Essays

Caphisias, Timotheus, Archidamus, Children Of Archinus, Lysithides, Other Companions.

1. I heard lately, Caphisias, a neat saying of a painter, comprised in a similitude upon those that came to view his pictures. For he said, the ignorant and unskilful were like those that saluted a whole company together, but the curious and knowing like those that complimented each single person; for the former take no exact, but only one general view of the performance; but those that with judgment examine part by part take notice of every stroke that is either well or ill done in the whole picture. The duller and lazy sort are abundantly satisfied with a short account and upshot of any business. But he that is of a generous and noble temper, that is fitted to be a spectator of virtue, as of a curious piece of art, is more delighted with the particulars. For, upon a general view, much of fortune is discovered; but when the particulars are examined, then appear the art and contrivance, the boldness in conquering intervening accidents, and the reason that was mixed with and tempered the heat and fury of the undertakers. Suppose us to be of this sort, and give us an account of the whole design, how from the very beginning it was carried on, what company you kept, and what particular discourse you had that day;—a thing so much desired, that I protest I would willingly go to Thebes to be informed, did not the Athenians already suspect me to lean too much to the Boeotian interest.

Caphisias. Indeed Archidamus, your kind eagerness after this story is so obliging, that, putting myself above all business (as Pindar says), I should have come on purpose to give you a relation. But since I am now come upon an embassy, and have nothing to do until I receive an answer to my memorial, to be uncivil and not to satisfy the request of an obliging friend would revive the old reproach that hath been cast upon the Boeotians for morose sullenness and hating good discourse, a reproach which began to die in the time of Socrates. But as for the rest of the company, pray sir, are they at leisure to hear such a story?—for I must be very long, since you enjoin me to add the particular discourses that passed between us.

Arch. You do not know the men, Caphisias, though they are worthy your acquaintance; men of good families, and no enemies to you. This is Lysithides, Thrasybulus’s nephew; this Timotheus, the son of Conon; these Archinus’s sons; and all the rest my very good acquaintance, so that you need not doubt a favorable and obliging audience.

Caph. Very well; but where shall I begin the story? How much of these affairs are you acquainted with already?

Arch. We know, Caphisias, how matters stood at Thebes before the exiles returned,—how Archias, Leontidas, and their associates, having persuaded Phoebidas the Spartan in the time of peace to surprise that castle, banished some of the citizens, awed others, took the power into their own hands, and tyrannized against all equity and law. We understood Melon’s and Pelopidas’s designs, having (as you know) entertained them, and having conversed with them ever since they were banished. We knew likewise that the Spartans fined Phoebidas for taking the Cadmea, and in their expedition to Olynthus cashiered him; but sent a stronger garrison, under Lysinoridas and two more, to command the castle; and further, that Ismenias presently after his trial was basely murdered. For Gorgidas wrote constantly to the exiles, and sent them all the news; so that you have nothing to do but only to inform us in the particulars of your friends’ return and the seizing of the tyrants.

2. Caph. In those days, Archidamus, all that were concerned in the design, as often as our business required, used to meet at Simmias’s house, who then lay lame of a blow upon his shin. This we covered with a pretence of meeting for improvement and philosophical discourse, and, to take off all suspicion, we many times invited Archias and Leontidas, who were not altogether averse to such conversation. Besides, Simmias, having been a long time abroad and conversant with different nations, was lately returned to Thebes, full of all sorts of stories and strange relations. To him Archias, when free from business, would resort with the youth of Thebes, and sit and hear with a great deal of delight; being better pleased to see us mind philosophy and learning than their illegal actions. Now the same day in which it was agreed that about night the exiles should come privately to town, a messenger, whom none of us all but Charon knew, came from them by Pherenicus’s order, and told us that twelve of the youngest of the exiles were now hunting on the mountain Cithaeron, and designed to come at night, and that he was sent to deliver this and to know in whose house they should be received, that as soon as they entered they might go directly thither. This startling us, Charon put an end to all our doubts by offering to receive them in his house. With this answer the messenger returned.

3. But Theocritus the soothsayer, grasping me by the hand, and looking on Charon that went just before us, said: That Charon, Caphisias, is no philosopher, nor so general nor so acute a scholar as thy brother Epaminondas, and yet you see that, Nature leading him, under the direction of the law, to noble actions, he willingly ventures on the greatest danger for the benefit of his country; but Epaminondas, who thinks he knows more of virtue than any of the Boeotians, is dull and inactive; and though opportunity presents, though there cannot be a fairer occasion, and though he is fitted to embrace it, yet he refuseth to join, and will not make one in this generous attempt. And I replied: Courageous Theocritus, we do what upon mature deliberation we have approved, but Epaminondas, being of a contrary opinion and thinking it better not to take this course, rationally complies with his judgment, whilst he refuseth to meddle in those matters which his reason upon our desire cannot approve, and to which his nature is averse. Nor can I think it prudent to force a physician to use fire and a lancet, that promiseth to cure the disease without them. What, said Theocritus, doth he not approve of our method? No, I replied, he would have no citizens put to death without a trial at law; but if we would endeavor to free our country without slaughter and bloodshed, none would more readily comply; but since we slight his reasons and follow our own course, he desires to be excused, to be guiltless of the blood and slaughter of his citizens, and to be permitted to watch an opportunity when he may deliver his country according to equity and right. For this action may go too far, Pherenicus, it is true, and Pelopidas may assault the bad men and the oppressors of the people; but Eumolpidas and Samidas, men of extraordinary heat and violence, prevailing in the night, will hardly sheathe their swords until they have filled the whole city with slaughter and cut in pieces many of the chief men.

4. Anaxidorus, overhearing this discourse of mine to Theocritus (for he was just by), bade us be cautious, for Archias with Lysanoridas the Spartan were coming from the castle directly towards us. Upon this advice we left off; and Archias, calling Theocritus aside together with Lysanoridas, privately discoursed him a long while, so that we were very much afraid lest they had some suspicion or notice of our design, and examined Theocritus about it. In the mean time Phyllidas (you know him, Archidamus) who was then secretary to Archias the general, who knew of the exiles coming and was one of the associates, taking me by the hand, as he used to do, before the company, found fault with the late exercises and wrestling he had seen; but afterwards leading me aside, he enquired after the exiles, and asked whether they were resolved to be punctual to the day. And upon my assuring that they were, then he replied, I have very luckily provided a feast to-day to treat Archias, make him drunk, and then deliver him an easy prey to the invaders. Excellently contrived, Phyllidas, said I, and prithee endeavor to draw all or most of our enemies together. That, said he, is very hard, nay, rather impossible; for Archias, being in hopes of the company of some noble women there, will not yield that Leontidas should be present, so that it will be necessary to divide the associates into two companies, that we may surprise both the houses. For, Archias and Leontidas being taken off, I suppose the others will presently fly, or staying make no stir, being very well satisfied if they can be permitted to be safe and quiet. So, said I, we will order it; but about what, I wonder, are they discoursing with Theocritus? And Phyllidas replied, I cannot certainly tell, but I have heard that some omens and oracles portend great disasters and calamities to Sparta; and perhaps they consult him about those matters. Theocritus had just left them, when Phidolaus the Haliartian meeting us said: Simmias would have you stay here a little while, for he is interceding with Leontidas for Amphitheus, and begs that instead of dying, according to the sentence, he may be banished.

5. Well, said Theocritus, this happens very opportunely, for I had a mind to ask what was seen and what found in Alcmena’s tomb lately opened amongst you, for perhaps, sir, you were present when Agesilaus sent to fetch the relics to Sparta. And Phidolaus replied: Indeed I was not present at the opening of the grave, for I was not delegated, being extremely concerned and very angry with my fellow-citizens for permitting it to be done. There were found no relics of a body; but a small brazen bracelet, and two earthen pipkins full of earth, which now by length of time was grown very hard and petrified. Upon the monument there was a brazen plate full of strange, because very ancient, letters; for though, when the plate was washed, all the strokes were very easily perceived, yet nobody could make any thing of them; for they were a particular, barbarous, and very like the Egyptian character. And therefore Agesilaus, as the story goes, sent a transcript of them to the king of Egypt, desiring him to show them to the priests, and if they understood them, to send him the meaning and interpretation. But perhaps in this matter Simmias can inform us, for at that time he studied their philosophy and frequently conversed with the priests upon that account. The Haliartii believe the great scarcity and overflowing of the pool that followed were not effects of chance, but a particular judgment upon them for permitting the grave to be opened. And Theocritus, after a little pause, said: Nay, there seem some judgments to hang over the Lacedaemonians themselves, as those omens about which Lysanoridas just now discoursed me portend. And now he is gone to Haliartus to fill up the grave again, and, as the oracle directs, to make some oblations to Alcmena and Aleus; but who this Aleus is, he cannot tell. And as soon as he returns, he must endeavor to find the sepulchre of Dirce, which not one of the Thebans themselves, besides the captains of the horse, knows; for he that goes out of his office leads his successor to the place alone, and in the dark; there they offer some sacrifices, but without fire, and leaving no mark behind them, they separate from one another, and come home again in the dark. So that I believe, Phidolaus, it will be no easy matter for him to discover it. For most of those that have been duly elected to that office are now in exile; nay, all besides Gorgidas and Plato; and they will never ask those, for they are afraid of them. And our present officers are invested in the castle with the spear only and the seal, but know nothing of the tomb, and cannot direct him.

6. Whilst Theocritus was speaking, Leontidas and his friends went out; and we going in saluted Simmias, sitting upon his couch, very much troubled because his petition was denied. He, looking up upon us, cried out: Good God! The savage barbarity of these men! And was it not an excellent remark of Thales, who, when his friends asked him, upon his return from his long travels, what strange news he brought home, replied, “I have seen a tyrant an old man.” For even he that hath received no particular injury, yet disliking their stiff pride and haughty carriage, becomes an enemy to all lawless and unaccountable powers. But Heaven perhaps will take these things into consideration. But, Caphisias, do you know that stranger that came lately hither, who he is? And I replied, I do not know whom you mean. Why, said he, Leontidas told me that there was a man at night seen to rise out of Lysis’s tomb, with great pomp and a long train of attendants, and that he had lodged there all night upon beds made of leaves and boughs; for the next morning such were discovered there, with some relics of burnt sacrifices and some milk-oblations; and that in the morning he enquired of every one he met, whether he should find Polymnis’s sons at home. I wonder, said I, who it is, for by your description I guess him to be no mean man.

7. Well, said Phidolaus, when he comes we will entertain him; but at the present, Simmias, if you know any thing more of those letters about which we were talking, pray let us have it; for it is said that the Egyptian priests took into consideration the writing of a certain table which Agesilaus had from us when he opened Alcmena’s tomb. As for the table, replied Simmias, I know nothing of it; but Agetoridas the Spartan came to Memphis with letters from Agesilaus to Chonouphis the priest, whilst I, Plato, and Ellopio the Peparethian, studied together at his house. He came by order of the king, who enjoined Chonouphis, if he understood the writing, to send him the interpretation with all speed. And he in three days’ study, having collected all the different sorts of characters that could be found in the old books, wrote back to the king and likewise told us, that the writing enjoined the Greeks to institute games in honor of the Muses; that the characters were such as were used in the time of Proteus, and that Hercules, the son of Amphitryo, then learned them; and that the Gods by this admonished the Greeks to live peaceably and at quiet, to contend in philosophy to the honor of the Muses, and, laying aside their arms, to determine what is right and just by reason and discourse. We then thought that Chonouphis spoke right; and that opinion was confirmed when, as we were sailing from Egypt, about Caria some Delians met us, who desired Plato, being well skilled in geometry, to solve an odd oracle lately delivered by Apollo. The oracle was this: “Then the Delians and all the other Greeks should enjoy some respite from their present evils, when they had doubled the altar at Delos.” They, not comprehending the meaning of the words, after many ridiculous endeavors (for each of the sides being doubled, they had framed a body, instead of twice, eight times as big) made application to Plato to clear the difficulty. He, calling to mind what the Egyptian had told him, said that the God was merry upon the Greeks, who despised learning; that he severely reflected on their ignorance, and admonished them to apply themselves to the deepest parts of geometry; for this was not to be done by a dull short-sighted intellect, but one exactly skilled in the natures and properties of lines; it required skill to find the true proportion by which alone a body of a cubic figure can be doubled, all its dimensions being equally increased. He said that Eudoxus the Cnidian or Helico the Cyzicenian might do this for them; but that was not the thing desired by the God; for by this oracle he enjoined all the Greeks to leave off war and contention, and apply themselves to study, and, by learning and arts moderating the passions, to live peaceably with one another, and profit the community.

8. Whilst Simmias was speaking, my father Polymnis came in, and sitting down by him said: Epaminondas desires you and the rest of the company, unless some urgent business requires your attendance, to stay for him here a little while, designing to bring you acquainted with this stranger, who is a very worthy man; and the design upon which he comes is very genteel and honorable. He is a Pythagorean of the Italian sect, and comes hither to make some offerings to old Lysis at his tomb, according to divers dreams and very notable appearances that he hath seen. He hath brought a good sum of money with him, and thinks himself bound to satisfy Epaminondas for keeping Lysis in his old age; and is very eager, though we are neither willing nor desire him, to relieve his poverty. And Simmias, glad at this news, replied: You tell me, sir, of a wonderful man and worthy professor of philosophy; but why doth he not come directly to us? I think, said my father, he lay all night at Lysis’s tomb; and therefore Epaminondas hath now led him to the Ismenus to wash; and when that is done, they will be here. For before he came to our house, he lodged at the tomb, intending to take up the relics of the body and transport them into Italy, if some genius at night should not advise him to forbear.

9. As soon as my father had ended this discourse, Galaxidorus cried out: Good Gods! how hard a matter is it to find a man pure from vanity and superstition! For some are betrayed into those fooleries by their ignorance and weakness; others, that they may be thought extraordinary men and favorites of Heaven, refer all their actions to some divine admonition pretending dreams, visions, and the like surprising fooleries for every thing they do. This method indeed is advantageous to those that intend to settle a commonwealth, or are forced to keep themselves up against a rude and ungovernable multitude; for by this bridle of superstition they might manage and reform the vulgar; but these pretences seem not only unbecoming philosophy, but quite opposite to all those fine promises she makes. For having promised to teach us by reason what is good and profitable, falling back again to the Gods as the principle of all our actions, she seems to despise reason, and disgrace that demonstration which is her peculiar glory; and she relies on dreams and visions, in which the worst of men are oftentimes as happy as the best. And therefore your Socrates, Simmias, in my opinion followed the most philosophical and rational method of instructions, choosing that plain and easy way as the most genteel and friendly unto truth, and scattering to the sophisters of the age all those vain pretences which are as it were the smoke of philosophy. And Theocritus taking him up said: What, Galaxidorus, and hath Meletus persuaded you that Socrates contemned all divine things?—for that was part of his accusation. Divine things! by no means, replied Galaxidorus; but having received philosophy from Pythagoras and Empedocles, full of dreams, fables, superstitions, and perfect raving, he endeavored to bring wisdom and things together, and make truth consist with sober sense.

10. Be it so, rejoined Theocritus, but what shall we think of his Daemon? Was it a mere juggle? Indeed, nothing that is told of Pythagoras regarding divination seems to me so great and divine. For, in my mind, as Homer makes Minerva to stand by Ulysses in all dangers, so the Daemon joined to Socrates even from his cradle some vision to guide him in all the actions of his life; which going before him, shed a light upon hidden and obscure matters and such as could not be discovered by unassisted human understanding; of such things the Daemon often discoursed with him, presiding over and by divine instinct directing his intentions. More and greater things perhaps you may learn from Simmias and other companions of Socrates; but once when I was present, as I went to Euthyphron the soothsayer’s, it happened, Simmias,—for you remember it,—that Socrates walked up to Symbolum and the house of Andocides, all the way asking questions and jocosely perplexing Euthyphron. When standing still upon a sudden and persuading us to do the like, he mused a pretty while, and then turning about walked through Trunk-makers’ Street, calling back his friends that walked before him, affirming that it was his Daemon’s will and admonition. Many turned back, amongst whom I, holding Euthyphron, was one; but some of the youths keeping on the straight way, on purpose (as it were) to confute Socrates’s Daemon, took along with them Charillus the piper, who came in my company to Athens to see Cebes. Now as they were walking through Gravers’ Row, near the court-houses, a herd of dirty swine met them; and being too many for the street and running against one another, they overthrew some that could not get out of the way, and dirted others; and Charillus came home with his legs and clothes very dirty; so that now and then in merriment they would think on Socrates’s Daemon, wondering that it never forsook the man, and that Heaven took such particular care of him.

11. Then Galaxidorus: And do you think, Theocritus, that Socrates’s Daemon had some peculiar and extraordinary power? And was it not that this man had by experience confirmed some part of the common necessity which made him, in all obscure and inevident matters, add some weight to the reason that was on one side? For as one grain doth not incline the balance by itself, yet added to one of two weights that are of equal poise, makes the whole incline to that part; thus an omen or the like sign may of itself be too light to draw a grave and settled resolution to any action, yet when two equal reasons draw on either side, if that is added to one, the doubt together with the equality is taken off, so that a motion and inclination to that side is presently produced. Then my father continuing the discourse said: You yourself, Galaxidorus, have heard a Megarian, who had it from Terpsion, say that Socrates’s Daemon was nothing else but the sneezing either of himself or others; for if another sneezed, either before, behind him, or on his right hand, then he pursued his design and went on to action; but if on the left hand, he desisted. One sort of sneezing confirmed him whilst deliberating and not fully resolved; another stopped him when already upon action. But indeed it seems strange that, if sneezing was his only sign, he should not acquaint his familiars with it, but pretend that it was a Daemon that encouraged or forbade him. For that this should proceed from vanity or conceit is not agreeable to the veracity and simplicity of the man; for in those we knew him to be truly great, and far above the generality of mankind. Nor is it likely so grave and wise a man should be disturbed at a casual sound or sneezing, and upon that account leave off what he was about, and give over his premeditated resolutions. Besides all, Socrates’s resolution seems to be altogether vigorous and steady, as begun upon right principles and mature judgment. Thus he voluntarily lived poor all his life, though he had friends that would have been very glad and very willing to relieve him; he still kept close to philosophy, notwithstanding all the discouragements he met with; and at last, when his friends endeavored and very ingeniously contrived his escape, he would not yield to their entreaties, but met death with mirth and cheerfulness, and appeared a man of a steady reason in the greatest extremity. And sure these are not the actions of a man whose designs, when once fixed, could be altered by an omen or a sneeze; but of one who, by some more considerable guidance and impulse, is directed to practise things good and excellent. Besides, I have heard that to some of his friends he foretold the overthrow of the Athenians in Sicily. And before that time, Perilampes the son of Antiphon, being wounded and taken prisoner by us in that pursuit at Delium, as soon as he heard from the ambassadors who came from Athens that Socrates with Alcibiades and Laches fled by Rhegiste and returned safe, blamed himself very much, and blamed also some of his friends and captains of the companies—who together with him were overtaken in their flight about Parnes by our cavalry and slain there—for not obeying Socrates’s Daemon and retreating that way which he led. And this I believe Simmias hath heard as well as I. Yes, replied Simmias, many times, and from many persons; for upon this, Socrates’s Daemon was very much talked of at Athens.

12. Why then, pray, Simmias, said Phidolaus, shall we suffer Galaxidorus drollingly to degrade so considerable a prophetic spirit into an omen or a sneeze; which the vulgar and ignorant, it is true, merrily use about small matters; but when any danger appears, then we find that of Euripides verified,—

None near the edge of swords will mind such toys.[207]

To this Galaxidorus rejoined: Sir, if Simmias hath heard Socrates himself speak any thing about this matter, I am very ready to hear and believe it with you; but yet what you and Polymnis have delivered I could easily demonstrate to be weak and insignificant. For as in physic the pulse or a whelk is itself but a small thing, yet is a sign of no small things to the physicians; and as the murmuring of the waves or of a bird, or the driving of a thin cloud, is a sign to the pilot of a stormy heaven and troubled sea; thus to a prophetic soul, a sneeze or an omen, though no great matter simply considered in itself, yet may be the sign and token of considerable impending accidents. For every art and science takes care to collect many things from few, and great from small. And as if one that doth not know the power of letters, when he sees a few ill-shapen strokes, should not believe that a man skilled in letters could read in them the famous battles of the ancients, the rise of cities, the acts and calamities of kings, and should assert that some divine power told him the particulars, he would by this ignorance of his raise a great deal of mirth and laughter in the company; so let us consider whether or no we ourselves, being altogether ignorant of every one’s power of divination by which he guesseth at what is to come, are not foolishly concerned when it is asserted that a wise man by that discovers some things obscure and inevident in themselves, and moreover himself declares that it is not a sneeze or voice, but a Daemon, that leads him on to action. This, Polymnis, particularly respects you, who cannot but wonder that Socrates, who by his meekness and humility hath humanized philosophy, should not call this sign a sneeze or a voice, but very pretendingly a Daemon; when, on the contrary, I should have wondered if a man so critical and exact in discourse, and so good at names as Socrates, should have said that it was a sneeze, and not a Daemon, that gave him intimation; as much as if any one should say that he is wounded by a dart, and not with a dart by him that threw it; or as if any one should say that a weight was weighed by the balance, and not with the balance by the one who holds it. For any effect is not the effect of the instrument, but of him whose the instrument is, and who useth it to that effect; and a sign is an instrument, which he that signifies any thing thereby useth to that effect. But, as I said before, if Simmias hath any thing about this matter, let us quietly attend; for no doubt he must have a more perfect knowledge of the thing.

13. Content, said Theocritus; but let us first see who these are that are coming, for I think I see Epaminondas bringing in the stranger. Upon this motion, looking toward the door, we saw Epaminondas with his friends Ismenidorus and Bacchylidas and Melissus the musician leading the way, and the stranger following, a man of no mean presence; his meekness and good-nature appeared in his looks, and his dress was grave and becoming. He being seated next Simmias, my brother next me, and the rest as they pleased, and all silent, Simmias speaking to my brother said: Well, Epaminondas, by what name and title must I salute this stranger?—for those are commonly our first compliments, and the beginning of our better acquaintance. And my brother replied: His name, Simmias, is Theanor; by birth he is a Crotonian, a philosopher by profession, no disgrace to Pythagoras’s fame; for he hath taken a long voyage from Italy hither, to evidence by generous actions his eminent proficiency in that school.

The stranger subjoined: But you, Epaminondas, hinder the performance of the best action; for if it is commendable to oblige friends, it is not discommendable to be obliged; for a benefit requires a receiver as well as a giver; by both it is perfected, and becomes a good work. For he that refuseth to receive a favor, as a ball that is struck fairly to him, disgraceth it by letting it fall short of the designed mark; and what mark are we so much pleased to hit or vexed to miss, as our kind intentions of obliging a person that deserves a favor? It is true, when the mark is fixed, he that misseth can blame nobody but himself; but he that refuseth or flies a kindness is injurious to the favor in not letting it attain the desired end. I have told you already what was the occasion of my voyage; the same I would discover to all present, and make them judges in the case. For after the opposite faction had expelled the Pythagoreans, and the Cylonians had burned the remains of that society in their school at Metapontum, and destroyed all but Philolaus and Lysis,—who being young and nimble escaped the flame,—Philolaus flying to the Lucanians was there protected by his friends, who rose for his defence and overpowered the Cylonians; but where Lysis was, for a long time nobody could tell; at last Gorgias the Leontine, sailing from Greece to Italy, seriously told Arcesus that he met and discoursed Lysis at Thebes. Arcesus, being very desirous to see the man, as soon as he could get a passage, designed to put to sea himself; but age and weakness coming on, he took care that Lysis should be brought to Italy alive, if possible; but if not, the relics of his body. The intervening wars, usurpations, and seditions hindered his friends from doing it whilst he lived; but since his death, Lysis’s Daemon hath made very frequent and very plain discoveries to us of his death; and many that were very well acquainted with the matter have told us how courteously you received and civilly entertained him, how in your poor family he was allowed a plentiful subsistence for his age, counted a father of your sons, and died in peace. I therefore, although a young man and but one single person, have been sent by many who are my elders, and who, having store of money, offer it gladly to you who need it, in return for the gracious friendship bestowed upon Lysis. Lysis, it is true, is buried nobly, and your respect, which is more honorable than a monument, must be acknowledged and requited by his familiars and his friends.

14. When the stranger had said this, my father wept a considerable time, in memory of Lysis; but my brother, smiling upon me, as he used to do, said: What do we do, Caphisias? Are we to give up our poverty to wealth, and yet be silent? By no means, I replied, let us part with our old friend and the excellent breeder of our youth; but defend her cause, for you are to manage it. My dear father, said he, I have never feared that wealth would take possession of our house, except on account of Caphisias’s body; for that wants fine attire, that he may appear gay and gaudy to his numerous company of lovers, and great supplies of food, that he may be strong to endure wrestling and other exercises of the ring. But since he doth not give up poverty, since he holds fast his hereditary want, like a color, since he, a youth, prides himself in frugality, and is very well content with his present state, what need have we, and what shall we do with wealth? Shall we gild our arms? Shall we, like Nicias the Athenian, adorn our shield with gold, purple, and other gaudy variety of colors, and buy for you, sir, a Milesian cloak, and for my mother a purple gown? For I suppose we shall not consume any upon our belly, or feast more sumptuously than we did before, treating this wealth as a guest of quality and honor! Away, away, son, replied my father; let me never see such a change in our course of living. Well, said my brother, we would not lie lazily at home, and watch over our unemployed riches; for then the bestower’s kindness would be a trouble, and the possession infamous. What need then, said my father, have we of wealth? Upon this account, said Epaminondas, when Jason, the Thessalian general, lately sent me a great sum of money and desired me to accept it, I was thought rude and unmannerly for telling him that he was a knave for endeavoring, whilst he himself loved monarchy, to bribe one of democratical principles and a member of a free state. Your good will, sir (addressing the stranger), which is generous and worthy a philosopher, I accept and passionately admire; but you offer physic to your friends who are in perfect health! If, upon a report that we were distressed and overpowered, you had brought men and arms to our assistance, but being arrived had found all in quietness and peace, I am certain you would not have thought it necessary to leave those supplies which we did not then stand in need of. Thus, since now you came to assist us against poverty as if we had been distressed by it, and find it very peaceable and our familiar inmate, there is no need to leave any money or arms to suppress that which gives us no trouble or disturbance. But tell your acquaintance that they use riches well, and have friends here that use poverty as well. What was spent in keeping and burying Lysis, Lysis himself hath sufficiently repaid, by many profitable instructions, and by teaching us not to think poverty a grievance.

15. What then, said Theanor, is it mean to think poverty a grievance? Is it not absurd to fly and be afraid of riches, if no reason, but an hypocritical pretence, narrowness of mind, or pride, prompts one to reject the offer? And what reason, I wonder, would refuse such advantageous and creditable enjoyments as Epaminondas now doth? But, sir,—for your answer to the Thessalian about this matter shows you very ready,—pray answer me, do you think it commendable in some cases to give money, but always unlawful to receive it? Or are the givers and receivers equally guilty of a fault? By no means, replied Epaminondas; but, as of any thing else, so the giving and receiving of money is sometimes commendable and sometimes base. Well then, said Theanor, if a man, gives willingly what he ought to give, is not that action commendable in him? Yes. And when it is commendable in one to give, is it not as commendable in another to receive? Or can a man more honestly accept a gift from any one, than from him that honestly bestows? No. Well then, Epaminondas, suppose of two friends, one hath a mind to present, the other must accept. It is true, in a battle we should avoid that enemy who is skilful in hurling his weapon; but in civilities we should neither fly nor thrust back that friend that makes a kind and genteel offer. And though poverty is not so grievous, yet on the other side, wealth is not so mean and despicable a thing. Very true, replied Epaminondas; but you must consider that sometimes, even when a gift is honestly bestowed, he is more commendable who refuses it. For we have many lusts and desires, and the objects of those desires are many. Some are called natural; these proceed from the very constitution of our body, and tend to natural pleasures; others are acquired, and rise from vain opinions and mistaken notions; yet these by the length of time, ill habits, and bad education are usually improved, get strength, and debase the soul more than the other natural and necessary passions. By custom and care any one, with the assistance of reason, may free himself from many of his natural desires. But, sir, all our arts, all our force of discipline, must be employed against the superfluous and acquired appetites; and they must be restrained or cut off by the guidance or edge of reason. For if the contrary applications of reason can make us forbear meat and drink, when hungry or thirsty, how much more easy is it to conquer covetousness or ambition, which will be destroyed by a bare restraint from their proper objects, and a non-attainment of their desired end? And pray, sir, are you not of the same opinion? Yes, replied the stranger. Then, sir, continued Epaminondas, do you not perceive a difference between the exercise itself and the work to which the exercise relates? For instance, in a wrestler, the work is the striving with his adversary for the crown, the exercise is the preparation of his body by diet, wrestling, or the like. So in virtue, you must confess the work to be one thing and the exercise another. Very well, replied the stranger. Then, continued Epaminondas, let us first examine whether to abstain from the base unlawful pleasures is the exercise of continence, or the work and evidence of that exercise? The work and evidence, replied the stranger. But is not the exercise of it such as you practise, when after wrestling, where you have raised your appetites like ravenous beasts, you stand a long while at a table covered with plenty and variety of meats, and then give it to your servants to feast on, whilst you offer mean and spare diet to your subdued appetites? For abstinence from lawful pleasure is exercise against unlawful. Very well, replied the stranger. So, continued Epaminondas, justice is exercise against covetousness and love of money; but so is not a mere cessation from stealing or robbing our neighbor. So he that doth not betray his country or friends for gold doth not exercise against covetousness, for the law perhaps deters, and fear restrains him; but he that refuseth just gain and such as the law allows, voluntarily exercises, and secures himself from being bribed or receiving any unlawful present. For when great, hurtful, and base pleasures are proposed, it is very hard for any one to contain himself, who hath not often despised those which he had power and opportunity to enjoy. Thus, when base bribes and considerable advantages are offered, it will be difficult to refuse, unless he hath long ago rooted out all thoughts of gain and love of money; for other desires will nourish and increase that appetite, and he will easily be drawn to any unjust action who can scarce forbear reaching out his hand to a proffered present. But he that will not lay himself open to the favors of friends and the gifts of kings, but refuseth even what Fortune proffers, and keeps off his appetite, that is eager after and (as it were) leaps forward to an appearing treasure, is never disturbed or tempted to unlawful actions, but hath great and brave thoughts, and hath command over himself, being conscious of none but generous designs. I and Caphisias, dear Simmias, being passionate admirers of such men, beg the stranger to suffer us to be taught and exercised by poverty to attain that height of virtue and perfection.

16. My brother having finished this discourse, Simmias, nodding twice or thrice, said: Epaminondas is a great man, but this Polymnis is the cause of his greatness, who gave his children the best education, and bred them philosophers. But, sir, you may end this dispute at leisure among yourselves. As for Lysis (if it is lawful to discover it), pray, sir, do you design to take him out of his tomb and transport him into Italy, or leave him here amongst his friends and acquaintance, who shall be glad to lie by him in the grave? And Theanor with a smile answered: Lysis, good Simmias, no doubt is very well pleased with the place, for Epaminondas supplied him with all things necessary and fitting. But the Pythagoreans have some particular funeral ceremonies, which if any one wants, we conclude he did not make a proper and happy exit. Therefore, as soon as we learned from some dreams that Lysis was dead (for we have certain marks to know the apparitions of the living from images of the dead), most began to think that Lysis, dying in a strange country, was not interred with the due ceremonies, and therefore ought to be removed to Italy that he might receive them there. I coming upon this design, and being by the people of the country directed to the tomb, in the evening poured out my oblations, and called upon the soul of Lysis to come out and direct me in this affair. The night drawing on, I saw nothing indeed, but thought I heard a voice saying: Move not those relics that ought not to be moved, for Lysis’s body was duly and religiously interred; and his soul is sent to inform another body, and committed to the care of another Daemon. And early this morning, asking Epaminondas about the manner of Lysis’s burial, I found that Lysis had taught him as far as the incommunicable mysteries of our sect; and that the same Daemon that waited on Lysis presided over him, if I can guess at the pilot from the sailing of the ship. The paths of life are large, but in few are men directed by the Daemons. When Theanor had said this, he looked attentively on Epaminondas, as if he designed a fresh search into his nature and inclinations.

17. At the same instant the chirurgeon coming in unbound Simmias’s leg and prepared to dress it; and Phyllidas entering with Hipposthenides, extremely concerned, as his very countenance discovered, desired me, Charon, and Theocritus to withdraw into a private corner of the porch. And I asking, Phyllidas, hath any new thing happened?—Nothing new to me, he replied, for I knew and told you that Hipposthenides was a coward, and therefore begged you not to communicate the matter to him or make him an associate. We seeming all surprised, Hipposthenides cried out: For Heaven’s sake, Phyllidas, don’t say so, don’t think rashness to be bravery, and blinded by that mistake ruin both us and the commonwealth; but, if it must be so, let the exiles return again in peace. And Phyllidas in a passion replied, How many, Hipposthenides, do you think are privy to this design? Thirty I know engaged. And why then, continued Phyllidas, would you singly oppose your judgment to them all, and ruin those measures they have all taken and agreed to? What had you to do to send a messenger to desire them to return and not approach to-day, when even chance encouraged and all things conspired to promote the design?

These words of Phyllidas troubled every one; and Charon, looking very angrily upon Hipposthenides, said: Thou coward! what hast thou done? No harm, replied Hipposthenides, as I will make appear if you will moderate your passion and hear what your gray-headed equal can allege. If, Phyllidas, we were minded to show our citizens a bravery that sought danger, and a heart that contemned life, there is day enough before us; why should we wait till the evening? Let us take our swords presently, and assault the tyrants. Let us kill, let us be killed, and be prodigal of our blood. If this may be easily performed or endured, and if it is no easy matter by the loss of two or three men to free Thebes from so great an armed power as possesses it, and to beat out the Spartan garrison,—for I suppose Phyllidas hath not provided wine enough at his entertainment to make all Archias’s guard of fifteen hundred men drunk; or if we despatch him, yet Arcesus and Herippidas will be sober, and upon the watch,—why are we so eager to bring our friends and families into certain destruction, especially since the enemy hath some notice of their return? For why else should the Thespians for these three days be commanded to be in arms and follow the orders of the Spartan general? And I hear that to-day, after examination before Archias when he returns, they design to put Amphitheus to death; and are not these strong proofs that our conspiracy is discovered? Is it not the best way to stay a little, until an atonement is made and the Gods reconciled? For the diviners, having sacrificed an ox to Ceres, said that the burnt offering portended a great sedition and danger to the commonwealth. And besides, Charon, there is another thing which particularly concerns you; for yesterday Hypatodorus, the son of Erianthes, a very honest man and my good acquaintance, but altogether ignorant of our design, coming out of the country in my company, accosted me thus: Charon is an acquaintance of yours, Hipposthenides, but no great crony of mine; yet, if you please, advise him to take heed of some imminent danger, for I had a very odd dream relating to some such matter. Last night methought I saw his house in travail; and he and his friends, extremely perplexed, fell to their prayers round about the house. The house groaned, and sent out some inarticulate sounds; at last a raging fire broke out of it, and consumed the greatest part of the city; and the castle Cadmea was covered all over with smoke, but not fired. This was the dream, Charon, that he told me. I was startled at the present, and that fear increased when I heard that the exiles intended to come to-day to your house, and I am very much afraid that we shall bring mighty mischiefs on ourselves, yet do our enemies no proportionable harm, but only give them a little disturbance; for I think the city signifies us, and the castle (as it is now in their power) them.

18. Then Theocritus putting in, and enjoining silence on Charon, who was eager to reply, said: As for my part, Hipposthenides, though all my sacrifices were of good omen to the exiles, yet I never found any greater inducement to go on than the dream you mentioned; for you say that a great and bright fire, rising out of a friend’s house, caught the city, and that the habitation of the enemies was blackened with smoke, which never brings any thing better than tears and disturbance; that inarticulate sounds broke out from us shows that none shall make any clear and full discovery; only a blind suspicion shall arise, and our design shall appear and have its desired effect at the same time. And it is very natural that the diviners should find the sacrifices ill-omened; for both their office and their victims belong not to the public, but to the men in power. Whilst Theocritus was speaking, I said to Hipposthenides, Whom did you send with this message? for if it was not long ago, we will follow him. Indeed, Caphisias, he replied, it is unlikely (for I must tell the truth) that you should overtake him, for he is upon the best horse in Thebes. You all know the man, he is master of the horse to Melon, and Melon from the very beginning hath made him privy to the design. And I, observing him to be at the door, said: What, Hipposthenides, is it Clido, he that last year at Juno’s feast won the single horse-race? Yes, the very same. Who then, continued I, is he that hath stood a pretty while at the court-gate and gazed upon us? At this Hipposthenides turning about cried out: Clido, by Hercules! I’ll lay my life some unlucky accident hath happened. Clido, observing that we took notice of him, came softly from the gate towards us; and Hipposthenides giving him a nod and bidding him deliver his message to the company, for they were all sure friends and privy to the whole plot, he began: Sir, I know the men very well, and not finding you either at home or in the market-place, I guessed you were with them, and came directly hither to give you a full account of the present posture of affairs. You commanded me with all possible speed to meet the exiles upon the mountain, and accordingly I went home to take horse, and called for my bridle; my wife said it was mislaid, and stayed a long time in the hostry, tumbling about the things and pretending to look carefully after it; at last, when she had tired my patience, she confessed that her neighbor’s wife had borrowed it last night; this raised my passion and I chid her, and she began to curse, and wished me a bad journey and as bad a return; all which curses, pray God, may fall upon her own head. At last my passion grew high, and I began to cudgel her, and presently the neighbors and women coming in, there was fine work; I am so bruised that it was as much as I could do to come hither to desire you to employ another man, for I protest I am amazed and in a very bad condition.

19. Upon this news we were strangely altered. Just before we were angry with the man that endeavored to put it off; and now the time approaching, the very minute just upon us, and it being impossible to defer the matter, we found ourselves in great anxiety and perplexity. But I, speaking to Hipposthenides and taking him by the hand, bade him be of good courage, for the Gods themselves seemed to invite us to action. Presently we parted. Phyllidas went home to prepare his entertainment, and to make Archias drunk as soon as conveniently he could; Charon went to his house to receive the exiles; and I and Theocritus went back to Simmias again, that having now a good opportunity, we might discourse with Epaminondas.

20. We found them engaged in a notable dispute, which Galaxidorus and Phidolaus had touched upon before; the subject of the enquiry was this,—What kind of substance or power was the famed Daemon of Socrates? Simmias’s reply to Galaxidorus’s discourse we did not hear; but he said that, having once asked Socrates about it and received no answer, he never repeated the same question; but he had often heard him declare those to be vain pretenders who said they had seen any divine apparition, while to those who affirmed that they heard a voice he would gladly hearken, and would eagerly enquire into the particulars. And this upon consideration gave us probable reasons to conjecture that this Daemon of Socrates was not an apparition, but rather a sensible perception of a voice, or an apprehension of some words, which after an unaccountable manner affected him; as in a dream there is no real voice, yet we have fancies and apprehensions of words which make us imagine that we hear some speak. This perception in dreams is usual, because the body whilst we are asleep is quiet and undisturbed; but when we are awake, meaner thoughts creep in, and we can hardly bring our souls to observe better advertisements. For being in a hurry of tumultuous passions and distracting business, we cannot compose our mind or make it listen to the discoveries. But Socrates’s understanding being pure, free from passion, and mixing itself with the body no more than necessity required, was easy to be moved and apt to take an impression from every thing that was applied to it; now that which was applied was not a voice, but more probably a declaration of a Daemon, by which the very thing that it would declare was immediately and without audible voice represented to his mind. Voice is like a stroke given to the soul, which receives speech forcibly entering at the ears whilst we discourse; but the understanding of a more excellent nature affects a capable soul, by applying the very thing to be understood to it, so that there is no need of another stroke. And the soul obeys, as it stretches or slackens her affections, not forcibly, as if it wrought by contrary passions, but smoothly and gently, as if it moved flexible and loose reins. And sure nobody can wonder at this, that hath observed what great ships of burden are turned by a small helm, or seen a potter’s wheel move round by the gentle touch of one finger. These are lifeless things, it is true; but being of a frame fit for motion, by reason of their smoothness, they yield to the least impulse. The soul of man, being stretched with a thousand inclinations, as with cords, is the most tractable instrument that is, and if once rationally excited, easy to be moved to the object that is to be conceived; for here the beginnings of the passions and appetites spread to the understanding mind, and that being once agitated, they are drawn back again, and so stretch and raise the whole man. Hence you may guess how great is the force of a conception when it hath entered the mind; for the bones that are insensible, the nerves, the flesh that is full of humors, and the heavy mass composed of all these, lying quiet and at rest, as soon as the soul gives the impulse and raiseth an appetite to move towards any object, are all roused and invigorated, and every member seems a wing to carry it forward to action. Nor is it impossible or even very difficult to conceive the manner of this motion and stirring, by which the soul having conceived any thing draweth after her, by means of appetites, the whole mass of the body. But inasmuch as language, apprehended without any sensible voice, easily excites; so, in my opinion, the understanding of a superior nature and a more divine soul may excite an inferior soul, touching it from without, like as one speech may touch and rouse another, and as light causes its own reflection. We, it is true, as it were groping in the dark, find out one another’s conceptions by the voice; but the conceptions of the Daemons carry a light with them, and shine to those that are able to perceive them, so that there is no need of words such as men use as signs to one another, seeing thereby only the images of the conceptions, and being unable to see the conceptions themselves unless they enjoy a peculiar and (as I said before) a divine light. This may be illustrated from the nature and effect of voice; for the air being formed into articulate sounds, and made all voice, transmits the conception of the soul to the hearer; so that it is no wonder if the air, that is very apt to take impressions, being fashioned according to the object conceived by a more excellent nature, signifies that conception to some divine and extraordinary men. For as a stroke upon a brazen shield, when the noise ariseth out of a hollow, is heard only by those who are in a convenient position, and is not perceived by others; so the speeches of the Daemon, though indifferently applied to all, yet sound only to those who are of a quiet temper and sedate mind, and such as we call holy and divine men. Most believe that Daemons communicate some illuminations to men asleep, but think it strange and incredible that they should communicate the like to them whilst they are awake and have their senses and reason vigorous; as wise a fancy as it is to imagine that a musician can use his harp when the strings are slack, but cannot play when they are screwed up and in tune. For they do not consider that the effect is hindered by the unquietness and incapacity of their own minds; from which inconveniences our friend Socrates was free, as the oracle assured his father whilst he was a boy. For that commanded him to let young Socrates do what he would, not to force or draw him from his inclinations, but let the boy’s humor have its free course; to beg Jupiter’s and the Muses’ blessing upon him, and take no farther care, intimating that he had a good guide to direct him, that was better than ten thousand tutors and instructors.

21. This, Phidolaus, was my notion of Socrates’s Daemon, whilst he lived and since his death; and I look upon all they mention about omens, sneezings, or the like, to be dreams and fooleries. But what I heard Timarchus discourse upon the same subject, lest some should think I delight in fables, perhaps it is best to conceal. By no means, cried Theocritus, let’s have it; for though they do not perfectly agree with it, yet I know many fables that border upon truth; but pray first tell us who this Timarchus was, for I never was acquainted with the man. Very likely, Theocritus, said Simmias; for he died when he was very young, and desired Socrates to bury him by Lampocles, the son of Socrates, who was his dear friend, of the same age, and died not many days before him. He being eager to know (for he was a fine youth, and a beginner in philosophy) what Socrates’s Daemon was, acquainting none but Cebes and me with his design, went down into Trophonius’s cave, and performed all the ceremonies that were requisite to gain an oracle. There he stayed two nights and one day, so that his friends despaired of his return and lamented him as lost; but the next morning he came out with a very cheerful countenance, and having adored the God, and freed himself from the thronging inquisitive crowd, he told us many wonderful things that he had seen and heard; for this was his relation.

22. As soon as he entered, a thick darkness surrounded him; then, after he had prayed, he lay a long while upon the ground, but was not certain whether awake or in a dream, only he imagined that a smart stroke fell upon his head, and that through the parted sutures of his skull his soul fled out; which being now loose, and mixed with a purer and more lightsome air, was very jocund and well pleased; it seemed to begin to breathe, as if till then it had been almost choked, and grew bigger than before, like a sail swollen by the wind; then he heard a small noise whirling round his head, very sweet and ravishing, and looking up he saw no earth, but certain islands shining with a gentle fire, which interchanged colors according to the different variation of the light, innumerable and very large, unequal, but all round. These whirling, it is likely, agitated the ether, and made that sound; for the ravishing softness of it was very agreeable to their even motions. Between these islands there was a large sea or lake which shone very gloriously, being adorned with a gay variety of colors mixed with blue; some few of the islands swam in this sea, and were carried to the other side of the current; others, and those the most, were carried up and down, tossed, whirled, and almost overwhelmed.

The sea in some places seemed very deep, especially toward the south, in other parts very shallow; it ebbed and flowed, but the tides were neither high nor strong; in some parts its color was pure and sea-green, in others it looked muddy and as troubled as a pool. The current brings those islands that were carried over to the other side back again; but not to the same point, so that their motions are not exactly circular, but winding. About the middle of these islands, the ambient sea seemed to bend into a hollow, a little less, as it appeared to him, than eight parts of the whole. Into this sea were two entrances, by which it received two opposite fiery rivers, running in with so strong a current, that it spread a fiery white over a great part of the blue sea. This sight pleased him very much; but when he looked downward, there appeared a vast chasm, round, as if he had looked into a divided sphere, very deep and frightful, full of thick darkness, which was every now and then troubled and disturbed. Thence a thousand howlings and bellowings of beasts, cries of children, groans of men and women, and all sorts of terrible noises reached his ears; but faintly, as being far off and rising through the vast hollow; and this terrified him exceedingly.

