condition, or hear their dogs praised; if they see their farm well-tilled, their garden well-kept, they groan aloud. What a state think you then they would be in, if you were to exhibit yourself as a just man, sensible and good, in words excellent, in deeds pure, in manner of life decorous, "reaping fruit from the deep soil of the soul, where good counsels grow."[509] Pindar says[510] "those that are conquered are reduced to complete silence:" but not absolutely, not all men, only those that see they are outdone by their enemies in industry, in goodness, in magnanimity, in humanity, in kindnesses; these, as Demosthenes says, "stop the tongue, block up the mouth, choke people, and make them silent."[511]

"Be better than the bad: 'tis in your power."[512]

If you wish to vex the man who hates you, do not abuse him by calling him a pathick, or effeminate, or intemperate, or a low fellow, or illiberal; but be yourself a man, and temperate, and truthful, and kind and just in all your dealings with those you come across. But if you are tempted to use abuse, mind that you yourself are very far from what you abuse him for, dive down into your own soul, look for any rottenness in yourself, lest someone suggest to you the line of the tragedian,

"You doctor others, all diseased yourself."[513]

If you say your enemy is uneducated, increase your own love of learning and industry; if you call him coward, stir up the more your own spirit and manliness; and if you say he is wanton and licentious, erase from your own soul any secret trace of the love of pleasure. For nothing is more disgraceful or more unpleasant than slander that recoils on the person who sets it in motion; for as the reflection of light seems most to injure weak eyes, so does censure when it recoils on the censurer, and is borne out by the facts. For as the north-east wind attracts clouds, so does a bad life draw upon itself rebukes.

Sec. V. Whenever Plato was in company with people who behaved in an unseemly manner, he used to say to himself, "Am I such a person as this?"[514] So he that censures another man's life, if he straightway examines and mends his own, directing and turning it into the contrary direction, will get some advantage from his censure, which will be otherwise idle and unprofitable. Most people laugh if a bald-pate or hump-back jeer and mock at others who are so too: it is quite as ridiculous to jeer and mock if one lies open to retort oneself, as Leo of Byzantium showed in his answer to the hump-back who jeered at him for weakness of eyes, "You twit me with an infirmity natural to man, while you yourself carry your Nemesis on your back."[515] And so do not abuse another as an adulterer, if you yourself are mad after boys: nor as a spendthrift, if you yourself are niggardly. Alcmaeon said to Adrastus, "You are near kinsman to a woman that slew her husband." What was his reply? He retaliated on him with the appropriate retort, "But you killed with your own hand the mother that bore you."[516] And Domitius said to Crassus, "Did you not weep for the lamprey that was bred in your fishpond, and died?" To which Crassus replied, "Did you weep, when you buried your three wives?" He therefore that intends to abuse others must not be witty and noisy and impudent, but a man that does not lie open to counter-abuse and retort, for the god seems to have enjoined upon no one the precept "Know thyself" so much as on the person who is censorious, to prevent people saying just what they please, and hearing what don't please them. For such a one is wont, as Sophocles[517] says, "idly letting his tongue flow, to hear against his will, what he willingly says ill of others."