A little while after, an invisible thing spoke thus to him: Timarchus, what dost thou desire to understand? And he replied, Every thing; for what is there that is not wonderful and surprising? We have little to do with those things above, they belong to other Gods; but as for Proserpina’s quarter, which is one of the four (as Styx divides them) that we govern, you may visit it if you please. But what is Styx? The way to hell, which reaches to the contrary quarter, and with its head divides the light; for, as you see, it rises from hell below, and as it rolls on touches also the light, and is the limit of the extremest part of the universe. There are four divisions of all things; the first is of life, the second of motion, the third of generation, and the fourth of corruption. The first is coupled to the second by a unit, in the substance invisible; the second to the third by understanding, in the Sun; and the third to the fourth by nature, in the Moon. Over every one of these ties a Fate, daughter of Necessity, presides; over the first, Atropos; over the second, Clotho; and Lachesis over the third, which is in the Moon, and about which is the whole whirl of generation. All the other islands have Gods in them; but the Moon, belonging to earthly Daemons, is raised but a little above Styx. Styx seizes on her once in a hundred and seventy-seven second revolutions; and when it approaches, the souls are startled, and cry out for fear; for hell swallows up a great many, and the Moon receives some swimming up from below which have run through their whole course of generation, unless they are wicked and impure. For against such she throws flashes of lightning, makes horrible noises, and frights them away; so that, missing their desired happiness and bewailing their condition, they are carried down again (as you see) to undergo another generation. But, said Timarchus, I see nothing but stars leaping about the hollow, some carried into it, and some darting out of it again. These, said the voice, are Daemons; for thus it is. Every soul hath some portion of reason; a man cannot be a man without it; but as much of each soul as is mixed with flesh and appetite is changed, and through pain or pleasure becomes irrational. Every soul doth not mix herself after one sort; for some plunge themselves into the body, and so in this life their whole frame is corrupted by appetite and passion; others are mixed as to some part, but the purer part still remains without the body,—it is not drawn down into it, but it swims above, and touches the extremest part of the man’s head; it is like a cord to hold up and direct the subsiding part of the soul, as long as it proves obedient and is not overcome by the appetites of the flesh. That part that is plunged into the body is called the soul, but the uncorrupted part is called the mind, and the vulgar think it is within them, as likewise they imagine the image reflected from a glass to be in that. But the more intelligent, who know it to be without, call it a Daemon. Therefore those stars which you see extinguished imagine to be souls whose whole substances are plunged into bodies; and those that recover their light and rise from below, that shake off the ambient mist and darkness, as if it were clay and dirt, to be such as retire from their bodies after death; and those that are carried up on high are the Daemons of wise men and philosophers. But pray pry narrowly, and endeavor to discover the tie by which every one is united to a soul. Upon this, Timarchus looked as steadfastly as he could, and saw some of the stars very much agitated, and some less, as the corks upon a net; and some whirled round like a spindle, having a very irregular and uneven motion, and not being able to run in a straight line. And thus the voice said: Those that have a straight and regular motion belong to souls which are very manageable, by reason of their genteel breeding and philosophical education, and which upon earth do not plunge themselves into the foul clay and become irrational. But those that move irregularly, sometimes upwards, sometimes downwards, as striving to break loose from a vexing chain, are yoked to and strive with very untractable conditions, which ignorance and want of learning make headstrong and ungovernable. Sometimes they get the better of the passions, and draw them to the right side; sometimes they are drawn away by them, and sink into sin and folly, and then again endeavor to get out. For the tie, as it were a bridle on the irrational part of the soul, when it is pulled back, draws in repentance for past sins, and shame for loose and unlawful pleasures, which is a pain and stroke inflicted on the soul by a governing and prevailing power; till by this means it becomes gentle and manageable, and like a tamed beast, without blows or torment, it understands the minutest direction of the Daemon. Such indeed are but very slowly and very hardly brought to a right temper; but of that sort which from the very beginning are governable and obedient to the direction of the Daemon, are those prophetic souls, those intimates of the Gods. Such was the soul of Hermodorus the Clazomenian, of which it is reported that for several nights and days it would leave his body, travel over many countries, and return after it had viewed things and discoursed with persons at a great distance; till at last, by the treachery of his wife, his body was delivered to his enemies, and they burnt the house while the inhabitant was abroad. It is certain, this is a mere fable. The soul never went out of the body, but it loosened the tie that held the Daemon, and permitted it to wander; so that this, seeing and hearing the various external occurrences, brought in the news to it; yet those that burnt his body are even till this time severely tormented in the deepest pit of hell. But this, youth, you shall more clearly perceive three months hence; now depart. The voice continuing no longer, Timarchus (as he said) turned about to discover who it was that spoke; but a violent pain, as if his skull had been pressed together, seized his head, so that he lost all sense and understanding; but in a little while recovering, he found himself in the entrance of the cave, where he at first lay down.

23. This was Timarchus’s story; and when at Athens, in the third month after he had heard the voice, he died. We, amazed at the event, told Socrates the whole tale. Socrates was angry with us for not discovering it whilst Timarchus was alive; for he would very gladly have had a more full discovery from his own mouth. I have done, Theocritus, with the story and discourse; but pray, shall we not entreat the stranger to discuss this point? For it is a very proper subject for excellent and divine men. What then, said Theanor, shall we not have the opinion of Epaminondas, who is of the same school, and as well learned as myself in these matters? But my father with a smile said: Sir, that is his humor; he loves to be silent, he is very cautious how he proposeth any thing, but will hear eternally, and is never weary of an instructive story; so that Spintharus the Tarentine, who lived with him a long time, would often say that he never met a man that knew more, or spake less. Therefore, pray sir, let us have your thoughts.

24. Then, said Theanor, in my opinion, that story of Timarchus should be accounted sacred and inviolable, and consecrated to God; and I wonder that any one should disbelieve his report, as Simmias has related it. Swans, horses, dogs, and dragons we sometimes call sacred; and yet we cannot believe that men are sacred and favorites of Heaven, though we confess the love of man and not the love of birds to be an attribute of the Deity. Now as one that loves horses doth not take an equal care of the whole kind, but always choosing out some one excellent, rides, trains, feeds, and loves him above the rest; so amongst men, the superior powers, choosing, as it were, the best out of the whole herd, breed them more carefully and nicely; not directing them, it is true, by reins and bridles, but by reason imparted by certain notices and signs, which the vulgar and common sort do not understand. For neither do all dogs know the huntsman’s, nor all horses the jockey’s signs; but those that are bred to it are easily directed by a whistle or a hollow, and very readily obey. And Homer seems to have understood the difference I mention; for some of the prophets he calls augurs, some priests, some such as understood the voice of the very Gods, were of the same mind with them, and could foretell things; thus,

Helenus Priam’s son the same decreed, On which consulting Gods before agreed.

And in another place,

As I heard lately from th’ immortal Gods.[208]

For as those that are not near the persons of kings or commanders understand their minds by fire-signals, proclamation, sound of trumpet, or the like, but their favorites receive it from their own mouth; so the Deity converses immediately but with very few, and very seldom; but to most he gives signs, from which the art of divination is gathered. So that the Gods direct the lives of very few, and of such only whom they intend to raise to the highest degree of perfection and happiness. Those souls (as Hesiod sings) that are not to be put into another body, but are freed from all union with flesh, turn guardian Daemons and preside over others. For as wrestlers, when old age makes them unfit for exercise, have some love for it still left, delight to see others wrestle, and encourage them; so souls that have passed all the stages of life, and by their virtue are exalted into Daemons, do not slight the endeavors of man, but being kind to those that strive for the same attainments, and in some sort banding and siding with them, encourage and help them on, when they see them near their hope and ready to catch the desired prize. For the Daemon doth not go along with every one; but as in a shipwreck, those that are far from land their friends standing on the shore only look upon and pity, but those that are near they encourage and wade in to save; so the Daemon deals with mankind. Whilst we are immersed in worldly affairs, and are changing bodies, as fit vehicles for our conveyance, he lets us alone to try our strength, patiently to stem the tide and get into the haven by ourselves; but if a soul hath gone through the trials of a thousand generations, and now, when her course is almost finished, strives bravely, and with a great deal of labor endeavors to ascend, the Deity permits her proper Genius to aid her, and even gives leave to any other that is willing to assist. The Daemon, thus permitted, presently sets about the work; and upon his approach, if the soul obeys and hearkens to his directions, she is saved; if not, the Daemon leaves her, and she lies in a miserable condition.

25. This discourse was just ended, when Epaminondas looking upon me, said: Caphisias, it is time for you to be at the ring, your usual company will expect you; we, as soon as we break company, will take care of Theanor. And I replied: Sir, I’ll go presently, but I think Theocritus here hath something to say to you and me and Galaxidorus. Let’s hear it in God’s name, said he; and rising up, he led us into a corner of the porch. When we had him in the midst of us, we all began to desire him to make one in the conspiracy. He replied that he knew the day appointed for the exiles’ return, and that he and Gorgidas had their friends ready upon occasion; but that he was not for killing any of the citizens without due process of law, unless some grave necessity seemed to warrant the execution. Besides, it was requisite that there should be some unconcerned in the design; for such the multitude would not be jealous of, but would think what they advised was for the good of the commonwealth, that their counsels proceeded from the love they had for their country, and not from any design of procuring their own safety. This motion we liked; he returned to Simmias and his company, and we went to the ring, where we met our friends, and as we wrestled together, communicated our thoughts to one another, and put things in order for action. There we saw Philip and Archias very spruce, anointed and perfumed, going away to the prepared feast; for Phyllidas, fearing they would execute Amphitheus before supper, as soon as he had brought Lysanoridas going, went to Archias, and putting him in hopes of the woman’s company he desired, and assuring him she would be at the place appointed, soon trepanned him into stupid carelessness and sensuality with his fellow-wantons.

26. About the night, the wind rising, the sharpness of the weather increased, and that forced most to keep within doors; we meeting with Damoclides, Pelopidas, and Theopompus received them, and others met other of the exiles; for as soon as they were come over Cithaeron, they separated, and the stormy weather obliged them to walk with their faces covered, so that without any fear or danger they passed through the city. Some as they entered had a flash of lightning on their right-hand, without a clap of thunder, and that portended safety and glory; intimating that their actions should be splendid and without danger.

27. When we were all together in the house (eight and forty in number), and Theocritus in a little room by himself offering sacrifice, there was heard on a sudden a loud knocking at the gate; and presently one came and told us that two of Archias’s guard, who had some earnest business with Charon, knocked at the gate, demanding entrance, and were very angry that they were not admitted sooner. Charon surprised commanded the doors to be opened presently, and going to meet them with a garland on his head, as if he had been sacrificing or making merry, asked their business. One of them replied, Philip and Archias sent us to tell you that you must come before them presently. And Charon demanding why they sent for him in such haste, and if all was well; We know nothing more, the messenger returned, but what answer shall we carry back? That, replied Charon, putting off his garland and putting on his cloak, I follow you; for should I go along with you, my friends would be concerned, imagining that I am taken into custody. Do so, said they, for we must go and carry the governor’s orders to the city guard. With this they departed, but Charon coming in and telling us the story, we were all very much surprised, imagining the design had been discovered; and most suspected Hipposthenides, and thought that he, having endeavored to hinder their coming through Chido and failed, now the time for the dangerous attempt unavoidably approached, grew faint-hearted and made a discovery of the plot. And this seemed probable, for he did not appear at Charon’s house with the rest, and so was looked upon by every one to be a rascal and a turncoat; yet we all were of opinion that Charon ought to obey the governor’s orders and go to them. Then he, commanding his son to be brought to him,—the prettiest youth, Archidamus, in all Thebes, skilled in most exercises, scarce fifteen years old, but very strong and lusty for his age,—thus said: Friends, this is my only and my beloved son, and him I put into your hands, conjuring you by all that’s good, if you find me treacherous, to kill him and have no mercy upon him for my sake; but as for your parts, sirs, be provided against the worst that can come; do not yield your bodies tamely to be butchered by base fellows, but behave yourselves bravely, and preserve your souls invincible for the good and glory of your country. When Charon had ended, we admired the honesty and bravery of the man, but were angry at his suspicion, and bade him take away his son. Charon, said Pelopidas, we should have taken it more kindly, if you had removed your son into another house, for why should he suffer for being in our company? Nay, let us send him away now, that, if we fall, he may live, and grow up to punish the tyrants and be a brave revenger of our deaths. By no means, replied Charon, he shall stay here, and run the same danger with you all, for it is not best that he should fall into the power of his enemies; and you, my boy, be daring above thy age, and with these brave citizens venture upon necessary dangers for the defence of liberty and virtue; for we have good hopes still left, and perhaps some God will protect us in this just and generous undertaking.

28. These words of his, Archidamus, drew tears from many; but he not shedding so much as one, and delivering his son to Pelopidas, went out of the door, saluting and encouraging every one as he went. But you would have been exceedingly surprised at the serene and fearless temper of the boy, with a soul as great as that of Achilles’s son; for he did not change color or seem concerned, but drew out and tried the goodness of Pelopidas’s sword. In the mean time Diotonus, one of Cephisodorus’s friends, came to us with his sword girt and breastplate on; and understanding that Archias had sent for Charon, he chid our delay, and urged us to go and set upon the house presently; for so we should be too quick for them, and take them unprovided. Or, if we did not like that proposal, he said, it was better to go out and fall upon them while they were scattered and in confusion, than to coop ourselves up altogether in one room, and like a hive of bees be taken off by our enemies. Theocritus likewise pressed us to go on, affirming that the sacrifices were lucky, and promised safety and success.

29. Upon this, whilst we were arming and setting ourselves in order, Charon came in, looking very merrily and jocund, and with a smile said: Courage, sirs, there is no danger, but the design goes on very well; for Archias and Philip, as soon as they heard that according to their order I was come, being very drunk and weakened in body and understanding, with much ado came out to me; and Archias said, I hear that the exiles are returned, and lurk privately in town. At this I was very much surprised, but recovering myself asked, Who are they, sir, and where? We don’t know, said Archias, and therefore sent for you, to enquire whether you had heard any clear discovery; and I, as it were surprised, considering a little with myself, imagined that what they heard was only uncertain report, and that none of the associates had made this discovery (for then they would have known the house), but that it was a groundless suspicion and rumor about town that came to their ears, and therefore said: I remember, whilst Androclidas was alive, that a great many idle lying stories were spread abroad, to trouble and amuse us; but, sir, I have not heard one word of this, yet if you please, I will enquire what ground there is for it, and if I find any thing considerable, I shall give you notice. Yes, pray, said Phyllidas, examine this matter very narrowly; slight no particular, be very diligent and careful, foresight is very commendable and safe. When he had said this, he led back Archias into the room, where they are now drinking. But, sirs, let us not delay, but begging the God’s assistance, put ourselves presently upon action. Upon this, we went to prayers, and encouraged one another.

30. It was now full supper-time, the wind was high, and snow and small rain fell, so that the streets and narrow lanes we passed were all empty. They that were to assault Leontidas and Hypates, whose houses joined, went out in their usual clothes, having no arms besides their swords; amongst those were Pelopidas, Democlides, and Cephisodorus. Charon, Melon, and the rest that were to set upon Archias, put on breastplates, and shady fir or pine garlands upon their heads; some dressed themselves in women’s clothes, so that they looked like a drunken company of mummers. But our enemies’ unlucky Fortune, Archidamus, resolving to make their folly and carelessness as conspicuous as our eagerness and courage, and having, as in a play, intermixed a great many dangerous underplots into our plan, now, at the very point of its execution, presented to us a most unexpected and hazardous adventure. For whilst Charon, as soon as ever he parted from Archias and Philip, was come back and was setting us forward to execute the design, a letter from Archias, the chief-priest of Athens, was sent to Archias our governor, which contained a full discovery of the plot, in what house the exiles met, and who were the associates. Archias being now dead drunk, and quite beside himself with expectation of the desired women, took the letter; and the bearer saying, “Sir, it contains matter of concern,” “Matters of concern to-morrow,” he replied, and clapped it under his cushion; and calling for the glass, he bade the servant fill a brimmer, and sent Phyllidas often to the door to see if the women were coming.

31. The hopes of this company made them sit long; and we coming opportunely quickly forced our way through the servants to the hall, and stood a little at the door, to take notice of every one at table; our shady garlands and apparel disguising our intentions, all sat silent, in expectation of what would follow. But as soon as Melon, laying his hand upon his sword, was making through the midst of them, Cabirichus (who was the archon chosen by lot) catching him by the arm cried out to Phyllidas, Is not this Melon? Melon loosed his hold presently, and drawing out his sword, made at staggering Archias, and laid him dead on the floor; Charon wounded Philip in the neck, and whilst he endeavored to defend himself with the cups that were about him, Lysitheus threw him off his seat, and ran him through. We persuaded Cabirichus to be quiet, not to assist the tyrants, but to join with us to free his country, for whose good he was consecrated governor and devoted to the Gods. But when being drunk he would not harken to reason, but grew high, began to bustle, and turned the point of his spear upon us (for our governors always carry a spear with them), I catching it in the midst, and raising it higher than my head, desired him to let it go and consult his own safety, for else he would be killed. But Theopompus, standing on his right side and smiting him with his sword, said: Lie there, with those whose interest you espoused; thou shalt not wear the garland in freed Thebes, nor sacrifice to the Gods any more, by whom thou hast so often curst thy country, by making prayers so many times for the prosperity of her enemies. Cabirichus falling, Theocritus standing by snatched up the sacred spear, and kept it from being stained; and some few of the servants that dared to resist we presently despatched; the others that were quiet we shut up in the hall, being very unwilling that they should get abroad and make any discovery, till we knew whether the other company had succeeded in their attempt.

32. They managed their business thus: Pelopidas and those with him went softly and knocked at Leontidas’s gate; and a servant coming to demand their business, they said, they came from Athens, and brought a letter from Callistratus to Leontidas. The servant went and acquainted his master, and was ordered to open the door; as soon as it was unbarred, they all violently rushed in, and overturning the servant ran through the hall directly to Leontidas’s chamber. He, presently suspecting what was the matter, drew his dagger and stood upon his guard; an unjust man, it is true, and a tyrant, but courageous and strong of his hands; but he forgot to put out the candle and get amongst the invaders in the dark, and so appearing in the light, as soon as they opened the door, he ran Cephisodorus through the belly. Next he engaged Pelopidas, and cried out to the servants to come and help; but those Samidas and his men secured, nor did they dare to come to handy blows with the strongest and most valiant of the citizens. There was a smart encounter between Pelopidas and Leontidas, for the passage was very narrow, and Cephisodorus falling and dying in the midst, nobody else could come to strike one blow. At last Pelopidas, receiving a slight wound in the head, with repeated thrusts overthrew Leontidas, and killed him upon Cephisodorus, who was yet breathing; for he saw his enemy fall, and shaking Pelopidas by the hand, and saluting all the rest, he died with a smile upon his face. This done, they went to the house of Hypates, and entering after the same manner, they pursued Hypates, flying over the roof into a neighbor’s house, and caught and killed him.

33. From thence they marched directly to us, and we met in the piazza; and having saluted and told one another our success, we went all to the prison. And Phyllidas, calling out the keeper, said: Philip and Archias command you to bring Amphitheus presently before them. But he, considering the unseasonableness of the time, and that Phyllidas, as being yet hot and out of breath, spoke with more than ordinary concern, suspected the cheat, and replied to Phyllidas: Pray, sir, did ever the governors send for a prisoner at such a time before? Or ever by you? What warrant do you bring? As he was prating thus, Phyllidas ran him through,—a base fellow, upon whose carcass the next day many women spat and trampled. We, breaking open the prison door, first called out Amphitheus by name, and then others, as every one had a mind; they, knowing our voice, jocundly leaped out of their straw in which they lay, with their chains upon their legs. The others that were in the stocks held out their hands, and begged us not to leave them behind. These being set free, many of the neighbors came in to us, understanding and rejoicing for what was done. The women too, as soon as they were acquainted with the flying report, unmindful of the Boeotian strictness, ran out to one another, and enquired of every one they met how things went. Those that found their fathers or their husbands followed them; for the tears and prayers of the modest women were a very great incitement to all they met.

34. Our affairs being in this condition, understanding that Epaminondas, Gorgidas, and their friends were drawing into a body about Minerva’s temple, I went to them. Many honest worthy citizens at first joined, and their number continually increased. When I had informed them in the particulars of what was done, and desired them to march into the market-place to assist their friends, they proclaimed liberty; and the multitude were furnished with, arms out of the piazzas, that were stuffed with spoil, and the neighboring armorers’ shops. Then Hipposthenides with his friends and servants appeared, having by chance joined the trumpeters that were coming to Thebes, against the feast of Hercules. Straight some gave the alarm in the market-place, others in other parts of the city, distracting their enemies on all sides, as if the whole city was in arms. Some, lighting smoky fire, concealed themselves in the cloud and fled to the castle, drawing to them the select band which used to keep guard about the castle all night. The garrison of the castle, when these poured in among them scattered and in disorder, though they saw us all in confusion, and knew we had no standing compact body, yet would not venture to make a descent, though they were above five thousand strong. They were really afraid, but pretended they dared not move without Lysanoridas’s orders, who, contrary to his usual custom, was absent from the castle that day. For which neglect, the Spartans (as I was told), having got Lysanoridas into their hands, fined him heavily; and having taken Hermippidas and Arcesus at Corinth, they put them both to death without delay. And surrendering the castle to us upon articles, they marched out with their garrison.

OF CURIOSITY, OR AN OVER-BUSY INQUISITIVENESS INTO THINGS IMPERTINENT.

1. If a dwelling-house, by reason of its ill situation or contrivance, be not commodiously light and airy, or too much exposed to ill weather and unhealthy, it is most advisable entirely to quit such a habitation, unless perhaps, through continuance of time, neighborhood of friends, or any other endearing circumstance, a man should become much wedded to the place; in which case it may be possible, by the alteration of windows and new placing of doors and staircases, either to remove or to lessen these inconveniences. By such like remedies, even whole cities have been much amended and improved both as to health and pleasantness; and it is said of the place of my nativity particularly, that, while it once lay open to the western winds, and to the beams of the declining sun streaming over the top of Parnassus, it was by Chaeron turned toward the east; but it is thought that Empedocles the naturalist secured that whole region round about from the pestilence, by closing up the rift of a certain mountain, from whence a contagious southerly damp breathed forth upon the flat of that country. And now, since there are several noxious qualities and distempered passions that lurk within the body too, which is the more immediate habitation of the soul,—and which, like the dark and tempestuous weather that is without, do cloud and disturb it,—therefore the like method which has been observed in curing the defects and annoyances of an ill-contrived and unhealthy dwelling may be followed here, in rendering the body a more commodious, serviceable, and delightful mansion for the soul. Wherein that it may enjoy its desired calmness and serenity, it will conduce beyond all other expedients whatsoever, that those blind, tumultuous, and extravagant passions should be expelled or extinguished utterly; or, if that cannot be, yet that they be so far reduced and moderated, and so prudently applied and accommodated to their proper objects, that the mischief and disorder of them (at least) may be removed.

Among these may deservedly be accounted that sort of curiosity, which, by its studious prying into the evils of mankind, seems to be a distemper of envy and ill-nature.

Why envious wretch, with such a piercing ray, Blind to thine own, dost others’ faults survey?

If the knowledge of ill can reward the industrious search with so much delight and pleasure, turn the point of thy curiosity upon thyself and thine own affairs, and thou shalt within doors find matter enough for the most laborious enquiries, plentiful as

Water in Aliso’s stream, or leaves about the oak.

So vast a heap of offences shalt thou find in thy own conversation, such variety of perturbations in thy soul, and manifold failures in thy duty. To take a distinct and orderly survey of all which, that of Xenophon will be good direction, who said, that it was the manner of discreet housekeepers to place their weapons of war, utensils for the kitchen, instruments of husbandry, and furniture for religious and sacred services, each in several and proper repositories. So every man that would make an exact enquiry into and take a just account of himself, should first make a particular search into the several mischiefs that proceed from each passion within him, whether it be envy or jealousy, covetousness or cowardice, or any other vicious inclination; and then distribute and range them all (as it were) into distinct apartments.

This done, make thy reviews upon them with the most accurate inspection, so that nothing may divert thee from the severest scrutiny; obstruct every prospect that looks towards thy neighbors’ quarters, and close up all those avenues which may lead thee to any foreign curiosity; become an eavesdropper to thine own house, listen to the whispers of thine own walls, and observe those secret arts of the female closet, the close intrigues of the parlor, and the treacherous practices of thy servants, which thy own windows will discover to thee. Here this inquisitive and busy disposition may find an employment that will be of use and advantage, and is neither ill-natured nor impertinent; while every man shall call himself to this strict examination.

Where have I err’d? What have I said, or done? What duty, when, and how have I foregone?

2. But now, as the poets feign concerning Lamia, that upon her going to bed she lays aside her eyes among the attirements of her dressing-box, and is at home for the most part blind and drowsy too, and puts on her eyes only when she goes abroad a gadding; so it is with most men, who, through a kind of an affected ignorance and artificial blindness, commonly blunder and stumble at their own threshold, are the greatest strangers to their own personal defects, and of all others least familiarly acquainted with their own domestic ills and follies. But when they look abroad, their sight is sharpened with all the watchful and laborious curiosity imaginable, which serves as deforming spectacles to an evil eye, that is already envenomed by the malignity of a worse nature.

And hence it is, that a person of this busy meddlesome disposition is a greater friend to them he hates than to himself; for overlooking his own concerns, through his being so heedfully intent on those of other men, he reproves and exposes their miscarriages, admonishes them of the errors and follies they ought to correct, and affrights them into greater caution for the future; so that not only the careless and unwary, but even the more sober and prudent persons, may gain no small advantage from the impertinence and ill-nature of inquisitive people.

It was a remarkable instance of the prudence of Ulysses, that, going into the regions of departed souls, he would not exchange so much as one word with his mother there till he had first obtained an answer from the oracle and despatched the business he came about; and then, turning to her, he afforded some small time for a few impertinent questions about the other women upon the place, asking which was Tyro, and which the fair Chloris, and concerning the unfortunate Epicasta, why,

Noosed to a lofty beam, she would suspended die.[209]

But we through extreme sloth and ignorance, being stupidly careless of our own affairs, must be idly spending our time and talk either about our neighbor’s pedigree, how that such a one had a tapster for his grandfather, and that his grandmother was a laundress; or that another owes three or four talents, and is not able to pay the interest. Nay, and such trivial stuff as this we busy ourselves about,—where such a man’s wife has been all this while; and what it was, that this and the other fellow have been talking of in a corner. But the wise Socrates employed his curiosity to better purpose, when he went about enquiring by what excellent precepts Pythagoras obtained so great authority among his followers; and Aristippus, meeting Ischomachus at the Olympic games, asked him what those notions were with which Socrates had so powerfully charmed the minds of his young scholars; upon the slight information whereof, he was so passionately inflamed with a desire of going to Athens, that he grew pale and lean, and almost languished till he came to drink of the fountain itself, and had been acquainted with the person of Socrates, and more fully learned that philosophy of his, the design of which was to teach men how to discover their own ills and apply proper remedies to them.

3. But to some sort of men their own life and actions would appear the most unpleasant spectacle in the world, and therefore they fly from the light of their conscience, and cannot bear the torture of one reflecting thought upon themselves; for when the soul, being once defiled with all manner of wickedness, is scared at its own hideous deformity, it endeavors to run from itself, and ranging here and there, it pampers its own malignity with malicious speculations on the ills of others.

It is observed of the hen that, loathing the plenty of meat that is cast before her on a clean floor, she will be scratching in a hole or spurning the dunghill, in search of one single musty grain. So these over-busy people, neglecting such obvious and common things into which any man may enquire and talk of without offence, cannot be satisfied unless they rake into the private and concealed evils of every family in the neighborhood. It was smartly said by the Egyptian, who, being asked what it was he carried so closely, replied, it was therefore covered that it might be secret. Which answer will serve to check the curiosity of those impertinent men who will be always peeping into the privacies of others; for assuredly there is nothing usually more concealed than what is too foul to be seen; nor would it be kept so close, were it either fit or safe it should be known. Without knocking at the door, it is great rudeness to enter another’s house, and therefore in former times were rappers fitted to the gates, that by the noise thereof notice might be given to the family; for the same purpose are porters appointed now, lest, a stranger coming in unawares, the mistress or daughter of the family might be surprised busy or undressed, or a servant be seen under correction, or the maids be overheard in the heat of their scolding. But a person of this prying busy temper, who would disdain the being invited to a sober and well-governed house, will yet even forcibly intrude himself as a spy into the indecencies of private families; and he pries into those very things which locks, bolts, and doors were intended to secure from common view, for no other end but to discover them to all the world. Aristo said that those winds were the most troublesome which blew up one’s garments and exposed one’s nakedness; but these inquisitive people deprive us of all the shelter or security of walls and doors, and like the wanton air, which pervades the veil and steals through the closest guards of virgin modesty, they insinuate into those divertisements which are hidden in the retirements of the night, and strip men even to their very skin.

4. So that—as it is merrily said by the comedian concerning Cleon, that “his hands were in Aetolia, and his soul in Thieftown”[210]—the hands and feet, eyes and thoughts of inquisitive persons are straggling about in many places at once. Neither the mansions of the great, nor the cottages of the poor, nor the privy chambers of princes, nor the recesses of the nuptial alcove, can escape the search of their curiosity; they are familiar to the affairs of strangers, and will be prying into the darkest mysteries of state, although it be to the manifest peril of their being ruined by it. For as to him that will be curiously examining the virtues of medicinal herbs, the unwary taste of a venomous plant conveys a deleterious impression upon the brain, before its noxious quality can be discerned by the palate; so they that boldly pry into the ills of great persons usually meet with their own destruction, sooner than they can discover the dangerous secret they enquire after. And so it happens that, when the rashly curious eye, not contented to expatiate in the free and boundless region of reflected light, will be gazing at the imperial seat of brightness, it becomes a sacrifice to the burning rays, and straight sinks down in penal darkness.

It was therefore well said by Philippides the comedian, who, being asked by King Lysimachus what he desired might be imparted to him, replied, Any thing but a secret. And indeed, those things in the courts of princes that are most pleasant in themselves and most delightful to be known,—such as balls, magnificent entertainments, and all the shows of pomp and greatness,—are exposed to common view, nor do they ever hide those divertisements and enjoyments which are the attendants of a prosperous estate; but in what cases soever they seem reserved,—as when they are conceiving some high displeasure, or contriving the methods of a revenge, or raging under a fit of jealousy, or suspicious of the disloyal practices of their children, or dubious concerning the treachery of a favorite,—come not near nor intermeddle, for every thing is of a dreadful aspect and of very dangerous access that is thus concealed. Fly from so black a cloud, whose darkness condenses into a tempest; and it will be time enough, when its fury breaks forth with flash and thunder, for thee to observe upon whose head the mischief falls.

5. But to avoid the danger of this curiosity, divert thy thoughts to more safe and delightful enquiries; survey the wonders of nature in the heavens, earth, the sea, and air; in which thou hast a copious choice of materials for the more sublime, as well as the more easy and obvious contemplations. If thy more piercing wit aspires to the noblest enquiries, consider the greater luminary in its diurnal motion, in what part of heaven its morning beams are kindled, and where those chambers of the night are placed which entertain its declining lustre. View the moon in all her changes, the just representation of human vicissitudes, and learn the causes that destroy and then restore her brightness:—

How from an infant-spark sprung out of night, She swells into a perfect globe of light; And soon her beauties thus repaired die, Wasting into their first obscurity.[211]

These are indeed the great secrets of Nature, whose depth may perhaps amaze and discourage thy enquiries. Search therefore into things more obvious,—why the fruits of plants are shaped into such variety of figures; why some are clothed with the verdure of a perennial spring, and others, which sometime were no less fresh and fair, like hasty spendthrifts, lavish away the bounty of Heaven in one summer’s gayety, and stand naked to the succeeding frosts. But such harmless speculations will perchance affect thee little, and it may be thou hast that malignity in thy temper which, like venomous beasts that cannot live out of stink and putrefaction, must be ever preying upon the follies and miseries of mankind. Peruse therefore the histories of the world, wherein thou shalt find such vast heaps of wickedness and mischiefs, made up of the downfalls and sudden deaths of great men,[212] the rapes and defilements of women, the treacheries of servants, the falseness of friends, the arts of poisoning, the fatal effects of envy and jealousy, the ruin of families, dethroning of princes, with many other such direful occurrences as may not only delight and satisfy, but even cloy and nauseate thy ill-natured curiosity.

6. But neither (as it appears) are such antiquated evils any agreeable entertainment to people of this perverse disposition; they hearken most to modern tragedies, and such doleful accidents as may be grateful as well for the novelty as the horror of the relation. All pleasant and cheerful converse is irksome to them; so that if they happen into a company that are talking of weddings, the solemnities of sacred rites, or pompous processions, they make as though they heard not, or, to divert and shorten the discourse, will pretend they knew as much before. Yet, if any one should relate how such a wench had a child before the time, or that a fellow was caught with another man’s wife, or that certain people were at law with each other, or that there was an unhappy difference between near relations, he no longer sits unconcerned or minds other things, but

With ears pricked up, he listens. What, and when, And how, he asks; pray say, let’s hear’t again!

And indeed, that proverbial saying, “Ill news goes quick and far,” was occasioned chiefly by these busy ill-natured men, who very unwillingly hear or talk of any thing else. For their ears, like cupping-glasses that attract the most noxious humors in the body, are ever sucking in the most spiteful and malicious reports; and, as in some cities there are certain ominous gates through which nothing passes but scavenger’s carts or the sledges of malefactors, so nothing goes in at their ears or out of their mouths but obscene, tragical, and horrid relations.

Howling and woe, as in a jail or hell, Always infest the places where they dwell.

This noise is to them like the Sirens’ song and the sweetest melody, the most pleasant hearing in the world.

Now this curiosity, being an affectation of knowledge in things concealed, must needs proceed from a great degree of spite and envy. For men do not usually hide, but ambitiously proclaim whatever is for their honor or interest to be known; and therefore to pry into what is industriously covered can be for no other purpose than that secret delight curious persons enjoy in the discovery of other men’s ills,—which is spite,—and the relief they gather thence, to ease themselves under their tormenting resentment at another’s prosperity,—which is envy;—both which spring from that savage and brutal disposition which we call ill-nature.

7. But how ungrateful it is to mankind to have their evils enquired into appears from hence; that some have chosen rather to die than disclose a secret disease to their physician. Suppose then that Herophilus or Erasistratus, or Aesculapius himself when he was upon earth, should have gone about from house to house, enquiring whether any there had a fistula in ano or cancer in utero to be cured. Although such a curiosity as this might in them seem much more tolerable, from the charity of their design and the benefit intended by their art; yet who would not rebuke the saucy officiousness of that quack who should, unsent for, thus impudently pry into those privy distempers which the modesty or perhaps the guilt of the patient would blush or abhor to discover, though it were for the sake of a cure? But those that are of this curious and busy humor cannot forbear searching into these, and other ills too that are of a more secret nature; and—what makes the practice the more exceedingly odious and detestable—the intent is not to remedy, but expose them to the world. It is not ill taken, if the searchers and officers of the customs do inspect goods openly imported, but only when, with a design of being vexatious and troublesome, they rip up the unsuspected packets of private passengers; and yet even this they are by law authorized to do, and it is sometimes to their loss, if they do not. But curious and meddlesome people will be ever enquiring into other men’s affairs, without leave or commission, though it be to the great neglect and damage of their own.

It is farther observable concerning this sort of men, how averse they are to living long in the country, as being not able to endure the quiet and calm of a retired solitude. But if by chance they take a short ramble to their country-house, the main of their business there is more to enquire into their neighbors’ concerns than their own; that they may know how other men’s fruit-trees are blasted, the number of cattle they have lost, and what a scanty harvest they are like to have, and how well their wine keeps; with which impertinent remarks having filled their giddy brains, the worm wags, and away they must to the town again. Now a true bred rustic, if he by chance meet with any news from the city, presently turns his head another way, and in his blunt language thus reflects upon the impertinence of it:

One can’t at quiet eat, nor plough one’s lond; Zo much us country-voke they bear in hond With tales, which idle rascals blow about, How kings (and well, vhat then?) vall in and out.

8. But the busy cit hates the country, as a dull unfashionable thing, and void of mischief; and therefore keeps himself to the town, that he may be among the crowds that throng the courts, exchange, and wharfs, and pick up all the idle stories. Here he goes about pumping, What news d’ye hear? Were not you upon the exchange to-day, sir? The city’s in a very ticklish posture, what d’ye think on’t? In two or three hours’ time we may be altogether by the ears. If he’s riding post, he will light off his horse, and even hug and kiss a fellow that has a story to tell him; and stay never so long, till he hears it out. But if any one upon demand shall answer, No news! he replies, as in a passion, What, have you been neither at the exchange or market to-day? Have you not been towards the court lately? Have you not heard any thing from those gentlemen that newly came out of Italy? It was (methinks) a good piece of policy among the Locrians, that if any person coming from abroad but once asked concerning news, he was presently confined for his curiosity; for as cooks and fishmongers wish for plenty in the commodities they trade with, so inquisitive people that deal much in news are ever longing for innovations, alterations, variety of action, or any thing that is mischievous and unlucky, that they may find store of game for their restless ill-nature to hunt and prey upon. Charondas also did well in prohibiting comedians by law from exposing any citizen upon the stage, unless it were for adultery or this malignant sort of curiosity. And indeed there is a near affinity between these two vices, for adultery is nothing else but the curiosity of discovering another man’s secret pleasures, and the itch of knowing what is hidden; and curiosity is (as it were) a rape and violence committed upon other people’s privacies.

9. And now as the accumulation of notions in the head usually begets multiplicity of words,—for which reason Pythagoras thought fit to check the too early loquacity of his scholars, by imposing on them five years’ silence from their first admission,—so the same curiosity that is thus inquisitive to know is no less intemperate in talking too, and must needs be as ill-spoken as it is ill-natured. And hence it is that curiosity does not only become a restraint to the vices and follies of others, but is a disappointment also to itself. For all mankind are exceeding shy of inquisitive persons: no serious business is consulted of where they are; and if they chance to surprise men in the negotiation of any affair, it is presently laid aside as carefully as the housewife locks up her fish from the cat; nor (if it be possible to avoid it) is any thing of moment said or done in their company. But whatever is freely permitted to any other people to see, hear, or talk of, is kept as a great secret from persons of this busy impertinent disposition; and there is no man but would commit his letters, papers, and writings to the care of a servant or a stranger, rather than to an acquaintance or relation of this busy and blabbing humor.

By the great command which Bellerophon had over his curiosity, he resisted the solicitations of a lustful woman, and (though it were to the hazard of his life) abstained from opening the letters wherein he was designed to be the messenger of his own destruction. For curiosity and adultery (as was intimated before) are both vices of incontinence; only they are aggravated by a peculiar degree of madness and folly, beyond what is found in most other vices of this nature. And can there any thing be more sottish, than for a man to pass by the doors of so many common prostitutes that are ready to seize him in the streets, and to beleaguer the lodgings of some coy and recluse female that is far more costly, and perhaps far less comely too, than a hackney three-penny strumpet? But such is plainly the frensy of curious persons, who, despising all those things that are of easy access and unenvied enjoyment,—such as are the divertisements of the theatre, the conversation of the ingenious, and the discourses of the learned,—must be breaking open other men’s letters, listening at their neighbors’ doors, peeping in at their windows, or whispering with their servants; a practice which (as it deserves) is commonly dangerous, but ever extremely base and ignominious.

10. Now to dissuade inquisitive persons (as much as possible) from this sneaking and most despicable humor, it would contribute much, if they would but recollect and review all their past observations. For as Simonides, using at certain times to open two chests he kept by him, found that wherein he put rewards ever full, and the other appointed for thanks always empty; so, if inquisitive people did but now and then look into their bag of news, they would certainly be ashamed of that vain and foolish curiosity which, with so much hazard and trouble to themselves, had been gathering together such a confused heap of worthless and loathsome trash. If a man, in reading over the writings of the ancients, should rake together all the dross he could meet with, and collect into one volume all the unfinished scraps of verse in Homer, the incongruous expressions in the tragedians, or those obscenities of smutty Archilochus for which he was scorned and pointed at, would not such a filthy scavenger of books well deserve that curse of the tragedian,

Pox on your taste! Must you, like lice and fleas, Be always fed with scabs and nastiness?

But without this imprecation, the practice itself becomes its own punishment, in the dishonest and unprofitable drudgery of amassing together such a noisome heap of other men’s vices and follies; a treasure much resembling the city Poneropolis (or Rogue-town), so called by King Philip after he had peopled it with a crew of rogues and vagabonds. For curious people do so load their dirty brains with the ribaldry and solecisms of other men’s writings, as well as the defects and blemishes of their lives, that there is not the least room left in their heads for one witty, graceful, or ingenious thought.

There is a sort of people at Rome who, being unaffected with any thing that is beautiful and pretty, either in the works of art or nature, despise the most curious pieces in painting or sculpture, and the fairest boys and girls that are there exposed to sale, as not worth their money; therefore they much frequent the monster-market, looking after people of distorted limbs and preternatural shapes, of three eyes and pointed heads, and mongrels

Where kinds of unlike form oft blended be Into one hideous deformity.[213]

All which are sights so loathsome, that they themselves would abhor them were they compelled often to behold them. And if they who curiously enquire into those vicious deformities and unlucky accidents that may be observed in the lives of other men would only bind themselves to a frequent recollection of what they had seen and heard, there would be found very little delight or advantage in such ungrateful and melancholy reflections.

11. Now since it is from the use and custom of intermeddling in the affairs of other men that this perverse practice grows up into such a vicious habit, therefore the best remedy thereof is, that beginning (as it were) at a distance, and with such things as do less excite the itch of our curiosity, we gradually bring ourselves to an utter desuetude of enquiring into or being concerned at any of those things that do not pertain unto us. Therefore let men first make trial of themselves in smaller and less considerable matters. As for the purpose, why should it be thought such a severe piece of self-denial for any man, as he passes by, to forbear reading the inscriptions that are upon a monument or gravestone, or the letters that are drawn on walls and sign-posts, if it were but considered that there is nothing more, either for delight or benefit, to be learned thereby, but that certain people had a desire to preserve the memory of their friends and relations by engraving their names on brass or marble, or that some impudent quack or rooking tradesman wants money, and knows no other way to draw men to their shop or lodgings, but by decoying billets and the invitation of a show-board? The taking notice of which and such like things may seem for the present harmless; yet there is really a secret mischief wrought by it, while men, suffering their minds to rove so inconsiderately at every thing they see, are inured to a foolish curiosity in busying themselves about things impertinent. For as skilful huntsmen do not permit their beagles to fling or change, but lead them forth in couples, that their noses may be kept sharp for their proper game,

With scent most quick of nostrils after kind, The tracks of beast so wild in chase to find;

so ought persons of an inquisitive temper to restrain the wanton excursions of their curiosity, and confine it to observations of prudence and sobriety. Thus the lion and eagle, which walk with their claws sheathed to keep them always pointed for their prey, are an example of that discretion which curious persons should imitate, by carefully preserving those noble faculties of wit and understanding, which were made for useful and excellent enquiries, from being dulled and debauched with low and sottish speculations.

12. The second remedy of this curiosity is that we accustom ourselves in passing by not to peep in at other men’s doors or windows, for in this case the hand and eye are much alike guilty; and Xenocrates said, “One may as well go as look into another man’s house,” because the eye may reach what the hand cannot, and wander where the foot does not come. And besides, it is neither genteel nor civil thus to gaze about. A well-bred person will commonly discover very little that is either meet or delightful to look on; but foul dishes perhaps lying about the floor, or wenches in lazy or immodest postures, and nothing that is decent or in good order; but as one said upon this occasion,

For ought that’s here worth seeing, friend, you may Ev’n turn your prying look another way.

And yet laying aside this consideration of uncomely sights, this very staring and glancing of the eyes to and fro implies such a levity of mind and so great a defect in good manners, as must needs render the practice in itself very clownish and contemptible. When Diogenes observed Dioxippus, a victor in the Olympic games, twisting his neck as he sat in his chariot, that he might take the better view of a fair damsel that came to see the sport, Look (says he) what a worthy gamester goes there, that even a woman can turn him which way she lists. But these busy-brained people do so twist and turn themselves to every frivolous show, as if they had acquired a verticity in their heads by their custom of gazing at all things round about them. Now (methinks) it is by no means seemly, that the sense which ought to behave itself as a handmaid to the soul (in doing its errands faithfully, returning speedily, and keeping at home with submissive and reserved modesty) should be suffered, like a wanton and ungovernable servant, to be gadding abroad from her mistress, and straying about at her pleasure. But this happens according to that of Sophocles,

And then the Aenianian’s colts disdain Bridle and bit, nor will abide the rein.[214]

For so the senses, not exercised and well managed, will at every turn break loose into wild excursions, and hurry reason along with them into the same extravagance.

It is said of Democritus, that he voluntarily put out his eyes by the reflection of a burning-glass, that (as by the darkening of windows, sometimes done for the same purpose) he might not by the allurements of sense be called off from attending to his purely intellectual contemplations. Although the story be false, yet this at least is true, that those men who are most addicted to profound speculations do least of all converse with impressions of sense. And therefore, to prevent that interruption and disturbance which either noise or impertinent visits might be to their philosophical enquiries, they placed their studies at some distance from cities, and called the night Euphrone (from εὔφρων, of good understanding), thinking that its quiet and stillness from all disturbances made it the fittest season for meditation.