Sec. VI. This use and advantage then there is in abusing one's enemy, and no less arises from being abused and ill-spoken of oneself by one's enemies. And so Antisthenes[518] said well that those who wish to lead a good life ought to have genuine friends or red-hot enemies; for the former deterred you from what was wrong by reproof, the latter by abuse. But since friendship has nowadays become very mealy-mouthed in freedom of speech, voluble in flattery and silent in rebuke, we can only hear the truth from our enemies. For as Telephus[519] having no surgeon of his own, submitted his wound to be cured by his enemy's spear, so those who cannot procure friendly rebuke must content themselves with the censure of an enemy that hates them, reprehending and castigating their vices, and regard not the animus of the person, but only his matter. For as he who intended to kill the Thessalian Prometheus[520] only stabbed a tumour, and so lanced it that the man's life was saved, and he was rid of the tumour by its bursting, so oftentimes abuse, suddenly thrust on a man in anger or hatred, has cured some disease in his soul which he was ignorant of or neglected. But most people when they are abused do not consider whether the abuse really belongs to them properly, but look round to see what abuse they can heap on the abuser, and, as wrestlers get smothered with the dust of the arena, do not wipe off the abuse hurled at themselves, but bespatter others, and at last get on both sides grimy and discoloured. But if anyone gets a bad name from an enemy, he ought to clear himself of the imputation even more than he would remove any stain on his clothes that was pointed out to him; and if it be wholly untrue, yet he ought to investigate what originated the charge, and to be on his guard and be afraid lest he had unawares done something very near akin to what was imputed to him. As Lacydes, the king of the Argives, by the way he wore his hair and by his mincing walk got charged with effeminacy: and Pompey's scratching his head with one finger was construed in the same way, though both these men were very far from effeminacy or wantonness. And Crassus was accused of an intrigue with one of the Vestal Virgins, because he wished to purchase from her a pleasant estate, and therefore frequently visited her and waited upon her. And Postumia, from her readiness to laugh and talk somewhat freely with men, got accused and even had to stand her trial for incest,[521] but was, however, acquitted of that charge: but Spurius Minucius the Pontif ex Maximus, when he pronounced her innocent, urged her not to be freer in her words than she was in her life. And though Themistocles[522] was guiltless of treason, his intimacy with Pausanias, and the letters and messages that frequently passed between them, laid him under suspicion.

Sec. VII. Whenever therefore any false charge is made against us, we ought not merely to despise and neglect it as false, but to see what word or

## action, either in jest or earnest, has made the charge seem probable,

and this we must for the future be earnestly on our guard against and shun. For if others falling into unforeseen trouble and difficulties teach us what is expedient, as Merope says,

"Fortune has made me wise, though she has ta'en My dearest ones as wages,"[523]

why should we not take an enemy, and pay him no wages, to teach us, and give us profit and instruction, in matters which had escaped our notice? For an enemy has keener perception than a friend, for, as Plato[524] says, "the lover is blind as respects the loved one," and hatred is both curious and talkative. Hiero was twitted by one of his enemies for his foul breath, so he went home and said to his wife, "How is this? You never told me of it." But she being chaste and innocent replied, "I thought all men's breath was like that."[525] Thus perceptible and material things, and things that are plain to everybody, are sooner learnt from enemies than from friends and intimates.

Sec. VIII. Moreover to keep the tongue well under control, no small factor in moral excellence, and to make it always obedient and submissive to reason, is not possible, unless by practice and attention and painstaking a man has subdued his worst passions, as for example anger. For such expressions as "a word uttered involuntarily," and "escaping the barrier of the teeth,"[526] and "words darting forth spontaneously," well illustrate what happens in the case of ill-disciplined souls, ever wavering and in an unsettled condition through infirmity of temper, through unbridled fancy, or through faulty education. But, according to divine Plato,[527] though a word seems a very trivial matter, the heaviest penalty follows upon it both from gods and men. But silence can never be called to account, is not only not thirsty, to borrow the language of Hippocrates, but when abused is dignified and Socratic, or rather Herculean, if indeed it was Hercules who said,

"Sharp words he heeded not so much as flies."[528]

Not more dignified and noble than this is it to keep silent when an enemy reviles you, "as one swims by a smooth and mocking cliff," but in practice it is better. If you accustom yourself to bear silently the abuse of an enemy, you will very easily bear the attack of a scolding wife, and will remain undisturbed when you hear the sharp language of a friend or brother, and will be calm and placid when you are beaten or have something thrown at your head by your father or mother. For Socrates put up with Xanthippe, a passionate and forward woman, which made him a more easy companion with others, as being accustomed to submit to her caprices; and it is far better to train and accustom the temper to bear quietly the insults and rages and jeers and taunts of enemies and estranged persons, and not to be distressed at it.

Sec. IX. Thus then must we exhibit in our enmities meekness and forbearance, and in our friendships still more simplicity and magnanimity and kindness. For it is not so graceful to do a friend a service, as disgraceful to refuse to do so at his request; and not to revenge oneself on an enemy when opportunity offers is generous. But the man who sympathizes with his enemy in affliction, and assists him in distress, and readily holds out a helping hand to his children and family and their fortunes when in a low condition, whoever does not admire such a man for his humanity, and praise his benevolence,

"He has a black heart made of adamant Or iron or bronze."[529]

When Caesar ordered the statues of Pompey that had been thrown down to be put up again,[530] Cicero said, "You have set up again Pompey's statues, and in so doing have erected statues to yourself." We ought not therefore to be niggardly in our praise and honour of an enemy that deserves a good name. For he who praises another receives on that account greater praise himself, and is the more credited on another occasion when he finds fault, as not having any personal ill-feeling against the man, but only disapproving of his act; and what is most noble and advantageous, the man who is accustomed to praise his enemies, and not to be vexed or malignant at their prosperity, is as far as possible from envying the good fortune of his friends, and the success of his intimates. And yet what practice will be more beneficial to our minds, or bring about a happier disposition, than that which banishes from us all jealousy and envy? For as in war many necessary things, otherwise bad, are customary and have as it were the sanction of law, so that they cannot be abolished in spite of the injury they do, so enmity drags along in its train hatred, and envy, and jealousy, and malignity, and revenge, and stamps them on the character. Moreover knavery, and deceit, and villainy, that seem neither bad nor unfair if employed against an enemy, if they once get planted in the mind are difficult to dislodge; and eventually from force of habit get used also against friends, unless they are forewarned and forearmed through their previous acquaintance with the tricks of enemies. If then Pythagoras,[531] accustoming his disciples to abstain from all cruelty and inhumanity to the brute creation, did right to discountenance bird-fowling, and to buy up draughts of fishes and bid them be thrown into the water again, and to forbid killing any but wild animals, much more noble is it, in dissensions and differences with human beings, to be a generous, just and true enemy, and to check and tame all bad and low and knavish propensities, that in all intercourse with friends a man may keep the peace and abstain from doing an injury. Scaurus was an enemy and accuser of Domitius, but when one of Domitius' slaves came to him to reveal some important matters which were unknown to Scaurus, he would not hear him, but seized him and sent him back to his master. And when Cato was prosecuting Murena for canvassing, and was getting together his evidence, he was accompanied as was usual by people who watched what he was doing,[532] and would often ask him if he intended that day to get together his witnesses and open the case, and if he said "No," they believed him and went their way. All this is the greatest proof of the credit which was reposed in Cato, but it is better and more important, that we should accustom ourselves to deal justly even with our enemies, and then there will be no fear that we should ever act unjustly and treacherously to our friends and intimates.