13. Farther, to forbear mixing with a crowd of fellows that are quarrelling in the market-place, or to sit still while the mad rabble are rioting in the streets, or at least to get out of hearing of it, will not be very difficult to any man that considers how little there is to be gained by intermeddling with busy and unquiet people, and how great the certain advantage is of bridling our curiosity, and bringing it under subjection to the commands of reason. And thus, when by this more easy discipline a man hath acquired some power over himself, exercises of greater difficulty are to be attempted; as, for instance, to forbear the theatre upon the tempting fame of some new and much applauded play; to resist the importunity of a friend that invites thee to a ball, an entertainment at the tavern, or a concert of music; and not to be transported if thou chance at a distance to hear the din at a race-course, or the noise at the circus. For as Socrates advises well, that men should abstain from tasting those meats and drinks which, by their exquisite pleasantness, tempt the palate to exceed the sober measures of thirst and hunger, so are all those oblectations of the ear and eye to be avoided which are apt to entice men into impertinence or extravagance. When Araspes had commended the fair Panthea to Cyrus, as a beauty worth his admiration, he replied: For that very reason I will not see her, lest, if by thy persuasion I should see her but once, she herself might persuade me to see her often, and spend more time with her than would be for the advantage of my own affairs. So Alexander, upon like consideration, would not trust his eyes in the presence of the beautiful queen of Persia, but kept himself out of the reach of her charms, and treated only with her aged mother. But we, alas! (that no opportunity may be lost of doing ourselves all the mischief we can by our curiosity) cannot forbear prying into sedans and coaches, or gazing at the windows or peeping under the balconies, where women are; nay, we must be staring about from the house-top, to spy out all occasions of our ruin, and are all the while so sottishly inconsiderate as to apprehend no danger from giving such a boundless license to our wandering eyes.

14. Now as, in point of justice and honesty, it conduces much to prevent our defrauding and overreaching other men if we now and then in smaller matters voluntarily abate somewhat of our strict dues, and as it is a means to keep men chaste and continent to all other women if they sometimes forbear the lawful enjoyment of their own wives, so will these excesses of curiosity be cured by the same restraints, if, instead of enquiring into what concerns other men, we can prevail with ourselves so far as not to hear or see all that is done in our own houses, nor to listen to every thing that may be told us concerning ourselves or our private affairs. Oedipus by his curiosity fell into great mischief; for, being of a parentage to himself unknown and now at Corinth where he was a stranger, he went about asking questions concerning himself, and lighting on Laius he slew him; and then by the marriage of the queen, who was his own mother, he obtained the government. Not contented with the thoughts of being thus happy, he must needs once more (against all the persuasions of his wife) be enquiring concerning himself; when, meeting with an old man that was privy to the whole contrivance, he pressed him earnestly to reveal the secret. And when he now began to suspect the worst, the old man cried out,

Alas! So sad a tale to tell I dread;

but he, burning with impatience of knowing all, replied,

And I to hear’t: but yet it must be said.[215]

Thus oddly mixed with pain and pleasure is this restless itch of curiosity, that, like a healing wound, will hazard the loss of blood rather than want the seeming ease of being rubbed and scratched. But such as either by good nature or good discipline are free from this disease, and have experienced the invaluable felicity of a calm and undisturbed spirit, will rather rejoice in being ignorant than desire to be informed of the wickedness and the miseries that are in the world, and will sit down well satisfied in this opinion,

How sage and wise art thou, oblivion![216]

15. Wherefore, as a farther help to check the impatience of our curiosity, it will contribute much to practise such acts of abstinence as these. If a letter be brought thee, lay it aside for some time before thou read it; and do not (as many do) eagerly fall upon the seal with tooth and nail, as soon as ever it comes to thy hands, as if it were scarce possible to open it with sufficient speed; when a messenger returns, do not hastily rise up and run towards him, as if thou couldst not hear what he had to say time enough; and if any one makes an offer to tell thee something that is new, say that thou hadst rather it were good and useful.

When, at a public dissertation I sometime made at Rome, Rusticus (who afterwards perished by the mere envy of Domitian) was one of my auditors, a messenger comes suddenly in with an express from Caesar; upon which, when I offered to be silent till he had perused the paper, he desired me to proceed, nor would so much as look into it till the discourse was ended and the audience dismissed; all that were present much admiring the gravity of the man. In great persons, whose power encourages them to greater licentiousness, this vicious curiosity is hardly curable; for when it is arrived in them to the consistence of an inveterate habit, they will never undergo those previous restraints upon their outward actions which are necessary to destroy the evil habit within them. For such as are thus inured will be breaking up other men’s letters, intruding upon the privacies of their friends, making bold enquiries into the unfathomable mysteries of religion, profaning sacred places and holy offices by their coming where and doing what they ought not, and even prying into the most secret acts and discourses of princes; all or any of which odious practices it will be hard for any one after long custom to forbear, but especially for great persons.

16. And indeed princes themselves—who are concerned to have as particular knowledge of all things as they can, and to whom it is in some sort necessary for the ends of government to maintain spies and intelligencers about them—are yet usually hated for nothing more than their retaining this lewd sort of people in quality of eavesdroppers of state and public informers. The first that employed this kind of officers was Darius in his younger years, when he could not confide in himself nor durst trust any one else. The Sicilian tyrants afterwards planted them in Syracuse; but upon a revolution that happened there, the people first fell upon these informers, and destroyed them without mercy. Of near affinity with these are common accusers, which, from a particular occasion imported in the word, were called sycophants, fig-blabbers; because, upon the prohibited exportation of that fruit, they became informers against those that broke this order. Much the like sort of people were those at Athens, where a dearth of grain happened and the corn-sellers were commanded to bring out their stores for public sale; and those that went about listening at the mills and prying into granaries, that they might find matter of information against offenders, were thence called aliterians or (if you please) mill-clackers. Which consideration, superadded to the rest that has been said, is enough to render this sort of malignant curiosity extremely execrable, and to be highly abhorred and most carefully avoided by every man who would desire, for mere reputation’s sake, not to be ranked among that profligate crew of villains which are looked upon as the most detestable of all mankind.

How A Man May Be Sensible Of His Progress In Virtue. My Friend Sossius Senecio

HOW A MAN MAY BE SENSIBLE OF HIS PROGRESS IN VIRTUE.

MY FRIEND SOSSIUS SENECIO,

1. Is it possible, do you think, that all the arguments in the world can make a man sensibly assured that he is a proficient in virtue, upon this supposition, that his proceedings do not in the least alleviate and abate his folly, but that the vice in him, weighing in equal balance against his good inclinations, holds him down, as

Heavy lead pulls down the yielding net?

In the study of music or grammar, I am sure, such a conclusion would be very absurd; for the scholar could never be certain that he had made any improvement in those sciences, if all the while he is a learning he did not exhaust by little and little his former ignorance about them, but remained during the whole progress of his application under the same degree of unskilfulness as at first setting out.

The like may be said of those that are under the hands of a physician. According to this assertion, if the patient take physic which does not recruit his strength or give him ease by abating the severity of the distemper, it is absolutely impossible that he should discern any alteration in himself, before the contrary habit is perfectly and in the highest degree induced, and his body thoroughly sound and well. As in these instances you cannot say the persons have advanced any thing, so long as they perceive no sensible change in themselves by the abatement of the contrary weight, and do not find that their minds are elevated, as it were, in the opposite scale; just so, in truth, is it with those that profess philosophy. They cannot be assured of any progress or improvement, if the soul do not gradually advance and purge off the rest of its former imperfections, but still lie under the like equal pressure and grievance of pure, absolute, unmixed evil, till it have attained the state of perfect, supreme good; for the truth of it is, a wise man cannot in a moment of time change from the lowest degree of vice imaginable to the most heroic perfection of virtue, if he only make a brisk attempt to throw off vice all at once, and do not constantly and resolutely endeavor by little and little to lighten the burthen and dispossess the evil habit of it.

You know very well how much trouble those give themselves who maintain this assertion, and what strange questions they raise with regard to it,—for instance, why a wise virtuous man should never perceive how he became such, but should either be quite ignorant, or at least doubt, that ever by little and little, now adding something, now subtracting and removing others, he advanced to the aggregate perfection of virtue. Now if (as they affirm) the change from bad to good were either so quick and sudden, as that he that was extremely vicious in the morning may become eminently virtuous at night, or that any one going to bed wicked might chance to rise a virtuous man next morning, and, having all the former day’s errors and imperfections absolutely removed out of his mind, might say to them, as it is in the poet,

Vain dreams! farewell, like spectres haste away, At the new light of virtue’s glorious day;[217]

do you think that any one in the world could be ignorant of so extraordinary a conversion, and perfectly shut his eyes upon the beams of virtue and wisdom so fully and manifestly breaking in upon his soul? In my opinion, if any person should have Caeneus’s foolish wish, and be changed (as it is reported he was) from one sex to the other, it is more probable that such a one should be altogether ignorant of the metamorphosis, than that any should, from a lazy, unthinking, debauched fellow, commence a wise, prudent, and valiant hero, and from a sottish bestiality advance to the perfection of divine life, and yet know nothing at all of the change.

2. It is very good advice, Measure the stone by your rule, and not your rule by the stone. But the Stoics have not observed it; for they, not applying principles to things, but forcing things which have no foundation of agreement in nature to agree to their principles, have filled philosophy with a number of difficulties. One of the hardest to be solved is this, that all men whatsoever (except him who is absolutely perfect) are equally vicious. Hence is that enigma, called progress or proficiency, which, though it has puzzled the learned to solve, is in my opinion very foolish; for it represents those that have advanced a little, and are partly free from inordinate passions and distempers of mind, to be as unhappy as those that are guilty of the most heinous enormities. And indeed the assertion is so absurd, that their own actions are enough to confute it; for while they maintain in their schools that Aristides and Phalaris are equally unjust, that Brasidas and Dolon are equal cowards, and that Plato and Meletus are equally senseless, still in all affairs of life they seem to reject and avoid the latter of these, as too harsh and severe to be softened into compliance, but credit and quote the former in all their writings, as persons of extraordinary worth and esteem. This is what the Stoics assert.

3. But we, who can better agree with Plato in this point, finding by observation that in all kinds of evils, especially that of a weak and unmanaged disposition of mind, there are several degrees of more and less (for herein one advance differs from another, that the miserable darkness which the soul lies under begins more sensibly to abate, when reason by little and little illuminates and purges the soul), may be bold to affirm that the change from bad to good is very easily and manifestly discernible; not as if one were drawn out of a pit on a sudden, and could give no account of the degrees of the ascent, but so plain that the several steps and advances may be computed.

The first argument that comes in my mind is this, by way of simile; pray examine it. You know the art of navigation; when the seamen hoist sail for the main ocean, they give judgment of their voyage by observing together the space of time and the force of the wind that driveth them, and compute that, in all probability, in so many months, with such a gale, they have gone forward to such or such a place. Just so it is in the study of philosophy; one may, if he mind it, give a probable conjecture of a scholar’s proceedings. He that is always at his business, constantly upon the road, never makes any steps or halts, nor meets with obstacles and lets in the way, but under the conduct of right reason travels smoothly, securely, and quietly along, may be assured that he has one true sign of a proficient. This of the poet,

Add many lesser numbers in account, Your total will to a vast sum amount,[218]

not only holds true as to the increase of money, but also may serve as a rule to the knowledge of the advance of every thing else, especially of proficiency in virtue. Reason, besides its ordinary influence, requires the constancy of application and address which is necessary and usual in all other affairs. Whereas, on the contrary, the irregular proceedings and inconsistent silly assertions of some philosophers do not only lay rubs in the way, and break the measures of a virtuous improvement, but seem to give great advantage to vice, during their lingering and idling upon their journey, to tempt them into by-paths, or over-persuade them to return whence they set out.

Astronomers tell us that planets, after they have finished their progressive motion, for some small time acquiesce and become stationary, as they term it. Now in the study of philosophy it is not so; there is no point of rest or acquiescence during the whole procedure, for the nature of progress is to be always advancing, more or less. The scales in which our actions are, as it were, weighed cannot at all stand in equilibrio, but our soul is continually either raised by the addition of good, or cast with the counterpoise of evil.

Therefore, as the oracle told the Cirrhaeans that they ought to fight continually, day and night; so you and every wise man ought to be perpetually upon your guard, and if you can be assured that you maintain a constant combat with vice, that you are always at enmity with it and never so much as come to terms, or receive any diversions, applications, or avocations, as so many heralds from the enemies’ camp, in order to a treaty with it; then you may, with a great deal of confidence and alacrity, go on with the management of your warlike expedition, and very reasonably at last expect a conquest, and enjoy a crown of righteousness for your reward.

4. It is another very good argument to prove that by labor and exercise you have shaken off all stupidity and sluggishness of temper, and that you are arrived at a perfection of virtue, if for the future your resolutions be more firm and your application more intense than they were when you first set out. This appears true, if you but observe its contrary; for it is a very bad sign if, after a small time spent in trial, you find many and repeated intermissions, or your affections yielding or cool in the pursuit. This may be illustrated by what is observable in the growth of a cane. At first it appears above ground with a full and pleasing sprout, which by little and little, taper-wise, by a continued and equal distribution of matter, rises to a very great height. Towards the root you may observe that there are formed certain steps and joints, which are at a considerable distance from one another, because (there) the juice is plentiful and strong. But toward the top the nutrimentive particles vibrate and palpitate, as if they were quite spent with the length of their journey, and thereupon, you see, they form themselves many small, weak, and tender joints, as so many supports and breathing-places. So it happens with those that study philosophy: at first setting out they take long steps and make great advances; but if, after some attempts, they perceive not in themselves any alteration for the better, but meet with frequent checks and avocations the further they go, ordinarily they faint, make any excuses to be off from their engagement, despond of ever going through with it, and thereupon proceed no farther. But, on the contrary, he that is winged with desire flies at the proposed advantage, and by a stout and vigorous pursuit cuts off all pretences of delay from crowding in upon him or hindering his journey.

In love, it is a sign the passion is predominant, if the lover be not only pleased in the enjoyment of the beloved object (for that’s ordinary), but also troubled and grieved at the absence of it. After a manner not unlike this, many youngsters (as I’ve observed) stand affected at the study of philosophy. At first, they buckle to their work with the greatest concern and emulation imaginable; but as soon as ever they are diverted, either by business or any little pretences, the heat of their affection immediately flies off, and they sit down ignorant and very well content. But

He that perceives the pleasing sting of love, Whose poignant joy his trembling heart doth move,[219]

will not only show that he is a proficient by his virtuous demeanor and agreeableness in all company and discourse; but if he be called from his business, you may perceive him all on fire, in pain, and uneasy in whatsoever he does, whether alone or in company, and so concerned that he is unmindful of his best friends till he is restored to the quest of his beloved philosophy. All of us ought to imitate such a noble example in all our studies. We must not be affected with good discourse only while we are in place, as we are with rich fragrant perfumes (which we never mind, but while we are a smelling to them); but if by chance marriage, an estate, love, or a campaign take us from our business, we must still hunger and thirst after virtue; and the more our proficiency is advanced, by so much the more ought our desire to know what we have not attained disquiet and excite us to the further pursuit and knowledge of it.

5. The grave account which Hesiod gives of proficiency is, in my judgment, either the very same, or comes very near to this which I have now set down. Proficiency is (says he) when all difficulties are removed, all unevenness smoothed and cleared, and the way made easy and passable. It must be smoothed by frequent exercise, cleared by beams of divine light that guide the way to true philosophy, nothing at all of the clouds of doubt, error, or inconstancy in good resolutions remaining, which are as usually incident to learners in their first attempts upon philosophy, as distraction and solicitudes are to those who, sailing from a known land, cannot yet discover the place whither they are bound. Thus I have known impatient sophisters skip over common and ordinary notions, before they have learned or attained better, and lose themselves in the middle of their journey in so troublesome a maze, that they would be willing to return (if they could) to their primitive state of quiet, inactive ignorance. Sextius, a nobleman of Rome, may serve for an instance of this. He quitted all offices and places of honor, that he might more freely and undisturbedly apply himself to the study of philosophy. At first he met with many difficulties; and finding himself unable to encounter or conquer them, out of very despair and despondency, he had thoughts of throwing himself out of a little boat into the river Tiber. Parallel to this is a merry story told of Diogenes of Sinope; when he first put on his gown, it happened to be at a time when the Athenians celebrated a festival with extraordinary banquets, night-drinking, sports, and pageantry usual at great solemnities. The philosopher, as he lay in the holidays in the corner of the street, muffled up in his clothes, to try if he could take a nap, had some running thoughts in his head, which checked the resolutions he had taken as to a philosophical life, and troubled him extremely. He reasoned with himself, that there was no necessity for his entering into so troublesome and singular a way of living, that he thereby deprived himself of all the sweets and pleasures of life, and the like. While he was thinking thus with himself, he espied (as the story goes) a mouse venturing toward him, and now and then nibbling at a mouldy crust that he had in his pouch. This sight (which is much) turned his thoughts, and made him vexed and troubled at himself as much on the other side. What (says he) is the matter with thee, Diogenes? Thou seest this tiny mouse lives well, and is very glad of thy scraps; but thou, who must needs be a person of quality, forsooth, art extremely sorry and out of humor, because thou dost not feast upon down-beds, and canst not have the genteel privilege at this merry time to be drunk as well as others.

Another rational argument of gradual proficiency is when avocations are not frequent upon us, and when they happen, very short; while the substantial rules and precepts of wisdom, as if they had been violently driven out, presently return upon our minds, and dispossess all empty trouble and disconsolate thoughts.

6. And because scholars do not only fancy to themselves difficulties big enough to divert their weak resolutions, but also often meet with serious persuasions from their friends to leave their studies, and because sometimes such smart jests and drolls are put upon them as have often discouraged, frequently quite converted, the endeavors of some; it may seem to you a very good argument of a proficient, if you find yourself indifferent and unconcerned in that point. As, for example, not to be cut to the heart and repine, when you are told that such and such persons by name, your equals once, live splendidly at court, have married great fortunes, or have appeared publicly at the head of a great many freeholders, that are ready to vote for them for some great office or representative’s place. He that is neither discomposed nor very much affected by such news as this is manifestly in the right, and has philosophy by the surer handle. For it is impossible we should leave admiring things which most men esteem, if the habit of virtue were not deeply rooted in us. To avoid passionately what every one cries down may be in some persons the effect of anger and ignorance; but utterly to despise what is admired abroad is a certain sign of true and solid wisdom and resolution. With what satisfaction and complacency many persons advanced to such a height of virtue compare themselves with others, and break out in these verses of Solon!

We will not change Virtue’s immortal crown For a whole mine of gold. Gold is uncertain; but what we possess Is still our own, and never can be less.

None can deny but that it was very great in Diogenes to compare his shifting from the city of Corinth to Athens, and from Thebes to Corinth, to the king of Persia’s taking his progress in the spring to Susa, in winter to Babylon, and to Media in summer. Nor was it an argument of a much less spirit in Agesilaus, who, hearing this same king of Persia styled the Great, presently asked, In what is he greater than I, if he be not juster than I am? Aristotle himself had exactly such notions in the like case; for, writing to Antipater about his scholar Alexander, he says of him, that he ought not to value himself in this respect, that he was advanced above others; for whoever had a true notion of God was really as great as he. And Zeno too deserves to be mentioned, who, hearing Theophrastus commended above any of the philosophers for his number of scholars, put it off thus: His choir is indeed larger than mine, but mine has the sweeter voices.

7. From all these instances you may collect this great truth, that whenever you do, by setting the comforts of virtue and the difficulties and errors of study one against the other, perceive that you have utterly expelled all emulation, jealousy, and every thing else that uses to disturb or discourage young men, you may then assuredly conclude with yourself that you have made very laudable progress.

Another argument of proficiency in virtue is the alteration of your very style of writing, and of your way of managing any argument or discourse. Most of those that nowadays design for scholars (in ordinary speaking) do prosecute almost none but popular studies; to furnish out discourse, and make themselves, as the phrase is, plausible men; some few of them there are who, like silly larks, are taken with the glaring light of natural philosophy, and, measuring themselves by their own levity and conceit, think they are able presently to attain the height of that science. Others like young whelps (’tis Plato’s simile) love to snap and bite at one another, only to gratify a contentious, sceptical, and sophistical humor, which they at first got by bad tuition and ill-managed studies. Some again, as soon as ever they are initiated in the principles of logic, presently commence sophisters. Others spend their whole time in collecting sentences and historical narrations. These (as Anacharsis said of the Grecians, that he saw no occasion they had for money, but only to count and tell it over) have nothing at all to do, but go about singing and repeating what they have collected into commonplace books, without any other benefit or satisfaction from their labors. To these you may apply that of Antiphanes, which one ingeniously turned to Plato’s scholars. This Antiphanes said merrily, that in a certain city the cold was so intense that words were congealed as soon as spoken, but that after some time they thawed and became audible, so that the words spoken in winter were articulated next summer. Even so, the many excellent precepts of Plato, which he instilled into the tender ears of his scholars, were scarce perceived and distinguished by many of them, till they grew men and attained the warm vigorous summer of their age.

Such a cool disposition to virtue and philosophy, as that philosopher said was in Plato’s scholars when young, often lasts in the most of us (as was hinted before) till our judgments grow to a solid firmness and maturity, and we begin to value those precepts that are able to beget a composure and greatness of mind, and diligently to trace and follow those discourses and precepts whose tracks (as it is in Aesop’s fables) rather look inward than outward, to ourselves rather than others. Sophocles said of himself, that in writing his tragedies he first of all abated and pricked the tumor of Aeschylus’s invention, then corrected the harshness and over artifice of his composition, and, last of all, changed his very style and elocution, the thing which is most considerably persuasive, and which most of all conduces to good manners. Even so, young students, when they pass from the fulness and luxuriancy of panegyric and declamation to that more solid part of philosophy that regulates manners and smooths all rugged and disorderly passions, then begin really to attain true and solid proficiency.

8. Hereupon let me advise you this,—whenever you read the writings or hear the orations of the philosophers, attend always things more than words, and be not taken with what is curious and of a delicate thread and contexture, more than that which is strong, nervous, and beneficial. So also, in perusing poems or histories, be sure that nothing escape you that is appositely said, in relation to the cultivating of manners or the calming turbulent, immoderate passions; but always give it a note, and make it surely your own. Simonides said that a student in philosophy should be like a bee. That laborious creature, when it is amongst flowers, makes it its business industriously to extract the yellow honey out of them all; while others care and seek for nothing else except the smell and the color. So, while some others employ their time in reading the poets only for diversion, or for the wit and fancy which usually adorn their works, you (my dear friend) like a bee amongst a swarm of drones, observe and collect what is sweet, palatable, and worthy your pains, and seem already, by your constant custom and application, to have attained a perfect knowledge of what is eminently good and proper.

As to those that peruse the works of Plato and Xenophon only for the style’s sake, and do cull out what is elegant and Attic, as the cream and flower of those authors, pray what do they do but as it were admire the fragrancy and flavor of medicinal drugs, yet, at the same time, neither understand nor enquire after their healing and purgative qualities? Whereas, those that have advanced to a higher degree of perfection can extract benefit, not only from philosophical discourses, but also from every thing they see or do, and thence draw something that may be proper and fit for their purpose. I will give you some examples of Aeschylus and other very eminent men, which may be very pat to this purpose. Aeschylus chanced to be a spectator at the Isthmian games, where some were engaged at sword play; seeing one of the combatants wounded, and observing that the theatre immediately made a great shouting and hollowing upon it, he jogged one Ion, an inhabitant of the island Chios, who sat next to him, and whispered him thus, Do you see what exercise can do? He that is wounded holds his peace, and the spectators cry out.

Brasidas, the Lacedaemonian captain, by chance caught a mouse among some dry figs; and, being bit by her, let her go, with this exclamation, By Hercules! there is no creature so little or so weak, that it cannot preserve its life if it dares but defend it.

Diogenes may serve for a thousand instances; when he saw a boy drink out of the palm of his hand, he threw away his dish, which he used to carry always with him in his wallet. Thus sedulity and application have a singular virtue to make us knowing and able to extract motives to virtue from every thing that we meet with.

Nor is it a difficult matter to attain such a temper of mind, if the candidates for virtue intermix discourse and reading with their actions; not only “exercising themselves amidst dangers” (as Thucydides[220] said to some), but also engaging pleasures, disputing hard questions, examining precedents, pleading causes, and so (to try themselves thoroughly) undertaking some magistracy or public office, giving thereby demonstration of their opinions and resolution, or rather establishing their resolution by exercise. Whereas, those that are not bred to it, but like novices spy out and catch at any thing that is curious in books, and pragmatically run away with it either to the Exchange, the College, or some club or tavern, deserve no more the name of philosophers, than those quacks that only truck off vile drugs and potions merit the character and value of physicians. Those sophisters seem to me not unlike the bird mentioned in Homer, and to have something of its quality. Whatsoever they catch abroad they presently bring home with them, and cram it into their unfledged chicks, their illiterate scholars, starving their own empty crops the while, as the poet has it; for they neither digest nor convert what they take into true nourishment.

9. It is then indispensably our duty so to manage our discourse, that it may be beneficial both to ourselves and others, we not incurring the censure of being thought vain-glorious or arrogant by any; to be always readier to hear than to teach; and, especially, so to abate and moderate all vehemency and passionate quarrelling about trivial questions, as that we may cease to attend and manage disputations with the same indifferency as you may have seen some exercise hurlbats and cudgelling,—that is, so as to leave the stage with more satisfaction for having had a true hit or coming off conqueror, than for having either learned ourselves or taught our antagonist any manner of skill by the engagement.

An evenness and mildness of temper in all such affairs, which never will suffer us to enter the lists with vehemency and passion, nor to be hot and concerned in settling an argument, nor to scold and give bad words when we have vanquished our adversary, nor to be very much dejected if we chance to be quite baffled, is (I think) a true sign of a great proficient in virtue. Aristippus was a great example of this; for when in a set disputation he was baffled by the sophistry and forehead of an impudent, wild, and ignorant disputant, and observed him to be flushed and high with the conquest; Well! says the philosopher, I am certain, I shall sleep quieter to-night than my antagonist.

Not only upon the close and event of our philosophical contests, but even in the midst of disputation, we may (privately) take an estimate of this good quality in us, which is a sign of a true proficient; for example, if, upon a greater appearance of auditors than was expected, we be not afraid nor in confusion; if, at the thinness of the congregation, when there are but a few to hear us, we be not dejected and troubled; and lastly, if, when we are to speak before a numerous or honorable assembly, we do not, for want of fitting preparation, miss the opportunity for ever.

It is reported that two as famous orators as ever were, Demosthenes and Alcibiades, were somewhat weak and faulty in this point. The timorousness of the former is known to every school-boy; and as for Alcibiades, though he was (as must be confessed) as sagacious and happy in his thoughts as any man whatever, yet, for want of a little assurance in speaking a thing, he very often miserably lost himself in his pleadings; for he would falter and make pauses in the very middle of his orations, purely for want of a single word or some neat expression, that he had in his papers but could not presently remember. To give you another instance of the prince of poets, Homer; he was so blinded with an over-confidence of his abilities in poetry, that he has slipped a false quantity, and left it on record, in the very first verse of his Iliads.

Seeing then the learnedest men and greatest artists have failed and may fail for want of caution or confidence, it ought more nearly to concern those that earnestly follow virtue, not to slip the least opportunity of improvement, either by company or otherwise; and not overmuch to regard the throng or applause of the theatre, when they do exercise or make any solemn harangue.

10. Nor is it enough that one take care of all his discourses and orations; but he ought also to observe that the whole tenor of his actions be guided by profit rather than vain pomp, and by truth rather than ostentation. For if a passionate lover who has placed his affection upon any beloved object seeks no witnesses to attest its sincerity, but has such an eager desire when alone and in private, that, like a covered flame, it burns more vigorously and insensibly for being shut up; much more ought a moralist and a philosopher who has attained both the habit and exercise of virtue sit down self-contented, and applaud himself in private, neither needing nor desiring encomiasts or auditors from abroad.

There is an humor in some of the poets, of an old peevish housekeeper, that calls to his maid aloud: Do you see, Dionysia (that is his maid’s name), I am now pleased, and have laid by all choler and passion. Just such like is the practice of some, who, as soon as they have done any thing which is obliging and civil, presently blaze it abroad, and turn their own heralds. Such men show plainly that they look beyond themselves for satisfaction; that they are desirous of praise and applause; and that they never were admitted near spectators of virtue, never saw her in her noble, royal dress, but only had some transient sight of her in a dream or an empty airy phantasm; and indeed, that they expose their actions to the public, as painters do their pictures, to be gazed at and admired by the gaping multitude.

Another sign of a proficient in virtue is, when the proficient has given any thing to his friend or done any kindness for any one, if he keeps it to himself and does not blab it to anybody; and (which is more) if he hath voted right against a majority of biassed suffragans, withstood the dishonest attempts of some rich and powerful man, generously rejected bribes when offered, abstained from inordinate drinking when athirst and alone, or at night, when none sees or knows what he does, lastly, if he hath conquered the briskest attempts of love (as is said of Agesilaus); if (I say) he contain himself from speaking of such actions, and do not in company boast of his performances. This I affirm,—such a one as can prove and try himself by himself, and be fully satisfied in the verdict of his conscience, as of an unexceptionable witness and spectator of what is right and good, shows plainly that his reason looks inward and is well rooted within him, and that the man (as Democritus said) is accustomed to take satisfaction from himself.

To borrow a simile from husbandmen and those that are concerned in the business of the fields, they are always best pleased to see those ears of corn which decline and by reason of their fulness bend downwards to the earth, but look upon those as empty, deceitful, and insignificant, which, because they have nothing in them, grow bolt upright and appear above the rest. So it is amongst students in philosophy; those that are most empty-headed, and have least firmness and solidity, have always the greatest share of confidence, formality, and stiffness in their address, look biggest, walk with the most state, and top upon and condemn others, with the highest arrogance and severity of any living. But when once their brains begin to fill and become well poised with solid notions, they look down into themselves, and quite lay aside that insolent and arrogant humor, which is proper only to youngsters.

Give me leave to illustrate this by one simile more. When you pour water into bottles or any other vessels, upon its being instilled into them, the air that was in them before presently flies out and gives place to the more substantial body. Even so it is with those that have had many good precepts instilled into them, and their minds replenished with solid truths. They presently find that all empty vanity flies off; that the imposthume of pride breaks; that they do not value themselves for beard and gown only, but bend their actions and endeavors to the bettering of their rational faculties; and, lastly, that when they reprove they begin at home, turning the edge of their satire and invective upon themselves, even when at the same time they are civil and complaisant to all others beside. It is indeed an argument of a generous and truly brave disposition in a scholar, not to assume the name and character of one, and, as some use to do, to put the philosopher amongst his titles; but if any out of respect chance to give him that compellation, to be surprised, blush, and with a modest smile answer him in that of the poet,

You compliment your friend; he whom you so commend Must needs be more than man,—far more than I pretend.[221]

Aeschylus says of a young woman that, if ever she have played the wanton, you may discover it in her eyes, and read her affections in amorous glances which she cannot conceal; so a young scholar, if he be once entered in the mysteries and have tasted the sweets of philosophy, cannot possibly suppress the passion and concern for it; as Sappho says, his tongue falters when he would speak its praise; his heart is warm with affection;

A secret flame does run through every part.

You would admire and love the assurance and composedness of his looks, the affectionateness of his eyes, and especially the winning decency and agreeableness of his words and expressions.

Those that are to be initiated in the ceremonies of the Gods run to their temples at first with a great deal of noise, clamor, and rudeness; but as soon as the solemnity is seen and over, they attend with a profound silence and religious fear. So it is with the candidates in philosophy; you may perceive a throng, noise, and pother about the school-doors, by reason that several press thither eagerly, rudely, and violently for reputation, more than learning; but when you are once in, and manifestly see the great light, as if some royal shrine were opened unto you, you are presently possessed with a quite different notion of things; are struck with silence and admiration, and begin, with humility and a reverend composure, to comply with and follow the divine oracle. That which Menedemus said in another case is very apposite to this sort of men. Those that went to the school of Athens were first of all (σοφοί) wise, next (φιλόσοφοι) lovers of wisdom, then orators, and at last, in course of time, plain common men; for the longer they applied themselves to study and philosophy, so much the more all vanity, pride, and pedantry abated in them, and the nearer they came to plain, downright, honest men.

11. Again, as it is with those that are indisposed and out of order,—some, if a tooth or finger do but ache, presently run to a physician; others send for one to their houses, if they find themselves but the least feverish and desire his advice and assistance; but those that are either melancholical, or but any ways crazed in their heads, can not endure so much as the looks of a physician, but either keep out of sight when he comes or command him to be gone, being altogether insensible of their condition,—so, in persons that commit any heinous crime or fall into any error, I look upon those as perfectly incurable, who take it ill to be admonished of their fault and look upon reproof and admonition as the greatest rudeness and incivility in the world, whereas those that can quietly hearken and submit to the advice of friends and superiors deserve a more favorable opinion, and may be thought to be of a much better disposition. But the greatest character of hopeful men, and such as may be probably excellent proficients in time, belongs to those who, upon a commission of a fault, immediately apply themselves to such as will reprove and correct them; who plainly disclose their grief and open their malady; who do not rejoice in concealing their distemper, and are not content to have their troubles unknown; lastly, who make a full confession of what they have done amiss, and desire the help of a friend to examine and direct them for the future. Diogenes, I am sure, was of this opinion. He said, that whosoever would be certainly and constantly in the right must get either a virtuous good friend or an incensed ill-natured enemy to his monitor; the one by gentle admonition to reprove and persuade him, the other to work upon him by severity, and awe him into a virtuous course of life.

There is a sort of men in the world, that are so vain and foolish as to take a pride in being the first discoverers of their own imperfections; if they have but a rent or spot in their clothes, or have got a torn pair of shoes on, they are the most forward of any to tell it in company; and (which is more) they are very apt, out of a silly, empty, arrogant humor, to make themselves the subject of their drollery, if they are of a dwarfish stature or any way deformed; yet (which is strange) these very men, at the very same time, endeavor to excuse and palliate the internal imperfections of the mind and the more ugly deformities of the soul, as envy, evil-custom, detraction, voluptuousness, &c., and will not suffer any one either to see or probe them. These are, as it were, so many sore places, and they cannot endure to have them touched and meddled with. Such men as these (I may be bold to say) have very few signs of proficiency, or rather none at all.

Now, on the contrary, he that examines his own failings with the greatest severity, that impartially blames or corrects himself as often as he does amiss, or (which is almost as commendable) grows firmer and better by present advice, as well as more able and ready to endure a reprimand for the future, seems to me truly and sincerely to have rejected and forsaken vice.

It is certainly our duty to avoid all appearance of evil, and to be ashamed to give occasion even to be reputed vicious; yet evil reports are so inconsiderable to a wise man, that, if he have a greater aversion to the nature of evil than to the infamy that attends it, he will not fear what is said of him abroad, nor what calumnies are raised, if so be he be made the better by them. It was handsomely said of Diogenes, when he saw a young spark coming out of a tavern, who at the sight of him drew back: Do not retire, says he, for the more you go backward, the more you will be in the tavern. Even so every vicious person, the more he denies and palliates vice, the more aggravates and confirms it, and with surer footing goes farther into wickedness; like some persons of ordinary rank and quality, who, while they assume above themselves, and out of arrogance would be thought rich, are made really poor and necessitous, by pretending to be otherwise.

Hippocrates, a man of wonderful skill in physic, was very ingenuous in this point, and fit to be imitated by the greatest proficients in philosophy. He confessed publicly, that he had mistaken the nature of the sutures in the skull, and has left an acknowledgment of his ignorance upon record, under his own hand; for he thought it very unworthy a man of his profession not to discover where he was in the wrong, seeing others might suffer and err by his authority. And, indeed, it had been very unreasonable, if he, whose business and concern it was to save others and to set them right, should not have had the courage to cure himself, and to discover his weakness and imperfections in his own faculty.

Pyrrhon and Bion (two eminent philosophers) have given rules of proficiency; but they seem rather signs of a complete habit of virtue, than a progressive disposition to it. Bion told his friend, that they then might be assured of their proficiency, when they could endure a reproof from anybody with the same indifferency and unconcernedness as they could hear the highest encomiums, even such a one as this of the poet:

Sir,

Some heavenly flame inspires your breast; Live great, rejoice, and be for ever blest.[222]

The other, to wit, Pyrrhon, being at sea and in great danger, by reason of a tempest that arose, took particular notice (as the story goes) of a hog that was on board, which all the while very unconcernedly fed upon some corn which lay scattered about; he showed it to his companions, and told them that they ought to acquire by reading and philosophy such an apathy and unconcernedness in all accidents and dangers as they saw that poor creature naturally have.

12. The opinion which is said to be Zeno’s may deserve our consideration. He said that any one might give a guess at his proficiency from the observation of his dreams, if when asleep he fancied nothing that was immodest, nor seemed to consent to any wicked actions or dishonest intentions, but found his fancy and passions of his mind undisturbed, in a constant calm, as it were, always serene, and enlightened with the beams of divine reason. This very notion was hinted by Plato[223] (as I interpret his words), where he is describing and delineating the soul which is tyrannical in its nature, and showing what manner of operations its fantasy and irrational appetite exert. When a man is asleep, he says, a vicious person designs the satisfying incestuous lust, has a longing for all sorts of meat indifferently, whether allowed or prohibited, and satisfies his appetite and desire in all manner of intemperance which is loose and unregarded, which, in the day-time, either the laws shame him out of, or fear to offend restrains.

As now those brute beasts that are accustomed to labor will not, if the reins be let loose, either turn aside or offer to leave the track or stumble in it, so it is with the brutal faculty of the mind; when it is once made tame and manageable by the strength of reason, then it is unwilling carelessly to transgress or saucily to disobey its sovereign’s commands or to comply with any inordinate lusts, either in sleep or sickness; but it carefully observes and maintains its dictates to which it is accustomed, and by frequent exercise advances to perfect strength and intention of virtue.

We find even in our own nature the strange effects of custom. Man is naturally able, by much exercise and the use of a stoical apathy, to bring the body and all its members into subjection, so that not one organ shall perform its operation,—the eyes shall not burst out with tears upon the sight of a lamentable object, the heart shall not palpitate upon the apprehension of fear, and the passions shall not be roused at the sight of any beautiful person, whether man or woman. Now it is much more probable that the faculties of the sense may be so brought in subjection by undergoing such exercise as we speak of, that all its imaginations and motions may be smoothed and made agreeable to right reason, even when we are asleep and keep not sentry. It is reported of Stilpo the philosopher, that he thought he saw Neptune in his sleep, and that he seemed very much displeased with him, because he had not (as was usual with his priests) sacrificed an ox in honor of him. Not in the least daunted at the apparition, he thus boldly accosted it: Neptune! what’s this business you here complain of? You come hither like a child, and are angry with me, because I did not borrow money and run in debt to please you, and fill the city with costly odors, but privately sacrificed to you in my own house such ordinary victims as I could get. At this confident reply, Neptune smiled, and (as the story goes) reached him his hand, as an assurance of his good-will to him, and told him that for his sake he would send the Megarians abundance of fish that season.

In the main we may conclude thus much, that those that have clear and pleasant dreams, and are not troubled with any frightful, strange, vicious, or irregular apparitions in their sleep, may assure themselves that they have some indications and dawnings of proficiency; whereas, on the contrary, those dreams which are mixed with any pain, fear, cowardly aversions from good, childish exultation, or silly grief, so that they are both frightful and unaccountable, are like the breaking waves or the billows of the sea; for the soul, not having attained a perfect evenness of temper, but being under the formation of laws and precepts from whose guidance and discovery it is free in time of sleep, is then slacked from its usual intenseness, and laid open to all passions whatever.

Whether this temper we speak of be an argument of proficiency, or an indication of some other habit which has taken deep root in the soul, grown strong and immovable by all the power of reason, I leave to you to consider and determine.

13. Seeing then an absolute apathy or freedom from all passions whatsoever is a great and divine perfection, and, withal, considering that progress seems to consist in a certain remission and moderation of those very passions we carry about us, it unavoidably follows, that if we will observe our passions, with relation to one another and also to themselves, we may easily find out their differences. For example, first, we may observe from the passions compared with themselves whether our desires be now more moderate than they used to be, fear and anger less and more calm, and whether or no we are more able to quench the heat and flame of our passions than we used to be.

Secondly, by comparing them with one another, we may observe whether we now have a greater share of shame than of fear, whether emulation be without any mixture of envy, whether we have greater desire of glory than of riches, whether we offend (as the musicians term it) in the Dorian or base or in the Lydian or treble notes,—that is, whether we are more inured to abstinence and hardship than otherwise,—whether we are unwilling rather than forward to appear in public, and, lastly, whether we are undue admirers of the persons or performances of others, or despisers both of them and what they can do.

As it is a good sign of recovery of a sick person if the distemper lie in the less principal parts of the body; so in proficiency, if vicious habits be changed into more tolerable passions, it is a symptom that they are going off and ready to be quenched. Phrynis the musician, to his seven strings adding two more, was asked by the magistrates, whether he had rather they should cut the upper or lower of them, the base or treble. Now it is our business to cut off (as it were) both what is above and below, if we would attain to the true medium and equality; for proficiency in the first place remits the excess, and sweetens the harmony of the evil affections, which is (according to Sophocles)

The madman’s greatest pleasure and disease.

14. We have already said that we ought to transfer our judgment to action, and not to suffer our words to remain bare and naked words, but to reduce them to deeds; and that this is the chiefest sign of a proficient. Now another manifest indication is a desire of those things we commend, and a readiness to perform those things which we admire, but whatsoever we discommend, neither to will or endure it. It is probable that all the Athenians highly extolled the courage and valor of Miltiades. But Themistocles (who professed that the trophies of Miltiades broke his sleep, and often forced him out of his bed) did not only praise and admire what he had done, but was manifestly struck with a zeal and emulation of his performances. Therefore we may be assured that we have profited little, while we think it a vanity to admire those that have done well, and cannot possibly be raised to an imitation of them.

To love the person of any man is not sufficient, except it have a mixture of emulation; no more is that love of virtue ardent and exciting, which does not put us forward, and create in our breasts (instead of envy to them) a zealous affection for all good men, and a desire of equal perfection with them. For it is not enough (as Alcibiades was wont to say) that the heart should be turned upside down by hearing the discourses of a philosopher, and that the tears should gush from the eyes; but he that is a proficient indeed, comparing himself with the designs and actions of a good perfect man, is pricked at the same with the consciousness of his own weakness, and transported with hope and desire, and big with irresistible assurance; and indeed such a one is (as Simonides says) like a little sucking foal running by the mother’s side, and desires to be incorporated into the very same nature with a good man. For this is an especial sign of true proficiency, to love and affect their way of life whose actions we emulate, and, upon account of an honorable opinion we always entertain for them, to do as they do. But whosoever he is that entertains a contentious or malicious design against his betters, let him be assured that he is possessed with a greedy desire of honor or greatness, but has neither a true respect nor admiration for virtue.

15. When therefore we once begin so to love good men, as not only (according to Plato) to esteem the wise man himself happy, and him who hears his discourses sharer in his felicity, but also to admire and love his habit, gait, look, and very smile, so as to wish ourselves to be that very person, then we may be assured that we have made very good proficiency.

This assurance will be advanced, if we do not only admire good men in prosperity, but like lovers, who are taken ever with the lisping and pale looks of their mistresses (as Araspes is said to have been smitten with the tears and dejected looks of a mournful and afflicted Panthea), have an affection for virtue in its most mournful dress, so as not at all to dread the banishment of Aristides, the imprisonment of Anaxagoras, the poverty of Socrates, nor the hard fate of Phocion, but to embrace and respect their virtues, even under such injustice, and upon thoughts of it, to repeat this verse of Euripides,—

How do all fortunes decently become A generous, well-tuned soul!

This is certain, if any one addresses himself to virtue with this resolution, not to be dejected at the appearance of difficulty, but heartily admires and prosecutes its divine perfection, none of the evil we have spoken of can divert his good intentions. To what I have said I may add this, that when we go upon any business, undertake any office, or chance upon any affair whatever, we must set before our eyes some excellent person, either alive or dead; and consider with ourselves what Plato for the purpose would have done in this affair, what Epaminondas would have said, how Lycurgus or Agesilaus would have behaved themselves, that, addressing ourselves and adorning our minds at these mirrors, we may correct every disagreeing word and irregular passion. It is commonly said, that those that have got by heart the names of the Idaei Dactyli make use of them as charms to drive away fear, if they can but confidently repeat them one by one; so the consideration and remembrance of good men, being present and entertained in our minds, do preserve our proficiency in all affections and doubts regular and immovable; wherefore you may judge that this is also a token of a proficient in virtue.

16. You may observe further, that not to be in a confusion, not to blush, not to hide or correct your clothes or any thing about you, at the unexpected appearance of an honorable and wise person, but to have an assurance as if you were often conversant with such, is almost a perfect demonstration of a very intelligent person.

It is reported of Alexander, that one night seeing a messenger joyfully running towards him and stretching out his hand, as if he had something to deliver to him, he said to the apparition, Friend, what news do you bring me? Is Homer risen from the dead? That admirable monarch thought that nothing was wanting to his great exploits but such a herald as Homer.

Consider this, if a young man thrive in the world, it is customary for him to desire nothing more than to be seen in the company of virtuous and good men, to show them his whole furniture, his table, his wife and children, his study, his diary or collections; and he is so pleased with himself, that he wishes his father or tutor were alive, that they might see him in so good a way of living; and he could heartily pray that they were alive, to be spectators of his life and actions. But, on the contrary, those that have neglected their business, or lost themselves in the world, cannot endure the sight or company of their relations without a great deal of fear and confusion.

17. Join this, if you please, to what we said before; for it is no small sign, if the proficient thus esteem every little fault a great one, and studiously observe and avoid all. For, as those persons who despair of ever being rich make little account of small expenses, thinking that little added to a little will never make any great sum, but when they come once to have got a competency, and hope to be at last very rich, it advances their desires, so it happens in the affairs of virtue;—he that does not quiet his mind by saying with himself, “What matters it what comes after? if for the present it be so and so, yet better days will come,” but who attends every thing, and is not careless if the least vice pass uncondemned, but is troubled and concerned at it, such a one makes it appear that he has attained something that is pure, which he brightens by use and will not suffer to corrupt. For a preconceived opinion that nothing we have is valuable (according to Aeschylus) makes us careless and indifferent about every thing.

If any one be to make a dry wall or an ordinary hedge, it matters not much if he makes use of ordinary wood or common stone, any old gravestones, or the like; so wicked persons, who confusedly mix and blend all their designs and actions in one heap, care not what materials they put together. But the proficients in virtue, who have already laid the golden solid foundation of a virtuous life, as of a sacred and royal building, take especial care of the whole work, examine and model every part of it according to the rule of reason, believing that it was well said by Polycletus, that the hardest work remained for them to do whose nails must touch the clay;—that is, to lay the top stone is the great business and masterpiece of the work. The last stroke gives beauty and perfection to the whole piece.