Sec. X. But since, as Simonides says, "all larks must have their crests,"[533] and every man's nature contains in it pugnacity and jealousy and envy, which last is, as Pindar says, "the companion of empty-headed men," one might get considerable advantage by purging oneself of those passions against enemies, and by diverting them, like sewers, as far as possible from companions and friends.[534] And this it seems the statesmanlike Onomademus had remarked, for being on the victorious side in a disturbance at Chios, he urged his party not to expel all of the different faction, but to leave some, "in order," he said, "that we may not begin to quarrel with our friends, when we have got entirely rid of our enemies." So too our expending these passions entirely on our enemies will give less trouble to our friends. For it ought not to be, as Hesiod[535] says, that "potter envies potter, and singer envies singer, and neighbour neighbour," and cousin cousin, and brother brother, "if hastening to get rich" and enjoying prosperity. But if there is no other way to get rid of strife and envy and quarrels, accustom yourself to be vexed at your enemies' good fortune, and sharpen and accentuate on them your acerbity. For as judicious gardeners think they produce finer roses and violets by planting alongside of them garlic and onions, that any bitter or strong elements may be transferred to them, so your enemy's getting and attracting your envy and malignity will render you kinder and more agreeable to your prosperous friends. And so let us be rivals of our enemies for glory or office or righteous gain, not only being vexed if they get ahead of us, but also carefully observing all the steps by which they get ahead, and trying to outdo them in industry, and hard work, and soberness, and prudence; as Themistocles said Miltiades' victory at Marathon would not let him sleep.[536] For he who thinks his enemy gets before him in offices, or advocacies, or state affairs, or in favour with his friends or great men, if from action and emulation he sinks into envy and despondency, makes his life become idle and inoperative. But he who is not blinded by hate,[537] but a discerning spectator of life and character and words and deeds, will perceive that most of what he envies comes to those who have them from diligence and prudence and good actions, and exerting himself in the same direction he will increase his love of what is honourable and noble, and will eradicate his vanity and sloth.

Sec. XI. But if our enemies seem to us to have got either by flattery, or fraud, or bribery, or venal services, ill-got and discreditable power at court or in state, it ought not to trouble us but rather inspire pleasure in us, when we compare our own liberty and purity and independence of life. For, as Plato[538] says, "all the gold above or below the earth is not of equal value with virtue." And we ought ever to remember the precept of Solon, "We will not exchange our virtue for others' wealth."[539] Nor will we give up our virtue for the applause of banqueting theatres, nor for honours and chief seats among eunuchs and harlots, nor to be monarchs' satraps; for nothing is to be desired or noble that comes from what is bad. But since, as Plato[540] says, "the lover is blind as respects the loved one," and we notice more what our enemies do amiss, we ought not to let either our joy at their faults or our grief at their success be idle, but in either case we ought to reflect, how we may become better than them by avoiding their errors, and by imitating their virtues not come short of them.

[497] So Pliny, viii. 83: "In Creta Insula non vulpes ursive, atque omnino millum maleficum animal praeter phalangium."

[498] See the same remark of Chilo, "On Abundance of Friends," Sec. vi.

[499] "Oeconom." i. 15.

[500] A treatise of Plutarch still extant.

[501] A line from a lost Satyric Play of AEschylus, called "Prometheus Purphoros."

[502] So fire is called [Greek: pantechnon] in AEschylus, "Prometheus Desmotes," 7.

[503] Compare Seneca, "De Animi Tranquillitate," cap. xiii.: "Zeno noster cum omnia sua audiret submersa, Jubet, inquit, me fortuna expeditius philosophari."

[504] See Horace, "Epistles," i. I. 28; Pausanias, iv. 2.

[505] See Plautus, "Trinummus," 205-211.

[506] Homer, "Iliad," i. 255.

[507] Literally "the artists of Dionysus." We know what they were from our author's "Quaestiones Romanae," Sec. 107: [Greek: dia ti tous peri ton Dionuson technitas histrionas Rhomaioi kalousin];

[508] Compare "De Audiendis Poetis," Sec. iv.

[509] AEschylus, "Septem contra Thebas," 593, 594.

[510] Pindar, "Fragm." 253.

[511] Demosthenes, "De Falsa Legatione," p. 406.

[512] Euripides, "Orestes," 251.

[513] A line from Euripides. Quoted also "De Adulatore et Amico," Sec. xxxii.

[514] Compare "De Audiendo," Sec.vi. See also Horace, "Satires," i, 4. 136, 137.

[515] The story is somewhat differently told, "Quaest. Conviv.," Lib. ii. Sec. ix.

[516] From a lost play of Euripides.

[517] In some lost play. Compare Hesiod, "Works and Days," 719-721; Terence, "Andria," 920.

[518] The sentiment is assigned to Diogenes twice elsewhere by our author, namely, "How One may be aware of one's Progress in Virtue," Sec. xi., and "How One may discern a Flatterer from a Friend," Sec. xxxvi.

[519] See Propertius, ii. 1. 63, 64; Ovid, "Metamorphoses," xii. 112; xiii. 171; "Tristia," v. 2. 15, 16; "Remedia Amoris," 47, 48; Erasmus, "Adagia," p. 221.

[520] "Jason Pheraeus cognomine Prometheus dictus est. Vide Ciceronem, 'Nat. Deor.' iii. 29; Plinium, vii. 51; Valerium Maximum, i. 8, Extem. 6."--_Wytttenbach._

[521] She was a Vestal Virgin. See Livy, iv. 44.

[522] See Thucydides, i. 135, 136.

[523] From a lost play of Euripides. Compare the proverb, [Greek: pathemata mathemata].

[524] "Laws," v. p. 731 E.

[525] Told again "Reg. et Imperator. Apophthegm.," p. 175 B.

[526] A favourite image of Homer, employed "Iliad," iv. 350; xiv. 83; "Odyssey," i. 64; xxiii. 70.

[527] "Laws," xi. p. 935 A. Quoted again "On Talkativeness," Sec. vii.

[528] See Pausanias, v. 14.

[529] From a Fragment of Pindar.

[530] See Suetonius, "Divus Julius," 75: "Sed et statuas L. Sullae atque Pompeii a plebe disjectas reposuit."

[531] Compare our author, "Quaestiones Convivalium," viii. p. 729 E.

[532] No doubt in the interest of the defendant. See our author, "Cato Minor," p. 769 B.

[533] A Greek proverb, see Erasmus, "Adagia," p. 921.

[534] So Cicero, "Nat. Deor." ii. 56: "In aedibus architecti avertunt ab oculis naribusque dominorum ea quae profluentia necessario taetri essent aliquid habitura."

[535] "Works and Days," 23-26. Our "Two of a trade seldom agree."

[536] Compare "How One may be aware of one's Progress in Virtue," Sec. xiv.

[537] For as the English proverb says, "Hatred is blind as well as love."

[538] "Laws," v. p. 728 A.

[539] Quoted more fully "How One may be aware of one's Progress in Virtue," Sec. vi.

[540] "Laws," v. p. 731 E. See also above, Sec. vii.

ON TALKATIVENESS.[541]

Sec. I. Philosophy finds talkativeness a disease very difficult and hard to cure. For its remedy, conversation, requires hearers: but talkative people hear nobody, for they are ever prating. And the first evil this inability to keep silence produces is an inability to listen. It is a self-chosen deafness of people who, I take it, blame nature for giving us one tongue and two ears. If then the following advice of Euripides to a foolish hearer was good,

"I cannot fill one that can nought retain, Pumping up wise words for an unwise man;"

one might more justly say to a talkative man, or rather about a talkative man,

"I cannot fill one that will nothing take, Pumping up wise words for an unwise man;"

or rather deluging with words one that talks to those who don't listen, and listens not to those who talk. Even if he does listen for a short time, talkativeness hurries off what is said like the retiring sea, and anon brings it up again multiplied with the approaching tide. The portico at Olympia that returns many echoes to one utterance is called seven-voiced,[542] and if the slightest utterance catches the ear of talkativeness, it at once echoes it all round,

"Moving the mind's chords all unmoved before."[543]

For their ears can certainly have no passages leading to the brain but only to the tongue. And so while other people retain what they hear, talkative people lose it altogether, and, being empty-headed, they resemble empty vessels, and go about making much noise.[544]

Sec. II. If however it seems that no attempt at cure has been left untried, let us say to the talkative person,