OF FORTUNE.

MORTALS’ AFFAIRS FORTUNE NOT COUNSEL RULES.[224]

1. And does not justice rule the affairs of mortals,—nor impartiality, nor moderation, nor decorum? But was it of Fortune and long of Fortune that Aristides remained obstinate in his poverty, although he could have made himself master of much wealth? And that Scipio, when he had taken Carthage, neither received nor so much as saw any part of the booty? Was it of Fortune and long of Fortune that Philocrates, having received a sum of gold of King Philip, laid it out in whores and fish? And that Lasthenes and Euthycrates, by measuring their happiness by their bellies and the most abject of follies, lost Olynthus? Was it of Fortune that Alexander son of Philip refrained from the captive women himself, and punished those that offered them any indignity; while Alexander, son of Priam, long of an evil Daemon and Fortune, first vitiated his host’s wife and then took her away with him, and filled both the continents with war and calamities? And if such things as these can come by Fortune, what hinders but that we may as well plead that cats, goats, and monkeys are constrained by Fortune to be ravenous, lustful, and ridiculous?

2. But if there be such things to be found as moderation, justice, and fortitude, how can it stand with reason there should not be such a thing as wisdom also? And if there be wisdom, how can it be but there must be good counsel? For moderation is (as they are used to say) a certain sort of wisdom; and justice cannot subsist without wisdom. Certainly we call that good counsel and wisdom that render us manful in pleasures continence and moderation; in dangers and hardships, endurance and resolution; and in communities and public business, equality and justice. And therefore if we will needs have it that the effects of conduct belong to Fortune, let then both the effects of justice and moderation belong to Fortune also. Nay, by Jove, let stealing be ascribed to Fortune too, and cutting of purses, and a lustful lewd life; and let us quit our reasoning quite, and turn ourselves loose to Fortune, to be carried and driven, like filth and dust, before an impetuous wind. If there be no such thing as conduct, it must of necessity follow, that there should be no such thing as advising about our affairs, nor any consultation or enquiry about utility; and that Sophocles did talk idly when he said:

Whate’er is sought, It may be caught; But what we shun Will from us run;[225]

and when elsewhere he made this distribution of things:

I learn what’s to be taught, I seek what’s to be sought; I beg the rest of Heaven.

For what is to be sought or what is to be learned by mortals, if all things go by Fortune? And what senate of a republic is not overthrown, or what council of a prince is not dissolved, if all things are subject to Fortune?—which we use to upbraid with blindness because we blindly fall into it. And indeed how can we otherwise choose, when we first pluck good counsel like our eyes out of our heads, and then take us a blind guide of our lives?

3. Imagine that now some one of us should say,

Seers’ affairs Fortune not eyesight rules,

nor yet the eyes, which Plato calls light-bearers; and again,

Hearers’ affairs are by blind Fortune ruled,

and not by a certain power receptive of the strokes of the air, conveyed to it through the organ of the ear and brain. It would beseem us then, doubtless, to pay a due respect to our sense. But our sight, hearing, and smelling, with the other parts of our bodies’ faculties, were bestowed upon us by nature to minister unto good conduct and discretion. And “It is the mind that sees, and the mind that hears; the rest are deaf and blind.” And as, were there not a sun, we might, for all the other stars, pass our days in darkness (as Heraclitus says); so had man neither mind nor reason, his life would be, for all his senses, nothing better than that of brutes. But it is by neither Fortune nor chance that we exceed them and bear sway over them; but Prometheus (that is, reason) is the cause,

Which gives both horse and ass and oxen strong, To carry us and ease our labor long,[226]

as Aeschylus speaks. For the greater part of brutes are much happier than we, as to the fortune and form of their constitution; for some of them are armed with horns, some with teeth, and some with stings; and the urchin’s back, (saith Empedocles) bristles with prickly thorns; others again are shod, others are clad with scales, others with shaggy hair, and others with hard claws and hoofs; but man alone (as Plato speaks) was left by Nature naked, unarmed, unshod, and uncovered. But all those ills she sweetened with one gift,—reason, care, and forecast.

Small is the strength of poor frail man; Yet by his shifting wit he can Enslave the arts and properties Of all on land, in sea and skies.

The lightest and swiftest things are horses; but they run for man. A dog is a fierce and an angry animal; but it guards man. Fish is the sweetest thing, and swine the fattest; but they are man’s nourishment and cheer. What is bigger than an elephant? But this also is become man’s plaything, and a spectacle at public solemnities, and it learns to skip, dance, and kneel. Such things as these are not introduced in vain, but that we may learn by them whither knowledge advances man, and above what things it sets him, and how he comes to be master, and exceed all other things.

For we nor boxers nor good wrestlers are, Nor yet good runners.[227]

Yea, in all these we are far more unhappy than the brutes. But by our experience, memory, wit, and dexterity (as Anaxagoras speaks) we make use of what is theirs; we press out their honey, we milk them, we catch them, and drive them up and down as we please. So that in all this there is nothing that depends on Fortune, but all on counsel and forecast.

4. Moreover, the affairs of carpenters are affairs of mortals, and so are those of copper-founders, builders, and statuaries; amongst whom yet we can see nothing brought to perfection by chance or at random. For that there falls in but little of Fortune to an expert artist, whether founder or builder, but that the most and greatest part of their workmanship is performed by mere art, hath been thus insinuated by a certain poet:

Go forth into the street, ye craftsmen all, Who on grim-visaged Ergana do call, That’s stuck with sacred baskets all around.

For the trades have Ergana and Minerva for their patroness, and not Fortune. It is indeed reported of one that, as he was drawing a horse and had hit right in all the rest, both shapes and colors, but was not well satisfied with the draught he had made of a puff of froth that was tempered by the bit and wrought out with the horse’s breathing, he therefore had often wiped it off; but that at length he in a great fume struck his sponge full of colors, as it was, against the board, and that this, as it lighted, to admiration made a most lively impress, and so filled up what was defective in the piece. This is the only artificial work of Fortune that history mentions. Artists everywhere make use of rules, lines, measures, and arithmetical proportions, that their works may nowhere have in them any thing that is casual or fortuitous. And the truth is, arts are styled a sort of petty wisdoms, though they might be much better called certain sheddings or filings of it sprinkled upon the several needful services of human life; as is obscurely riddled to us in the fire feigned to have been first divided by Prometheus, and then scattered up and down the world. For just so, certain little particles and fragments of wisdom as it were crumbled and broken small fell into ranks and methods.

5. It seems therefore very strange how it came to pass that arts should stand in no need of Fortune to compass their proper end, but that which is the greatest and most complete of all arts, and which is the very sum of man’s worth and commendation, should prove to be nothing at all. But there is a kind of good counsel in stretching and slackening of strings, which they call the art of music; and in dressing of meats, which we call cookery; and in washing of clothes, which we call the art of fulling; and we teach our children how to put on their shoes and clothes, and to take their meat in their right hand, and hold their bread in their left; as being sensible that even such common things as these do not come by Fortune, but require attention and heed. But do the greatest things and the most important to a happy state require no wisdom, and have no share in rational proceeding and forecast? Yet no man ever wetted clay and then left it, as if there would be bricks by chance and Fortune; nor, having provided wool and leather, sat him down and prayed to Fortune that they might be made clothes and shoes for him; nor can any man, when he hath amassed together much gold and silver, and furnished himself with a multitude of slaves and attendants, and enclosed himself in a great palace with many gates, and set out costly couches and tables, fancy to himself that, if he have not wisdom with them, these things will be his happiness, and an undisturbed, blissful, and unchangeable life. One asked Iphicrates the general, by way of taunt, what he was? For he was neither spearman nor archer, nor yet bore light armor. I am (replied he) one that commands and uses all these.

6. In like manner wisdom is itself neither gold nor silver nor fame nor wealth nor health nor strength nor beauty. What then is it? It is what can use all these with decorum, and by means of which every one of these is made pleasant, commendable, and useful, and without which they become useless, unprofitable, and prejudicial, and the burthen and shame of their possessors. Hesiod’s Prometheus therefore gives very good advice to Epimetheus:

Brother, be sure you never take A boon from Jove, but giv’t him back,[228]

meaning things of Fortune and external. For, as if he had bid him not to play on a flute if ignorant of music, nor to read a book if he knew not his letters, nor to ride if he understood not a horse, so it would be if he advised him not to govern if a fool, nor to be a rich man if a miser, and not to marry if apt to be ruled by a woman. For success above desert is to fools an occasion of misthinking, as Demosthenes[229] saith; yes, and good fortune above desert is to the unwise an occasion of misdoing.

OF VIRTUE AND VICE.

1. It is apparent that clothes make a man warm, not by warming him themselves or by imparting heat to him (for every garment is of itself cold, which is the reason that we see those that are very hot and in a fever often shifting and changing one thing for another), but what heat a man exhales out of himself, that the garment lying close to his body keeps together and contracts, and when it hath driven it inward, it will not suffer it again to dissipate. This being the very case of external affairs too, it is this that cheats vulgar heads, by making them think that, if they might but enclose themselves in great houses and heap together abundance of slaves and riches, they might then live to their own minds. But an agreeable and gay life is not to be found without us; on the contrary, it is man that out of his own temper, as out of a spring, adds pleasure and gayety to the things about him:

The house looks merrier when the fire burns.

And wealth is the more agreeable, and fame and power the more resplendent, when they have the joy of the mind to accompany them; since we see how that through a mild and tame disposition men can bear poverty, banishment, and old age easily and sweetly.

2. For as odors perfume threadbare coats and poor rags, while Prince Anchises’s ulcer sent forth a loathsome purulence,

When the foul tent dript on his purple robe,

even so every state and condition of life, if accompanied with virtue, is undisturbed and delightful. But when vice is intermixed, it renders even the things that appear splendid, sumptuous, and magnificent most distasteful, nauseous, and unacceptable to the possessors.

This man’s thought happy in the market-place, But when he ope’s his doors, hell is his case;

The woman governs all, commands and brawls.

Though one may without any great difficulty get rid of a wicked cross-grained wife, if he be but a man and not a slave. But a man cannot write a bill of divorce to his vice, and thereby free himself from further trouble, and procure his own repose by living apart; but it still cohabits with him, and dwells in his very bowels, and cleaves to him both by night and by day;

It burns without a torch, and hastens crude old age,[230]

being through its vain glory a burthensome fellow-traveller, and through its voracity a chargeable table-companion, and a troublesome bed-fellow by breaking and spoiling one’s sleep at night with cares, anxieties, and surmises. For when he does sleep his body is indeed at rest and quiet, but his mind is through superstition in terrors, dreams, and frights.

When in my slumbers sorrows fill me, Then frightful dreams and visions kill me,

saith one; just thus envy, fear, anger, and lust affect us. For by day-time our vice, by looking abroad and fashioning herself to the manner of others, grows shamefaced, and finds herself obliged to mask her own disorders, and does not yield herself up wholly to her appetites, but oftentimes resists and struggles with them. But in times of sleep, when it escapes both the opinions of men and the laws, and is at the remotest distance from awe and respect, it stirs every desire, and raises up its malignity and lewdness. For it attempts (as Plato speaks) the embraces of a mother, it purveys unlawful meats, and refrains from no sort of action, enjoying villany, as far as it is practicable, in shades and phantoms, that end in no real pleasure or accomplishment of desire, but have only power to stir up and enrage disorders and distempers.

3. Where then is the pleasure of vice, if there be nowhere to be found either freedom from care or exemption from trouble, or satisfaction or undisturbedness or repose? A sound complexion and good health of body give indeed both place and birth to the flesh’s pleasures; but there cannot be engendered a gayety and cheerfulness in the mind, unless undauntedness, assurance, or an immovable serenity be the foundation. Nay, if some hope or satisfaction should simper a little, this would be soon puddled and disturbed by some sudden eruption of care, like a smooth sea by a rock.

4. Heap up gold, gather together silver, raise up walks, fill your house with slaves and the town with debtors; if you do not appease the disorders of your own mind, and stint your unsatiable desire, and deliver yourself from fears and cares, you do but rack wine for a man in a fever, and administer honey to a man disturbed with bile, and prepare meat and good cheer for people that have the flux or gripes, who can neither retain it nor be strengthened by it, but are over and above spoiled by it. Do you not see how sick persons loathe, spit out, and refuse the finest and most costly meats, though they be proffered and forced upon them; and how again, when their complexion alters, and good spirits, sweet blood, and a connatural heat are engendered, they get up and gladly and willingly eat brown bread, cheese, and cresses? Such a disposition as this is it that reason works in the mind. And you will have sufficiency, if you will but learn what a notable and generous mind is. You will live luxuriously in poverty, and be a prince; and you will be as much in love with a vacant and private life as with that of a general or king. If you once apply to philosophy, you will never live without pleasure, but you will learn to be everywhere pleased, and with every thing. You will be pleased with wealth for making you beneficial to many, and with poverty for not having much to care for; with fame for being honored, and with obscurity for being unenvied.

Conjugal Precepts. Plutarch To Pollianus And Eurydice Sendeth Greeting.

CONJUGAL PRECEPTS.

PLUTARCH TO POLLIANUS AND EURYDICE SENDETH GREETING.

Now that the nuptial ceremonies are over, and that the priestess of Ceres has joined you both together in the bands of matrimony according to the custom of the country, I thought a short discourse of this nature might not be either unacceptable or unseasonable, but rather serve as a kind epithalamium to congratulate your happy conjunction; more especially, since there can be nothing more useful in conjugal society than the observance of wise and wholesome precepts, suitable to the harmony of matrimonial converse. For among the variety of musical moods and measures there is one which is called Hippothoros, a sort of composition to the flute and hautboy, made use of to encourage and provoke stallions to cover mares. But philosophy being furnished with many noble and profitable discourses, there is not any one subject that deserves a more serious study than that of wedlock, whereby they who are engaged in a long community of bed and board are more steadfastly united in affection, and made more pliable one to another in humor and condition. To this purpose, having reduced under several short heads and similes some certain instructions and admonitions which you, as tutored up in philosophy, have frequently already heard, I send you the collection as a present, beseeching the Muses so with their presence to assist the Goddess Venus, that the harmony of your mutual society and complacency in domestic diligences may outcry the melodious concords of lute or harp, while you live united together by reason and philosophy. Therefore it was that the ancients placed the statue of Venus by that of Mercury, to signify that the pleasures of matrimony chiefly consist in the sweetness of conversation. They also set the Graces and Suadela, the Goddess of Eloquence, together, to show that the married couple were to act only by persuasion, and not to use the violences of wrangling and contention.

1. Solon advised that the bride should eat a quince before she entered the nuptial sheets; intimating thereby, in my opinion, that the man was to expect his first pleasures from the breath and speech of his new-married bed-fellow.

2. In Boeotia it is the custom, when they veil the virgin bride, to set upon her head a chaplet of wild asparagus, which from a thorny stalk affords a most delicious fruit, to let us understand that a new-married woman, discreetly brooking at the beginning the first distastes of marriage restraints, grows yieldingly complaisant at length, and makes conforming wedlock a happiness to each. And indeed such husbands who cannot bear with the little disdains and first froppishness of imprudent youth are like to those that choose the sour grapes and leave to others the ripe delicious clusters. On the other side, those young ladies that take a disdain to their husbands by reason of their first debates and encounters may be well compared to those that patiently endure the sting but fling away the honey.

3. It especially behooves those people who are newly married to avoid the first occasions of discord and dissension; considering that vessels newly formed are subject to be bruised and put out of shape by many slight accidents, but when the materials come once to be settled and hardened by time, nor fire nor sword will hardly prejudice the solid substance.

4. Fire takes speedy hold of straw or hare’s fur, but soon goes out again, unless fed with an addition of more fuel. Thus that same love, whose flames are nourished only by heat of youth and looser charms of beauty, seldom proves of long continuance or grows to wedlock maturity, unless it have taken a deep root in conformity of manners, and mutual affection be enlivened by the intermixture of souls as well as bodies, while prudence and discretion feed the noble flame.

5. They who bait their hooks with intoxicated drugs with little pains surprise the hungry fish, but then they prove unsavory to the taste and dangerous to eat. Thus women that by the force of charms and philters endeavor to subdue their husbands to the satisfaction of their pleasure become at length the wives of madmen, sots, and fools. For they whom the sorceress Circe had enchanted, being then no better than swine and asses, were no longer able to please or do her service. But she loved Ulysses entirely, whose prudence avoided her venomous intoxications and rendered his conversation highly grateful.

6. They who rather choose to be the mistresses of senseless fools than the obedient wives of wise and sober husbands are like those people that prefer misguidance of the blind before the conduct of them that can see and know the way.

7. They will not believe that Pasiphae, the consort of a prince, could ever be enamored of a bull, and yet themselves are so extravagant as to abandon the society of their husbands,—men of wisdom, temperance, and gravity,—and betake themselves to the bestial embraces of those who are given wholly to riot and debauchery as if they were dogs or goats.

8. Some men, either unable or unwilling to mount themselves into their saddles through infirmity or laziness, teach their horses to fall upon their knees, and in that posture to receive their riders. In like manner there are some persons who, having married young ladies not less considerable for the nobility of their birth than their wealthy dowries, take little care themselves to improve the advantages of such a splendid conjunction, but with a severe moroseness labor to depress and degrade their wives, proud of the mastery and vaunting in domestic tyranny. Whereas in this case it becomes a man to use the reins of government with as equal regard to the quality and dignity of the woman as to the stature of the horse.

9. We behold the moon then shining with a full and glorious orb, when farthest distant from the sun; but, as she warps back again to meet her illustrious mate, the nearer she makes her approach, the more she is eclipsed until no longer seen. Quite otherwise, a woman ought to display the charms of her virtue and the sweetness of her disposition in her husband’s presence, but in his absence to retire to silence and reservedness at home.

10. Nor can we approve the saying of Herodotus, that a woman lays aside her modesty with her shift. For surely then it is that a chaste woman chiefly vails herself with bashfulness, when, in the privacies of matrimonial duties, excess of love and maiden reverence become the secret signals and testimonies of mutual affection.

11. As in musical concords, when the upper strings are so tuned as exactly to accord, the base always gives the tone; so in well-regulated and well-ordered families, all things are carried on with the harmonious consent and agreement of both parties, but the conduct and contrivance chiefly redounds to the reputation and management of the husband.

12. It is a common proverb, that the sun is too strong for the north wind; for the more the wind ruffles and strives to force a man’s upper garment from his back, the faster he holds it, and the closer he wraps it about his shoulders. But he who so briskly defended himself from being plundered by the wind, when once the sun begins to scald the air, all in a dropping sweat is then constrained to throw away not only his flowing garment but his tunic also. This puts us in mind of the practice of most women, who, being limited by their husbands in their extravagances of feasting and superfluities of habit, presently fill the house with noise and uproar; whereas, if they would but suffer themselves to be convinced by reason and soft persuasion, they would of themselves acknowledge their vanity and submit to moderation.

13. Cato ejected a certain Roman out of the senate for kissing his wife in the presence of his daughter. It is true, the punishment was somewhat too severe; but if kissing and colling and hugging in the sight of others be so unseemly, as indeed it is, how much more indecent is it to chide and brawl and maunder one at another while strangers are in company? If lawful familiarity and caresses between man and wife are not to be allowed but in their private retirements, shall the bitter interchanges and loud discoveries of invective and inconsiderate passion be thought an entertainment pleasingly proper for unconcerned and public ears?

14. As there is little or no use to be made of a mirror, though in a frame of gold enchased with all the sparkling variety of the richest gems, unless it render back the true similitude of the image it receives; so is there nothing of profit in a wealthy dowry, unless the conditions, the temper, the humor of the wife be conformable to the natural disposition and inclination of the husband, and he sees the virtues of his own mind exactly represented in hers. Or, if a fair and beautiful mirror that makes a sad and pensive visage look jocund and gay, or a wanton or smiling countenance show pensive and mournful, is therefore presently rejected as of no value; thus may not she be thought an angry, peevish, and importunate woman, that louts and lowers upon the caresses of a husband, and when he courts the pastime of her affections, entertains him with frumps and taunts, but when she finds him serious in business, allures him then with her unseasonable toyings to pleasure and enjoyment? For the one is an offence of impertinency, the other a contempt of her husband’s kindness. But, as geometricians affirm that lines and surfaces are not moved of themselves, but according to the motions of the bodies to which they belong, so it behooves a woman to challenge no peculiar passion or affection as her own, but to share with her husband in business, in his recreations, in his cares, and in his mirth.

15. As they who are offended to see their wives eat and drink freely in their company do but whet their appetites to glut and gormandize in corners by themselves; so they who refuse to frolic in retirement with their wives, or to let them participate of their private pastimes and dalliances, do but instruct them to cater for their own pleasures and delights.

16. The Persian kings, when they contain themselves within the limits of their usual banquets, suffer their married wives to sit down at their tables; but when they once design to indulge the provocations of amorous heats and wine, then they send away their wives, and call for their concubines, their gypsies, and their songstresses, with their lascivious tunes and wanton galliards. Wherein they do well, not thinking it proper to debauch their wives with the tipsy frolics and dissolute extravagances of their intemperance.

If therefore any private person, swayed by the unruly motions of his incontinency, happen at any time to make a trip with a kind she-friend or his wife’s chambermaid, it becomes not the wife presently to lower and take pepper in the nose, but rather to believe that it was his respect to her which made him unwilling she should behold the follies of ebriety and foul intemperance.

17. Princes that be addicted to music increase the number of excellent musicians; if they be lovers of learning, all men strive to excel in reading and in eloquence; if given to martial exercises, a military ardor rouses straight the drowsy sloth of all their subjects. Thus husbands effeminately finical only teach their wives to paint and polish themselves with borrowed lustre. The studious of pleasure render them immodest and whorish. On the other side, men of serious, honest, and virtuous conversations make sober, chaste, and prudent wives.

18. A young Lacedaemonian lass, being asked by an acquaintance of hers whether she had yet embraced her husband, made answer, No; but that he had embraced her. And after this manner, in my opinion, it behooves an honest woman to behave herself toward her husband, never to shun nor to disdain the caresses and dalliances of his amorous inclinations, when he himself begins; but never herself to offer the first occasion of provocation. For the one savors of impudent harlotry, the other displays a female pride and imperiousness void of conjugal affection.

19. It behooves a woman not to make peculiar and private friendships of her own, but to esteem only her husband’s acquaintance and familiars as hers. Now as the Gods are our chiefest and most beneficial friends, it behooves her to worship and adore only those Deities which her husband reputes and reverences for such. But as for quaint opinions and superstitious innovations, let them be exterminated from her outermost threshold. For no sacrifices or services can be acceptable to the Gods, performed by women, as it were, by stealth and in secret, without the knowledge of the husband.

20. Plato asserts those cities to be the most happy and best regulated where these expressions, “This is mine,” “This is not mine,” are seldomest made use of. For that then the citizens enjoy in common, so far as is convenient, those things that are of greatest importance. But in wedlock those expressions are utterly to be abolished. For as the physicians say that the right side being bruised or beaten communicates its pain to the left; so indeed the husband ought to sympathize in the sorrows and afflictions of the woman, and much more does it become the wife to be sensible of the miseries and calamities of the husband; to the intent that, as knots are made fast by knitting the bows of a thread one within another, so the ligaments of conjugal society may be strengthened by the mutual interchange of kindness and affection. This Nature herself instructs us, by mixing us in our bodies; while she takes a part from each, and then blending the whole together produces a being common to both, to the end that neither may be able to discern or distinguish what was belonging to another, or lay claim to assured propriety. Therefore is community of estate and purses chiefly requisite among married couples, whose principal aim it ought to be to mix and incorporate their purchases and disbursements into one substance, neither pretending to call this hers or that his, but accounting all inseparably peculiar to both. However, as in a goblet where the proportion of water exceeds the juice of the grape, yet still we call the mixture wine; in like manner the house and estate must be reputed the possession of the husband, although the woman brought the chiefest part.

21. Helen was covetous, Paris luxurious. On the other side, Ulysses was prudent, Penelope chaste. Happy therefore was the match between the latter; but the nuptials of the former brought an Iliad of miseries as well upon the Greeks as barbarians.

22. The question being put by some of his friends to a certain Roman, why he had put away his wife, both sober beautiful, chaste, and rich, the gentleman, putting forth his foot and showing his buskin, said: Is not this a new, handsome, complete shoe?—yet no man but myself knows where it pinches me. Therefore ought not a woman to boast either of her dower, her parentage, or beauty; but in such things as most delight a husband, pleasantness of converse, sweetness of disposition, and briskness of humor, there to show nothing of harshness, nothing distasteful, nothing offensive, but from day to day to study behavior jocund, blithe, and conformable to his temper. For as physicians are much more afraid of fevers that proceed from hidden causes, which have been by little and little contracting for a long time together, than those that receive their nourishment from apparent and manifest unconcoctions; thus, if daily continued, the petty snubs and frumps between man and wife, though perhaps unknown to others, are of that force that above all things else they canker conjugal affection, and destroy the pleasure of cohabitation.

23. King Philip so far doted on a fair Thessalian lady, that she was suspected to have used some private arts of fascination towards him. Wherefore Olympias labored to get the supposed sorceress into her power. But when the queen had viewed her well, and duly examined her beauty, beheld the graces of her deportment, and considered her discourse bespake her no less than a person of noble descent and education; Hence, fond suspicions, hence vainer calumnies! said she, for I plainly find the charms which thou makest use of are in thyself. Certainly therefore a lawful wife surpasses the common acceptation of happiness when, without enhancing the advantages of her wealth, nobility, and form, or vaunting the possession of Venus’s cestus itself, she makes it her business to win her husband’s affection by her virtue and sweetness of disposition.

24. Another time the same Olympias, understanding that a young courtier had married a lady, beautiful indeed, but of no good report, said: Sure, the Hotspur had little brains, otherwise he would never have married with his eyes. For they are fools who in the choice of a wife believe the report of their sight or fingers; like those who telling out the portion in their thoughts take the woman upon content, never examining what her conditions are, or whether she is proper to make him a fit wife or no?

25. Socrates was wont to give this advice to young men that accustomed themselves to their mirrors:—if ill-favored, to correct their deformity by the practice of virtue; if handsome, not to blemish their outward form with inward vice. In like manner, it would not be amiss for a mistress of a family, when she holds her mirror in her hands, to discourse her own thoughts:—if deformed, thus, Should I prove lewd and wicked too?—on the other side, thus the fair one, What if chaste beside? For it adds a kind of veneration to a woman not so handsome, that she is more beloved for the perfections of her mind than the outside graces of her body.

26. Dionysius, the tyrant of Sicily, sent several costly presents of rich apparel, necklaces, and bracelets to the daughters of Lysander, which however the father would never permit the virgins to accept, saying: These gaudy presents will procure more infamy than honor to my daughters. And indeed, before Lysander, Sophocles in one of his tragedies had uttered the following sentence to the same effect:

Mistake not, silly wretch; this pompous trim Rather disgraces than proclaims thee great, And shows the rage of thy lascivious heat.

For, as Crates said, that is ornament which adorns; and that adorns a woman which renders her more comely and decent. This is an honor conferred upon her, not by the lustre of gold, the sparkling of emeralds and diamonds, nor splendor of the purple tincture, but by the real embellishments of gravity, discretion, humility, and modesty.

27. They who offer to Juno as the Goddess of Wedlock never consecrate the gall with the other parts of the sacrifice, but having drawn it forth, they cast it behind the altar. Which constitution of the lawgiver fairly implies that all manner of passionate anger and bitterness of reproach should be exterminated from the thresholds of nuptial cohabitation. Not but that a certain kind of austerity becomes the mistress of a family; which however should be like that of wine, profitable and delightful, not like aloes, biting and medicinally ungrateful to the palate.

28. Plato observing the morose and sour humor of Xenocrates, otherwise a person of great virtue and worth, admonished him to sacrifice to the Graces. In like manner, I am of opinion that it behooves a woman of moderation to crave the assistance of the Graces in her behavior towards her husband, thereby (according to the saying of Metrodorus) to render their society mutually harmonious to each other, and to preserve her from being waspishly proud, out of a conceit of her fidelity and virtue. For it becomes not a frugal woman to be neglectful of decent neatness, nor one who has great respect to her husband to refrain complacency in her conversation; seeing that, as the over-rigid humor of a wife renders her honesty irksome, so sluttery begets a hatred of her sparing and pinching housewifery.

29. She who is afraid to laugh or to appear merry and gay before her husband, for fear of waking his jealousy, may be said to resemble one that forbears to anoint herself at all, lest she should be thought to use unnecessary or harlotry perfumes, or that neglects to wash her face, to avoid the suspicion of painting. Thus we find that poets and orators, who desire to shun the tiring tediousness of a low, vulgar, and drowsy style, ingeniously labor to detain and move both their readers and their auditors by the quaintness of their invention, grandeur of the subject, and lively representation of the humors and conditions which they bring upon the stage. From whence a discreet mistress of a family may likewise learn to avoid all manner of over-nice curiosity and squeamish affectation, all excess of jollity savoring of the courtesan, and every thing tending to profuse pomp; but she will rather employ all her wit and art in exhibiting to her husband all the graces of life and character, accustoming him to honesty and decency joined with pleasure and delight. Nevertheless, if there be any woman so severe and reserved by nature that no means can be found to make her blithe and sportive, it behooves her husband to give way to her temper; and, as Phocion answered Antipater, who commanded him to do an ill thing that misbecame his quality, I cannot be thy friend and flatter thee at one and the same time, in like manner ought a man to rest satisfied with the virtues of a chaste wife, though her serious disposition will not permit her to act the airy part of a mistress.

30. The Egyptian women were anciently never wont to wear shoes, to the end they might accustom themselves to stay at home. But altogether different is the humor of our women; for they, unless allowed their jewels, their bracelets, and necklaces, their gaudy vestments, gowns, and petticoats, all bespangled with gold, and their embroidered buskins, will never stir abroad.

31. Theano, as she was dressing herself one morning in her chamber, by chance discovered some part of her naked arm. Upon which, one of the company crying out, Oh, what a lovely arm is there!—’Tis very true, said she, but yet not common. Thus ought a chaste and virtuous woman not only to keep her naked arms from open view, but to lock up her very words and set a guard upon her lips, especially in the company of strangers, since there is nothing which sooner discovers the qualities and conditions of a woman than her discourse.

32. Phidias made the statue of Venus at Elis with one foot upon the shell of a tortoise, to signify two great duties of a virtuous woman, which are to keep at home and be silent. For she is only to speak to her husband, or by her husband. Nor is she to take amiss the uttering her mind in that manner, through another more proper organ.

33. Princes and kings honor themselves in giving honor to philosophers and learned men. On the other side, great personages admired and courted by philosophers are no way honored by their flatteries, which are rather a prejudice and stain to the reputation of those that use them. Thus it is with women, who in honoring and submitting to their husbands win for themselves honor and respect, but when they strive to get the mastery, they become a greater reproach to themselves than to those that are so ignominiously henpecked. But then again, it behooves a husband to control his wife, not as a master does his vassal, but as the soul governs the body, with the gentle hand of mutual friendship and reciprocal affection. For as the soul commands the body, without being subject to its pleasures and inordinate desires, in like manner should a man so exercise his authority over his wife, as to soften it with complaisance and kind requital of her loving submission.

34. Philosophers assert that, of bodies which consist of several parts, some are composed of parts distinct and separate, as a navy or army royal; others of contiguous parts, as a house or a ship; and others of parts united at the first conception, equally partaking of life and motion and growing together, as are the bodies of all living creatures. Thus, where people wed for pure affection, that marriage may be said to resemble those bodies whose parts are solidly fixed together. They who marry for the sake of great portions, or else desirous of offspring, are like to bodies whose parts are contiguous and cleave close to one another; and they who only bed together, if there be any such, resemble bodies whose parts are distinct and without dependency. Now, as physicians say that liquids are the only bodies which most easily intermix without any difference of propriety or respect one with another; so should it be said of people joined together in matrimony, that there is a perfect mixture of bodies and estates, of friends and relations. Therefore the Roman law prohibits new married people from giving and receiving mutual presents one from another; not that they should not participate one with another, but to show that they were not to enjoy any thing but what they possess in common.

35. In Leptis, a city of Libya, it was an ancient custom for the bride, the next day after the nuptial solemnity, to send home to the mother of the bridegroom to borrow a boiler, which she not only refused to lend, but sent back word that she had none to spare; to the end that the new married woman, having by that means tried the disposition of her mother-in-law, if afterwards she found her humor peevish and perverse, might with more patience brook her unkindness, as being no more than what she expected. Rather it becomes the daughter to avoid all occasions of distaste. For it is natural to some mothers to be jealous that the wife deprives her of that filial tenderness which she expects from her son. For which there is no better cure than for a wife so to contrive the gaining of her husband’s love as not to lessen or withdraw his affection from his mother.

36. It is generally observed that mothers are fondest of their sons, as expecting from them their future assistance when they grow into years, and that fathers are kindest to their daughters, as standing most in need of their paternal succor. And perhaps, out of that mutual respect which the man and his wife bear one to another, either of them would seem to carry greater affection for that which is proper and familiar to the other. But this pleasing controversy is easily reconciled. For it becomes a woman to show the choicest of her respects and to be more complaisant to the kindred of her husband than to her own; to make her complaints to them, and conceal her discontents from her own relations. For the trust which she reposes in them causes them to confide in her, and her esteem of them increases their respects to her.

37. The commanders of the Grecian auxiliaries that marched in aid of Cyrus gave these instructions to their soldiers, that, if their enemies advanced whooping and hallowing to the combat, they should receive the charge, observing an exact silence; but on the other side, if they came on silently, then to rend the air with their martial shouts. Thus prudent wives, when their husbands in the heat of their passion rant and tear the house down, should make no returns, but quietly hold their peace; but if they only frown out their discontents in moody anger, then, with soft language and gently reasoning the case, they may endeavor to appease and qualify their fury.

38. Rightly therefore are they reprehended by Euripides, who introduce the harp and other instruments of music at their compotations. For music ought rather to be made use of for the mitigation of wrath and to allay the sorrows of mourning, not to heighten the voluptuousness of those that are already drowned in jollity and delight. Believe yourselves then to be in an error that sleep together for pleasure, but when angry and at variance make two beds, and that never at that time call to your assistance the Goddess Venus, who better than any other knows how to apply a proper remedy to such distempers; as Homer teaches us, where he brings in Juno using this expression:

Your deadly feuds will I myself appease, And th’ amorous bed shall be the charming place Where all your strife shall in embracing cease.[231]

39. Though it becomes a man and his wife at all times to avoid all occasions of quarrelling one with another, yet is there no time so unseasonable for contention as when they are between the same sheets. As the woman in difficult labor said to those that were about to lay her upon her bed; How, said she, can this bed cure these pains, since it was in this very bed that my pleasures were the cause of all my throes? And still less will those reproaches and contests which the bed produces be reconciled at any other time or place.

40. Hermione seems to be in the right, speaking to this effect in one of the tragedies of Euripides:

The lewd discourse of women void of shame Ruined my honor and my virtuous name.[232]

However, these mischiefs rarely happen but where women at variance and jealous of their husbands open not only their door but their ears to whole swarms of twattling gossips, that widen the difference. For then it behooves a prudent woman to shut her ears and beware of listening to such enchanting tattlers, calling to mind the answer of Philip, when he was exasperated by his friends against the Greeks for cursing and reviling him, notwithstanding all the benefits they had received at his hands: What would they have done, said he, had we used them with unkindness and severity? The same should be the reply of a prudent woman to those she-devils, when they bewail her condition, and cry, A woman so loving, so chaste and modest, and yet abused by her husband! For then should she make answer, What would he do, should I begin to hate him and to do him wrong?

41. A certain master, whose slave had been run away from him for several months together, after a long search at length found him suddenly in a workhouse, and said, Where could I have desired to meet with thee more to my wish than in such a place as this? Thus, when a woman is grown jealous of her husband and meditates nothing but present divorce, before she be too hasty, let her reason with herself in this manner: In what condition would my rival choose to see me with greater satisfaction than as I am, all in a fret and fume, enraged against my husband, and ready to abandon both my house and marriage-bed together?

42. The Athenians yearly solemnized three sacred seed-times: the first in Scirus, in memory of the first invention by their ancestors of ploughing and sowing; the second at a place called Rharia; and the third under Pelis, which they call Βουζύγιον in commemoration of the first spanning of oxen to the plough. But more sacred than all these is the nuptial ploughing and sowing, in order to the procreation of children. And therefore Sophocles rightly calls Venus the fruitful Cytherea. For which reason it highly imports both the man and the woman, when bound together by the holy tie of wedlock, to abstain from all unlawful and forbidden copulation, and from ploughing and sowing where they never desire to reap any fruit of their labor, or, if the harvest come to perfection, they conceal and are ashamed to own it.

43. The orator Gorgias, in a full assembly of the Grecians, resorting from all parts to the Olympic games, making an oration to the people, wherein he exhorted them to live in peace, unity, and concord among one another, Melanthus cried out aloud: This man pretends to give us advice, and preaches here in public nothing but love and union, who in his own private family is not able to keep his wife and his maid from being continually together by the ears, and yet there are only they three in the house. For it seems that Gorgias had a kindness for his servant, which made her mistress jealous. And therefore it behooves that man to have his family in exquisite order who will undertake to regulate the failing of his friends or the public miscarriages, especially since the misbehavior of men toward their wives is far sooner divulged among the people than the transgressions of women against their husbands.

44. It is reported that the scent of sweet perfumes will make a cat grow mad. Now, supposing those strong perfumes which are used by many men should prove offensive to their wives, would it not be a great piece of unnatural unkindness to discompose a woman with continual fits rather than deny himself a pleasure so trivial? But when it is not their husbands’ perfuming themselves, but their lascivious wandering after lewd and extravagant women, that disturbs and disorders their wives, it is a great piece of injustice, for the tickling pleasure of a few minutes, to afflict and disquiet a virtuous woman. For since they who are conversant with bees will often abstain from women, to prevent the persecution of those little but implacable enemies of unclean dalliance, much rather ought a man to be pure from the pollutions of harlotry, when he approaches his chaste and lawful wife.

45. They whose business it is to manage elephants never put on white frocks, nor dare they that govern wild bulls appear in red, those creatures being scared and exasperated by those colors. And some report that tigers, when they hear a drum beat afar off, grow mad and exercise their savage fury upon themselves. If then there are some men that are offended at the gay and sumptuous habit of their wives, and others that brook as ill their gadding to plays and balls, what reason is there that women should not refrain those vanities rather than perplex and discontent their husbands, with whom it becomes their modesty to live with patience and sobriety.

46. What said a woman to King Philip, that pulled and hauled her to him by violence against her will? Let me go, said she, for when the candles are out, all women are alike. This is aptly applied to men addicted to adultery and lust. But a virtuous wife, when the candle is taken away, ought then chiefly to differ from all other women. For when her body is not to be seen, her chastity, her modesty, and her peculiar affection to her husband ought then to shine with their brightest lustre.

47. Plato admonishes old men to carry themselves with most gravity in the presence of young people, to the end the awe of their example may imprint in youth the greater respect and reverence of age. For the loose and vain behavior of men stricken in years breeds a contempt of gray hairs, and never can expect veneration from juvenility. Which sober admonition should instruct the husband to bear a greater respect to his wife than to all other women in the world, seeing that the nuptial chamber must be to her either the school of honor and chastity or that of incontinency and wantonness. For he that allows himself those pleasures that he forbids his wife, acts like a man that would enjoin his wife to oppose those enemies to which he has himself already surrendered.

48. As to what remains, in reference to superfluity of habit and decent household furniture, remember, dear Eurydice, what Timoxenas has written to Aristylla.

And do you, Pollianus, never believe that women will be weaned from those toys and curiosities wherein they take a kind of pride, and which serve for an alleviation of their domestic solitude, while you yourself admire the same things in other women, and are taken with the gayety of golden beakers, magnificent pictures for your houses, and rich trappings for your mules and horses. For it were a strange moroseness to debar a woman those ornamental vanities which naturally her sex admire, nor will it easily be endured without regret, where she sees the man much more indulgent to his own humor.

Since then thou art arrived at those years which are proper for the study of such sciences as are attained by reason and demonstration, endeavor to complete this knowledge by conversing with persons that may be serviceable to thee in such a generous design. And as for thy wife, like the industrious bee, gather everywhere from the fragrant flowers of good instruction, replenish thyself with whatever may be of advantage to her, and impart the same to her again in loving and familiar discourse, both for thy own and her improvement.

For father thou and mother art to her; She now is thine, and not the parent’s care.[233]

Nor is it less to thy commendation to hear what she returns:

And you, my honored husband, are my guide And tutor in philosophy beside, From whose instructions I at once improve The fruits of knowledge and the sweets of love

For such studies as these fix the contemplations of women upon what is laudable and serious, and prevent their wasting time upon impertinent and pernicious vanity. For that lady that is studious in geometry will never affect the dissolute motions of dancing. And she that is taken with the sublime notions of Plato and Xenophon will look with disdain upon the charms and enchantments of witches and sorcerers; and if any ridiculous astrologer promises to pull the moon down from the sky, she will laugh at the ignorance and folly of the women who believe in him, being herself well grounded in astronomy, and having heard about Aganice, the daughter of Hegetor, a Thessalian lord, who understanding the reason of the eclipses of the moon, and knowing beforehand the time of her being obscured by the shadow of the earth, made the credulous women believe that it was she who at those times unhinged the moon and removed her from the sky.

True it is, that never any woman brought forth a perfect child without the assistance and society of man, but there are many whose imaginations are so strongly wrought upon by the sight or bare relation of monstrous spectacles, that they bring into the world several sorts of immature and shapeless productions. Thus, unless great care be taken by men to manure and cultivate the inclinations of their wives with wholesome and virtuous precepts, they often breed among themselves the false conceptions of extravagant and loose desires. But do thou, Eurydice, make it thy business to be familiar with the learned proverbs of wise and learned men, and always to embellish thy discourse with their profitable sentences, to the end thou mayst be the admiration of other women, that shall behold thee so richly adorned without the expense or assistance of jewels or embroideries. For pearls and diamonds are not the purchase of an ordinary purse; but the ornaments of Theano, Cleobuline, Gorgo the wife of King Leonidas, Timoclea the sister of Theagenes, the ancient Roman Claudia, or Cornelia the daughter of Scipio,—already so celebrated and renowned for their virtues,—will cost but little, yet nothing will set thee out more glorious or illustrious to the world, or render thy life more comfortable and happy. For if Sappho, only because she could compose an elegant verse, had the confidence to write to a haughty and wealthy dame in her time

Dead thou shalt lie forgotten in thy tomb, Since not for thee Pierian roses bloom,[234]

why may it not be much more lawful for thee to boast those great perfections that give thee a greater privilege, not only to gather the flowers, but to reap the fruits themselves, which the Muses bestow upon the lovers and real owners of learning and philosophy?

End Of Vol. Ii. Footnotes

END OF VOL. II.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] See Section 7, where the form of the dialogue shows that Plutarch counted Anacharsis among the Seven, and left out Periander. (G.)

[2] Hesiod, Works and Days, 744.

[3] Il. IV. 261.

[4] Ἄλει, μύλα, ἄλει· καὶ γὰρ Πίττακος ἀλεῖ, μεγάλας Μιτυλάνας βασιλεύων.

[5] Hesiod, Works and Days, 41.

[6] Il. V. 341.

[7] Μηδὲν ἄγαν, Ne quid nimis.

[8] Called κυψέλη in Greek, whence the child was named Cypselus. (G.)

[9] Il. XI. 542.

[10] Il. X. 249; Odyss. VIII. 351.

[11] Il. VI. 282.

[12] Odyss. IV. 230; Il. XIV. 216.

[13] Il. VI. 130.

[14] See. Il. XX. 57.

[15] From Aeschylus. The whole passage is quoted in Plato’s Republic, end of Book II. (G.)

[16] Odyss. XI. 228.

[17] Il. XXII. 210.

[18] Il. IV. 84.

[19] From the Niobe of Aeschylus, Frag. 151.

[20] Odyss. XXIV. 11.

[21] Odyss. XI. 72.

[22] Il. XVI. 856.

[23] Eurip. Iph. Aul. 1218.

[24] Eurip. Phoeniss. 524.

[25] From Menander.

[26] Odyss. VI. 148.

[27] Il. II. 189.

[28] Il. I. 24.

[29] Il. I. 225.

[30] Il. I. 223.

[31] Il. XXIII. 24.

[32] Odyss. VIII. 329.

[33] Il. VIII. 198.

[34] Il. IV. 104.

[35] Odyss. VIII. 249 and 492.

[36] Il. XV. 82.

[37] Il. VIII. 358.

[38] Il. VI. 188; Odyss. VI. 46; Il. XXIV. 526.

[39] Theognis, vss. 177, 178.

[40] Odyss. IV. 197; Il. XXIV. 526.

[41] Il. V. 352.

[42] Odyss. XVIII. 333.

[43] Soph. Oed. Tyr. 2.

[44] Eurip. Phoeniss. 1006.

[45] Il. VII. 329.

[46] Il. III. 276.

[47] Il. I. 3 and 5.

[48] From Euripides.

[49] Hesiod, Works and Days, 86.

[50] Hesiod, Works and Days, 717.

[51] Il. XXIV. 527; VII. 69; Odyss. VIII. 81.

[52] Il. XI. 540.

[53] Hesiod, Works and Days, 289.

[54] Il. XI. 90.

[55] Il. XX. 242; Hesiod, Works and Days, 313.

[56] Hesiod, Works and Days, 287.

[57] Odyss. XIX. 360.

[58] Odyss. IV. 93.

[59] Eurip. Medea, 598; Phoeniss. 549.

[60] From the Aeolus of Euripides.

[61] Il. XVI. 97; Odyss. XI. 421; Il. IX. 452; Il. III. 365.

[62] For this and the four following quotations, see Il. I. 59, 90, 220, 349; IX. 458

[63] Odyss. VI. 254.