"Be silent, boy; silence has great advantages;"

two of the first and foremost of which are hearing and being heard, neither of which can happen to talkative people, for however they desire either so unhappy are they that they must desist from it. For in all other diseases of the soul, as love of money, love of glory, or love of pleasure, people at any rate attain the desired object: but it is the cruel fate of talkative people to desire hearers but not to get them, for everyone flees from them with headlong speed; and if people are sitting or walking about in any public place,[545] and see one coming they quickly pass the word to one another to shift quarters. And as when there is dead silence in any assembly they say Hermes has joined the company, so when any prater joins some drinking party or social gathering of friends, all are silent, not wishing to give him a chance to break in, and if he uninvited begin to open his mouth, they all, "like before a storm at sea, when Boreas is blowing a gale round some headland," foreseeing tossing about and nausea, disperse. And so it is their destiny to find neither willing table-companions, nor messmates when they are travelling by land or by sea, but only such as cannot help themselves; for such a fellow is always at you, plucking hold of your clothes or chin, or giving you a dig in the ribs with his elbow. "Most valuable are the feet in such a conjuncture," according to Archilochus, nay according to the wise Aristotle himself. For he being bothered with a talkative fellow, and wearied out with his absurd tales, and his frequent question, "Is not this wonderful, Aristotle?" "Not at all," said he, "but it is wonderful that anyone with a pair of legs stops here to listen to you." And to another such fellow, who said after a long rigmarole, "Did I weary you, philosopher, by my chatter?" "Not you, by Zeus," said he, "for I paid no attention to you." For even if talkative people force you to listen,[546] the mind can give them only its outward ears to deluge, while it unfolds and pursues some other thoughts within; so they find neither hearers to attend to them, nor credit them. They say those that are prone to Venus are commonly barren: so the prating of talkative people is ineffectual and fruitless.

Sec. III. And yet nature has fenced and barricaded in us nothing so much as the tongue, having put the teeth before it as a barrier, so that if, when reason holds tight her "glossy reins,"[547] it hearken not, nor keep within bounds, we may check its intemperance, biting it till the blood comes. For Euripides tells us that, not from unbolted houses or store-rooms, but "from unbridled mouths the end is misfortune."[548] But those persons who think that houses without doors and open purses are no good to their possessors, and yet keep their mouths open and unshut, and allow their speech to flow continually like the waves of the Euxine,[549] seem to regard speech as of less value than anything. And so they never get believed, though credit is the aim of every speech; for to inspire belief in one's hearers is the proper end of speech, but praters are disbelieved even when they tell the truth. For as corn stowed away in a granary is found to be larger in quantity but inferior in quality, so the speech of a talkative man is increased by a large addition of falsehood, which destroys his credit.

Sec. IV. Then again every man of modesty and propriety would avoid drunkenness, for anger is next door neighbour to madness as some think,[550] but drunkenness lives in the same house: or rather drunkenness is madness, more short-lived indeed, but more potent also through volition, for it is self-chosen. Nor is drunkenness censured for anything so much as its intemperate and endless talk.

"Wine makes a prudent man begin to sing, And gently laugh, and even makes him dance."[551]

And yet there is no harm in all this, in singing and laughing and dancing. But the poet adds--

"And it compels to say what's best unsaid."[552]

This is indeed dreadful and dangerous. And perhaps the poet in this passage has solved that problem of the philosophers, and stated the difference between being under the influence of wine and being drunk, mirth being the condition of the former, foolish talk of the latter. For as the proverb tells us, "What is in the heart of the sober is on the tongue of the drunken."[553] And so Bias, being silent at a drinking bout, and jeered at by some young man in the company as stupid, replied, "What fool could hold his tongue in liquor?" And at Athens a certain person gave an entertainment to the king's ambassadors, and at their desire contrived to get the philosophers there too, and as they were all talking together and comparing ideas, and Zeno alone was silent, the strangers greeted him and pledged him, and said, "What are we to tell the king about you, Zeno?" And he replied, "Nothing, but that there is an old man at Athens that can hold his tongue at a drinking bout." So profound and mysterious and sober is silence, while drunkenness is talkative: for it is void of sense and understanding, and so is loquacious. And so the philosophers define drunkenness to be silly talk in wine. Drinking therefore is not censured, if silence go with it, but foolish prating turns being under the influence of wine into drunkenness. And the drunken man prates only in his cups; but the talkative man prates everywhere, in the market-place, in the theatre, out walking, by night and by day. If he is your doctor, he is more trouble to you than your disease: if he is on board ship with you, he disgusts you more than sea-sickness; if he praises you, he is more fulsome than blame. It is more pleasure associating with bad men who have tact than with good men who prate. Nestor indeed in Sophocles' Play, trying by his words to soothe exasperated Ajax, said to him mildly,