[64] Odyss. XVIII. 282.

[65] Odyss. XIII. 216.

[66] Hesiod, Works and Days, 744; Il. IV. 306.

[67] Eurip. Hippol. 424.

[68] For this and the five following quotations, see Il. I. 163; II. 226; I. 128; II. 281; IV. 402 and 404.

[69] Il. IV. 357. For the four following, see Il. IX. 34 and 70; IV. 431; X. 325.

[70] Il. VII. 215. For the three following, see Il. II. 220; VII. 226 and 231.

[71] See Aristophanes, Frag. 397.

[72] Il. XI. 313. For the four following, see Odyss. III. 52; Il. XXIV. 560 and 584; Odyss. XVI. 274.

[73] Il. III. 320; XVI. 233.

[74] Il. VI. 444; XVII. 671.

[75] Il. XIII. 354.

[76] Odyss. III. 20; Il. XXIII. 570; XVII. 170.

[77] Il. VI. 160; Odyss. III. 265.

[78] Il. XVI. 422; XIII. 121.

[79] See note on the same passage of Aeschylus (Sept. 591), vol. I. p. 210. (G.)

[80] Il. XXIII. 297.

[81] From the Aeolus of Euripides, Frag. 19.

[82] Eurip. Electra, 428.

[83] Eurip. Iphig. Aul. 29.

[84] From the Chrysippus of Euripides, Frag. 838.

[85] From Menander.

[86] Hesiod, Works and Days, 348.

[87] The word here used (ὀρτυγοκοπεῖν) denotes a game among the Grecians, which Suidas describes to be the setting of quails in a round compass or ring, and striking at the heads of them; and he that in the ring struck down one had liberty to strike at the rest in order, but he that missed was obliged to set up quails for others; and this they did by turns.

[88] From the Aeolus of Euripides, Frag. 20.

[89] Il. III. 39; XVII. 142.

[90] Il. II. 173; VII. 47; XIX. 216; XI. 608.

[91] Il. I. 225; XXIII. 483 and 474-479; XIII. 824.

[92] Il. XXI. 331.

[93] Il. V. 428; XI. 543.

[94] Hesiod, Works and Days, 40 and 266.

[95] The first two quotations are from Euripides (the first from his Cresphontes); the other two are from unknown tragic poets. (G.)

[96] Thucyd. I. 42.

[97] Hesiod, Theogony, 64.

[98] Eurip. Ion, 732.

[99] Eurip. Hippol. 218.

[100] Odyss. XXII. I.

[101] Odyss. XVI. 181.

[102] Soph. Antigone, 523.

[103] Il. XI. 643; Odyss. IV. 178.

[104] Il. VIII. 281; Odyss. I. 65; Il. VII. 109.

[105] Thucyd. III. 82.

[106] Plat. Repub. V. 474 D.

[107] Il. X. 249.

[108] Eurip. Alcestis, 1159, and elsewhere in Euripides.

[109] Il. XVI. 141.

[110] From the Myrmidons of Aeschylus, Frag. 131.

[111] Odyss. X. 329.

[112] Eurip. Phoeniss. 472.

[113] Il. XIV. 195.

[114] From the Ino of Euripides, Frag. 416.

[115] From the Erechtheus of Euripides, Frag. 364.

[116] Il. XIV. 84.

[117] Il. XI. 654.

[118] Il. XVI. 33.

[119] Il. II. 215.

[120] Λύσιος, the Releaser. See Pind. Frag. 124.

[121] Eurip. Orestes, 667.

[122] Eurip. Ion, 732.

[123] See Demosth. Ol. II. p. 24, 3.

[124] See Il. IX. 108.

[125] Odyss. I. 157.

[126] Aristophanes, Acharn. 503.

[127] Thucyd. I. 70.

[128] From Euripides, Ἄλλων ἰατρὸς, αὐτὸς ἕλκεσι βρύων.

[129] Il. XI. 313; VIII. 234.

[130] Il. IX. 461.

[131] Il. XIII. 116; V. 171.

[132] Eurip. Phoeniss. 1688; Hercules Furens, 1250.

[133] Il. V. 800.

[134] II. 464.

[135] Il. VI. 347.

[136] Il. VI. 326.

[137] Il. IX. 109.

[138] Odyss. XXII. 6.

[139] Odyss. VIII. 246, 248.

[140] Odyss. IV. 605.

[141] Aeschylus, Suppliants, 770.

[142] Soph. Oed. Tyr. 1169, 1170.

[143] From the Thamyras of Sophocles, Frag. 225.

[144] Eurip. Hippol. 75.

[145] Eurip. Aeolus, Frag. 23.

[146] Pindar, Pyth. I. 25.

[147] From the Cressae of Euripides, Frag. 470.

[148] Odyss. VIII. 173.

[149] See Il. V. 341.

[150] Odyss. V. 410.

[151] Il. XXII. 390.

[152] Eurip. Hecuba, 422.

[153] Il. IX. 408

[154] Il. VII. 99.

[155] Eurip. Hippol. 193.

[156] Il. V. 514 and 515.

[157] Herod. VII. 46.

[158] See Livy, I. 9, 12.

[159] See Varro, Ling. Lat. V. 84: Quod in Latio capite velato erant semper, ac caput cinctum habebant filo, flamines dicti. Festus, s. v. Flamen Dialis: Flamen, quasi filamen. (G.)

[160] Il. XV. 198.

[161] For an account of the various titles of Fortune at Rome, see Preller, Römische Mythologie, X. § 1; and Plutarch on the Fortune of the Romans, §§ 5, 10. (G.)

[162] From Sophocles, Frag. 786.

[163] See the word πλατυχαίτας (probably corrupt) in Liddell and Scott’s Greek Lexicon. (G.)

[164] Called παλιντοκία. See above, Question 18. (G.)

[165] Il. XV. 453.

[166] Hesiod, Works and Days, 708.

[167] Hesiod, Works and Days, 45.

[168] Odyss. IV. 74.

[169] See Il. XXIII. 259.

[170] Pindar, Olymp. IX. 58.

[171] Il. IV. 370 and 405.

[172] Soph. Trachin. 442.

[173] Il. XVI. 847.

[174] Il. I. 128; IX. 328; XVI. 70.

[175] Demosthenes on the Crown, p. 260, 1; p. 307, 9.

[176] Il. XXII. 379.

[177] Demosthenes on the Crown, p. 325, 22.

[178] Odyss. XVI. 187.

[179] Il. XXIII. 673 and 670.

[180] Odyss. XII. 192; IX. 228.

[181] From the Philoctetes of Euripides, Frag. 785 and 787.

[182] See Vol. 1. p. 91.

[183] Il. I. 260.

[184] Il. VI. 127.

[185] Odyss. XII. 209.

[186] See Demosthenes on the Crown, p. 270, 3.

[187] See Boeckh’s dissertation Ueber die Bildung der Weltseele im Timaeos des Platon, now reprinted in his Kleine Schriften, III. pp. 109-180. For the passages relating to music, see Westphal’s Harmonik und Melopöie der Griechen, pp. 134-136. See also the note prefixed to Plutarch on Music, vol. I. p. 102. (G.).

[188] Timaeus, p. 35 A-B.

[189] Timaeus, p. 34 B.

[190] Timaeus, p. 36 E.

[191]

[Illustration]

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

See note on Platonic Questions, No. V. § 2. Thirty-six is called the triangular of eight, because a triangle thus made of thirty-six points will have eight points on each side. (G.)

[192] That is, in the quaternary, § 11. See the diagram, p. 339. (G.)

[193] Timaeus, p. 36 A.

[194] Timaeus, p. 37 A.

[195] Timaeus, p. 52 D.

[196] Timaeus, p. 35 B.

[197] X. p. 617 B.

[198] Ἅρμενος ἦν ξείνοισιν ἀνὴρ ὅδε, καὶ φίλος ἀστοῖς.

[199] See Boeckh’s note on Pindar, Frag. 8. The quotation from Pindar is corrupt; but the sense given above is derived from other quotations of the same passage. (G.)

[200] This epistolary discourse was wrote against an ill-bred sort of philosophers who neither would take the charge of education of great persons themselves, nor would suffer others to do it. Tho’ the author seems here only to vindicate his friend, it is in truth an apology for himself, who bred up an emperor, and spent most part of his time (to good purpose) in the greatest court in the world. This and several other of his moral discourses seems to be hastily dictated, so that there is no great choice in his words or measure in his periods, or strict method in the whole. However, the treasure of ancient learning and good sense which is to be found in him, as it was frequently made use of by the most eloquent Greek Fathers, so is it sufficient to recommend his works to all lovers of learning and good manners. (K. C.)

Much of this version is a mere paraphrase. (G.)

[201] Odyss. XVII. 487.

[202] Eurip. Hippol. 102.

[203] From the Veiled Hippolytus of Euripides, Frag. 431.

[204] From the Niobe of Aeschylus, Frag. 153.

[205] Almost the same words with those of our Saviour, It is more blessed to give than to receive. So that a man can scarcely be a true Epicurean without practising some of the maxims of Christianity.

[206] Aglaia, Euphrosyne, and Thalia.

[207] From the Autolycus, a lost Satyrdrama of Euripides, Frag. 284, vs. 22. (G.)

[208] Il. VII. 44 and 58.

[209] Odyss. XI. 278.

[210] Aristophanes, Knights, 79.

[211] From Sophocles, Frag. 786.

[212] See Aeschylus, Suppliants, 937.

[213] From the Theseus of Euripides, Frag. 383.

[214] Soph. Electra, 724.

[215] Soph. Oed. Tyr. 1169 and 1170.

[216] Eurip. Orestes, 213.

[217] Eurip. Iph. Taur. 569.

[218] Hesiod, Works and Days, 361.

[219] From Sophocles, Frag. 757.

[220] Thucyd. I. 18.

[221] Odyss. XVI. 187.

[222] Odyss. VI. 187; XXIV. 402.

[223] Republic, IX. p. 571 C.

[224] From Chaeremon, Frag. 2.

[225] Soph. Oed. Tyr. 110.

[226] From the Prometheus Released of Aeschylus, Frag. 188.

[227] Odyss. VIII. 246.

[228] Hesiod, Works and Days, 86.

[229] Olynth. I. p. 16, 1.

[230] Hesiod, Works and Days, 705.

[231] II. XIV. 205 and 209.

[232] Eurip. Andromache, 930.

[233] See Il. VI. 429.

[234] Sappho, Frag. 68 (Bergk).

INDEX.

A.

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,” a proverb among the Greeks, iv. 229.

“Abstain from beans,” meaning of the aphorism, i. 29.

Achelous, a river in Aetolia, v. 504.

Acrotatus, apothegm of, i. 400.

Actaeon, a beautiful youth of Corinth, murdered, iv. 313-315.

Ada, queen of Caria, sends delicacies to Alexander, i. 199.

Adimantus, admiral of the Corinthian fleet at the battle of Salamis, iv. 362; his courage vindicated, 364.

Adrastus, anecdote of, i. 288.

Advice to a new-married couple, ii. 486-507.

Aeacus, his two sons, v. 466.

Aemilius Censorinus, v. 475.

Aemilius of Sybaris, v. 464.

Aemilius Paulus, sayings of, i. 232; iv. 202.

Aeolus, king of Etruria, v. 467.

Aeschines, quoted, Prom., i. 40; anecdote of, 55; Eumen., 59; Frag., 163; Prom., 299; Ctesiphon, 334; his early life, and concern in public affairs, v. 34; incurs the hostility of Demosthenes, ib.; accused by Demosthenes and acquitted, 34, 35; impeaches Ctesiphon, is fined and exiled, 35; his school at Rhodes, ib.; his death, ib.; his orations, ib.; his public employments, 36.

Aeschylus, quoted, Septem, i. 210, 286, 315, 329, 493; quoted, ii. 47; anecdote of, 77, 160; Frag., 48, 83, 127, 165, 374, 431, 458, 463, 474, 477; quoted, iii. Frag., 24, 222; quoted, iv. 20, 54, 385; Frag., 276, 279; quoted, v. Frag., 170; Prom., 241, 320, 398.

Aesop, murdered by the citizens of Delphi, iv. 160; their punishment, 161. See Esop.

Agamedes and Trophonius built the temple at Delphi, i. 313.

Agasicles, apothegms of, i. 385.

Agatharchides the Samian, his Persian History, v. 451.

Agatho the Samian, v. 474.

Agathocles, anecdote of, i. 46; ii. 317.

Aged Men, Shall they meddle in State Affairs?, v. 64-96.

Agesianax quoted, v. 235, 236.

Agesilaus, reply of, i. 73, 219, 220; his sayings and great actions, 385-397; his upright character, ii. 109, 115, 319, 455; his punishment, iii. 46, 79; anecdote of, v. 67; his faults, 118; 457; his Italian History, 468.

Agesipolis, two of the name, apothegms of, i. 397, 398.

Agis, king of Sparta, his sayings, i. 218, 221; anecdote of, v. 95.

Agis, son of Archidamus, apothegm of, i. 398.

Agis the Argive, ii. 125.

Agis the Last, apothegm of, i. 400.

Agis the Younger, apothegms of, i. 400.

Ajax’s soul, her place in Hell, iii. 442.

Alba, king of, torn in pieces by horses, v. 455.

Albinus, a Roman general, v. 453.

Alcaeus quoted, ii. 298; iii, 264.

Alcamenes, apothegm of, i. 400.

Alcibiades, i. 143; his sayings, 211; his lustful conduct, 489; the prince of flatterers, ii. 108, 471; failure of, 460; spoke with hesitation, v. 110, 112.

Alcippus, a Lacedaemonian, banished for his virtue; his wife slays herself and her daughters, iv. 320-322.

Alcmaeon, saying of, i. 288; philosophical opinions; of the planets, iii. 140; of hearing, 170; of smelling, 170; of taste, 170; of the barrenness of mules, 182; of embryos, 184; of the formation of the body, 184; of the cause of sleep, 188; of health, sickness, and old age, 192.

Alcmaeonidae, unfairly represented by Herodotus, iv. 338, 347.

Alcman, quoted; Frag., i. 494; iii. 16; v. 279.

Aleuas the Thessalian, iii. 67.

Alexander of Macedon, and Porus, i. 45; lament of, 140; and Criso the runner, 152; his sayings, 198-202; the Fortune or Virtue of, 475-516; anecdotes of, ii. 125, 138, 473; his moderation, 475; iii. 29; was he a great drinker, 219; his purpose to attack the Romans, iv. 219; v. 140.

Alexander, tyrant of Pherae, his cruel temper softened by a play, i. 492.

Alexandridas, apothegm of, i. 401.

Alexarchus, his Italian History, v. 456.

Alexidemas, at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41.

Alexinus the sophist, i. 76.

Alexis quoted, ii. 58.

Alpha, why placed first in the Alphabet, iii. 438.

Alpheus, a river in Arcadia, v. 501.

Amasis, king of Egypt, required to drink the ocean dry, ii. 13; questions of, 16.

Ammonius, teacher of Plutarch, anecdote of, ii. 147.

Amphiaraus, quoted, i. 317; his lance turned into a laurel, v. 455.

Amphidamas, poets meet at his grave in Chalcis, ii. 19.

Amphion, first invented playing on the harp and lyric poesy, i. 105.

Anarcharsis, and Eumetis, ii. 8; his utterances at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, 12, 15, 20, 21, 27, 39.

Anatole, a mountain, v. 482.

Anaxagoras, saying of, i. 159; said the sun was red-hot metal, 179; anecdote of, 332; ii. 357; iii. 35, 37; philosophical opinions; Homoeomeries, 108; of the origin of bodies, 119; how bodies are mixed, 126; of fortune, 131; of the world’s inclination, 136; of the stars, 138, 140; of the sun, 142, 143; of the moon, 145, 147; of the milky way, 149; of shooting stars, 150; of thunder, lightning and hurricanes, 151; of the rainbow, 153; of earthquakes, 157; of the sea, 158; of the overflow of the Nile, 160; of the voice, 172; of generation, 178; of the generation of animals, 186; of reason in animals, 187; of sleep, 190; v. 145, 255.

Anaxander, apothegm of, i. 401.

Anaxilas, apothegm of, i. 402.

Anaximander, philosophical opinions; of principles, iii. 107; the stars were heavenly deities, 121; of the stars, 140; of the essence and magnitude of the sun, 141, 142; of eclipses of the sun, 144; of the moon, 145; of fire from clouds, 150; of winds, 154; of the earth, 155; of the sea, 158; of the generation of animals, 186.

Anaximenes, philosophical opinions; air is the principle of all beings, iii. 107; of heaven, 137; of the stars, 139, 140; cause of summer and winter, 141; of the shape of the sun and summer and winter solstice, 143; of the moon, 146; of clouds, 151; of the rainbow, 153; of the earth, 155; of earthquakes, 157; v. 313.

Ancients, suppers of the, iii. 255-259.

Andocides, one of the ten Attic orators, v. 21-23; of a noble family, 21; accused of impious acts, 22; his adventures in Cyprus, 22, 23; his exile, 23; his orations, ib.

Androclidas, apothegm of, i. 402.

Anecdotes of Aeschylus, ii. 458. Agathocles, i. 46. Agesilaus, i. 73, 219, 220; v. 67, 118. Agis, king of Sparta, v. 95. Alcibiades, ii. 108, 109. Alexander the Great, i. 45; ii. 473. Ammonius, ii. 147. Anaxagoras, i. 332. Antigonus, i. 44, 47, 67, 202, 205, 334; iv. 231. Antimachus, i. 307. Antiochus Hierax, iii. 60. Antipater, i. 64, 197, 205, 215. Antony and Cleopatra, ii. 127. Apelles the painter, i. 16, 153; ii. 122, 133. Appius Claudius, v. 89. Arcesilaus and Apelles, ii. 133. Archelaus of Macedon, i. 67, 193. Archidamus, i. 74. Archimedes, ii. 174; v. 71. Archytas of Tarentum, i. 18, 24. Aristippus, i. 11, 55, 147, 459; ii. 55. Athenian barber, iv. 238. Attalus and Eumenes, iii. 61. Augustus Caesar and Fulvius, iv. 235, 236. Bocchoris, i. 63. Brasidas, ii. 458. Caesar, i. 293; iv. 204, 205; v. 67. Cato, i. 295; ii. 490. Cato and Catulus, i. 73. Cleon, v. 100, 116. Corinna, v. 404. Crassus, i. 288, 290. Croesus and Solon, ii. 122. Demades and Phocion, ii. 298. Demaratus and Philip, ii. 146. Demetrius Phalereus, ii. 145; iii. 21. Demosthenes, i. 15, 65, 334; ii. 460; v. 43-53. Diogenes, i. 51, 67, 141, 142, 166, 283, 285, 311, 487; ii. 455, 458; iii, 21, 29. Diogenes and Philip, ii. 147. Diogenes and the mouse, ii. 453. Dion, i. 64, 333. Dionysius of Syracuse, i. 83, 152, 493; ii. 108, 140; iv. 238. Epaminondas, v. 72, 95, 101, 120, 121, 125, 401. Euclid, i. 55. Eudoxus, ii. 174. Eumenes, iii. 61; iv. 232. Fulvius and Augustus, iv. 235, 236. Hiero, i. 291. Hyperides, v. 55, 56. Isocrates, v. 31. Leaena, iv. 229, 230. Lucretia, i. 355. Lycurgus, the lawgiver, i. 7. Lycurgus, the orator, v. 39. Lysander, i. 72; ii. 495. Lysias, iv. 226. Magas, i. 45. Menander, v. 403. Nasica, i. 285. Nero, v. 123. Nicias, the Athenian general, i. 177. Nicias, the painter, ii. 173; v. 71. Nicostratus and Archidamus, i. 74. Olympias, ii. 494, 495. Pericles, i. 15, 18, 66, 211, 332; ii. 309, 315; v. 67, 106. Philip of Macedon, i. 305; ii. 146, 147, 494. Phocion, ii. 298; v. 118. Pindar, v. 404. Pisistratus, iii. 41. Plato, i. 71. Plato and Socrates, ii. 148. Polemon, i. 55. Pompey, v. 70. Postumia, i. 290. Priest of Hercules, iii. 90. Prometheus, i. 289. Ptolemy Lagus, i. 45. Pythagoras, ii. 174. Roman Senator and his wife, iv. 233-235. Scaurus, i. 295. Scilurus, a Scythian king, iv. 244. Seleucus Callinicus, iv. 237. Seneca, i. 53. Simonides, v. 68. Socrates, i. 11, 13, 23, 26, 38, 53, 141, 150. Socrates and Plato, ii. 148. Solon, v. 89. Solon and Croesus, ii. 122. Sophocles, v. 68. Stasicrates, i. 495. Stilpo the philosopher, ii. 468. Stratonicus, iii. 21. Sylla, v. 72. Terpander, i. 91, 92. Themistocles, i. 73, 290, 296; iii. 21; v. 120. Theramenes, i. 306. Timotheus the musician, i. 92. Valeria, i. 356. Xanthippe, wife of Socrates, i. 53, 292. Xenocrates, i. 71. Xenophon, i. 333. Xerxes and Ariamenes, iii. 59, 60. Zeno, i. 72, 142, 283; ii. 455; iii. 25; iv. 225.

Anger, concerning the cure of, i. 33-59.

Animal Food, shall it be eaten? Of Eating of Flesh, v. 3-16.

Animals, generation of, iii. 186; how many species of, 187; appetites and pleasures of, 191; ails and cures of, 510; their intelligence, v. 157-217.

Anius, king of the Tuscans, v. 475.

Antalcidas, his sayings, i. 222, 402; his reply to a railing Athenian, v. 125.

Anthes, the first author of hymns, i. 105.

Anthias, the sacred fish, v. 208.

Anthipphus, Lydian harmony first used by, i. 114.

Antichthon, the, iii. 155.

Antigonus, anecdote of, i. 25; saying of, 44, 47, 67, 202, 205, 334, 484; iv. 231.

Antigonus the Second, his sayings, i. 205; ii. 319.

Antimachus, anecdote of, i. 308.

Antiochus and Charicles, iii. 49.

Antiochus and Seleucus, iii. 60.

Antiochus, apothegm of, i. 403.

Antiochus Hierax, anecdotes of, i. 206; iii. 60.

Antiochus Sidetes, anecdotes of, i. 207.

Antiochus the Spartan, his saying, i. 221.

Antiochus the Third, anecdotes of, i. 206.

Antipater, anecdotes of, i. 64, 197, 205, 215; ii. 135, 298; iii. 517; v. 49.

Antiperistasis of motion, v. 435.

Antiphanes, witty saying of his, ii. 456.

Antiphon, one of the ten Attic orators, ii. 142; v. 17-21; his birth, education, &c., 17; wrote speeches for others, ib.; a man of great talent and learning, 18; concerned in the revolution which subverted the popular government, ib.; on the overthrow of the oligarchical party he was involved in their ruin, ib.; number of his orations, 19; decree of the senate against him, 20; his condemnation and punishment, 21; opinion concerning the moon, iii. 146; of the sea, 158.

Antisthenes quoted, i. 77, 289, 496; v. 125.

Antony and Cleopatra, ii. 127.

Apelles, the painter, anecdotes of, i. 16, 153; his picture of Alexander, 494; and Megabyzus, ii. 122; and Arcesilaus, 133.

Aphareus, adopted son of Isocrates, wrote orations and tragedies, v. 32.

Apis, the sacred bull of the Egyptians, iv. 68; slain by Ochus, king of Persia, 74, 92.

Apollo and the dragon Python, iv. 20.

Apollo, inventor of the flute and harp, i. 113.

Apollo, temple of, iv. 478-498; the inscription ει over its gate, 479.

Apollodorus, first invented the mixing of colors and the softening of shadows, v. 400.

Apollonides, of shadow, v. 265; of spots in the moon, 269.

Apollonis of Cyzicum, iii. 41.

Apollonius, consolation to, i. 299-339.

Apollonius, the Peripatetic, iii. 57.

Apothegms of Kings and Great Commanders, i. 185-250. Agathocles, sayings of, i. 193. Agesilaus, 219. Agis, 218-221. Alcibiades, 211. Alexander the Great, 198-202. Antalcidas, 222. Antigonus, 202. Antigonus the Second, 205. Antiochus Sidetes, 207. Antiochus the Spartan, 221. Antiochus the Third, 206. Antipater, 205. Archelaus, 193. Archidamus, 218. Aristides, 210. Artaxerxes Longimanus, 187. Artaxerxes Mnemon, 188. Ateas, 189. Augustus Caesar, 248-250. Brasidas, 218. Caecilius Metellus, 239. Caius Fabricius, 227. Caius Marius, 239. Caius Popilius, 240. Cato the Elder, 233-235. Chabrias, 213. Charillus, 217. Cicero, 244. Cneus Domitius, 231. Cneus Pompeius, 241-244. Cotys, 189. Cyrus the Elder, 186. Cyrus the Younger, 188. Darius, 186. Demetrius, 204. Demetrius Phalereus, 217. Dion, 193. Dionysius the Elder, 191. Dionysius the Younger, 192. Epaminondas, 222-226. Eudaemonidas, 221. Eumenes of Pergamus, 206. Fabius Maximus, 227-228. Gelo, 190. Hegesippus, 213. Hiero, 190. Idathyrsus, 189. Iphicrates, 212. Lucullus, 241. Lycurgus, 217. Lysander, 219. Lysimachus, 205. Manius Curius, 226. Memnon, 189. Nicostratus, 221. Orontes, 188. Parysatis, 188. Paulus Aemilius, 232. Pelopidas, 225. Pericles, 211. Philip of Macedon, 194-198. Phocion, 213, 216. Pisistratus, 216. Poltys, 189. Ptolemy Lagus, 202. Pyrrhus the Epirot, 207. Pytheas, 213. Scilurus, 190. Scipio Junior, 235-239. Scipio the Elder, 229. Semiramis, 187. Teres, 189. Themistocles, 208. Theopompus, 217. Timotheus, 212. Titus Quinctius, 230. Xerxes, 187.

Appius Claudius, anecdote of, v. 89.

Apple tree, of the, iii. 333.

Arar, a river in Gaul, v. 484.

Aratus, quoted, iii. 116; of the stars, 141; quoted, 334, 497; iv. 98; v. 112; quoted, 177.

Araxes, a river in Armenia, v. 506.

Arcadian prophet in Herodotus, iii. 38.

Arcadio the Archaean, saying of, i. 44.

Arcesilaus, i. 53, 148; quoted, 258, 315; and Battus, ii. 115; his kindness to Apelles, 133; v. 371.

Archelaus, king of Macedon, anecdote of, i. 67, 193.

Archelaus, his opinions concerning principles, iii. 109.

Archias, ii. 379 et seq.; iv. 314, 315.

Archidamidas, apothegms of, i. 404.

Archidamus, i. 4, 74, 218, 404; ii. 379 et seq.

Archilochus the poet, banished from Sparta, i. 96; quoted, 97; his improvements in music, 122, 123, 177; phrase of, ii. 17, 61, 84; iii. 26; v. 108, 216, 320.

Archimedes, of the sun’s diameter, v. 71; anecdote of, ii. 173, 174.

Archytas of Tarentum, anecdotes of, i. 18, 24.

Ardalus, a minstrel at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 11, 12.

Aregeus, apothegm of, i. 403.

Aretades Cnidus, his Macedonian History, v. 458; his Second Book of Islands, 467.

Aretaphila, her fortitude and virtue, i. 367.

Argive women, their repulse of the Spartan army, i. 346.

Argives, wrestling matches of, i. 121; imposed a fine for playing with more than seven strings, 130; combat of the, with the Lacedaemonians, v. 452.

Ariamenes yields the throne of Persia to his younger brother Xerxes, iii. 59.

Arion and the dolphins, ii. 33-36.

Aristarchus, iii. 36; concerning the eclipse of the sun, 144; v. 246.

Aristides, his Persian History, v. 453.

Aristides, his sayings, i. 210.

Aristides Milesius, his Italian History, v. 451, 452, 453, 458, 459, 460, 462, 463, 465, 466, 469, 473, 474, 475, 476; Italian Commentaries, 461; quoted, 462.

Aristippus, anecdotes of, i. 11, 55, 79, 147; ii. 295, 459.

Aristo of Chios, ii. 369.

Aristobolus, his Third Book of Italian History, v. 470.

Aristocles, Third Book of his Italian History, v. 466, 476.

Aristoclia, a beautiful maiden, iv. 312, 313.

Aristodemus, his Third Collection of Fables, v. 472.

Aristodemus, king of Messenia, i. 177.

Aristodemus the Epicurean, ii. 158, 159, 180.

Aristomenes, preceptor of Ptolemy, ii. 149.

Ariston, apothegm of, i. 403; iii. 18; his opinion of moral virtue, 462; v. 111.

Aristonicus the musician, i. 494.

Aristonymus, a woman hater, v. 468.

Aristophanes, his comedy of “The Clouds,” i. 23; quoted, 79, 125, 500; quoted, ii. 78, 149, 429; his coarseness and buffoonery, iii. 11; compared with Menander, 11-14; quoted, iv. 196, 273; quoted, v. 42, 405.

Aristotinus, tyranny of, i. 357-363; v. 172.

Aristotle, quoted, i. 37; 50; on harmony, 119; 155, 272, 326; the teacher of Alexander, 478, ii. 302, 319; letter of, 455; his philosophical opinions; of nature, 105; of principles and elements, 106; of God, 121; of matter, 123; of ideas, 123; of causes, 124; of a vacuum, 127; of motion, 128; of fortune, 131; of the world, 133, 134, 135; of vacuum, 137; of the world, 137; of heaven, 137; of the stars, 140; of the sun, 142; of the summer and winter solstices, 143; of the moon, 146; of the milky way, 148, 149; of comets, 149; of thunder and lightning, 151; of earthquakes, 157; of tides, 159; of the motion of the soul, 164; of the senses, 166; of the voice, 172; of generative seed, 177; of the sperm, 177; of emission of women, 177; of conception, 178; of generation, 179; of the first form in the womb, 184; of seven months’ children, 185; of the species of animals, 187; of sleep, 189; of plants, 190; quoted, 225, 226; opinions concerning the soul, 465; opinion concerning a plurality of worlds, iv. 33; concerning prophetic inspiration, 54; v. 189, 253, 262, 313, 316, 355; quoted, 439; the Second Book of Paradoxes, 468.

Aristoxenus, of music, i. 114, 115, 125, 134.

Arsinoe, Queen, i. 319.

Artaxerxes Longimanus, his sayings, i. 187.

Artaxerxes Mnemon, his sayings, i. 188.

Aruntius and Medullina, v. 463.

Asclepiades, opinions: of the soul, iii. 161; of respiration, 174; of two or three children at one birth, 180; animals in the womb, 188; of health, sickness, and old age, 193.

Aster the archer, v. 456.

Astycratidas, apothegm of, i. 405.

Ateas, saying of, i. 189; ii. 177.

Atepomarus, king of the Gauls, v. 469.

Atheism and superstition compared, i. 168 et seq.

Athenian citizens, their number, v. 42; their temper and disposition, 100.

Athenians, whether they were more renowned for their warlike achievements, or for their learning, v. 399-411.

Athenodorus, memorable action of, iii. 50.

Athens, was a democracy, v. 397; the nurse of history, of painting, and poetry, 400, 401; not renowned for epic or lyric verse, 404.

Atoms, doctrine of, v. 345-348.

Atreus and Thyestes, v. 470, 471.

Attalus and Eumenes, their kindness and fidelity to each other, iii. 61, 62.

Attica, invasion of, by Datis, v. 450, 451.

Augustus Caesar, his sayings, i. 248-250; the favored son of Fortune, iv. 205; v. 67.

Augustus Caesar and Fulvius, anecdote of, iv. 235, 236.

Autobulus, v. 156 et seq.

Autumn, dreams in, iii. 432.

B.

Baccho, iv. 256, 264, 269.

Bacchus, ii. 12, 29.

Ballenaeus, mount, v. 492.

Banishment, or flying one’s country, iii. 15-35.

Banquet of the Seven Wise Men; Solon, Bias, Thales, Anacharsis, Cleobulus, Pittacus, Chilo, ii. 3-41.

Barley, sow, in dust, iii. 505.

Barrenness in women, iii. 181.

Barrenness of mules, iii. 182.

Bashfulness, i. 60-77.

Basilocles, iii. 69, 70.

Baths, hot and cold, iii. 512.

Battus, ii. 115.

Bear, cunning of the, v. 185.

Bears, flesh of, iii. 509.

Beasts, flesh of sacrificial, iii. 361.

Bees, cannot abide smoke, iii. 515; stinging of, 516.

Bellerophon, fable of, i. 351.

Berecyntus, mount, v. 490.

Berosus concerning the eclipse of the moon, iii. 146.

Bewitching, power of, iii. 327.

Bias, quoted, i. 17, 406; at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 4, 14, 128.

Bion, saying of, i. 76; his opinion concerning the punishment of children for the sins of their fathers, iv. 171; saying of, v. 170.

Bird or the egg, which was first, iii. 242-246.

Birds, prophetic nature of, v. 193.

Birth, two or three at one, iii. 180.

Birthdays of famous men, iii. 400.

Biton and Cleobis, their filial piety, i. 313.

Boar and the toil, iii. 512.

Bocchoris, anecdote of, i. 63.

Bodies, of, iii. 124; division of, 126; how mixed with one another, 126.

Body, passions of the, iii. 175; what part is first formed, 184; diseases of the, iv. 504-508.

Boedromion, month of, iii. 444.

Boethus, his opinion concerning comets, iii. 150.

Book of Rivers, v. 455.

Brasidas, apothegm of, i. 218; ii. 458.

Brennus, king of the Gauls, v. 460.

Britain, longevity in, iii. 193.

Brixaba, mount, v. 494.

Brotherly love, iii. 36-68.

Brute animals, ails and cures of, iii. 510; their intelligence; which are the more crafty, water or land animals? v. 157-217.

Brute beasts make use of reason, v. 218-233.

Bucephalus, the horse, v. 183.

Bulimy, or the greedy disease, iii. 355.

Busiris, king of Egypt, strangers murdered by, v. 474.

C.

Caecilius Metellus, apothegm of, i. 239.

Caesar, Augustus, his sayings, i. 248-250; anecdote of, iv. 205; and Fulvius, 235, 236; v. 67, 132.

Caesar, C. Julius, his sayings, i. 246-248; his magnanimity, 293; his reliance on fortune, iv. 205.

Caesar, Tiberius, sayings of, i. 277; ii. 126; iii. 23.

Caicus, a river, v. 503.

Caius Fabricius, apothegm of, i. 227.

Caius Gracchus, i. 40; v. 99.

Caius Marius, apothegm of, i. 239.

Caius Maximus, and his two sons, v. 466.

Caius Popilius, apothegm of, i. 240.

Callicratidas, apothegms of, i. 412; saying of, ii. 187.

Callimachus, saying of, i. 323; iii. 23, 118, 321.

Callisthenes, saying of, i. 37; his Book of Transformations, v. 454; Third Book of the Macedonics, 456; Third Book of History of Thrace, v. 469.

Calpurnius Crassus, liberated from captivity, v. 465.

Calpurnius and Florentia, v. 467.

Calydon, mount, v. 505.

Camillus, anecdote of, iv. 204.

Camma, the Galatian, her revenge, i. 372.

Canus the piper, v. 71.

Caphene and Nymphaeus, i. 348.

Caphisias, ii. 379 et seq.

Carneades, i. 160; a striking observation of his, ii. 123.

Cassius, a Roman traitor, v. 457.

Castor and Pollux, iii. 48.

Cato and Catulus, anecdotes of, i. 73.

Cato, saying of, i. 61; and Catulus, 73; 261; his integrity, 295; his sayings, ii. 42, 72, 76, 318; v. 10, 66, 67; anecdotes of, 83, 112, 120, 123, 144, 155.

Cato the Elder, apothegms of, i. 233-235; anecdote of, ii. 490.

Catoptrics, doctrine of the, v. 257.

Cattle, salt given to, iii. 497.

Catulus, v. 457.

Caucasus, mount, v. 483.

Caudine Forks, defeat of the Romans at the, v. 452, 453.

Causes, of, iii. 123.

Causes of sleep and death, iii. 188.

Celtic women, virtue of the, i. 347.

Cephisocrates, ii. 133.

Cephisophan, a rhetorician, i. 98.

Ceres, mistress of earthly things, v. 285, 286.

Chabrias, his sayings, i. 213.

Chaeremon quoted, Frag., ii. 475.

Chameleon, the, v. 202.

Chaplet of flowers at table, iii. 260-265.

Charicles and Antiochus, iii. 49.

Charillus, his sayings, i. 217, 432; ii. 97, 116.

Charon, the Theban, ii. 381.

Chasms in the earth closed by men leaping into them, v. 454.

Chersias at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41.

Chian women, virtue of the, i. 344.

Children, training of, i. 3-32; similitude to their parents, iii. 180; similitude to strangers, 181.

Chilo, i. 280; at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41.

Chilon, saying of, i. 471.

Chiomara of Galatia, i. 374.

Chorus of the Aeantis, iii. 226-228.

Chorus of the Leontis, iii. 226.

Chromatic scale, in music, i. 117.

Chrysermus, his Peloponnesian History, v. 452; Second Book of Histories, 457.

Chrysippus, ii. 87; his opinion concerning fate, iii. 130; of moral virtue, 462; his doctrines refuted, 488; iv. 372 et seq., 428-477; v. 205; his opinion concerning the cause of cold combated, 324; First Book of Italian History, 468.

Cicero, apothegm of, i. 244; ii. 310; v. 96.

Cilician geese, v. 175.

Cinesias, the lyric poet, i. 180.

Cinna stoned to death, v. 469.

Cios, maids of, i. 354.

Circe, her supposed conversation with Ulysses, v. 218-219.

Cithaeron, mount, v. 479.

Cleanthes, his opinion concerning the stars, iii. 139, 140; v. 176, 420.

Cleobis and Biton, i. 313.

Cleobulus at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41.

Cleodemus, at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41; first brought the cupping-glass into request, 20.

Cleodorus, the physician, ii. 16.

Cleombrotus, i. 413; iv. 3, 4, 26.

Cleomenes, v. 161.

Cleomenes, apothegms of, i. 346, 413, 416.

Cleon, anecdotes of, v. 100, 116.

Clisthenes, vindicated from the aspersions of Herodotus, iv. 343.

Clitonymus, his Italian History, v. 458; Second Book of his Sybaritics, v. 464.

Clitophon, his First Book of Gallican History, v. 460.

Cloelia and Valeria, i. 356.

Clonas, a musical composer, i. 107, 109.

Clouds, eruption of fire out of the, iii. 150; rain, hail, and snow, 151.

Cneus Domitius, apothegm of, i. 231.

Cneus Pompeius, apothegms of, i. 241-244.

Cocles, the Roman, v. 145.

Codrus, king of Athens, v. 462.

Coeranus and the dolphins, v. 215.

Cold, First Principle of, v. 309-330.

Color, does it exist in the dark, v. 344, 345.

Colors, of, iii. 125.

Colotes, the Epicurean, ii. 187; book written by, v. 338; misrepresents Democritus, 341; his doctrines, 349; misrepresents Plato, 355, 356; falls at the feet of Epicurus, 360; disparagement of Socrates, 361; against Stilpo, 367; assaults the Philosophers, 367; condemns the opinion of Epicurus, 368; Cyrenaic philosophers ridiculed, 369; treats Arcesilaus unfairly, 371; absurdity of Epicureanism, 373; opinions of Epicurus, 374; danger of his doctrines, 377, 378, 338-385.

Comets and shooting fires, iii. 149.

Comminius Super, a Laurentine, v. 472.

Common conceptions against the Stoics, iv. 372-427.

Comparison between the actions of the Greeks and Romans, v. 450-476.

Comparison betwixt Aristophanes and Menander, iii. 11-14.

Conception, how it is made, iii. 178.

Concerning Music, i. 102-135.

Concerning such whom God is slow to punish, iv. 140-188.

Concerning the fortune of the Romans, iv. 198-219.

Concerning the virtues of women, i. 340-384.

Conciseness of speech, recommended, iv. 243; examples given, 243, 244.

Conjugal Precepts; Advice to a New-married Couple, ii. 486-507.

Consolation to Apollonius, i. 299-339.

Consolatory Letter from Plutarch to his Wife, Timoxena, on Occasion of the Death of their Daughter, two years old, v. 386-394.

Contingent and possible defined, v. 299.

Contradictions of the Stoics, iv. 428-477.

Cora and Proserpine, v. 285.

Corinna, anecdote of, v. 404.

Corinthian Hall at Delphi, iii. 80-82.

Cornelius Scipio, consul, v. 96, 112, 114, 136.

Cotys, his sayings, i. 189.

Crabs charmed by fifes, v. 163.

Cranes, flight of, v. 175, 203.

Crantor, quoted, i. 300, 304, 324, 326; his opinion of the soul, ii. 327, 328, 345, 349, 360.

Crassus, anecdotes of, i. 288, 290; v. 125.

Crassus Calpurnius, v. 465.

Crassus’s mullet, v. 196.

Crates, i. 141; saying of, 495; ii. 145, 321; opinion of the stars, iii. 140; v. 419, 423.

Cratinus the comic poet, v. 410.

Crato, iii. 198.

Creon’s daughter, i. 472.

Cretinus, the Magnesian, v. 121.

Criticism on passages in Homer, ii. 69-72, 74-84, 89, 90, 91.

Criticism on Sophocles, ii. 72.

Critolaus, his History of the Epirots, v. 455; Fourth Book of Celestial Appearances, 457.

Crocodile, story of a, v. 196, 206, 210.

Croesus, ii. 122; iii. 85; iv. 339.

Cronium, mount, v. 501.

Ctesiphon, his Third Book of the Boeotian History, v. 458.

Ctesiphon the Pancratiast, i. 42.

Curatii and Horatii, v. 461.

Cure of anger, i. 33-59.

Curiosity, of, ii. 424-445; mischiefs of vain, iv. 236.

Cuttle-fish, sign of a storm, iii. 505; wariness of the, v. 200.

Cyanippus, a Syracusan, v. 462.

Cyanippus, a Thessalian, v. 463.

Cyclades islands, iii. 24.

Cycloborus, a brook near Athens, v. 110.

Cynaegirus, an Athenian commander, story of, v. 450.

Cyprus, female parasites of, called Steps, ii. 103.

Cyrus the Elder, his sayings, i. 186; ii. 319; enlarges the Persian empire, iv. 85.

Cyrus the Younger, his sayings, i. 188.

D.

Daemon of Socrates, Discourse concerning the, ii. 378-423.

Daemons, their nature, attributes, and actions, iv. 14 et seq.; some of them are malignant and cruel, 19; they are mortal, 15, 23, 24; vainglorious, 28; have the care of oracles, 21, 27; sometimes have quarrels and combats with one another, 27; our souls are by nature endued with similar powers, 50 et seq.; in the Moon, v. 289; will of the, 304; providence of the, 307, 308.

Damindas, apothegm of, i. 407.

Damis, apothegm of, i. 406.

Damonidas, apothegm of, i. 406.

Darius, his sayings, i. 186, 502; v. 458.

Darkness, whether visible, iii. 169.

Datis, a Persian commander, his invasion of Attica, v. 450.

Daughters who had carnal knowledge of their fathers, v. 464.

Death appertains to soul or body, iii. 189.

Death a reward for distinguished piety; illustrated by the cases of Biton and Cleobis, of Agamedes and Trophonius, of Pindar and Euthynous, i. 313, 314.

Death of fire is the generation of air, v. 316.

Death the brother of sleep, i. 311.

Debates at entertainments, iii. 394.

Debt, Evils of. Against running in Debt, or Taking up Money upon Usury, v. 412-424.

Debt of nature, i. 309.

Decius of Rome, v. 462.

Decrees proposed to the Athenians, v. 58.

Deity, knowledge of a, whence derived, iii. 115.

Delay of Providence in Punishing the Wicked. De sera Numinis Vindicta, iv. 140-188.

Delight in hearing the passions of men represented, iii. 314.

Delphi, a walk in, iii. 69; the statues there, 70; atmosphere of, 72; ancient oracles of, 73; Corinthian Hall at, 80-82; statue of Phryne, 83.

Delphic Oracle, inscription on the, Know thyself, and Nothing too much, i. 328.

Demades and Phocion, anecdotes of, ii. 298; v. 108, 141.

Demaratus and Philip, anecdote of, ii. 146.

Demaratus, apothegm of, i. 407, 482; his Second Book of Arcadian History, v. 461.

Demetrius Phalereus, his saying, i. 217; anecdotes of, ii. 145; iii. 21; v. 145.

Demetrius, his sayings, i. 204.

Demetrius of Tarsus, comes to Delphi, iv. 3.

Demochares, a nephew of Demosthenes, procures a statue to be set up for his uncle, v. 58-60; a decree for a statue for himself, 60, 61.

Democracy and Oligarchy, v. 395-398.

Democrates, saying of, v. 109.

Democritus, saying of, i. 22, 263, 275; ii. 440; iii. 7; his philosophical opinions, 121, 123, 126, 127, 128, 129, 132, 133, 135, 139, 140, 142, 145, 149, 155, 156, 157, 160, 162, 163, 164, 166, 168, 169, 171, 176, 177, 179, 183, 187, 227; his opinions misrepresented, v. 341; his doctrine concerning atoms, 345, 346, 381.

Demodocus, i. 105.

Demonides, the cripple, ii. 51.

Demosthenes, the orator, anecdotes of, i. 15, 65; quoted, 67, 286, 325; anecdote of, 334, 481; quoted, ii. 145, 300, 312, 313; anecdote of, 460; quoted, iv. 212; quoted, v. 34, 35; sketch of his life, 43-53; his birth, education, and early years, 43; calls his guardians to account, _ib.; is chosen choregus, 44; his methods to obtain excellence in speaking, ib.; opposes the designs of Philip, 45; describes “action” as of supreme importance in oratory, ib.; his early failures as an orator, ib.; defends the Olynthians, 46; is admired by Philip, though an enemy, ib.; his magnanimity, 47; his conduct at Chaeronea, ib.; his patriotism, ib.; the oration for the Crown, ib.; accused of receiving a bribe, 48; his exile, ib.; recalled, ib.; returns to the administration of public affairs, 49; leaves Athens to avoid being delivered up to Antipater, ib.; his death, 50; his family, ib._; honors paid to his memory, 51; anecdotes of him, 49, 50-53; his great temperance, 53; his public services recounted in a decree, 58-60; quoted, 69, 109, 110, 124, 138, 146, 409, 411, 447, 448.

Dercyllidas, apothegm of, i. 407.

Dercyllus, his First Book of Foundations, v. 461; Third Book of Italian History, 474.

Destiny, or fate, iii. 130.

Deucalion [like Noah] sent forth a dove from the ark, and with like purpose, v. 179.

Diagoras the Melian, iii. 118.

Diana Orthia, rites of, i. 98.

Dicaearchus, opinion concerning the soul, iii. 161; of divination, 176; v. 93.

Dignity of places at table, iii. 210, 212.

Dinarchus, an Athenian orator, v. 57, 58; becomes rich, 57; his exile in Chalcis, 58; restored, ib.; his orations, ib.

Diocles, at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41; his philosophical opinions, iii. 179, 182, 185, 192.

Diogenes Laertius quoted, i. 77.

Diogenes, quoted, i. 4, 12; anecdotes of, 51, 67, 141, 142, 166, 283, 285, 311, 487; quoted, ii. 58, 155, 193; 455, 458, 465, 466; story of the mouse, 453; iii. 21, 27, 29, 31; his philosophical opinions, 132, 136, 138, 143, 148, 163, 183, 187, 189, 494; iv. 311; v. 8, 65.

Diogenes and Philip, ii. 147.

Diogenianus, iii. 71, 73, et seq.

Diomedes, ii. 41; liberated from captivity, v. 465.

Dion, example of, i. 64, 193, 333.

Dionysius, tyrant of Sicily, does not relish the Lacedaemonian broth, i. 83; his unreasonable anger, 152; his sayings, 449, 484, 491; his ungenerous behavior, 493; parasites of, ii. 166; 314; anecdote of, iv. 238.

Dionysius and Plato, ii. 108, 140.

Dionysius the Elder, his sayings, i. 191; v. 84.

Dionysius the Younger, his sayings, i. 192, 501.

Diophantus, saying of, i. 4.

Diorphus, mount, v. 507.

Discourse to an Unlearned Prince, iv. 323-330.

Diseases of the body, iv. 504-508.

Divination, of, iii. 176; iv. 59.

Dog, habit of biting of stones, iii. 516; affection for his master, v. 180, 182, 184; docility of the, 191.

Dolphin, sagacity of the, v. 200; nature of the, 204; story of a, 213; its love of music, 214; stories of affection of, 215, 216.

Dolphin and Arion, ii. 33-36; and the lad of Jasus, v. 215.

Domitian is mentioned [which fixes the era of Plutarch], ii. 443.

Domitius, anecdote of, i. 288, 295; v. 125.

Dorian Mood of music, i. 109, 115.

Dorians pray for bad making of their hay, iii. 504.

Dorotheus, his First Book of Transformations, v. 466; his Fourth Book of Italian History, v. 463.

Dositheus, his Third Book of Sicilian History, v. 463, 471, 472, 474; Third Book of Lydian History, 469; his Pelopidae, 471; First Book of Italian History, 475.

Dream, a romantic, ii. 407-411.

Dreams and Omens, ii. 401, 402.

Dreams in Autumn, iii. 432.

Dreams, whence do they arise, iii. 176.

Drink either five or three, iii. 282-284.

Drink passeth through the lungs, iii. 363.

E.

Earth, its nature and magnitude, iii. 154; figure of the, 155; site and position of the, 155; inclination of the, 155; motion of the, 156; zones of the, 156; exhalations from the, iv. 53; its form and its place, v. 247; an instrument of time, 439.

Earthquakes, of, iii. 157.

Echo, what gives the, iii. 172.

Eclipse of the moon, iii. 146.

Eclipses of the sun, iii. 144.

Ecphantus, his opinion concerning the motion of the earth, iii. 156.

Egg or the bird, which was first, iii. 242-246.

Egypt, its Religion and Philosophy; of Isis and Osiris, or of the Ancient Religion and Philosophy of Egypt, iv. 65-139.

Egyptian skeleton at feasts, ii. 7.

Egyptians in Ethiopia, iii. 20.

Ει at Apollo’s temple at Delphi, iv. 479-498.

Eleans, the, v. 426.

Elements, mixture of the, iii. 126.

Elephant, understanding of the, v. 178; stories of, 178; of King Porus, 183; most beloved by the Gods, 187; amour of the, 188; chirurgery of the, 192.

Elephas, mount, v. 478.

Elysian fields in the moon, v. 289.

Elysius the Terinean, vision of, i. 314.

Embryo, how nourished, iii. 183; is an animal, ib.

Empedocles, i. 59; saying of, 158, 469; quoted, ii. 49, 195; 357; quoted, iii. 34, 81; his philosophical opinions, 112, 114, 125-129, 131, 132, 136-138, 143, 145, 147, 154, 158, 163, 165, 168-170, 173, 178-184, 188-191; quoted, 209, 262, 293, 333, 497, 509, 518; quoted, iv. 21, 52, 85, 87, 108, 273; quoted, v. 169, 239, 246, 249, 252, 255, 318, 348, 350, 351; misunderstood by Colotes, 351; quoted, 381, 420, 421, 439.

Emprepes, apothegm of, i. 408.

Enemies, how a man may profit by his, i. 280-298.

Entertainment, late to an, iii. 417.

Envy and Hatred, ii. 95-99.

Epaminondas, his sayings, i. 222-226, 277; his great actions, 225; his consistency of character, ii. 109; 182, 185, 309, 313, 319, 381, 396, 399, 414; iii. 6; v. 72, 75, 95, 101, 121, 125; his invasion of Laconia, 401, 407, 458.

Epaminondas, son of, beheaded, v. 458.

Ephorus, his opinion concerning the overflowing of the Nile, iii. 161.

Epicharmus, quoted, i. 315, 496; ii. 141; iv. 242.

Epicureans, misrepresentations of the, v. 352-354.

Epicurus, quoted, i. 138, 139, 159; famous sentence of, ii. 92; his doctrine; refutation of it; pleasure is not attainable, 157-203; reverence of his brothers, iii. 57; his philosophical opinions, 111, 122, 124, 127, 128, 131, 134, 135, 139, 142, 143, 151, 163, 164, 165, 169, 177, 183; opinions of, v. 350, 374; danger of his doctrines, 377, 378; disciples of, 383, 385.

Epigenes, opinion concerning comets, iii. 150.

Epimenides, long sleep of, v. 66; 279.

Erasistratus, his opinion of the soul, iii. 163; of superfetation, 180; his definition of a fever, 192.

Eratosthenes, his philosophical opinions: of time, iii. 128; of the sun, 147; v. 456.

Erectheus, sacrifice of his daughter, v. 463.

Eryxo of Cyrene, i. 378.

Esop, fable of, ii. 11, 12, 16, 19-22, 23; dog of, 25; at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, 3-41; iii. 63, 202.

Eteocles the Theban, i. 257.

Euboea, king of, drawn in pieces by horses, v. 455.

Euboidas, apothegm of, i. 408.

Euclid, anecdote of, i. 55; ii. 173.

Euclides, his brotherly love, iii. 61.

Euctus and Eulaeus, ii. 146.

Eudaemonidas, his sayings, i. 221.

Eudamidas, apothegm of, i. 408.

Eudemus, of matter, ii. 334.

Eudorus, system of numbers, ii. 343, 345.

Eudoxus, anecdotes of, ii. 174; his opinion of the cause of winter and summer, iii. 141; of the overflow of the Nile, 161.

Euemerus, his opinion of God, iii. 118.

Eumenes of Pergamus, his sayings, i. 206; anecdotes of, iii. 61, iv. 232.

Eumetis at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41; her riddle, 20.

Euphorion quoted, iii. 321.

Euphranor, the painter, v. 400.

Euphrates, the river, v. 502.

Eupolis, saying of, ii. 112.

Euripides, quoted, i. 3, 158, 291, 300, 301, 302, 308, 320, 329, 330, 335, 458; Hippol., 4, 14, 471; Protesilaus, 23; Dictys, 26, 58; Bellerophon, 63, 141; Frag., 287, 472; Pirithous, 70; Orestes, 37, 137, 140, 165, 170, 286; Medea, 64, 71, 255; Iph. Aul., 152, 302; Bacchae, 163; Troad, 170; Phoeniss, 257, 303, 327; Danae, 307; Adrastus, 288; Stheneboea, 301; Ino, 303, 304; Alcestis, 310; Suppliants, 316; Cresphontes, 316; Erectheus, 500; Hypsipyle, 317, 465; ii. 54, 56, 62, 87, 92, 121, 148, 150, 251, 300, 306, 357, 363, 391, 472; Cresphontes, 93; Hippol., 73, 108, 173, 198, 373, 374; Frag., 86, 181, 318, 437, 501; Orestes, 143, 443; Medea, 66; Iph. Aul., 49, 85; Phoeniss, 51, 61, 66, 130, 151; Ion, 102, 144; Ino, 131; Erectheus, 132; Electra, 85; Aeolus, 66, 85, 88, 175; Herc. Furens, 151; Hecuba, 197; Iph. Taur., 447; iii. 27, 99, 116, 194; Frag., 3, 19, 33, 41, 42, 94, 230, 458, 475, 512; Hippol., 483; Orestes, 168, 437; Phoeniss, 16, 32, 43, 49, 257; Stheneboea, 217; Iph. Taur., 21; Androm., 232; Hipsipyle, 291, iv. 17, 128, 142, 270, 308, 450, 478, 497; Frag., 47, 220, 233, 251, 272, 273, 292, 301, 325, 392, 461, 475; Bacchae, 223, 272, 422, 506; Hippol., 294, 298; Cyclops, 56; Aeolus, 105; Troad, 132; Orestes, 141, 507; Ino, 158, 231; Alcestis, 197; Danae, 274, 283; Stheneboea, 288; Androm., 401; Herc. Furens, 459, 467; v. 126, 128, 157, 172; Frag., 15, 79, 105, 108, 118, 345; Aeolus, 71; Hippol., 158; Iph. Taur., 374; Orestes, 77, 380; Troad, 440; Erectheus, 463; Meleager, 466.

Eurotas, a river in Laconia, v. 497.

Eurycratidas, apothegm of, i. 410.

Eurydice of Hierapolis, her epigram, i. 32.

Euthrymenes, his opinion of the overflow of the Nile, iii. 160.

Euthynous and Pindar, i. 313.

Eutropion, anecdote of, i. 25.

Evenus quoted, ii. 102, 192.

Evenus, son of Mars, v. 475.

Exercises, different kinds of, iii. 248-250.

Exile, consolations of, iii. 15-35.

Eyes, images of the, iii. 169.

F.

Fabius Maximus, his sayings, i. 227, 228; in the Punic war, v. 453.

Fable of Minerva, i. 41.

Fable of the defeat of Neptune, iii. 444.

Fable of the Fox and Leopard, ii. 21.

Fable of the Lydian Mule, ii. 11.

Fabricianus, v. 474.

Fabricius, iv. 201.

Face appearing in the moon, v. 234-292.

Fasting creates more thirst than hunger, iii. 339.

Fate, or destiny, iii. 130; nature of, 130; v. 293-308.

Faunus, king of Italy, strangers murdered by, v. 474.

Fever, cause of a, iii. 192.

Fig-trees, of, iii. 250, 335.

Figures, of, iii. 125.

Filial treachery in Persian and Roman history, v. 458.

Fire or water, which is more useful, v. 331-337.

Firmus and Nuceria, v. 471.

Fish called the fisherman, v. 201.

Fish, eating of, iii. 422.

Fisherman’s nets, rotting of, iii. 503.

Fishes, of; the labrax, mullet, scate, anthias, dolphin, cuttle-fish, star-fish, torpedo, the fisherman, tunny, amiae, pionetras, sponge, porphyrae, hegemon, whale, pinoterus, gilthead, phycides, galeus, tortoise, v. 195, 209.

Fittest time for a man to know his wife, iii. 274-279.

Fives, we reckon by, iv. 43-47.

Five tragical histories of Love, iv. 312-322.

Flattery: How to know a Flatterer from a Friend, ii. 100-156.

Flattery fatal to whole kingdoms, ii. 118.

Flesh exposed to the moon, iii. 284-287.

Flute girls, whether they are to be admitted to a feast, iii. 387.

Folly of Seeking Many Friends, i. 464-474.

Food, digesting of, iii. 289-295.

Fortune, of, ii. 475-481; iii. 131; is a cause by accident, v. 302; not the same as chance, 303; relates to men only, 303.

Fortune of the Romans, iv. 198-219.

Fox, cunning of the, v. 179.

Fresh water washes clothes better than salt, iii. 224-226.

Friends, folly of seeking many, i. 464-474.

Frogs, croaking of, v. 210.

Frost makes hunting difficult, iii. 510.

Fruit, salt not found in, iii. 498.

Fulvius and Augustus, anecdotes of, iv. 235, 236.

Fulvius Stellus, v. 468.

Fundanus, i. 34, 35.

G.

Galaxy, or milky way, iii. 148.

Galeus, affection of, for their young, v. 209.

Ganges, the river, v. 481.

Garlands at sacred games, iii. 411.

Garrulity, or Talkativeness, iv. 220-253.

Gauran, mount, v. 508.

Gelo, his saying, i. 190.

Generation and corruption, iii. 128.

Generation of males and females, iii. 178; of animals, 186; of the Gods, 400.

Generative seed, iii. 177.

Geniuses and heroes, opinions concerning, iii. 122.

Germanicus, ii. 96.

Gnatho the Sicilian, iii. 3.

Gobryas, a Persian noble, ii. 104.

God always plays the Geometer, saying attributed to Plato, iii. 402.

God bade Socrates act the midwife’s part, v. 425.

God, Father and Maker of all things, v. 428.

God, what is, iii. 118.

Gods, generation of the, iii. 400.

Gorgias, i. 340; at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41; 44, 134; ii. 502; v. 405.

Government. Of the Three Sorts of Government, Monarchy, Democracy, and Oligarchy, v. 395-398.

Gracchus, Caius, example of, i. 40.

Greek music, principles of, i. 102, 103.

Greek Questions, ii. 265-293.

Groom, saying of the king’s, i. 21.

Gryllus, v. 218 et seq.

Guests, should the entertainer seat the, iii. 203-210; to a wedding supper, 300; that are called shadows, iii. 381.

Gylippus, his dishonesty, i. 23.

H.

Habits of animals, v. 173-177.

Halcyon, of the, v. 211.

Halo, of the, iii. 160.

Hannibal and Fabius, i. 228.

Hares, cunning of the, v. 185.

Harp, an invention of Apollo, i. 113.

Hart, tears of the, iii. 507.

Health, preservation of, i. 251-279.

Health, sickness, and old age, iii. 192.

Hearing, of, i. 441-463; iii. 170.

Heaven, its nature and essence, iii. 137; division of, 137.

Hebrus, a river of Thrace, v. 480.

Hedgehog, ingenuity of the, v. 186.

Hedgehog of the sea, v. 203.

Hegemon, of the fish, v. 206.

Hegesippus, sayings of, &c., i. 213.

Hegesistratus, an Ephesian, v. 476.

Helicon the mathematician, i. 57.

Hephaestion, the friend of Alexander, i. 489, 505.

Heracleo, v. 194.

Heraclides, his compendium of music, i. 105; ii. 158; his philosophical opinions, iii. 139, 149, 156, 159, 165.

Heraclides the wrestler, iii. 220.

Heraclitus, i. 44, 79, 276, 308, 448, 453; ii. 74, 165, 330, 358, 477; iii. 26, 74; his philosophical opinions, 111, 125, 128, 130, 131, 143, 144, 145, 146, 162; apothegm, v. 9; quoted, 73, 169, 425.

Hercules and Iole, v. 459.

Hercules in Antisthenes, precept of, i. 77.

Hercules, ridiculous representation of, v. 70; and King Faunus, 474.

Hercules the woman-hater, his temple in Phocis, iii. 90; singular anecdote, ib.

Hermes, iv. 74.

Hermias, v. 121.

Hermogenes, ii. 194.

Herodotus, quoted, i. 80, 441; saying of, ii. 202, 489; Arcadian prophet, iii. 38; quoted, iv. 248, 335 et seq.; malice of, iv. 331-371; v. 397.

Herondas, apothegm of, i. 410.

Herons, artifices of the, v. 176.

Herophilus, opinion of, iii. 128, 163.

Hesianax, his Third Book of African History, v. 465.

Hesiod, quoted, Works and Days, i. 22, 65, 70, 138, 156, 178, 261, 296, 307, 325; Works and Days, ii. 24; spare diet recommended by, 27; and the dolphin, 36, 37; Works and Days, 63, 64, 65, 73, 87, 92, 302, 303, 449, 452, 480, 483; Theogony, 102; Works and Days, iii. 64, 210, 382, 416, 436, 438; Theogony, 118, 324, 458; iv. 15; Works and Days, 48, 49, 68, 87, 154, 173, 264, 385, 442, 457; Theogony, 53; Works and Days, v. 153, 168, 172, 279.

Hicetes, his opinion of the earth, iii. 154.

Hiero, his sayings, i. 190; anecdote of, 291.

Hiero the Spartan, statue of, iii. 76.

Hiero the Tyrant, statue of, iii. 75.

Hieronymus, saying of, i. 38, 50, 462.

Himerius, an Athenian parasite, ii. 126.

Hippasus, opinions of, iii. 111.

Hippocrates, saying of, i. 40; quoted, 261, 292; ii. 165, 185; his magnanimity, ii. 466.

Hippocratidas, apothegm of, i. 412.

Hippodamus, apothegm of, i. 411.

Hippolytus, son of Theseus, v. 471, 472.

Hippomachus, ii. 294.

Hipponax, i. 108.

History of music, i. 104 et seq.

History of wind instruments, i. 108.

Homer, passages in, criticised, ii. 69-72, 74-84, 89, 90.

Homer quoted: Iliad, i. 34, 38, 39, 51, 52, 55, 62, 104, 132, 133, 134, 138, 141, 151, 153, 154, 156, 161, 165, 178, 180, 181, 200, 236, 251, 292, 303, 305, 306, 310, 324, 325, 329, 330, 331, 385, 466, 469, 475, 486, 490, 507, 508, 510, 511; ii. 25, 32, 41, 44, 47, 48, 49, 52, 53, 55, 56, 59, 62, 63, 65, 67, 68, 74, 75, 77, 79, 81, 82, 84, 88, 89, 90, 91, 108, 114, 115, 120, 123, 131, 140, 142, 145, 150, 151, 152, 154, 185, 197, 198, 200, 237, 295, 305, 310, 311, 314, 317, 319, 413, 501, 505; iii. 25, 26, 47, 53, 54, 107, 120, 152, 206, 207, 221, 231, 248, 255, 285, 301, 313, 317, 321, 323, 325, 336, 354, 364, 381, 394, 401, 413, 418, 437, 442, 447, 448, 449, 450, 480, 486, 492, 493, 515; iv. 16, 65, 108, 111, 152, 191, 194, 195, 216, 237, 238, 280, 285, 291, 327, 329, 383, 386, 401, 405, 434, 462, 483, 490, 499, 504; v. 78, 79, 85, 88, 90, 92, 96, 104, 119, 122, 123, 134, 135, 138, 146, 147, 171, 182, 200, 208, 214, 266, 276, 281, 315, 339, 350, 371, 386, 394, 400, 418, 443, 444, 447; Odyss. i. 52, 134, 138, 154, 236, 252, 305, 310, 318, 325, 452, 469; ii. 41, 43, 47, 48, 52, 53, 54, 56, 59, 63, 65, 67, 70, 71, 82, 83, 108, 110, 114, 115, 127, 149, 158, 159, 162, 184, 195, 304, 316, 317, 320, 371, 427, 463, 467, 478; iii. 10, 42, 45, 72, 81, 101, 196, 201, 207, 226, 232, 233, 249, 259, 280, 333, 359, 365, 395, 419, 425, 437, 438, 451, 466, 477, 499; iv. 5, 30, 86, 97, 191, 200, 219, 224, 226, 230, 231, 289, 307, 325, 401, 405; v. 3, 11, 105, 106, 143, 171, 184, 281, 285, 290, 315, 323, 403, 416, 422, 423, 446.

Horatii and Curatii, v. 460, 461.

Horatius Cocles, v. 456.

Horsehair for fishing lines, iii. 505.

Horses, called λυχοσπάδες, iii. 253.

Horus, son of Osiris, iv. 80, 114 et seq.

Hounds that hunt hares, v. 184.

How a man may praise himself without being envied, ii. 306.

How a man may receive advantage and profit from his enemies, i. 280-298.

How animals are begotten, iii. 186.

How a young man ought to hear poems, ii. 42.

How plants grow, and whether they are animals, iii. 190.

How to know a flatterer, ii. 100-156.

Hunger, cause of, iii. 341; allayed by drinking, 345.

Hurricanes, of, iii. 150.

Hyagnis, first that sung to the pipe, i. 107.

Hydaspes, a river in India, v. 477.

Hyperides, the Athenian orator, ii. 140; v. 53-57; his part in public affairs, 53; his friendship for Demosthenes, 54; this friendship broken, ib.; demanded by Antipater, he escapes to Aegina, ib.; is apprehended, tortured, and put to death, 55; an excellent orator, ib.; his amorous propensities, 55, 56; his patriotism, 56; sent as ambassador, 56, 57.

Hypsipyle, foster-child of, i, 465.

I.

Ibis, habits of, imitated by the Egyptians, v. 192.

Ibycus, the poet, iv. 240.

Ichneumon, of the, v. 174.

Ida, mount, v. 493.

Idathyrsus, his sayings, i. 189.

Ideas, of, iii. 123.

Images presented to our eyes in mirrors, iii. 169.

Imagination, imaginable and phantom, difference between, iii. 167.

Immortality of the soul, argument for it, iv. 169, 170.

Impotency in men, iii. 181.

Improbabilities of the Stoics, iii. 194-196.

Inachus, a river in Argolis, v. 498.

Incest, case of, v. 467.

Indus, the river, v. 508.

Infants, seven months’, iii. 184.

Inquisitiveness, or vain curiosity; of curiosity, or an over-busy inquisitiveness into things impertinent, ii. 424-445.

Iole, the beloved of Hercules, v. 459.

Ion the tragedian, i. 322, 328; v. 186, 254.

Iphicrates, his saying, i. 80, 212; v. 105.

Iphigenia at Aulis, v. 459, 460.

Irascible faculty, v. 441.

Isaeus, an Athenian orator, v. 33; considered by some equal to Lysias, ib.; the teacher of Demosthenes, ib.; number of his orations, ib.

Isis and Osiris, iv. 66-139.

Ismenodora, iv. 256, 264, 269, 311.

Ismenus, a river of Boeotia, v. 478.

Isocrates, an Athenian orator, iii. 198; v. 27-33; his parentage, birth, and education, 27; composed orations for others, 28; his school at Chios, ib.; his great success as a teacher of rhetoric, ib.; lived to a great age, 29; his death and burial, 30; number of his orations, 31; his timidity, 27, 31; his description of the use of rhetoric, 31; the two suits against him, 32, 409; his Panegyric, 410.

Isthmian games, iii. 318.

Ivy, nature of, iii. 265-268.

J.

Jason, saying of, v. 140.

Jewish religion, statements and conjectures respecting it, iii. 307-312.

Jews, their fatal inaction in war because it was their Sabbath day, i. 178.

Juba, his third Book of Lybian History, v. 465.

L.

Lacedaemonians, their laws and customs, i. 82-101; their currency, 99; influx of gold and silver, 100; refuse to assist Philip and Alexander in their designs against Persia, 101; lose all their ancient glory, 101; combat with the Argives, v. 452.

Lachares, tyranny of, ii. 166.

Laconic answers, iv. 243.

Laconic Apothegms, of, i. 385-440. Acrotatus, 400. Agasicles, 385. Agesilaus, 385-397. Agesipolis, 397, 398. Agis, son of Archidamus, 398. Agis the Last, 400. Agis the Younger, 400. Alcamenes, the son of Teleclus, 400. Alexandridas, 401. Anaxander, 401. Anaxilas, 402. Androclidas, 402. Antalcidas, 402. Antiochus, 403. Archidamidas, 403. Archidamus, son of Agesilaus, 404. Archidamus, son of Zeuxidamus, 404. Aregeus, 403. Ariston, 403. Astycratidas, 405. Bias, 406. Callicratidas, 412. Charillus, 432. Cleombrotus, 413. Cleomenes, son of Cleombrotus, 413, 416. Damindas, 407. Damis, 406. Damonidas, 406. Demaratus, 407. Dercyllidas, 407. Emprepes, 408. Euboidas, 408. Eudamidas, son of Archidamas, 408. Eurycratidas, 410. Herondas, 410. Hippocratidas, 412. Hippodamus, 411. Leonidas, the son of Anaxandrias, 417. Leo, the son of Eucratidas, 417. Leotychides, 416. Lycurgus the Lawgiver, 419-425. Lysander, 425. Namertes, 427. Nicander, 427. Paedaretus, 429. Panthoidas, 427. Pausanias, son of Cleombrotus, 428. Pausanias, son of Plistoanax, 428. Phoebidas, 431. Plistoanax, 430. Polycratidas, 431. Polydorus, 430. Soos, 431. Telecrus, 431. Thectamenes, 411. Themisteas, 410. Theopompus, 410. Thorycion, 411. Zeuxidamus, 410.

Lacydes, King of the Argives, i. 290.

Lais, murder of, iv. 302.

Lampis, a sea commander, v. 73.

Lampsace, anecdote of, i. 366.

Lamps and tables of the ancients, iii. 372.

Land, food of the, iii. 302-306.

Lasus, his innovation upon ancient music, i. 123.

Leaena, anecdote of, iv. 229, 230.

Least things in nature, iii. 125.

Leo, apothegm of, i. 417.

Leo Byzantinus, saying of, i. 288; and his wife, v. 110.

Leonidas, apothegm of, i. 417; vindicated from the statements of Herodotus, iv. 354; v. 157; at Thermopylae, 453.

Leotychides, apothegm of, i. 422.

Leprosy caused by dewy trees, iii. 500.

Leptis, custom in, ii. 499.

Leucippus, his opinions of the world, iii. 135; of the earth, 155; of the senses, 165.

Light and darkness, of, v. 325.

Lightning, of, iii. 150.

Light, of reflected, iii. 168, 169; v. 236 et seq.

Lilaeus, mount, v. 508, 509.

Linus, elegies of, i. 105.

Lions, of, v. 187.

Liquids, of, iii. 359.

Live concealed, whether’t were rightly said, iii. 3-10.

Lives of the ten Attic orators, v. 17-63.

Love: Five tragical histories of, iv. 312-322.

Love, of, iv. 254-311; makes a man a poet, iii. 217-219.

Love of wealth, ii. 294-305.

Lucretia, the Roman matron, i. 355.

Lucullus, apothegm of, i. 241; quoted, iii. 51; v. 84.

Lugdunum, mount, v. 485.

Lyaeus and choraeus, i. 54.

Lybian crows, v. 175.

Lycastus and Parasius, v. 473.

Lycian women, virtue of the, i. 351.

Lycormas, a river in Aetolia, v. 487.

Lycurgus, an Athenian orator, v. 36-42; treasurer of the commonwealth, 36; his great public services, 37; his fidelity in office and great reputation, 37; his justice and integrity, 37, 38; useful laws procured by his influence, 38; his diligence in the study and practice of oratory, 39; his incorruptible honesty, 40; his death, ib.; honors paid to his memory, ib.; his family, 40, 41; his orations and success as an orator, 41; his benevolence, 42; a decree for honors to be paid to his memory, 61-63.

Lycurgus, the Spartan lawgiver, anecdote of, i. 7; his institutions, 82 et seq.; their final overthrow, 101, 217, 419-425; his sayings, ii. 22; v. 12, 92.

Lydian mood of music, i. 109, 114.

Lyric nomes, i. 106.

Lysander, i. 72; his great victory over the Athenians, 99; introduces gold and silver into Lacedaemon, 100; the results, ib.; his sayings, 219, 425; saying of, ii. 149; anecdote of, 495; iii. 100; v. 92.

Lysias, the Athenian orator, his remarks on music, i. 104; anecdote of, iv. 226; v. 24-26; his birth, early residence in Athens, residence in Thurii, and return to Athens, 24; banished by the Thirty Tyrants, 25; return after their overthrow, ib.; death, ib.; number of his orations, ib.; his other works, 26; his eloquence, ib.; v. 33.

Lysimache, the priestess, i. 73.

Lysimachus, his sayings, i. 205, 259.

Lysippus, his statue of Alexander, i. 494.

M.

Madness of animals, v. 167.

Maeander, a river in Asia, v. 488.

Magas, anecdote of, i. 45.

Magpie, story of a, v. 189.

Maimactes, king of the gods, i. 45.

Man, perfection of a, iii. 189; most unhappy of all creatures, iv. 504; compounded of three parts, v. 286.

Maneros, the foster-son of Isis, iv. 79.

Manius Curius, apothegm of, i. 226.

Manlius, son of, beheaded, v. 458.

Man’s progress in virtue, ii. 446-474.

Mantinea, battle of, v. 401.

Marius, sacrifice of his daughter, v. 463.

Mars, some bad actions of his, v. 466, 467.

Marsyas, a river in Phrygia, v. 490.

Marsyas, the musician, i. 41, 108.

Massinissa, his vigorous old age, v. 83.

Mathematics, applied to Music, i. 118-121; affords unspeakable delight, ii. 172, 174.

Matter, of, iii. 122.

Medius, the parasite, ii. 137.

Megasthenes, saying of, v. 275.

Megisto and Micca, and other women of Elis, i. 357-363.

Meilichius, king of the gods, i. 45.

Melanippides, quoted, iv. 278.

Melanthius, quoted, i. 35, 449; ii. 103; iv. 147.

Melian women, virtue of the, i. 348.

Melisponda and Nephalia, i. 59.

Melissus, his opinion of generation, iii, 128.

Memnon, his saying, i. 189.

Menalippides, i. 114, 123.

Menander, quoted, i. 70, 139, 158, 161, 164, 335, 470; quoted, ii. 52, 57, 65, 86, 87, 124, 192, 297; his superiority to Aristophanes, iii. 11-14; quoted, 38, 65, 196, 488; iv. 290; anecdote of, v. 403; saying of, 425.

Mendesian goat, v. 225.

Menedemus, i. 77; ii. 115, 464; his opinion of the nature of moral virtue, iii. 461.

Menelaus, the mathematician, v. 257.

Men, impotency in, iii. 181; elements of, 188; have better stomachs in autumn, 240; temper of, 270-272; when asleep are never thunderstruck, 295-300; having carnal knowledge of brutes, 468.

Menon, his definition of virtue, i. 464.

Menyllus, his First Book of Boeotic History, v. 460; Third Book of Italian History, 467.

Messenians, saying among the, v. 416.

Metellus, quoted, iii. 53; iv. 202; v. 459, 461.

Meteors, of, which resemble rods, iii. 153.

Metiochus, his misuse of power, v. 127.

Metius Fufetius, king of Alba, torn in pieces, v. 455.

Metrocles, i. 144.

Metrodorus, ii. 158, 160, 161, 167, 169, 175, 180, 183, 496; his philosophical opinions, iii. 115, 127, 132, 149, 150, 151, 153, 154, 155, 157, 158; v. 378, 383, 384.

Micca and Megisto, and other women of Elis, i. 357-363.

Midas, i. 326; v. 454.

Miletus, maidens of, i. 354.

Mills of the gods grind slowly, but they grind fine, iv. 143.

Miltiades, v. 407-411.

Mimnermus, quoted, iii. 475.

Mind, tranquillity of the, i. 136-167.

Minerva, admonished by a satyr, i. 41; iii. 195; temple of, v. 461.

Mirrors, causes and reasons of, iii. 169; v. 236 et seq.

Mithridates, i. 204; ii. 121; story of, iii. 219.

Mixture of the elements, iii. 126.

Mnemosyne, the mother of the Muses, i. 22.

Mnesarete, statue of, iii. 83.

Mnesiphilus, at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41.

Mnesitheus, the physician, iii. 511.

Monarchy, Democracy, and Oligarchy, v. 395-398.

Money upon usury, v. 412-424.

Monstrous births, of, iii. 179.

Moon: essence of the, iii. 145; magnitude of the, 145; figure of the, 145; whence her light, 145; eclipses of the, 146; phases of the, 147; distance from the sun, 147; of the face appearing within the orb of the moon, v. 234-292; its distance from the earth, 246; its nature, 253-260; its size, 261; why called Glaucopis, 267; is it inhabited, 274, 275.

Moot point in Homer’s Iliad, iii. 446.

Moral virtue, essay on, iii. 461-494.

Moschio, dialogue on health, i. 251, 252.

Motherland a Cretan expression, v. 85.

Motion, of, iii. 128.

Mount Athos’ shade, v. 270.

Mule and the salt, v. 184.

Mule, superannuated, v. 182.

Mules, barrenness of, iii. 182.

Mullet, of the, v. 213.

Muses, number of the, iii. 450.

Mushrooms produced by thunder, iii. 295-300.

Music, treatise concerning, i. 102-135; pleasures from bad, iii. 376; for entertainments, 389.

Musonius, his rule of health, i. 35.

Must, sweet, iii. 511.

Mycenae, mount, v. 501.

N.

Namertes, apothegm of, i. 427.

Names of rivers and mountains, and of such things as are to be found therein, and the fables connected therewith, v. 477-509.

Nasica, his saying, i. 285.

Natural affection towards one’s offspring, iv. 189-197.

Natural philosophy, iii. 105.

Natural Questions, Plutarch’s, iii. 495-518.

Nature, of, iii. 131; what is, 105; things that are least in, 125; animated, v. 160.

Necessity, of, iii. 129; nature of, 129; defined, v. 299.

Nephalia and Melisponda, i. 59.

Neptune, ii. 38, 39, 41.

Nero, i. 53; iv. 228, 229; anecdote of, v. 123.

New diseases and how caused, iii. 426.

New-married couple, advice to, ii. 486-507.

New wine, of, iii. 279.

Nicander, apothegm of, i. 427, 441.

Nicias Maleotes, quoted, v. 459.

Nicias, the Athenian general, superstition of, i. 177; v. 107.

Nicias, the painter, anecdote of, ii. 173; v. 71.

Nicostratus and Archidamus, i. 74; apothegm of, 221.

Niger, anecdote of, i. 267.

Nightingale, of the, v. 189.

Nile, the river, v. 495; overflow of the, iii. 160; water of the, 415.

Niloxenus, at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41.

Niobe, i. 328.

Noises in the night and day, iii. 406.

Numa, of the reign of, iv. 208-210.

O.

Oenopides, his discovery of the obliquity of the Zodiac, iii. 138.

Ogygia, an island west from Britain and its neighbor islands, described, v. 281-283.

Oil, top of the, iii. 370; on the sea, 503; is transparent, v. 318; does not easily freeze, 319.

Old age, health, and sickness, iii. 192.

Old men, love pure wine, iii. 221; read best at a distance, 222-224; easily foxed, 268-270; in state affairs, v. 64-96.

Oligarchy, Monarchy, and Democracy, v. 395-398.

Olympias, anecdotes of, ii. 494, 495.

Olympus, a Phrygian player, i. 107, 108, 110, 112, 115, 116, 123.

Omens and dreams, ii. 401, 402.

Onesicrates, banquet of, i. 103, 133.

Onomademus, wisdom of, i. 295; v. 129.

Opinions of philosophers, iii. 104-193.

Optatus, v. 171.

Oracle in Cilicia, iv. 55.

Oracles of Delphi, iii. 73.

Oracles, why they cease to give answers, iv. 3-64.

Orestes slays his mother, v. 474.

Origin of things, opinions concerning the, iii. 107-113.

Orontes, his saying, i. 188.

Orpheus never imitated any one, i. 107.

Orphic Fragments, iv. 59, 404.

Oryx, fables of the, v. 193.

Osiris, iv. 75-135; story about his birth, 74; great actions of, 75; his death, 76; his body torn in pieces by Typhon, 80; is identical with Serapis and Bacchus, 89; with the bull Apis, 90; sacred vestments of, 135.

Othryadas, iv. 338.

Otus, the bird, v. 163.

Oxen, teaching of, v. 193.

P.

Paeans, makers of, i. 110.

Paedaretus, apothegm of, i. 429.

Painter, neat saying of a, ii. 378.

Painting is silent poetry, v. 402.

Palladium in Ilium and in Rome, v. 461.

Palm tree, of the, iii. 514.

Panaetius, sayings of, i. 57.

Pancrates, i. 117.

Pandora’s box, i. 306.

Pangaeus, mount, v. 480.

Panthoidas, apothegm of, i. 427.

Papirius Tolucer, v. 468.

Parallels, or a comparison between the actions of Greeks and Romans, v. 450-476.

Parmenides, v. 357; his philosophical opinions: of generation and corruption, iii. 128; of necessity, 129; of the world, 135; of the moon, 145; of the galaxy, 149; of the earth, 155; of earthquakes, 157; of the soul, 163; defended from the misrepresentations of the Epicureans, v. 352-354; quoted, 357, 359, 381.

Partridge, cunning of the, v. 185.

Parysatis, her saying, i. 188.

Passions of the body, iii. 175.

Passions of the soul, or diseases of the body: which are worse, iv. 504, 508.

Paulus Aemilius, apothegm of, i. 232.

Pausanias, the Spartan traitor, v. 457.

Pausanius, i. 305; apothegm of, 428.

Pauson the painter, iii. 73.

Pederasty, or the love of boys, iv. 259; defended, 259, 260; instances of its power, 284-286; severely condemned, 304; the connection is uncertain and short-lived, 307; it ceases on the sprouting of the beard, 307.

Pelopidas, his saying, i. 225.

Pelops and his two sons, v. 470, 471.

Pemptides, iv. 272, 275, 279.

Pergamus, woman of, i. 374.

Periander, at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41; tyrant of Corinth sends three hundred boys to be castrated, iv. 341; the crime prevented, 342.

Pericles, anecdotes of, i. 15, 18, 66, 211, 332; ii. 309, 315; v. 67, 102; his absolute sway over the Athenians, 106; his soliloquy when about to address the people, 130, 131, 410, 413.

Periclitus, a Lesbian harper, i. 108.

Persaeus, anecdote of, i. 70.

Perseus, king of Macedonia, his sorrow on losing his kingdom, i. 160.

Persian Magi, killers of mice, ii. 96.

Persian women, virtue of the, i. 347.

Persians had a monarchy, v. 397.

Pestilence, relief from, a virgin sacrificed for, v. 472.

Petron, doctrine of, iv. 30.

Phaedimus, v. 171, 194.

Phaeton, i. 141.

Phalaris, brazen cow of, v. 474.

Pharnaces, of the moon, v. 265.

Phasis, a river of Thrace, v. 482.

Phayllus, iv. 282.

Phemius, the poet, i. 105.

Pherecrates, fragment of, i. 124.

Phidias, statue of Venus, ii. 498; iv. 133.

Philammon, verses in honor of Latona, Diana, and Apollo, i. 105.

Philemon and Magas, i. 45.

Philinus, iii. 69, 70.

Philip of Macedonia, examples from, i. 44, 45; sayings of, 194-198, 305; anecdotes of, ii. 141, 146, 147, 494; iii. 22; v. 115.

Philippides the comedian, ii. 430.

Philippus, his demonstration of the figure of the moon, ii. 173.

Philolaus, his philosophical opinions: of the nutriment of the world, iii. 134; of the essence of the sun, 142; of the position of the earth, 155; of the motion of the earth, 156.

Philosophers ought chiefly to converse with great men, ii. 368-377.

Philosophers, their various opinions. Of those sentiments concerning nature with which philosophers were delighted, iii. 104-193.

Philosophical discourses at merry meetings, iii. 198-203.

Philosophy, threefold division of, iii. 104.

Philotas and Antigona, i. 504.

Philotas, son of Parmenio, i. 504.

Philotimus, the physician, i. 452; ii. 153.

Philoxenus, i. 125; sayings of, ii. 42; iii. 3; iv. 289; v. 423.

Phocian women, virtue of the, i. 343, 355.

Phocion, his saying on the death of Alexander, i. 49; his sayings, 70; wife of, 102, 216; ii. 135, 298, 311, 321, 328; v. 83, 109, 118; his magnanimity, 122; his reply to Demades, 125, 142, 149.

Phocus, a story of love respecting him, iv. 319.

Phocylides the poet, quoted, i. 9, 462.

Phoebidas, apothegm of, i. 431.

Phoenix, tutor to Achilles, i. 9; ii. 150.

Phrygian mood of music, i. 109.

Phryne, the statue of, iii. 83.

Phrynis, the musician, ii. 470.

Pieria and other women of Myus, i. 363, 364.

Pierus, the first that wrote in praise of the Muses, i. 105.

Pindar and Euthynous, i. 314.

Pindar, his sayings, i. 77, 114; quoted, 143, 173, 174, 286, 293, 303, 304, 310, 313, 328; his description of the state of the blessed, 336; quoted, ii. 57, 143, 177, 193, 306; quoted, iii. 9, 23, 74, 93, 95, 96, 194, 207, 218, 377, 455, 458, 491, 516; quoted, iv. 10, 15, 96, 138, 145, 150, 163, 260, 289, 405; quoted, v. 64, 111, 117, 148, 194, 197, 202, 214, 316, 331, 404; anecdote of, 404, 440.

Pine, sacred to Neptune and Bacchus, iii. 318.

Pine trees, of, iii. 250.

Pinoteras, the fish, v. 205.

Pisias, of love, iv. 270 et seq.

Pisistratus, i. 216; anecdote of, iii. 41, 200.

Pittacus, sayings of, i. 31, 151; his reply to Myrsilus, ii. 5; at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, 3-41; iii. 50; iv. 231; v. 145.

Pitwater, of, iii. 514.

Place at table called Consular, iii. 210-212.

Place, of, iii. 127.

Plague in Falerie and in Lacedaemon, v. 472.

Plain of truth, iv. 29.

Planetiades, iv. 9, 11.

Plants, grow how, iii. 190; nourishment and growth of, 191.

Plato, quoted, i. 9, 19, 24, 26; saying of, 27; quoted, 41, 57, 71, 74, 79; on harmony, 115, 118; quoted, 141, 173, 256, 264, 279, 287; laws, 292; quoted, 297, 311, 314, 321, 337, 339, 456; quoted, ii. 49, 92, 100, 104, 106; at the court of Dionysius, 108, 109, 141, 146; and Socrates, 148, 150, 168, 174, 326; concerning the soul, 328 et seq., 334; quoted, 344, 352, 353, 355, 356, 359, 364, 455, 456, 457, 492, 496, 504; quoted, iii. 19, 81; his philosophical opinions: of the universe, 112, 114, 115; of the understanding, 116; what is God, 119; of God, 121; of matter and ideas, 123; of causes and of bodies, 124; of colors, 125; of bodies, 126; of place and time, 127, 128; of motion, 128; of necessity, 129; of fate, 130; of fortune, 131; of the world, 134, 135, 137; of the stars, 137-141; of the sun, 142, 143; of the moon, 145, 146; of the rainbow, 152; of earthquakes, 158; of the sea, 159; of the soul, 161-165; of sight, 168; of hearing, 170; of the voice, 171; of the echo, 172; of divination, 176; of generative seed, 177; of the embryo, 183; of reason in animals, 187; of sleep, 189; that plants are animals, 190; quoted, 200, 201, 213, 221, 223, 243, 365, 368-370, 401, 462, 464, 499; iv. 18, 28, 30, 41, 45; his opinion about daemons, 86, 87, 109, 115-117, 119, 146, 254, 261, 292, 305; quoted, v. 10, 82, 103, 116, 120, 172, 257, 276, 288, 293, 295, 297, 302, 305, 306, 338, 355, 364, 377, 381, 412, 425-433, 435, 440, 441, 444.

Pleasure not attainable according to Epicurus, ii. 157-203.

Pleasures from bad music, iii. 376.

Plistoanax, apothegm of, i. 430.

Plurality of worlds, iv. 29-39.

Plutarch, his rules for the preservation of health, i. 251-279; his Symposiacs, iii. 197-460; his natural questions, 495-518; on the immortality of the soul, iii. 164, iv. 169; v. 393; consolatory letter to his wife, 386-394; his Platonic questions, 425-449; his spurious remains, 450-509.

Poet, love makes a man a, iii. 217-219.

Poetry, essay on. How a young man ought to hear poems, ii. 42-94.

Polemon, his kind reply, i. 55.

Policy or government defined, v. 396.

Political precepts, v. 97-156.

Poltys, saying of, i. 189.

Polus the tragedian, v. 69.

Polybus, of seven-months’ infants, iii. 185.

Polycephalus, the nome, i. 108.

Polycratidas, apothegm of, i. 431.

Polycrita, a woman of Naxos, i. 364, 366.

Polydorus, apothegm of, i. 430.

Polyhistor, his Third Book of Italian History, v. 476.

Polymnestus, his improvements in music, i. 107, 110, 112, 123.

Polypus, why it changes color, iii. 506; many-colored, v. 202.

Polysperchon’s treachery, i. 64, 71.

Pompey, his great actions and sayings, i. 241 et seq., 290; statues of, 293, v. 70, 102, 112, 114; owed his success to Sylla, 115.

Porsena of Clusium, war with the Romans, v. 451, 456.

Porus, an Indian king, i. 202.

Posidonius, his opinion of fate, iii. 130; of a vacuum, 137; of eclipses, v. 262.

Possible and contingent defined, v. 299.

Postumia, chastity of, i. 290.

Power, necessity, &c., defined, v. 300.

Praise, inordinate, a sign of a flatterer, ii, 116, 117, 120; young people are often spoiled by it, 123.

Preservation of health, rules for, i. 251-279.

Priam and Polydore, v. 465.

Price of peace, women given as the, v. 468.

Priest of Hercules, iii. 90.