"I blame you not, for though your words are bad, Your acts are good:"

but we cannot feel so to the talkative man, for his want of tact in words destroys and undoes all the grace of his actions.

Sec. V. Lysias wrote a defence for some accused person, and gave it him, and he read it several times, and came to Lysias in great dejection and said, "When I first perused this defence, it seemed to me wonderful, but when I read it a second and third time, it seemed altogether dull and ineffective. Then Lysias laughed, and said, "What then? Are you going to read it more than once to the jury?" And yet do but consider the persuasiveness and grace of Lysias' style;[554] for he "I say was a great favourite with the dark-haired Muses."[555] And of the things which have been said of Homer the truest is that he alone of all poets has survived the fastidiousness of mankind, as being ever new and still at his acme as regards giving pleasure, and yet saying and proclaiming about himself, "I hate to spin out a plain tale over and over again,"[556] he avoids and fears that satiety which lies in ambush for every narrative, and takes the hearer from one subject to another, and relieves by novelty the possibility of being surfeited. But the talkative worry one's ears to death with their tautologies, as people scribble the same things over and over again on palimpsests.[557]

Sec. VI. Let us remind them then first of this, that just as in the case of wine, which was intended for pleasure and mirth, those who compel people to drink it neat and in large quantities bring some into a disgusting condition of drunkenness, so with speech, which is the pleasantest social tie amongst mankind, those who make a bad and ill-advised use of it render it unpleasing and unfit for company, paining those whom they think to gratify, and become a laughing-stock to those who they think admire them, and objectionable to those who they think love them. As then he cannot be a favourite of the goddess who with Aphrodite's charmed girdle[558] repels and drives away those who associate with him, so he who with his speech bores and disgusts one is without either taste or refinement.

Sec. VII. Of all other passions and disorders some are dangerous, some hateful, some ridiculous, but in talkativeness all these elements are combined. For praters are jeered at for their commonplaces, and hated when they bring bad news, and run into danger when they reveal secrets. And so Anacharsis, when he was feasted by Solon and lay down to sleep, and was observed with his left hand on his private parts, and his right hand on his mouth, for he thought his tongue needed the stronger restraint, was right in his opinion. For it would be difficult to find as many men who have been ruined by venereal excesses as cities and leading states that have been undone by the utterance of a secret. When Sulla was besieging Athens, and had no time to waste there, "for he had other fish to fry,"[559] as Mithridates was ravaging Asia, and the party of Marius was again in power at Rome, some old men in a barber's shop happened to observe to one another that the Heptachalcon was not well guarded, and that their city ran a great risk of being captured at that point, and some spies who overheard this conversation reported it to Sulla. And he at once marched up his forces, and about midnight entered the city with his army, and all but rased it to the ground, and filled it with slaughter and dead bodies, insomuch that the Ceramicus ran with blood: and he was thus savage against the Athenians for their words rather than their deeds, for they had spoken ill of him and his wife Metella, jumping on to the walls and calling out in a jeering way,

"Sulla is a mulberry bestrewn with barley meal,"

and much similar banter. Thus they drew down upon themselves for words, which, as Plato[560] says, are a very small matter, a very heavy punishment.[561] The prating of one man also prevented Rome from becoming free by the removal of Nero. For it was only the night before the tyrant was to be murdered, and all preparations had been made, when he that was to do the deed going to the theatre, and seeing someone in chains near the doors who was about to be taken before Nero, and was bewailing his sad fortune, went up close to him and whispered, "Pray only, good sir, that to-day may pass by, to-morrow you will owe me many thanks." He guessing the meaning of the riddle, and thinking, I take it, "he is a fool who gives up what is in his hand for a remote contingency,"[562] preferred certain to honourable safety. For he informed Nero of what the man had said, and he was immediately arrested, and torture, and fire, and scourging were applied to him, who denied now in his necessity what before he had divulged without necessity.