Principle and element, difference between, iii. 106.

Principle of cold, v. 309-330.

Principles, what they are, iii. 106.

Prize for poets at the games, iii. 316.

Procles, tyrant of Epidaurus, puts Timarchus to death, iii. 89; his own unhappy end, ib.

Procreation of the soul as discussed in the Timaeus of Plato, ii. 326-367.

Progress in virtue, how it may be ascertained, ii. 446-474.

Prometheus, anecdote of, i. 289.

Proserpine, the same as Isis, iv. 88; and Cora, v. 285, 286.

Prosodia, songs called, i. 106.

Protagoras quoted, i. 332.

Protogenes, iv. 257, 258, 260-265.

Providence, of God, iv. 140-188; v. 305; of the inferior gods, 306; of the daemons, 307, 308.

Ptolemaeus Philadelphus, i. 25.

Ptolemaeus Soter, iv. 88.

Ptolemy Lagus, anecdote of, i. 45; his saying, 202; ii. 177.

Publius Decius, his dream, v. 462.

Publius Nigidius, v. 96.

Punishment of the wicked, why so long delayed, iv. 140-188.

Pupius Piso, the rhetorician, iv. 245.

Purple shell fish, v. 205.

Pylades and Orestes, their friendship, i. 465.

Pyraechmes’s horses, v. 455.

Pyrander, his Fourth Book of Peloponnesian Histories, v. 474.

Pyrandrus, the commissary, v. 469.

Pyrrhon, the Stoic philosopher, anecdote of, ii. 467.

Pyrrhus the Epirot, his saying, i. 207.

Pythagoras, his aphorisms, i. 28, 29; of music, 130; quoted, 175; aphorism, 179, 294; symbols of, 454, 471; his unseasonable reproof, ii. 148; his joy on discovering the relation to each other of the three sides of a right-angled triangle, 174; his philosophical opinions: of the principles of things, iii. 109; of the unity of God, 121; of geniuses and heroes, 122; of matter, 123; of causes, 124; of bodies, 126; of time, 127; of motion, 128; of generation and corruption, 129; of the world, 132-137; of the zodiac, 138; of the summer and winter solstice, 143; of the moon, 145; of the zones, 156; of the soul, 161-164; of the voice, 172; of divination, 176; of generative seed, 177; of reason in animals, 187; precepts of, derived his philosophy from Egyptian priests, iv. 72.

Pythagorean philosophy of dreams, daemons, ii. 412, 413.

Pythagoreans, precept of, iii. 22; why they do not eat fish, 422-426.

Pytheas, his saying, i. 213; iii. 159; apothegm of, v. 107, 110.

Pythes, the Lydian, i. 382.

Pythian games, iii. 316.

Pythian priestess, iv. 8, 9, 62, 63; why she now ceases to deliver her oracles in verse, iii. 69-103.

Pythocles, his Third Book of Italian History, v. 460; Third Book of the Georgics, 476.

Pythoclides the flute player, i. 114.

Python of Aenos, ii. 314.

Q.

Quarry of Carystus, iv. 54.

Questions or Causes, Second Book of, v. 475.

R.

Raillery, of, iii. 229-240.

Rainbow, of the, iii. 151.

Rain, snow, and hail, of, iii. 151.

Rational faculty, of the, v. 441.

Reason, beasts make use of, v. 218-233.

Reason, habit of our, iii. 166.

Remarkable speeches of some obscure men amongst the Spartans, i. 432-440.

Remora or Echeneis, iii. 252.

Reproof, how to be administered, ii. 138-156.

Respiration or breathing, iii, 173.

Rhesus and Similius, v. 466.

Rhodope and Haemus, mountains, v. 491.

Riddles and their solutions, ii. 19, 20.

Roman questions, ii. 204-264.

Roman senator and his wife, iv. 233-235.

Romans, fortune of the, iv. 198-219.

Rome, saved by the cackling of geese, iv. 217; favored by fortune, 219.

Romulus, his birth and education, iv. 206-208; murdered in the senate, v. 470; and Remus, suckled by a she-wolf, 473.

Rules for the preservation of health, i. 251-279.

Rutilius the usurer, v. 419.

S.

Sabinus of Galatia, iv. 308.

Sacadas, a flute player, i. 109, 110, 112.

Sacred games, garlands of, iii. 411.

Sacrificed beasts, iii. 361.

Sagaris, a river in Phrygia, v. 492.

Salmantica, women of, i. 352.

Salt and cummin, why does Homer call it divine, iii. 336.

Salt given to cattle, iii. 497; not found in fruit, 498.

Sappho, i. 42, 114; ii. 506; quoted, iii. 95, 263; quoted, iv. 260.

Sappho’s measures, grace in, iii. 74.

Sardanapalus, his luxury and lust, i. 497.

Sardians and Smyrnaeans, v. 468.

Saturn and his four children, v. 456, 457.

Satyrus the orator, i. 47.

Scamander, a river in Troas, v. 493.

Scaurus, his magnanimity, i. 295.

Scilurus, anecdote of, iv. 244.

Scipio the Elder, apothegm of, i. 229; ii. 475; iv. 201; v. 96, 112, 114, 136.

Scipio the Younger, his sayings and great actions, i. 235-239.

Scopas, saying of, ii. 303.

Scythinus, verses of, iii. 86.

Sea calves, of, v. 210.

Sea, of the, iii. 158; ebbing and flowing of the, 159; food of the, 302-306; made hot by wind, 501.

Sea-sickness, iii. 502.

Sea water nourishes not trees, iii. 495; upon wine, 502; oil on the, 503.

Seed, nature of generative, iii. 177; that fall on the oxen’s horns, 368; watering of, 496; watered by thunder showers, 498.

Seleucus the mathematician, iii. 159.

Seleucus Callinicus, anecdote of, iv. 237.

Self-praise. How a man may inoffensively praise himself without being liable to envy, ii. 306-325.

Semiramis, her saying, i. 187, 497; iv. 85.

Seneca, anecdote of, i. 53.

Senses, of the, iii. 164; represent what is true, 165; number of the, 165; actions of the, 166.

Sentiments concerning Nature with which Philosophers were delighted, iii. 104-193.

Serapio, iii. 74, 79, 81, 82.

Serapis is Pluto, iv. 88, 89.

Serpent and the Aetolian woman, v. 188.

Seven months’ infants, of, iii. 184.

Seven Wise Men, Banquet of the, ii. 3-41.

Servius Tullius, his birth, elevation, and prosperous reign, iv. 212, 213.

Shadows, guests called, iii. 381.

Sheep bitten by wolves, iii. 254.

She-wolves, of, iii. 517.

Ships in winter, sailing of, iii. 500.

Shoe pinches, where the, ii. 494.

Sibyl with her frantic grimaces, iii. 74.

Sight, of our, iii. 168.

Silence commended, iv. 230, 243.

Simonides, quoted, i. 149, 257, 295, 305, 309, 318; quoted, ii. 44, 101, 136, 436, 457, 471; quoted, iii. 22, 87, 259, 409, 451, 459, 473; quoted, iv. 158; saying of, v. 66, 68, 71, 121.

Sipylus, mount, v. 489.

Siramnes, saying of, i. 185.

Sleep or death, causes of, iii. 188; whether it appertains to the soul or body, 189.

Smelling, of, iii. 170.

Smyrna and Cinyras, v. 464.

Snow, preservation of, iii. 350.

Soclarus, iv. 292; v. 156, 158, 160, 166, 169, 170, 171, 216.

Socrates, anecdotes of, i. 11, 13, 23, 26, 38, 53, 141, 150, 162; rules of health, 255; quoted, 307, 310, 312, 337; ii. 46, 148, 150, 338, 441; his Daemon, 378-423, 441, 495; iii. 4, 19, 35, 112, 121, 123; iv. 249; v. 93, 359, 361, 362-364, 377, 381.

Socrates, his Second Book of Thracian History, v. 462.

Soil, deep, for wheat, iii. 504; lean soil for barley, 504.

Solon and Croesus, anecdote of, ii. 122.

Solon, quoted, i. 155, 297; at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41; quoted, 297, 454, 487; quoted, iii. 50; iv. 72; quoted, 260; anecdote of, 304; v. 89, 113, 117, 118, 131.

Sophocles, quoted, i. 46, 57, 244, 288; Thamyras, 39; Frag., 58, 63; Tyre, 206, 467; Antig., 51, 462; Oed. Tyr., 179, 470; quoted, ii. 45, 57, 61, 72; criticisms on, 72; Frag., 173, 241, 244, 298, 431, 452, 456, 470, 495; Oed. Tyr., 60, 172, 442, 476, 495; Antig., 110; Trachin., 311; Electra, 440; quoted, iii. 97, 210, 222; Frag., 7; Antig. 45; Oed. Tyr., 235, 474; Oed. Col., 232; Electra, 437; quoted, iv. 87, 246, 287, 304; Oed. Tyr., 197, 202; Trachin., 281; Antig., 239, 283, 404; Frag., 221, 226, 274, 284, 301; quoted, v. 69, 76, 158, 216; Oed. Col., 68; Frag., 75, 84; anecdote of, 68.

Sostratus, his Second Book of Tuscan History, v. 468.

Sotades, jest of, i. 25.

Soterichus, the musician, i. 103, 112.

Soul of Ajax, her place in hell, iii. 442.

Soul or body, death appertains to, iii. 189.

Soul, procreation of the, ii. 326-367; its nature and essence, iii. 161, 163; parts of the, 162; in what part of the body it resides, 163; motion of the, 163; immortality of the, 164; principal part of the, 173; three sorts of motion in the, v. 371; state of, after death, 393, 394; ancienter than the body, 432.

Souls dispersed into the earth, moon, &c., v. 438.

Sounds in the night and day, iii. 406.

Sows, tame and wild, iii. 508.

Space, of, iii. 127.

Sparta had an oligarchy, v. 397.

Speech composed of nouns and verbs, v. 444.

Speech of a statesman, what it should be, v. 107.

Sperm, whether it be a body, iii. 177.

Spermatic emission of women, iii. 177.

Sphodrias, v. 118.

Spiders, labor of the, v. 174.

Sponge, of the, v. 205.

Spurious remains of Plutarch, v. 450-509.

Star-fish, subtlety of the, v. 201.

Stark drunk, those that are, iii. 281.

Stars, essence of the, iii. 138; what figure they are, 139; order and place of, 139; motion and circulation of, 140; whence do they receive their light, 140; which are called the Dioscuri, the twins, or Castor and Pollux, 141; how they prognosticate, 141; number of the, whether odd or even, 446.

Stasicrates proposes to turn Mount Athos into a statue of Alexander, i. 495.

Stesichorus, i. 109, 112; iv. 497.

Steward of a feast, iii. 212-216.

Stilpo, the philosopher, i. 13, 76, 144, 161; anecdote of, ii. 468; defended, v. 365-367.

Stoics speak greater improbabilities than the poets, iii. 194-196; their opinions concerning daemons, iv. 24; common conceptions against the, 372-427; contradictions of the, 428-477.

Strabo, quoted, i. 27.

Strato, i. 155; iii. 163; v. 161.

Stratonica of Galatia, i. 373.

Stratonicus, anecdote of, ii. 298; iii. 21.

Strymon, a river in Thrace, v. 491.

Summer and winter, cause of, iii. 141.

Summer and winter solstice, iii. 143.

Sun, essence of the, iii. 141; magnitude of the, 142; figure or shape of the, 143; turning and returning of the, 143; eclipses of the, 144.

Superstition of the Gauls, Scythians, and Carthaginians, i. 182, 183.

Superstition, or indiscreet devotion, i. 168-184; folly of, ii. 387.

Supper, many guests at, iii. 323.

Supper-room, why too narrow at first for guests, iii. 326.

Suppers of the ancients, iii. 255-259.

Swallows in the house, iii. 419; intelligence of the, v. 174.

Sylla, i. 32-35; anecdote of, v. 72, 115, 135.

Symposiacs, or table discourses, iii. 197-460.

Synorix and Camma, iv. 302.

T.

Table, dignity of places at, iii. 210-212.

Tables and lamps of the ancients, iii. 372.

Talkativeness, or garrulity, iv. 220-253.

Talk, deliberate or tumultuous, iii. 395.

Tanais, a river in Scythia, v. 494.

Tarpeia, a virgin, the story of, v. 460.

Taste, of, iii. 170.

Taxiles of India, i. 201.

Taygetus, mount, v. 498.

Tears of the hart, iii. 507.

Tears of wild boars, iii. 507.

Telamon and Periboea, v. 467.

Telamon and Phocus, v. 466.

Telecrus, apothegm of, i. 431.

Telegonus, son of Ulysses, v. 476.

Telephanes of Megara, i. 117.

Telephus, i. 289.

Telesias the Theban, an eminent flute-player, i. 125.

Telesphorus, in an iron cage, iii. 31.

Temple of Apollo, iv. 478-498.

Teres, his saying, i. 189.

Teribazus, anecdote of, i. 176.

Terpander, the musician, fined by the Ephori, and why? i. 91, 92; an inventor of ancient music, 102, 105, 109; an excellent composer to the harp, 106, 112; added the octave to the heptachord, 102, 122.

Teuthras, mount, v. 504.

Thales, at the Banquet of the Seven Wise Men, ii. 3-41; first of philosophers; the Ionic sect took its denomination from him, iii. 107; his philosophical opinions; difference between a principle and an element, 106; that the intelligence of the world was God, 121; of geniuses and heroes, 122; of division of bodies, 126; of necessity, 129; of the division of heaven, 137; of the eclipses of the sun, 144; that the moon borrows her light from the sun, 146; that the earth is globular, and the centre of the universe, 155; of earthquakes, 157; of the overflow of the Nile, 160; of the soul, 161; iv. 337, 480.

Thaletas, a composer, i. 110, 112; power of his music, 133.

Thamyras, the singer, i. 105.

Theanor, ii. 395, 396.

Thebes, liberation of, ii. 414-423.

Thectamenes, apothegm of, i. 411.

Themisteas, apothegm of, i. 410.

Themistocles, quoted, i. 73; his saying, 208; suspected of treason, 290, 296, 480; quoted, ii. 97, 311, 471; his kind reception by the Persian king, iii. 21, 30; iv. 208, 361, 365; v. 101, 116, 120, 121, 127.

Theo, iii. 70, 71, 74, 88.

Theocritus, his remark and death, i. 25, 73; ii. 380; iii. 516.

Theodorus, saying of, i. 142; ii. 321, 349; iii. 31; his Book of Transformations, v. 464.

Theognis, i. 473; ii. 59; iii. 506.

Theon, ii. 157 et seq.; v. 273-275.

Theophilus, his Third Book of Italian History, v. 459; Second Book of Peloponnesian Histories, 470.

Theophrastus, sayings of, i. 276, 304, 442; ii. 303; iii. 45, 64, 218, 219, 334; v. 202, 427.

Theopompus, his sayings, i. 217, 410; v. 137.

Theotimus, his Italian History, v. 456.

Theramenes, anecdote of, i. 306.

Thermodon, a river in Scythia, v. 495.

Thero, anecdote of, iv. 286.

Theseus and his son Hippolytus, v. 471.

Thespesius, iv. 177, 182 et seq., 188.

Thirst, cause of, iii. 341.

Thorycion, apothegm of, i. 411.

Thrasonides quoted, ii. 297.

Thucydides, quoted, i. 70, 76, 472, 490; quoted, ii. 98, 117, 149, 152, 458; quoted, iii. 88; quoted, iv. 141; quoted, v. 65, 106, 403.

Thunder, of, iii. 150.

Thymbris, and his son Rustius, v. 466.

Tides, of, iii. 159.

Tigris, the river, v. 507.

Timaeus, his opinion of tides, iii. 159.

Timesias, the oracle and, i. 471; anecdote of, v. 127.

Time, essence and nature of, iii. 127, 128.

Timoclea, at the taking of Thebes, i. 376.

Timoleon, ii. 314.

Timotheus, the musician, anecdote of, i. 92, 106, 112; ii. 83, 306; v. 76.

Titus Quinctius, apothegm of, i. 230.

Tmolus, mount, v. 486.

Torpedo, or crampfish, v. 201.

Torquatus and Clusia, v. 459.

Tortoise, their care for their young, v. 209.

Training of children, i. 3-32.

Tranquillity of the mind, the, i. 136-167.

Transmutation of bodies, v. 14.

Trees and seeds, watering of, iii. 496.

Trees not nourished by sea-water, iii. 495.

Triangles, of, v. 433.

Trisimachus, his book of Foundations of Cities, v. 455.

Trochilus and crocodile, v. 206.

Troilus wept less than Priam, i. 323.

Trojan women, virtue of the, i. 342.

Trophonius and Agamedes, i. 313.

True friendship, of, i. 464-474; ii. 100-134.

True happiness, of, v. 392.

Tullus Hostilius, v. 455.

Tunnies, dim sight of the, v. 204.

Typhon, in Egyptian mythology, iv. 80, 81, 86, 88, 91, 92, 99, 101, 105, 110, 114, 118, 122.

Tyrrhene women, virtue of the, i. 349.

U.

Ulysses, i. 160; in the island of Circe, v. 218 et seq.

Unity of God. Of the word εἰ engraven over the gate of the temple of Apollo at Delphi, iv. 478-498.

Universe, whether it is one, iii. 114; division of the, v. 429.

Unlearned Prince, Discourse to an, iv. 323-330.

Usurers, what sort of men they are, 417.

Usury, evils of, v. 412-424.

V.

Vacuum, of a, iii. 126; there can be none in nature, iv. 33; suppose there were, it would have no beginning, middle, or end, 34.

Valeria and Cloelia, i. 356.

Valeria Tusculanaria, v. 464.

Valerius Conatus swallowed up alive, v. 455.

Venus’s hands wounded by Diomedes, iii. 441.

Verses seasonably and unseasonably applied, iii. 436.

Vice and virtue, ii. 482-485.

Vice, whether it is sufficient to render a man unhappy, iv. 499-503.

Vines irrigated with wine, iii. 513; rank of leaves, iii. 513.

Virtue and vice, ii. 482-485.

Virtue may be taught, i. 78-81.

Virtue or fortune, to which of these was due the greatness and glory of Rome? iv. 198-219.

Virtue, progress in, ii. 446-474.

Virtues of women, i. 340-384.

Vision, doctrine of, iii. 168; v. 236 et seq.

Voice is incorporeal, iii. 172.

Voice, of the, iii. 171.

Vowels and semi-vowels, iii. 438.

W.

Water made colder by stones and lead, iii. 348.

Water or fire, which is more useful? v. 331-337.

Water, white and black, iii. 518.

Wealth, the love of, ii. 294-305.

Well water, change of the temperature in, iii. 347.

West wind the swiftest, iii, 515.

Whale, of the, v. 207.

Wheat, sow, in clay, iii. 505.

Whether an aged man ought to meddle in state affairs, v. 64-96.

Whether the passions of the soul, or diseases of the body, are worse, iv. 504-508.

Whether ’twere rightly said, “Live concealed,” iii. 3-10.

Whether vice is sufficient to render a man unhappy, iv. 499-503.

Whirlwinds, of, iii. 150.

Why the oracles cease to give answers, iv. 3-64.

Wicked, delay of Providence in punishing the, iv. 140-188.

Widows in India, iv. 502.

Wild beasts, steps of, iii. 509; their tracks, 509.

Wild boars, tears of the, iii. 507.

Winds, of, iii. 154.

Wine, whether it is potentially cold, iii. 272-274; straining of, 351; middle of, 370; sea water upon, 502; irrigation with, 513.

Winter and summer, cause of, iii. 141, 154.

Winter, ships in, iii. 500; sea least hot in, 501.

Wise Men, the Seven, Banquet of, ii. 3-41; their names, iv. 480.

Woman, of Pergamus, i. 374.

Woman of Thessaly torn in pieces by dogs, v. 463.

Women, the virtues of, i. 340-384; barrenness in, iii. 181; are hardly foxed, 268-270; temper of, 270-272; given as the price of peace, v. 468.

Word ει at Apollo’s temple at Delphi. iv. 478-498.

World, how it was brought into its present order, iii. 113.

World, of the, iii. 132; figure of the, 133; whether it be an animal, 133; whether it is eternal and incorruptible, 133; its nutriment, 134; from what element was it raised, 134; in what form and order was it composed, 135; cause of its inclination, 136; thing which is beyond the, 136; what parts on the right and left hand, 137.

Worlds, plurality of, iv. 29-38.

Wrestling, of, iii. 246.

X.

Xanthippe, wife of Socrates, anecdotes of, i. 53, 292.

Xenaenetus, v. 109.

Xenocrates, anecdote of; i. 71, 442; his opinions concerning the soul, ii. 327, 439; of triangles, iii. 24, 139, 494; his opinion about daemons, iv. 17, 87; saying of, v. 10, 494.

Xenocritus, a composer, i. 110, 380.

Xenodamus, a composer, i. 110.

Xenophanes, his reply, i. 65, 183; his philosophical opinions, iii. 134, 138, 141, 144, 145, 150, 155; quoted, ii. 49; iv. 291.

Xenophon, quoted, i. 137; maxim of, 281, 333, 447; ii. 115, 144, 178, 307; the scene of his old age, iii. 24; v. 67, 72, 121, 139.

Xerxes, his saying, i. 39, 187; and Arimanes, iii. 59, 60; invasion of Greece, v. 451, 452.

Y.

Year, length of, in different planets, iii. 147.

Z.

Zaleucus, laws of, ii. 315.

Zaratas, ii. 327.

Zeno, saying of, i. 56; anecdotes of, 72, 142, 283; ii. 321, 365, 455; quoted, 467, 481; iii. 25, 113, 125, 128; his definition of virtue, 462; anecdote of, iv. 225; v. 382.

Zenocrates, v. 288, 377, 441.

Zeuxidamus, apothegm of, i. 410.

Zeuxippus, dialogue on health, i. 251-279; ii. 157 et seq.; iv. 270, 278, 288.

Zeuxis, reply of, i. 468.

Zopyrus Byzantius, his Third Book of Histories, v. 473.

Zoroaster, ii. 357; iv. 106.

# Project Gutenberg #78851

Transcriber’s notes:

Italic text is marked thus.

The spelling, hyphenation, punctuation and accentuation are as the original, except for apparent typographical errors which have been corrected.

[Illustration:

Tiberius and Agrippina.

From the painting by Peter Paul Rubens.]

PLUTARCH’S ESSAYS AND MISCELLANIES

Comprising all his Works Collected under the Title of “Morals” · Translated from the Greek by Several Hands Corrected and Revised by WILLIAM W. GOODWIN, Ph.D., Professor of Greek Literature in Harvard University In Five Volumes · Volume Three

[Illustration: HONOS ET VIRTVS]

BOSTON · LITTLE, BROWN AND COMPANY · MCMXI

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, By LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY, In the office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

Copyright, 1898, 1905, By LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.

Printers S. J. PARKHILL & CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.

Contents Of Volume Third.

WITH THE TRANSLATORS’ NAMES.

WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID, LIVE CONCEALED.

BY CHARLES WHITAKER, ESQUIRE, SOMETIME FELLOW OF NEW COLLEGE IN OXFORD.

He who said this had no mind to live concealed, 3. Such men strive hard to be known, 3. Even a bad man ought not to withdraw from the notice of others, 4. It is a loss to the world, if virtuous men live concealed, 5. If brave and good men become known, they are examples to others, 6. Virtue by use grows bright; but human abilities, unemployed, go to decay, 7. Our life and all our faculties were given to be used, and to make us known, 8. Only a vicious, useless life should be forgotten, 10.

An Abstract Of A Comparison Betwixt Aristophanes And Menander By William Baxter, Gent.

AN ABSTRACT OF A COMPARISON BETWIXT ARISTOPHANES AND MENANDER

BY WILLIAM BAXTER, GENT.

Aristophanes suits low and vulgar persons; Menander the men of culture; the style of Aristophanes lacks fitness and propriety; it is harsh, coarse, and obscene; Menander charms us by his elegance and refinement, 11.

OF BANISHMENT, OR FLYING ONE’S COUNTRY.

By John Patrick, Of The Charterhouse.

Afflicted persons need to have their grief lightened, not increased, 15. Banishment may not be an evil of itself, but only as the mind makes it such, 16. If it be an evil, philosophy may help a man to bear it, 17. If it be an evil, let us consider how much good remains to balance it, 18. By nature, we have no country, we are citizens of the world, 18, 19. In whatever part of the world we are, we may make ourselves at home, 20. It is folly to suppose that we cannot enjoy life but where we were born, 20. A man of skill and ability can thrive anywhere, 21. Custom makes every thing and every place pleasant, 22. Change of scene may afford relief, 23. Happiness is not limited to place, 24. The Cyclades are places of exile, yet great men have lived there, 24. Homer commends islands as places of abode, 25. An island may be a place of much quiet and enjoyment, 25, 26. Few of the prudent and wise were buried in their own country, 27. Instances of the fact, 28. Some of the finest human compositions were written in exile, 29. Instances of this, 29. It is not ignominious to be banished, 29, 30. Instances produced, 30, 33. Banishment does not deprive us of our liberty, 31. We are all strangers and pilgrims on earth; the soul being of heavenly origin, 34.

Of Brotherly Love By John Thomson, Prebendary Of Hereford.

OF BROTHERLY LOVE

BY JOHN THOMSON, PREBENDARY OF HEREFORD.

Address to two brothers, 36. Nature, by forming some of our most useful members in pairs, gives a hint of the need of harmony between brothers, 37. Nature admonishes us to prefer a brother to a stranger, 38. The author’s experience at Rome, 39. To our parents, next to the gods, is due the highest veneration, 40. Parents are happy in the union of brothers, and sad at their disagreement, 41. Love between brothers indicates love to parents, 42. Disaffection between brothers indicates great wrong somewhere, 43. Brothers, once alienated, can scarce become true friends again, 44. Brothers must bear with one another’s failings; they should not expect perfection, 45. If your brother has given offence to your father, intercede in his behalf, 47. If the father be dead, let justice preside in the division of his property, 48, 49. An unequal division produces lasting hatred and envy among brothers, 50, 51. If one brother excel another in talent or learning, let him treat the other with condescension and kindness, 52. And let not the other indulge envy, 53. Be not jealous of a brother’s prosperity, 53. Brothers should assist one another, 54. The elder brother should lead, but not be exacting and overbearing, 56. The younger should treat the elder with respect and deference, 56, 57. Avoid disagreements about little things, 57. Yield your wishes for peace’ sake, 58. Beautiful instance of fraternal concord from the history of Persia, 59. Another from the history of Syria, 60. When a brother has wronged a brother, let him confess it, 61. Kindness of Attalus to his brother Eumenes, 62. If brothers disagree, let each avoid a correspondence with the other’s enemies, 63. Cherish your brother’s friends, his wife and children, 64-68.

WHEREFORE THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS NOW CEASES TO DELIVER HER ORACLES IN VERSE.

BY JOHN PHILIPS, GENT.

A walk in Delphi, 69. The statues there; the color of the brass admired, 70. The Corinthian brass, whence its extraordinary lustre and beauty, 70, 71. The atmosphere of Delphi, its effect on the brass of the statues, 72. The ancient oracles of Delphi, whence their rudeness and coarseness, 73. Could verses so devoid of neatness and elegance proceed from Apollo? 73. The ideas were supplied by Apollo: the words came from the priestess, 75. The statue of Hiero at Delphi: prodigy connected with it, 76. Other similar prodigies, 76. But these were mere accidents, 77. Strange and unlooked-for events may happen from natural causes, 78. Even though predicted, it was not from any foreknowledge of the prophet but only from plausible conjecture, 78. Conjectures are sometimes verified, 79. Yet there may be real predictions and actual prophetic inspiration, 80. Instances given, 80. Frogs and water-snakes: what relation have they to Apollo? 80-82; and why are they represented in the Corinthian Hall at Delphi? 80-82. Why does the Corinthian Hall bear that name? 82. The statue of Phryne the courtesan, 83. It was no worse to place such a statue in the temple of Apollo than to fill it with spoils taken in war, 84. Yet statues and offerings are sometimes placed there in token of gratitude, 85. But why does the Pythian priestess no longer deliver her oracles in verse? 86. In ancient times philosophers sometimes spoke in verse, while oracles were sometimes delivered in prose, 87, 88. Instances given, 88, 89. Some oracles are now uttered in verse, 90. A singular anecdote, 90. As the soul acts through the body as its servant and instrument, so the Deity uses the soul, 91. As the moon reflects the light of the sun, yet in diminished force, so the Pythia imperfectly yet really conveys the energy of the Deity, 92. The Deity uses men according to their ability, 93. The Pythian priestess, having had a slender education, cannot speak the language of culture and refinement, 93, 94. The times are much altered from what they once were. History and philosophy do not now take a poetical form, 95, 96. Poetry has lost its ancient credit, 98. This may account for the disuse of verse in the Delphic utterances, 98. The ambiguity of the ancient oracles accounted for, 99. In these times of public tranquillity there is no need of oracles, 100. Yet let us not blame the oracle, 103.

OF THOSE SENTIMENTS CONCERNING NATURE WITH WHICH PHILOSOPHERS WERE DELIGHTED.

BY JOHN DOWEL, VICAR OF MELTON MOWBRAY IN LEICESTERSHIRE.

BOOK I. A threefold division of Philosophy, 104. Natural Philosophy: what is Nature? 105. Difference between a principle and an element? 106. What are principles? 106. Opinions of Thales, Anaximander, Anaxagoras, Pythagoras, Heraclitus, Epicurus, Empedocles, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, and others, concerning the origin of things, 107-113. How was the world brought into its present order and condition? 113. Whether the universe is one? 114. Whence the knowledge of a Deity? 115. Different orders and classes of Deities, 117. What is God? is he perfect? is he eternal? does he interfere with human affairs? Opinions of Pythagoras, of Socrates, Aristotle, Epicurus, 118-122. Of geniuses and heroes, 122. Of matter: different opinions, 123. Of ideas, 123. Of causes, 123. Of bodies, 124. Of least things in nature, 125. Of figures, 125. Of colors, 125. Of the division of bodies, 126. Of the mixture of the elements, 126. Of a vacuum, 126. Of place, 127. Of space, 127. Of time, 127. Of the essence and nature of time, 128. Of motion, 128. Of generation and corruption, 128. Of necessity, 129. Of the nature of necessity, 129. Of destiny or fate, 130. Of the nature of fate, 130. Of fortune, 131. Of nature, 131.

BOOK II. Of the world, κοσμόϛ, 132. Of the figure of the world, 133. Whether the world be an animal, 133. Whether the world be eternal and incorruptible, 133. Whence does the world receive nutriment? 134. From what element did God begin to raise the fabric of the world? 134. In what form and order was the world composed? 135. What is the cause of the world’s inclination? 136. Of that thing which is beyond the world, and whether it be a vacuum or not, 136. What parts of the world are on the right hand and what parts are on the left? 137. Of heaven, its nature and essence, 137. Into how many circles is the heaven distinguished? the division of heaven, 137. What are the stars made of? 138. Of what figure are the stars? 139. Of the order and place of the stars, 139. Of the motion and circulation of the stars, 140. Whence do the stars receive their light? 140. What are the stars called Dioscuri, or Castor and Pollux? 141. How stars prognosticate: what is the cause of winter and summer? 141. Of the essence of the sun, 141, 142. Of the magnitude of the sun, 142. Of the figure or shape of the sun, 143. Of the turning and returning of the sun, or the summer and winter solstice, 143. Of the eclipses of the sun, 144. Of the essence of the moon, 145. Of the moon’s magnitude and figure, 145. Whence does the moon receive her light? 145. Of eclipses of the moon, 146. Of the phases or aspects of the moon, 147. Of the distance of the moon from the sun, 147. Of the year and the length of the year in the different planets; of the great year, 147.

BOOK III. Of the galaxy, or milky way, 148. Of comets and shooting fires, 149. Of lightning, thunder, hurricanes, and whirlwinds, 150. Of clouds rain, snow, and hail, 151. Of the rainbow, 152. Of meteors which resemble rods, 153. Of winds, 154. Of winter and summer, 154. Of the earth, its nature and magnitude, 154. Of the figure of the earth, 155. Of the site and position of the earth, 155. Of the inclination of the earth, 155. Of the motion of the earth, 156. Of the zones of the earth, 156. Of earthquakes and their cause, 157. Of the sea, of what it is composed, and why it has a bitter taste, 158. Of the ebbing and flowing of the sea, 159. Of the halo, or circle round a star, 160.

BOOK IV. Of the overflowing of the Nile, 160. Of the soul, 161. Whether the soul be a body, and what is its nature and essence, 162. Of the parts of the soul, 162. What is the principal part of the soul, and in what part of the body does it reside? 163. Of the motion of the soul, 163. Of the soul’s immortality, 164. Of the senses, and their objects, 164. Whether what appears to our senses and imaginations be realities, 165. How many senses are there? 165. How the conceptions of the mind are received from the senses, 166. What is the difference between imagination (φαντασία), imaginable (φανταστόν), fancy (φανταστικόν), and phantom (φάντασμα)? 167. Of our sight, and by what means we see, 168. Of the images presented to the eye in mirrors, 169. Can darkness be visible to us? 169. Of hearing, 170. Of smelling, 170. Of taste, 170. Of the voice, 171. Whether the voice is incorporeal? what is it that gives the echo? 172. By what means the soul is sensible, 173. Of respiration or breathing, 173. Of the passions of the body, and whether the soul sympathizes? 175.

BOOK V. Of divination, 176. Whence do dreams arise? 176. Of the nature of generative seed, 177. Whether the sperm be a body, 177. Whether women give a spermatic emission, 177. How conception is effected, 178. After what manner males and females are generated, 178. Of the causes of monstrous conceptions, 179. How it comes to pass that a woman’s too frequent conversation with a man hinders conception, 179. Whence it is that one birth may give two or three children, 180. Whence arises the similitude of children to their parents? 180. How it sometimes happens that children resemble strangers and not their parents, 181. Whence arises barrenness in women, and impotency in men? 181. Why mules are barren, 182. Whether an unborn infant is an animal, 183. How the unborn child is nourished, 183. What part of the body is first formed in the womb? 184. Whence is it that infants born in the seventh month are born alive? 184. Of the generation of animals, 186. How many species of animals there are, and whether all animals have sense and reason, 187. What time is required to shape the parts of animals in the womb? 188. Of what elements is each of our members composed? 188. What causes sleep and death? 188. When is the perfection of a man dated? 189. Does the soul sleep or die with the body? 189. How plants grow, and whether they are animals, 190. Of nourishment and growth, 191. Whence is it that animals have appetites and pleasures? 191. What is the cause of a fever? 192 Of health, sickness, and old age? 192.

A BREVIATE OF A DISCOURSE SHOWING THAT THE STOICS SPEAK GREATER IMPROBABILITIES THAN THE POETS.

BY WILLIAM BAXTER, GENT.

Their philosophy leads to greater delusions than the fictions of the poets; it is more inconsistent with real life and with possible events, 194-196.

Symposiacs. By T. C.

SYMPOSIACS.

BY T. C.

BOOK I. Question 1. At a feast is it allowable to talk learnedly and philosophize? 198. Long and tedious discourses would be out of place: but there must be conversation: let it be on useful subjects, 198-200. There are topics fit to be discussed at table, 200. Easy and pleasant discourse fits the occasion, 201. Disputation and pedantry are out of place, 202. 2. Whether the entertainer should seat the guests, or let every man take his own place, 203. The order and respect due to age, station, and relationship, may be observed without offence to any, the best man should have the best place, 204-206. Custom and decency should guide, 206-208. 3. Upon what account is the place at the table, called Consular, esteemed honorable? 210-212. Three reasons assigned, 211. 4. What qualifications should the steward of a feast possess? 212-216. He must be able to bear wine, have good nature, and suit his ministrations to the wants and tastes of all, 213-215. He must keep the company in good humor, and exclude every thing unpleasant, 216. 5. Why is it said that Love makes a man a poet? 217, 218. Poetry is the language of strong passion, 218. 6. Whether Alexander was a great drinker, 219-221. 7. Why old men love pure wine, 221. 8. Why old men read best at a distance, 222-224. 9. Why fresh water washes clothes better than salt, 224-226. 10. Why, at Athens, was it the privilege of the tribe Aeantis, that their chorus should never be determined to be the last? 226-228.

BOOK II. Question 1. What are the most agreeable questions and most pleasant raillery at an entertainment? 229-240. Questions are agreeable when they give a man opportunity to display his knowledge, to relate his own exploits, or to describe his own prosperity, 230-232. Raillery is pleasant when it refers to faults of which we are known to be innocent; when it implies gratitude for a favor bestowed; and when it proceeds from evident good humor, 233-240. 2. Why in autumn are men’s stomachs better than in other seasons of the year, 240, 241. 3. Which was first, the bird or the egg? 242-246. The perfect must come before the imperfect, 244. 4. Is wrestling the oldest exercise? 246, 247. 5. Why, in reckoning up different kinds of exercises, does Homer put them in this order,—Cuffing, Wrestling, Racing? 248, 249. 6. Why cannot Fir-trees, Pine-trees, and the like be grafted upon? 250, 251. 7. About the fish called Remora or Echeneis, 252. Why the horses called λυκοσπάδες are very mettlesome, 253. 9. Why the flesh of sheep bitten by wolves is sweeter than that of others, and the wool more apt to breed lice, 254. 10. Whether the ancients who provided for every one his mess did better than we who set many to the same dish, 255-258.

BOOK III. Wine reveals men’s secret thoughts, 259. Question 1. Whether it is becoming to wear chaplets of flowers at table, 260-265. Flowers were designed for our pleasure, 262. They have a good medicinal effect, 264. 2. Whether Ivy is of a hot or cold nature, 265-267. 3. Why women are hardly, old men easily, intoxicated, 268-270. 4. Whether the temper of women is colder or hotter than that of men, 270-272. 5. Whether wine is potentially cold, 272-274. 6. Which is the fittest time for a man to know his wife? 274-279. In the evening, not in the daytime, 276-278. 7. Why new wine does not intoxicate, 279, 280. 8. Why persons thoroughly drunk appear better than those only half-drunk, 281. 9. What means the saying, Drink either five or three, but not four? 282, 283. 10. Why flesh stinks sooner when exposed to the moon than to the sun, 284-287.

BOOK IV. A feast should be used for the cultivation of friendship, 288. Question 1. Whether different sorts of food or one single dish, fed upon at once, be more easily digested, 289-295. 2. Why mushrooms are thought to be produced by thunder, and why it is believed that men asleep are never thunderstruck, 295-300. 3. Why men usually invite many guests to a wedding supper, 300, 301. 4. Whether sea or land affords better food, 302-306. 5. Whether the Jews abstain from swine’s flesh because they worship that creature, or because they have an antipathy against it, 307-310. 6. What God is worshiped by the Jews? Bacchus, 310-312.

BOOK V. The soul has pleasures peculiar to itself and distinct from the body, 313. Question 1. Why do we take pleasure in a representation of human suffering, while we are shocked at the reality? 314-316. 2. That the prize for poets at the games was ancient, 316-318. 3. Why was the Pine counted sacred to Neptune and Bacchus, and why at first was the conqueror in the Isthmian Games crowned with a garland of Pine, afterwards with Parsley, and now again with Pine? 318-321. 4. Meaning of that expression in Homer, ζωρότερον δὲ κέραιε, “mix the wine stronger,” 321, 322. 5. Concerning those that invite many to a supper, 323-326 6. Why does a room which at the beginning of a supper seems too narrow for the guests appear wide enough afterwards? 326. 7. Concerning those that are said to bewitch, 327-332. 8. Why does Homer call the apple-tree ἀγλαόκαρπον, and Empedocles call the apples ὑπέρφλοια? 333, 334. 9. Why does the fig-tree, having itself a sharp and bitter taste, bear sweet fruit? 335. 10. What are those that are said to be περὶ ἄλα καὶ κύμινον, and why does Homer call salt divine? 336, 337.

BOOK VI. The memory of a useful discourse gives pleasure long afterwards, 338, 339. Question 1. Why are those that are fasting more inclined to drink than to eat? 339, 340. 2. Whether hunger and thirst are caused by want of nourishment or by a change in the pores or passages of the body, 341-344. 3. Why is hunger allayed by drinking, but thirst increased by eating? 345, 346. 4. Why is a bucket of water drawn out of a well, and left to stand all night in the air that is in the well, colder next morning than the rest of the water? 347, 348. 5. Why do pebble-stones and leaden bullets, thrown into the water, make it more cold? 348, 349. 6. What is the reason that snow is preserved by covering it with chaff and cloths? 350, 351. 7. Ought wine to be strained? 351-354. 8. What is the cause of Bulimy, or the greedy disease? 355-358. 9. Why does Homer appropriate to each particular liquid a special epithet, and use none when speaking of oil? 359, 360. 10. Why is the flesh of sacrificed animals, after being awhile upon a fig-tree, more tender than before? 361, 362.

BOOK VII. Question 1. Plato defended for saying that drink passeth through the lungs, 363-367. 2. What humored man is he whom Plato calls κερασβόλος, and why do seeds that fall on oxen’s horns become ἀτεράμονα? 368-370. 3. Why is the middle of wine, the top of oil, and the bottom of honey the best? 370, 371. 4. Why did the ancient Romans remove the table before all the meat was eaten, and why not extinguish the lamp? 372-375. To leave something for the servants, 374. “Leave something for the Medes”: a proverb in Boeotia, 375. 5. That we ought carefully to preserve ourselves from pleasures arising from bad music; and how it may be done, 376-380. Bad music, the loose ode, enervates and debauches the mind. Have recourse to that which is pure and good, ib. 6. Concerning those guests that are called shadows, whether being invited by some of the invited guests, but not by the entertainer, they ought to go to the house; and if so, in what cases? 381-387. Such a person is placed at a disadvantage on joining the company, and why, 382. But an invited guest, who has liberty to invite others may do so, yet with due caution and discretion; and the others may go, 385, 386. 7. Whether flute-girls may be admitted to a feast, 387, 388. 8. What sort of music is fittest for an entertainment? 389-394. Not tragedy, it is too grave and dignified, 390. But the New Comedy, as that of Menander, or a song with pipe or harp, 391, 392. 9. That the Greeks, as well as the Persians, were accustomed to debate state affairs at their entertainments, 394. 10. Was that a good custom? 395-398. Are men wise over their wine? 396. Men may drink freely, and yet not lose their wit, 397.

BOOK VIII. In our entertainments we may and should use learned and philosophical discourse, 399. Question 1. On the birthdays of famous men, and the generation of the Gods, 400, 401. 2. What is Plato’s meaning when he says that God all ways plays the geometer? 402-406. 3. Why sounds seem louder in the night than in the day, 406-410. 4. In the Sacred Games one sort of garland was given in one, and another in another: why was the Palm common to all? and why call the great dates Νικόλαοι? 411-414. 5. Why do those who sail upon the Nile take up the water they are to use before day? 415, 416 6. Concerning those who come late to an entertainment, and the derivation of the words ἀκράτισμα, ἀριστον, and δεὶπνον, 417-419. The Latin terms compared, 418. 7. Concerning the Symbols of Pythagoras: Receive not a swallow into your house; as soon as you are risen ruffle the bedclothes; and some other precepts: what is their meaning? 419-421. 8. Why the Pythagoreans do not eat fish, 422-426. 9. Whether there can be new diseases, and how caused, 426-432. On the negative, it is said the course of Nature is invariable, 427. The affirmative alleges that the causes of disease may vary, become intense and complicated, 430. Alterations in diet may raise new diseases, 432. 10. Why we give least credit to dreams in Autumn, 432-435.

BOOK IX. Question 1. Concerning verses fitly applied, and the reverse, 436-438. 2, 3. Why is Alpha placed first in the alphabet? and what is the proportion between the number of vowels and semi-vowels? 438-441. 4. Which of the hands of Venus did Diomedes wound? 441. 5. Why Plato says that the soul of Ajax came to draw her lot in the twentieth place in hell, 442, 443. 6. What is meant by the fable about the defeat of Neptune? and why do the Athenians omit the second day of the month Boëdromion? 444, 445. 12. Is it probable that the number of the stars is even or odd? 446. 13. A moot-point from the third book of the Iliad, 446-450. 14. Observations about the number of the Muses, and their relation to human affairs, 450-456. 15. That there are three parts in dancing, motion, gesture, and representation: what each part is, and what is common to both poetry and dancing, 457-460.

Of Moral Virtue. By C. H., Esquire.

OF MORAL VIRTUE.

BY C. H., ESQUIRE.

Plan of the Essay, 461. Opinions of philosophers: of Menedemus, Ariston, Zeno, Chrysippus, 462. Opinion of Plato, 464; of Aristotle, 465. The soul has a twofold nature, 463. It is composed of intellect or reason, and the passions, 465. The reason and an intelligent judgment must govern, 466. The passions by long training becoming subject to the reason, the result is MORAL VIRTUE, 468. Science and Prudence, what, and their objects, 469. How science and prudence differ, 469, 470. Prudence has need of deliberation, 470. It corrects the excesses and defects of passion, 470. Moral virtue is the mean between excess and defect, 471. Yet it needs the ministry of the passions, 471. Mean and mediocrity not the same thing, 471. The idea further illustrated, 472. Continence distinguished from temperance, 473. Incontinence and intemperance, 474. Illustrations, 475, 476. Moral virtue is firm and immovable, 478. The passions are subject to frequent and sudden changes, 478. When reason is overborne by passion, there is a sense of guilt, 479. Reason is not at variance with itself, 480. The soul is at peace, where passion does not interpose, 480. Reason tends to what is true and just, 480. Reason, left to itself, embraces the truth, 481. It is often hindered by passion, 481. Reason and passion often divide the soul, 482. They often harmonize and concur, 483. Some philosophers affirm that reason and passion do not materially differ, 478. Their opinions controverted, 479, et seq. Their improper use of terms, 484. The passions differ with their occasions, 486. Men may mistake in their judgments, 487. The passions, deriving their strength from the body, are powerful in the young, 489. The state of the body corresponds with the state of the passions, 490. We should not seek to exterminate the passions, but to regulate and control them, 490. The passions have their proper use, 491. These considerations are of importance in the government of States, and in the education of the young, 493, 494.