Sec. VIII. Zeno the philosopher,[563] that he might not against his will divulge any secrets when put to the torture, bit off his tongue, and spit it at the tyrant. Famous also was the reward which Leaena had for her taciturnity.[564] She was the mistress of Harmodius and Aristogiton, and, although a woman, participated in their hopes of success in the conspiracy against the tyrants: for she had revelled in the glorious cup of love, and had been initiated in their secrets through the god. When then they had failed in their attempt and been put to death, and she was examined and bidden to reveal the names of the other conspirators, she refused to do so, and held out to the end, showing that those famous men in loving such a one as her had done nothing unworthy of them. And the Athenians erected to her memory a bronze lioness without a tongue, and placed it near the entrance to the Acropolis, signifying her dauntless courage by the nobleness of that animal, and by its being without a tongue her silence and fidelity. For no spoken word has done as much good as many unspoken ones. For at some future day we can give utterance if we like to what has been not said, but a word once spoken cannot be recalled, but flies about and runs all round the world. And this is the reason, I take it, why men teach us to speak, but the gods teach us to be silent, silence being enjoined on us in the mysteries and in all religious rites. Thus Homer has described the most eloquent Odysseus, and Telemachus, and Penelope, and the nurse, as all remarkable for their taciturnity. You remember the nurse saying,

"I'll keep it close as heart of oak or steel."[565]

And Odysseus sitting by Penelope,

"Though in his heart he pitied her sad grief, His eyes like horn or steel impassive stood Within their lids, and craft his tears repressed."[566]

So great control had he over all his body, and so much were all his members under the sway and rule of reason, that he commanded his eyes not to weep, his tongue not to speak, and his heart not to tremble or quake.[567]

"So calm and passive did his heart remain,"[568]

reason penetrating even to the irrational instincts, and making spirit and blood obedient and docile to it. Such also were most of his companions, for though they were dashed to the ground and dragged along by the Cyclops, they said not a word about Odysseus, nor did they show the stake of wood that had been put into the fire and prepared to put out Polyphemus' eye, but they would rather have been eaten alive than divulge secrets, such wonderful self-control and fidelity had they.[569] And so it was not amiss of Pittacus, when the king of Egypt sent him a victim, and bade him take from it the best and worst piece of it, to pull out the tongue and send that to the king, as being the instrument of the greatest blessings and withal the greatest mischiefs.

Sec. IX. So Ino in Euripides, speaking plainly about herself, says she knows "how to be silent when she should, and to speak when speech is safe."[570] For those who have enjoyed a truly noble and royal education learn first to be silent and then to speak. So the famous king Antigonus, when his son asked him, "When are we going to shift our quarters?" answered, "Are you afraid that you only will not hear the trumpet?" Was he afraid then to entrust a secret to him, to whom he intended one day to leave his kingdom? Nay rather, it was to teach him to be close and guarded on such matters. Metellus[571] also, the well-known veteran, when questioned somewhat similarly about an expedition, said, "If I thought my coat knew the secret, I would strip it off and throw it into the fire." And Eumenes, when he heard that Craterus was marching against him, told none of his friends, but pretended that it was Neoptolemus; for his soldiers despised Neoptolemus, but they admired the glory and loved the virtue of Craterus; and no one but Eumenes knew the truth, and they engaged and were victorious, and unwittingly killed Craterus, and only recognized his dead body. So great a