Natural Questions By R. Brown, M.L.

NATURAL QUESTIONS

BY R. BROWN, M.L.

What is the reason that sea-water nourishes not trees? 495. 2. Why do trees and seeds thrive better with rain than with watering? 496. 3. Why do herdsmen place salt before cattle? 497. 4. Why is the water of thunder-showers fitter to water seeds? 498. 5. How comes it to pass that, since there are eight kinds of tastes, we find salt in no kind of fruit? 498, 499. 6. Why, if a man frequently pass along dewy trees, are those limbs that touch the wood seized with leprosy? 500. 7. Why in winter is the sailing of ships more slow in rivers than in the sea? 500. 8. Why, since all other liquors upon moving and stirring about grow cold, does the sea by being tossed in waves grow hot? 501. 9. Why in winter is the saltness of the sea diminished? 501. 10. Why do men pour sea-water into wine, and in defect thereof cast in some Zacynthian earth? 502. 11. What is the cause of sea-sickness? 502. 12. Why does pouring oil on the sea calm its waves? 503. 13. Why do fishermen’s nets decay more in winter than in summer? 503. 14. Why do the Dorians pray for bad making of their hay? 504. 15. Why is rich soil fruitful of wheat, and a thin soil of barley? 504. 16. Why is it said, Sow wheat in clay and barley in dust? 505. 17. Why is the hair of horses, rather than of mares, used for fishing-lines? 505. 18. Why is the sight of a cuttle-fish the sign of a great storm? 505. 19. Why does the polypus change color? 506. 20. Why are the tears of wild boars sweet, and the tears of the hart salt and hurtful? 507. 21. Why do tame sows farrow often, some at one time, and some at other times; and the wild but once a year, and all about the same time? 508. 22. Why are the paws of bears the sweetest and pleasantest food? 509. 23. Why are the tracks of wild beasts found with so much difficulty in spring? 509. 24. Why are their tracks worse scented about the full moon? 509. 25. Why does frost make hunting difficult? 510. 26. Why do brutes, when sick, seek appropriate remedies? 510. 27. Why does must, if the vessel stand in the cold, long continue sweet? 511. 28. Why, of all wild beasts, does not the boar bite the toil, though wolves and foxes do this? 512. 29. Why do we admire natural hot baths, and not cold? 512. 30. Why are vines which are rank of leaves, but otherwise fruitless, said τραγὰν? 513. 31. Why does the vine irrigated with wine, especially its own wine, perish? 513. 32. Why, of all trees, does the palm alone bend upward when a weight is laid on it? 514. 33. Why is pit-water less nutritive than that which comes from springs, or from the clouds? 514. 34. Why is the west wind commonly held to be the swiftest? 515. 35. Why cannot bees abide smoke? 515. 36. Why will bees sooner sting persons who have lately committed whoredom? 516. 37. Why do dogs follow after a stone thrown at them and bite it, letting alone the man who flung it? 516. 38. Why at a certain time of the year do all she-wolves bring forth whelps within the compass of twelve days? 517. 39. How comes it that water, apparently white at the top, is black at the bottom? 518.

INDEX

PLUTARCH’S MORALS.

PLUTARCH’S MORALS.

Vol. Iii. Whether 'Twere Rightly Said, Live Concealed.

VOL. III.

WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID, LIVE CONCEALED.

1. It is sure, he that said it had no mind to live concealed, for he spoke it out of a design of being taken notice of for his very saying it, as if he saw deeper into things than every vulgar eye, and of purchasing to himself a reputation, how unjustly soever, by inveigling others into obscurity and retirement. But the poet says right:

I hate the man who makes pretence to wit, Yet in his own concerns waives using it.[1]

For they tell us of one Philoxenus the son of Eryxis, and Gnatho the Sicilian, who were so over greedy after any dainties set before them, that they would blow their nose in the dish, whereby, turning the stomachs of the other guests, they themselves went away fuller crammed with the rarities. Thus fares it with all those whose appetite is always lusting and insatiate after glory. They bespatter the repute of others, as their rivals in honor, that they themselves may advance smoothly to it and without a rub. They do like watermen, who look astern while they row the boat ahead, still so managing the strokes of the oar that the vessel may make on to its port. So these men who recommend to us such kind of precepts row hard after glory, but with their face another way. To what purpose else need this have been said?—why committed to writing and handed down to posterity? Would he live incognito to his contemporaries, who is so eager to be known to succeeding ages?

2. But besides, doth not the thing itself sound ill, to bid you keep all your lifetime out of the world’s eye, as if you had rifled the sepulchres of the dead, or done such like detestable villany which you should hide for? What! is it grown a crime to live, unless you can keep all others from knowing you do so? For my part, I should pronounce that even an ill-liver ought not to withdraw himself from the converse of others. No; let him be known, let him be reclaimed, let him repent; so that, if you have any stock of virtue, let it not lie unemployed, or if you have been viciously bent, do not by flying the means continue unreclaimed and uncured. Point me out therefore and distinguish me the man to whom you adopt this admonition. If to one devoid of sense, goodness, or wit, it is like one that should caution a person under a fever or raving madness not to let it be known where he is, for fear the physicians should find him, but rather to skulk in some dark corner, where he and his diseases may escape discovery. So you who labor under that pernicious, that scarce curable disease, wickedness, are by parity of reason bid to conceal your vices, your envyings, your superstitions, like some disorderly or feverous pulse, for fear of falling into the hands of them who might prescribe well to you and set you to rights again. Whereas, alas! in the days of remote antiquity, men exhibited the sick to public view, when every charitable passenger who had labored himself under the like malady, or had experienced a remedy on them that did, communicated to the diseased all the receipts he knew; thus, say they, skill in physic was patched up by multiplied experiments, and grew to a mighty art. At the same rate ought all the infirmities of a dissolute life, all the irregular passions of the soul, to be laid open to the view of all, and undergo the touch of every skilful hand, that all who examine into the temper may be able to prescribe accordingly. For instance, doth anger transport you? The advice in that case is, Shun the occasions of it. Doth jealousy torment you? Take this or that course. Art thou love-sick? It hath been my own case and infirmity to be so too; but I saw the folly of it, I repented, I grew wiser. But for those that lie, denying, hiding, mincing, and palliating their vices, it makes them but take the deeper dye, it rivets their faults into them.

3. Again, if on the other hand this advice be calculated for the owners of worth and virtue, if they must be condemned to privacy and live unknown to the world, you do in effect bid Epaminondas lay down his arms, you bid Lycurgus rescind his laws, you bid Thrasybulus spare the tyrants, in a word, you bid Pythagoras forbear his instructions, and Socrates his reasonings and discourses; nay, you lay injunctions chiefly upon yourself, Epicurus, not to maintain that epistolary correspondence with your Asiatic friends, not to entertain your Egyptian visitants, not to be tutor to the youth of Lampsacus, not to present and send about your books to women as well as men, out of an ostentation of some wisdom in yourself more than vulgar, not to leave such particular directions about your funeral. And in fine, to what purpose, Epicurus, did you keep a public table? Why that concourse of friends, that resort of fair young men, at your doors? Why so many thousand lines so elaborately composed and writ upon Metrodorus, Aristobulus, and Chaeredemus, that death itself might not rob us of them; if virtue must be doomed to oblivion, art to idleness and inactivity, philosophy to silence, and all a man’s happiness must be forgotten?

4. But if indeed, in the state of life we are under, you will needs seclude us from all knowledge and acquaintance with the world (as men shut light from their entertainments and drinking-bouts, for which they set the night apart), let it be only such who make it the whole business of life to heap pleasure upon pleasure; let such live recluses all their days. Were I, in truth, to wanton away my days in the arms of your miss Hedeia, or spend them with Leontium, another dear of yours,—were I to bid defiance to virtue, or to place all that’s good in the gratification of the flesh or the ticklings of a sensual pleasure,—these accursed actions and rites would need darkness and an eternal night to veil them; and may they ever be doomed to oblivion and obscurity. But what should they hide their heads for, who with regard to the works of nature own and magnify a God, who celebrate his justice and providence, who in point of morality are due observers of the law, promoters of society and community among all men, and lovers of the public-weal, and who in the administration thereof prefer the common good before private advantage? Why should such men cloister up themselves, and live recluses from the world? For would you have them out of the way, for fear they should set a good example, and allure others to virtue out of emulation of the precedent? If Themistocles’s valor had been unknown at Athens, Greece had never given Xerxes that repulse. Had not Camillus shown himself in defence of the Romans, their city Rome had no longer stood. Sicily had not recovered her liberty, had Plato been a stranger to Dion. Truly (in my mind) to be known to the world under some eminent character not only carries a reputation with it, but makes the virtues in us become practical like light, which renders us not only visible but useful to others. Epaminondas, during the first forty years of his life, in which no notice was taken of him, was an useless citizen to Thebes; but afterwards, when he had once gained credit and the government amongst the Thebans, he both rescued them from present destruction, and freed even Greece herself from imminent slavery, exhibiting (like light, which is in its own nature glorious, and to others beneficial at the same time) a valor seasonably active and serviceable to his country, yet interwoven with his own laurels. For

Virtue, like finest brass, by use grows bright.[2]

And not our houses alone, when (as Sophocles has it) they stand long untenanted, run the faster to ruin; but men’s natural parts, lying unemployed for lack of acquaintance with the world, contract a kind of filth or rust and craziness thereby. For sottish ease, and a life wholly sedentary and given up to idleness, spoil and debilitate not only the body but the soul too. And as close waters shadowed over by bordering trees, and stagnated in default of springs to supply current and motion to them, become foul and corrupt; so, methinks, is it with the innate faculties of a dull unstirring soul,—whatever usefulness, whatever seeds of good she may have latent in her, yet when she puts not these powers into action, when once they stagnate, they lose their vigor and run to decay.

5. See you not how on night’s approach a sluggish drowsiness oft-times seizes the body, and sloth and inactiveness surprise the soul, and she finds herself heavy and quite unfit for action? Have you not then observed how a man’s reason (like fire scarce visible and just going out) retires into itself, and how by reason of its inactivity and dulness it is gently agitated by divers fantastical imaginations, so that nothing remains but some obscure indications that the man is alive.

But when the orient sun brings back the day, It chases night and dreamy sleep away.

It doth, as it were, bring the world together again, and with his returned light call up and excite all mankind to thought and action; and, as Democritus tells us, men setting themselves every new-spring day to endeavors of mutual beneficence and service one towards another, as if they were fastened in the straitest tie together, do all of them, some from one, some from another quarter of the world, rouse up and awake to action.

6. For my own part, I am fully persuaded that life itself, and our being born at the rate we are, and the origin we share in common with all mankind, were vouchsafed us by God to the intent we should be known to one another. It is true, whilst man, in that little part of him, his soul, lies struggling and scattered in the vast womb of the universe, he is an obscure and unknown being; but, when once he gets hither into this world and puts a body on, he grows illustrious, and from an obscure becomes a conspicuous being; from an hidden, an apparent one. For knowledge does not lead to essence (or being), as some maintain; but the essence of things rather conducts us into the knowledge and understanding thereof. For the birth or generation of individuals gives not any being to them which they had not before, but brings that individual into view; as also the corruption or death of any creature is not its annihilation or reduction into mere nothing, but rather a sending the dissolved being into an invisible state. Hence is it that many persons (conformably to their ancient country laws), taking the Sun to be Apollo, gave him the names of Delius and Pythius (that is, conspicuous and known). But for him, be he either God or Daemon, who hath dominion over the opposite portion, the infernal regions, they call him Hades (that is, invisible)

Emperor of gloomy night and lazy sleep,

for that at our death and dissolution we pass into a state of invisibility and beyond the reach of mortal eyes. I am indeed of opinion, that the ancients called man Phos (that is, light), because from the affinity of their natures strong desires are bred in mankind of continually seeing and being seen to each other. Nay, some philosophers hold the soul itself to be essentially light; which they would prove by this among other arguments, that nothing is so insupportable to the mind of man as ignorance and obscurity. Whatever is destitute of light she avoids, and darkness, the harbor of fears and suspicions, is uneasy to her; whereas, on the other hand, light is so delicious, so desirable a thing, that without that, and wrapped in darkness, none of the delectables in nature are pleasing to her. This makes all our very pleasures, all our diversions and enjoyments, charming and grateful to us, like some universal relishing ingredients mixed with the others to make them palatable. But he that casts himself into obscure retirements, he that sits surrounded in darkness and buries himself alive, seems, in my mind, to repine at his own birth and grudge he ever had a being.

7. And yet it is certain, in the regions prepared for pious souls, they conserve not only an existence in (or agreeable to) nature, but are encircled with glory.

There the sun with glorious ray, Chasing shady night away, Makes an everlasting day; Where souls in fields of purple roses play; Others in verdant plains disport, Crowned with trees of every sort, Trees that never fruit do bear, But always in the blossom are.[3]

The rivers there without rude murmurs gently glide, and there they meet and bear each other company, passing away their time in commemorating and running over things past and present.

A third state there is of them who have led vicious and wicked lives, which precipitates souls into a kind of hell and miserable abyss,

Where sluggish streams of sable night Spout floods of darkness infinite.[**duplicate anchor]

This is the receptacle of the tormented; here lie they hid under the veils of eternal ignorance and oblivion. For vultures do not everlastingly gorge themselves upon the liver of a wicked man, exposed by angry Gods upon the earth, as poets fondly feign of Prometheus. For either rottenness or the funeral pile hath consumed that long ago. Nor do the bodies of the tormented undergo (as Sisyphus is fabled to do) the toil and pressure of weighty burdens;

For strength no longer flesh and bone sustains.[4]

There are no reliques of the body in dead men which stripes and tortures can make impressions on; but in very truth the sole punishment of ill-livers is an inglorious obscurity, or a final abolition, which through oblivion hurls and plunges them into deplorable rivers, bottomless seas, and a dark abyss, involving all in uselessness and inactivity, absolute ignorance and obscurity, as their last and eternal doom.

An Abstract Of A Comparison Betwixt Aristophanes And Menander.

1. To speak in sum and in general, he prefers Menander by far; and as to particulars, he adds what here ensues. Aristophanes, he saith, is importune, theatric, and sordid in his expression; but Menander not so at all. For the rude and vulgar person is taken with the things the former speaketh; but the well-bred man will be quite out of humor with them. I mean, his opposed terms, his words of one cadence, and his derivatives. For the one makes use of these with due observance and but seldom, and bestows care upon them; but the other frequently, unseasonably, and frigidly. “For he is much commended,” said he, “for ducking the chamberlains, they being indeed not chamberlains (ταμίαι) but bugbears (Λαμίαι).” And again,—“This rascal breathes out nothing but roguery and affidavitry;” and “Beat him well in his belly with the entrails and the guts;” and, “I shall laugh till I go to Laughington (Γέλαν);” and, “Thou poor sharded ostracized pot, what shall I do with thee?” and, “To you women surely he is a mad plague, for he grew up himself among these mad worts;”—and, “Look here, how the moths have eaten away my crest;” and, “Bring me hither the gorgon-backed circle of my shield;” “Give me the round-backed circle of a cheese-cake;”—and much more of such like stuff.[5] There is then in the structure of his words something tragic and something comic, something blustering and something prosaic, an obscurity, a vulgarness, a turgidness, and a strutting, with a nauseous prattling and fooling. And as his style has so great varieties and dissonances in it, so neither doth he give to his persons what is fitting and proper to each,—as state (for instance) to a prince, force to an orator, innocence to a woman, meanness of language to a poor man, and sauciness to a tradesman,—but he deals out to every person, as it were by lot, such words as come next to his hand, and you would scarce discern whether he that is talking be a son, a father, a peasant, a God, an old woman, or a hero.

2. But now Menander’s phrase is so well turned and contempered with itself, and so everywhere conspiring, that, while it traverses many passions and humors and is accommodated to all sorts of persons, it still shows the same, and even retains its semblance in trite, familiar, and every-day expressions. And if his master do now and then require something of rant and noise, he doth but (like a skilful flutist) set open all the holes of his pipe, and then presently stop them again with good decorum and restore the tune to its natural state. And though there be a great number of excellent artists of all professions, yet never did any shoemaker make the same sort of shoe, or tireman the same sort of visor, or tailor the same sort of garment, to fit a man, a woman, a child, an old man, and a slave. But Menander hath so addressed his style, as to proportion it to every sex, condition, and age; and this, though he took the business in hand when he was very young, and died in the vigor of his composition and action, when, as Aristotle tells us, authors receive most and greatest improvement in their styles. If a man shall then compare the middle and last with the first of Menander’s plays, he will by them easily conceive what others he would have added to them, had he had but longer life.

3. He adds further, that of dramatic exhibitors, some address themselves to the crowd and populace, and others again to a few; but it is a hard matter to say which of them all knew what was befitting in both the kinds. But Aristophanes is neither grateful to the vulgar, nor tolerable to the wise; but it fares with his poesy as it doth with a courtesan who, when she finds she is now stricken and past her prime, counterfeits a sober matron, and then the vulgar cannot endure her affectation, and the better sort abominate her lewdness and wicked nature. But Menander hath with his charms shown himself every way sufficient for satisfaction, being the sole lecture, argument, and dispute at theatres, schools, and at tables; hereby rendering his poesy the most universal ornament that was ever produced by Greece, and showing what and how extraordinary his ability in language was, while he passes every way with an irresistible persuasion, and wins every man’s ear and understanding who has knowledge of the Greek tongue. And for what other reason in truth should a man of parts and erudition be at the pains to frequent the theatre, but for the sake of Menander only? And when are the play-houses better filled with men of letters, than when his comic mask is exhibited? And at private entertainments among friends, for whom doth the table more justly make room or Bacchus give place than for Menander? To philosophers also and hard students (as painters are wont, when they have tired out their eyes at their work, to divert them to certain florid and green colors) Menander is a repose from their auditors and intense thinkings, and entertains their minds with gay shady meadows refreshed with cool and gentle breezes.

4. He adds, moreover, that though this city breeds at this time very many and excellent representers of comedy, Menander’s plays participate of a plenteous and divine salt, as if they were made of the very sea out of which Venus herself sprang. But that of Aristophanes is harsh and coarse and hath in it an angry and biting sharpness. And for my part I cannot tell where his so much boasted ability lies, whether in his style or persons. The parts he acts I am sure are quite over-acted and depraved. His knave (for instance) is not fine, but dirty; his peasant is not assured, but stupid; his droll is not jocose, but ridiculous; and his lover is not gay, but lewd. So that to me the man seems not to have written his poesy for any temperate person, but to have intended his smut and obscenity for the debauched and lewd, his invective and satire for the malicious and ill-humored.

OF BANISHMENT, OR FLYING ONE’S COUNTRY.

1. One may say of discourses what they use to say of friends, that they are the best and firmest that afford their useful presence and help in calamities. Many indeed present themselves and discourse with those that are fallen into misfortunes, who yet do them more harm than good. Like men that attempt to succor drowning persons and have themselves no skill in diving under water, they entangle one another, and sink together to the bottom. The discourses of friends, such as would help an afflicted person, ought to be directed to the consolation, and not to the patronage of his sorrows. For we have no need in our distresses of such as may bear us company in weeping and howling, like a chorus in a tragedy, but of such as will deal freely with us, and will convince us that,—as it is in all cases vain and foolish and to no purpose to grieve and cast down one’s self,—so, when the things themselves that afflict us, after a rational examination and discovery of what they are, give a man leave to say to himself thus.

Thou feel’st but little pain and smart. Unless thou’lt feign and act a part,

it would be extremely ridiculous for him not to put the question to his body, and ask it what it has suffered, nor to his soul, and ask how much worse it is become by this accident, but only to make use of those teachers of grief from abroad, who come to bear a part with him in his sorrow, or to express indignation at what has happened.

2. Let us therefore, when we are alone, question with ourselves concerning the things that have befallen us, considering them as heavy loads. The body, we know, is under pressure by a burden lying upon it; but the soul oft-times adds a further weight of her own to things. A stone is hard and ice is cold by nature, not by any thing from without happening to make such qualities and impressions upon them. But as for banishment and disgraces and loss of honors (and so for their contraries, crowns, chief rule, and precedency of place), our opinion prescribing the measure of our joys or sorrows and not the nature of the things themselves, every man makes them to himself light or heavy, easy to be borne or grievous. You may hear Polynices’s answer to this question,

JOCAST. But say, is’t so deplorable a case To live in exile from one’s native place? POLYN. It’s sad indeed; and whatsoe’er you guess, ’Tis worse to endure than any can express.[6]

But you may hear Alcman in quite another strain, as the epigrammatist has brought him in saying:

Sardis, my ancient fatherland, Hadst thou, by Fate’s supreme command, My helpless childhood nourished, I must have begg’d my daily bread, Or else, a beardless priest become, Have toss’d Cybele frantic down. Now Alcman I am call’d—a name Inscribed in Sparta’s lists of fame, Whose many tripods record bear Of solemn wreaths and tripods rare, Achieved in worship at the shrine Of Heliconian maids divine, By whose great aid I’m mounted higher Than Gyges or his wealthy sire.[7]

Thus one man’s opinion makes the same thing commodious, like current money, and another man’s unserviceable and hurtful.

3. But let us grant (as many say and sing) that it is a grievous thing to be banished. So there are also many things that we eat, of a bitter, sharp, and biting taste, which yet by a mixture of other things more mild and sweet have all their unpleasantness taken off. There are also some colors troublesome to look upon, which bear so hard and strike so piercingly upon the sight, that they confound and dazzle it; if now by mixing shadows with them, or by turning our eyes upon some green and pleasant color, we remedy this inconvenience, thou mayst also do the same to the afflictions that befall thee, considering them with a mixture of those advantages and benefits thou still enjoyest, as wealth, friends, vacancy from business, and a supply of all things necessary to human life. For I think there are few Sardians but would desire to be in your condition, though banished, and would choose to live as you may do, though in a strange country, rather than—like snails that grow to their shells—enjoy no other good, saving only what they have at home without trouble.

4. As he therefore in the comedy that advised his unfortunate friend to take heart and to revenge himself of Fortune, being asked which way, answered, By the help of philosophy; so we also may be revenged of her, by acting worthily like philosophers. For what course do we take when it is rainy weather, or a cold north wind blows? We creep to the fireside, or go into a bath, put on more clothes, or go into a dry house; and do not sit still in a shower and cry. It is in thy power above most men’s to revive and cherish that part of thy life which seems to be chill and benumbed, not needing any other helps, but only according to thy best judgment and prudence making use of the things that thou possessest. The cupping-glasses physicians use, by drawing the worst humors out of the body, alleviate and preserve the rest; but they that are prone to grieve and make sad complaints, by mustering together alway the worst of their afflictive circumstances, by debating these things over and over, being fastened (as it were) to their troubles, make the most advantageous things to be wholly useless to themselves, and especially when their case requires most help and assistance. As for those two hogsheads, my friend, which Homer says lie in heaven, full, the one of the good, the other of the ill fates of men,—it is not Jupiter that sits to draw out and transmit to some a moderate share of evils mixed with good, but to others only unqualified streams of evil; but it is we ourselves who do it. Those of us that are wise, drawing out of the good to temper with our evils, make our lives pleasant and potable; but the greater part (which are fools) are like sieves, which let the best pass through, but the worst and the very dregs of misfortune stick to them and remain behind.

5. Wherefore, if we fall into any real evil or calamity, we must bring in what is pleasant and delightful of the remaining good things in our possession, and thus, by what we enjoy at home, mitigate the sense of those evils that befall us from abroad. But where there is no evil in the nature of the things, but the whole of that which afflicts us is framed by imagination and false opinion, in this case we must do just as we deal with children that are apt to be frighted with false faces and vizards; by bringing them nearer, and making them handle and turn them on every side, they are brought at last to despise them; so we, by a nearer touching and fixing our consideration upon our feigned evils, may be able to detect and discover the weakness and vanity of what we fear and so tragically deplore.

Such is your present condition of being banished out of that which you account your country; for nature has given us no country, as it has given us no house or field, no smith’s or apothecary’s shop, as Ariston said; but every one of them is always made or rather called such a man’s by his dwelling in it or making use of it. For man (as Plato says) is not an earthly and unmovable, but a heavenly plant, the head raising the body erect as from a root, and directed upwards toward heaven.[8] Hence is that saying of Hercules:

Am I of Thebes or Argos? Whether You please, for I’m content with either; But to determine one, ’tis pity, In Greece my country’s every city.

But Socrates expressed it better, when he said, he was not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world (just as a man calls himself a citizen of Rhodes or Corinth), because he did not enclose himself within the limits of Sunium, Taenarum, or the Ceraunian mountains.

Behold how yonder azure sky, Extending vastly wide and high To infinitely distant spaces, In her soft arms our earth embraces.[9]

These are the boundaries of our country, and no man is an exile or a stranger or foreigner in these, where there is the same fire, water, air, the same rulers, administrators, and presidents, the same sun, moon, and daystar; where there are the same laws to all, and where, under one orderly disposition and government, are the summer and winter solstices, the equinoxes, Pleiades, Arcturus, times of sowing and planting; where there is one king and supreme ruler, which is God, who comprehends the beginning, the middle, and end of the universe; who passes through all things in a straight course, compassing all things according to nature: justice follows him to take vengeance on those that transgress the divine law, which justice we naturally all make use of towards all men, as being citizens of the same community.

6. But for thee to complain that thou dost not dwell at Sardis is no objection; for all the Athenians do not inhabit Collytus, nor do all the men of Corinth live in the Cranium, nor all of Lacedaemon in Pitane.

Do you look upon those Athenians as strangers and banished persons who removed from Melite to Diomea,—whence they called the month Metageitnion, and the sacrifices they offered in memory of their removal Metageitnia, being pleased with and cheerfully accepting this new neighborhood to another people? Surely you will not say so. What parts of the inhabited earth or of the whole earth can be said to be far distant one from another, when mathematicians demonstrate that the whole earth is to be accounted as an indivisible point, compared with the heavens? But we, like pismires or bees, when we are cast out of one ant-hill or hive, are in great anxiety, and take on as if we were strangers and undone, not knowing how to make and account all things our own, as indeed they are. We shall certainly laugh at his folly who shall affirm there was a better moon at Athens than at Corinth; and yet we in a sort commit the same error, when being in a strange country we look upon the earth, the sea, the air, the heavens doubtfully, as if they were not the same, but quite different from those we have been accustomed to. Nature in our first production sent us out free and loose; we bind and straiten and pin up ourselves in houses, and reduce ourselves into a scant and little room.

Moreover, we laugh at the kings of Persia, who (if the story be true) will drink only the water of the River Choaspes, by this means making the rest of the habitable world to be without water, as to themselves; but we, when we remove to other countries, and retain our longings after Cephissus and Eurotas, and are pleased with nothing so much as the hills Taygetus and Parnassus, we make the whole earth unhabitable to ourselves, and are without a house or city where we can dwell.

7. When certain Egyptians, not enduring the anger and hard usage of their king, went to dwell in Ethiopia, and some earnestly entreated them to return to their wives and children they had left behind them, they very impudently showed them their privy parts, saying they should never want wives or children whilst they carried those about them. But it is more grave and becoming to say that whosoever happens to be provided with a competency of the necessaries to life, wheresoever he is, is not without a city or a dwelling, nor need reckon himself a stranger there; only he ought to have besides these prudence and consideration, like a governing anchor, that he may be able to make advantage of any port at which he arrives. It is not easy indeed for him that has lost his wealth quickly to gather it up again; but every city becomes presently that man’s country who has the skill to use it, and who has those roots which can live and thrive, cling and grow to every place. Such had Themistocles, and such had Demetrius Phalareus; for this last named, after his banishment, being the prime friend of King Ptolemy in Alexandria, not only was abundantly provided for himself, but also sent presents to the Athenians. As for Themistocles, he was maintained by an allowance suitable to his quality at the King’s charge, and is reported to have said to his wife and children, We had been undone, if we had not been undone. Diogenes the Cynic also, when one told him, The Sinopians have condemned thee to fly from Pontus, replied, And I have condemned them to stay in Pontus,

Close prisoners there to be, At th’ utmost shore of the fierce Euxine Sea.[10]

Stratonicus enquiring of his host in the isle of Seriphus what crime among them was punished with banishment, and being told forgery was so punished, he asked him why he did not commit that crime that he might be removed out of that strait place; and yet there, as the comedian expresses it, they reap down their figs with slings, and that island is provided with all things that it wants.

8. For if you consider the truth of things, setting aside vain fancy and opinion, he that has got an agreeable city to dwell in is a stranger and foreigner to all the rest, for it seems not reasonable and just, that leaving his own he should go to dwell in another city. As the proverb is, “Sparta is the province fallen to your lot, adorn it,” though it should be in no credit or prove unhealthful, though disturbed with seditions, and its affairs in distemper and out of order. But as for him whom Fortune has deprived of his own habitation, it gives him leave to go and dwell where he pleases. That good precept of the Pythagoreans, “Make choice of the best life you can, and custom will make it pleasant,” is here also wise and useful. Choose the best and pleasantest place to live in, and time will make it thy country, and such a country as will not encumber and distract thee, not laying on thee such commands as these,—Bring in so much money; Go on such an embassy to Rome; Entertain such a governor; Bear such a public office. If a prudent person and no way conceited, calls these things to mind, he will choose to live in exile in such a sorry island as Gyarus, or in Cynarus that is “so hard and barren and unfit for plantation,” and do this without reluctancy, not making such sorrowful complaints as the women do in the poet Simonides:

The troubled sea’s dark waves surround me, And with their horrid noise confound me;

but will rather remind himself of that saying of King Philip, who receiving a fall in a place of wrestling, when he turned himself in rising and saw the print of his body in the dust, exclaimed, Good God! what a small portion of earth has Nature assigned us, and yet we covet the whole world.

9. I presume you have seen the island of Naxos, or at least the town of Hyria here hard by; in the former of which Ephialtes and Otus made their abode, and in the latter Orion dwelt. Alcmaeon’s seat was on the newly hardened mud which the river Achelous had cast up,—when he fled from the Furies, as the poets tell us,—but I guess it was when he fled from the rulers of the state and from seditions, and to avoid those furies, the sycophants and informers, that he chose that little spot of ground to dwell on, where he was free from business and lived in ease and quiet. Tiberius Caesar passed the last seven years of his life in the island of Capreae; and that sacred governing spirit that swayed the whole world, and was enclosed as it were in his breast, yet for so long time never removed nor changed place. And yet the thoughts and cares of the empire, that were poured in upon him and invaded him on every side, made that island’s repose and retirement to be less pure and undisturbed to him. But he that by retreating to a small island can free himself from great evils is a miserable man, if he does not often say and sing those verses of Pindar to himself,—

Where slender cypress grows I’d have a seat, But care not for the shady woods of Crete! I’ve little land and so not many trees, But free from sorrow I enjoy much ease,—

not being disquieted with seditions or the edicts of princes, nor with administering affairs when the public is in straits, nor undergoing officers that are hard to be put by and denied.

10. For if that be a good saying of Callimachus, that we ought not to measure wisdom by a Persian cord, much less should we measure happiness by cords of furlongs, or, if we chance to inhabit an island of two hundred furlongs and not (like Sicily) of four days’ sail in compass, think that we ought to disquiet ourselves and lament as if we were very miserable and unfortunate. For what does a place of large extent contribute to the tranquillity of one’s life? Do you not hear Tantalus saying in the tragedy:

I sow the Berecyntian ground, A field of twelve days’ journey round?

But he says a little after:

My mind, that used to mount the skies, Fallen to the earth dejected lies, And now this friendly counsel brings,— Less to admire all earthly things.[11]

Nausithous, forsaking the spacious country of Hyperia because the Cyclops bordered upon it, and removing to an island far distant from all other people, chose there,

Remote from all commerce t’ abide, By sea’s surrounding waves denied;[12]

and yet he procured a very pleasant way of living to his own citizens.

The Cyclades islands were formerly inhabited by the children of Minos, and afterwards by the children of Codrus and Neleus; in which now fools that are banished thither think they are punished. And indeed, what island is there to which men are wont to be banished that is not larger than the land that lies about Scillus, in which Xenophon after his military expedition passed delicately his old age? The Academy near Athens, that was purchased for three thousand drachmas, was the place where Plato, Xenocrates, and Polemo dwelt; there they held their schools, and there they lived all their lifetime, except one day every year, when Xenocrates came into the city at the time of the Bacchanals and the new tragedies, to grace the feast, as they say. Theocritus of Chios reproached Aristotle, who affected a court-life with Philip and Alexander, that he chose instead of the Academy rather to dwell at the mouth of Borborus. For there is a river by Pella, which the Macedonians call by that name.

But as for islands, Homer sets himself as it were studiously to commend them in these verses:

He comes to the isle of Lemnos, and the town Where divine Thoas dwelt, of great renown;

and

As much as fruitful Lesbos does contain, A seat which Gods above do not disdain;

and

When he to th’ lofty hills of Scyros came, And took the town that boasts Enyeus’s name;

and

These from Dulichium and th’ Echinades, Blest isles, that lie ’gainst Elis, o’er the seas.[13]

And among the famous men that dwelt in islands they reckon Aeolus, a great favorite of the Gods, the most prudent Ulysses, the most valiant Ajax, and Alcinous, the most courteous entertainer of strangers.

11. When Zeno was told that the only ship he had remaining was cast away at sea with all her lading, he replied: Well done Fortune, that hast reduced me to the habit and life of a philosopher. And, indeed, a man that is not puffed up with conceit nor madly in love with a crowd will not, I suppose, have any reason to accuse Fortune for constraining him to live in an island, but will rather commend her for removing so much anxiety and agitation of his mind, for putting a stop to his rambles in foreign countries, to his dangers at sea, and the noise and tumult of the exchange, and for giving him a fixed, vacant, undisturbed life, such a life as he may truly call his own, describing as it were a circle about him, in which is contained the use of all things necessary. For what island is there that has not a horse, a walk, and a bath in it; that has not fishes and hares for such as delight in hunting and angling and such like sports? But the chiefest of all is, that the quiet which others thirst so much after thou commonly mayst have here without seeking. For those that are gamesters at dice, shutting up themselves at home, there are sycophants and busy spies that hunt them out, and prosecute them from their houses of pleasure and gardens in the suburbs, and hale them by violence before the judges or the court. But none sails to an island to give a man any disturbance, no petitioner, no borrower, no urger to suretyship, no one that comes to beg his voice when he stands candidate for an office; only the best friends and familiars, out of good-will and desire to see him, may come over thither; and the rest of his life is safe and inviolable to him, if he has the will and the skill to live at ease. But he that cries up the happiness of those that run about in other countries, or spend the most of their life in inns and passage-boats, is no wiser than he is that thinks the planets in a better estate than the fixed stars. And yet every planet rolling about in its proper sphere, as in an island, keeps its order. For the sun never transgresses its limited measures, as Heraclitus says; if it did do so, the Furies, which are the attendants of Justice, would find it out and punish it.

12. These things, my friend, and such like we say and sing to those who, by being banished into an island, have no correspondence or commerce with other people,

Hindered by waves of the surrounding deep, Which many ’gainst their mind close prisoners keep.[14]

But as for thee, who art not assigned to one place only, but forbidden only to live in one, the prohibiting thee one is the giving thee leave to dwell anywhere else besides. If on one hand it is urged thus against you: You are in no office, you are not of the senate, nor preside as moderator at the public games, you may oppose on the other hand thus: We head no factions, we make no expensive treats, nor give long attendance at the governor’s gates; we care not at all who is chosen into our province, though he be choleric or unsufferably vexatious.

But just as Archilochus disparaged the island of Thasos because of its asperity and inequality in some places overlooking its fruitful fields and vineyards, saying thus of it,

Like ridge of ass’s back it stood, Full of wild plants, for nothing good;

so we, whilst we pore upon one part of banishment which is ignominious, overlook its vacancy from business, and that leisure and freedom it affords us.

Men admired the happiness of the Persian kings, that passed their winter in Babylon, their summer in Media, and the pleasant spring-time at Susa. And he that is an exile may, if he pleases, when the mysteries of Ceres are celebrated, go and live at Eleusis; and he may keep the feasts of Bacchus at Argos; at the time of the Pythian games, he may pass over to Delphi, and of the Isthmian, to Corinth, if public spectacles and shows are the things he admires; if not, then he may be idle, or walk, or read, or sleep quietly; and you may add that privilege Diogenes bragged of when he said, “Aristotle dines when it seems good to King Philip, but Diogenes when he himself pleases,” having no business, no magistrate, no prefect to interrupt and disturb his customary way of living.

13. For this reason, you will find that very few of the most prudent and wise men were buried in their own country, but the most of them, when none forced them to it, weighed anchor and steered their course to live in another port, removing some to Athens, and others from it.

Who ever gave a greater encomium of his own country than Euripides in the following verses?

We are all of this country’s native race, Not brought-in strangers from another place, As some, like dice hither and thither thrown, Remove in haste from this to t’other town. And, if a woman may have leave to boast, A temperate air breathes here in every coast; We neither curse summer’s immoderate heat, Nor yet complain the winter’s cold’s too great.

If aught there be that noble Greece doth yield, Or Asia rich, by river or by field, We seek it out and bring it to our doors.

And yet he that wrote all this went himself into Macedonia, and passed the rest of his days in the court of Archelaus. I suppose you have also heard of this short epigram:

Here lieth buried Aeschylus, the son Of the Athenian Euphorion; In Sicily his latest breath did yield, And buried lies by Gela’s fruitful field.

For both he and Simonides before him went into Sicily. And whereas we meet with this title, “This publication of the History of Herodotus of Halicarnassus,” many have changed it into Herodotus of Thurii, for he dwelt at Thurii, and was a member of that colony. And that sacred and divine poet Homer, that adorned the Trojan war,—why was he a controversy to so many cities (every one pleading he was theirs) but because he did not cry up any one of them to the disparagement of the rest? Many also and great are the honors that are paid to Jupiter Hospitalis.

14. If any one object, that these men hunted ambitiously after glory and honor, let him go to the philosophers and the schools and nurseries of wisdom at Athens, those in the Lyceum, the Academy, the Stoa, the Palladium, the Odeum. If he admires and prefers the Peripatetic philosophy before the rest, Aristotle was a native of Stagira, Theophrastus of Ephesus, Straton of Lampsacus, Glycon of Troas, Ariston of Ceus, Critolaus of Phaselis. If thou art for the Stoic philosophy, Zeno was of Citium, Cleanthes of Assus, Chrysippus of Soli, Diogenes of Babylon, Antipater of Tarsus, and Archedemus who was of Athens went over to the Parthians, and left a succession of Stoic philosophers in Babylon. And who, I pray, persecuted and chased these men out of their country? Nobody at all; but they pursued their own quiet, which men cannot easily enjoy at home that are in any reputation or have any power; other things they taught us by what they said, but this by what they did. For even now the most approved and excellent persons live abroad out of their own country, not being transported, but departing voluntarily, not being driven thence, but flying from business and from the disquiets and molestations which they are sure to meet with at home.

It seems to me that the Muses helped the ancient writers to finish their choicest and most approved compositions, by calling in, as it were, banishment to their assistance. Thucydides the Athenian wrote the Peloponnesian and Athenian War in Thrace, hard by the forest of Scapte; Xenophon wrote his history in Scillus belonging to Elis; Philistus in Epirus, Timaeus of Tauromenum at Athens, Androtion the Athenian in Megara, Bacchylides the poet in Peloponnesus. These and many more, after they had lost their country, did not lose all hope nor were dejected in their minds, but took occasion thereupon to express the vivacity of their spirit and the dexterity of their wit, receiving their banishment at the hands of Fortune as a viaticum that she had sent them; whereby they became renowned everywhere after death, whereas there is no remaining mention of those factious persons that expelled them.

15. He therefore is ridiculous that looks upon it as an ignominious thing to be banished. For what is it that thou sayest? Was Diogenes ignominious, when Alexander, who saw him sitting and sunning himself, came and asked him whether he wanted any thing, and he answered him, that he lacked nothing but that he would go a little aside and not stand in his light? The king, admiring the presence of his mind, turned to his followers and said: If I were not Alexander, I would be Diogenes. Was Camillus inglorious because he was expelled Rome, considering he has got the reputation of being its second founder? Neither did Themistocles by his banishment lose any of the renown he had gained in Greece, but added to it that which he had acquired among the barbarians; neither is there any so without all sense of honor, or of such an abject mind, that had not rather be Themistocles the banished, than Leobates that indicted him; or be Cicero that had the same fate, than Clodius that expelled him Rome; or be Timotheus that abandoned his country, than Aristophon that was his accuser.

16. But because the words of Euripides move many, who seems to frame a heavy charge against banishment and to urge it home, let us see what he says more particularly in his questions and answers about it.

JOCASTA. But is’t so sad one’s country to forego, And live in exile? Pray, son, let me know.

POL. Some ills when told are great, when tried are less; But this is saddest felt, though sad t’ express.

JOC. What is’t, I pray, afflicts the banished most?

POL. That liberty to speak one’s mind is lost.

JOC. He is indeed a slave that dares not utter His thoughts, nor ’gainst his cruel masters mutter.

POL. But all their insolencies must o’erpass, And bear their follies tamely like an ass.[15]

These assertions of his are neither good nor true. For first, not to speak what one thinks is not a piece of slavery; but it is the part of a prudent man to hold one’s peace and be silent when time and the circumstances of affairs require it; as he himself says better elsewhere, that a wise man knows

Both when it’s best no tongue to find, And when it’s safe to speak his mind.

Again, as for the rudeness and insolency of such as have power in their hands, they that stay in their country are no less forced to bear and endure it than those that are driven out of it; nay, commonly the former stand more in fear of false informations and the violence of unjust rulers in cities than the latter. But his greatest mistake and absurdity is his taking away all freedom of speech from exiles. It is wonderful indeed if Theodorus had no freedom of this kind, who,—when King Lysimachus said to him: Thou being such a criminal, the country cast thee forth, did it not?—replied: Yes, not being able to bear me; just as Semele cast out Bacchus, when she could bear him no longer. And when the king showed him Telesphorus in an iron cage, with his eyes digged out of their holes, his nose and ears and tongue cut off, and said: So I deal with those that injure me, he was not abashed. What! did not Diogenes retain his wonted freedom of speaking, who coming into King Philip’s camp, when he was going to give the Grecians battle, was brought before him for a spy; and confessed that he was so, but that he came to take a view of his unsatiable greediness of empire and of his madness and folly who was going in the short time of a fight to throw a die for his crown and life?

And what say you to Hannibal the Carthaginian? Did not he use a convenient freedom towards Antiochus (he at that time an exile, and the other a king), when upon an advantageous occasion he advised him to give his enemies battle? He, when he had sacrificed, told him the entrails forbade it. Hannibal sharply rebuked him thus: You are for doing what the flesh of a beast, not what the reason of a wise man, adviseth.

Neither does banishment deprive geometricians or mathematicians of the liberty of discoursing freely concerning matters they know and have skill in; and why should any worthy or good man be denied it? But meanness of thought obstructs and hinders the voice, strangles the power of speech, and makes a man a mute. But let us see what follows from Euripides:

JOC. Upon good hopes exiles can thrive, they say.

POL. Hopes have fine looks, but kill one with delay.[16]

This is also an accusation of men’s folly rather than of banishment; for it is not the well instructed and those that know how to use what they have aright, but such as depend upon what is to come and desire what they have not, that are carried and tossed up and down by hopes, as in a floating vessel, though they have scarce ever stirred beyond the gates of their own city. But to go on:

JOC. Did not your father’s friends aid your distress?

POL. Take care to thrive; for if you once are poor, Those you call friends will know you then no more.

JOC. Did not your high birth stand you in some stead?

POL. It’s sad to want, for honor buys no bread.

These also are ungrateful speeches of Polynices, who accuses banishment as casting disparagement upon noble birth and leaving a man without friends, who yet because of his high birth was thought worthy, though an exile, to have a king’s daughter given him in marriage, and also by the powerful assistance of his friends gathered such an army as to make war against his own country, as he confesses himself a little after:

Many a famous Grecian peer And captain from Mycenae here In readiness t’ assist me tarry; Sad service ’tis, but necessary.[17]

Neither are the words of his lamenting mother any wiser:

No nuptial torch at all I lighted have To thee, as doth a wedding-feast beseem; No marriage-song was sung; nor thee to lave Was water brought from fair Ismenus’ stream.

She ought to have been well pleased and rejoiced when she heard that her son dwelt in such kingly palaces; but, whilst she laments that the nuptial torch was not lighted, and the want of waters from Ismenus’s river for him to have bathed in (as if people at Argos were destitute both of fire and water at their weddings), she makes those evils, which her own conceit and folly produced, to be the effects of banishment.

17. But is it not then an ignominious thing to be an exile? Yes, it is among fools, with whom it is a reproach to be poor, to be bald, or of low stature, and (with as much reason) to be a stranger or a pilgrim. But they that do not fall into these mistakes admire good men, though they happen to be poor or strangers or in exile. Do not we see the temple of Theseus venerated by all men, as well as the Parthenon and Eleusinium? And yet Theseus was banished from Athens, by whose means it is at this time inhabited; and lost his abode in that city, which he did not hold as a tenant, but himself built. And what remarkable thing is there remaining in Eleusis, if we are ashamed of Eumolpus, who coming thither from Thrace initiated the Greeks, and still does so, in the mysteries of religion? And whose son was Codrus, that reigned at Athens, but of that Melanthus who was banished from Messene? Will you not commend that speech of Antisthenes, who, when one said to him, Phrygia is thy mother, replied, She was also the mother of the Gods? And if any one reproach thee with thy banishment, why canst not thou answer, that the father of the great conqueror Hercules was an exile? And so was Cadmus the grandfather of Bacchus, who, being sent abroad in search for Europa, did return no more:

Sprung from Phoenicia, to Thebes he came; Thebes to his grandson Bacchus lays a claim, Who there inspires with rage the female rout, That worship him by running mad about.[18]

As for those things which Aeschylus obscurely insinuates in that expression of his,

And of Apollo, chaste God, banished heaven,

I’ll favor my tongue, as Herodotus phrases it, and say nothing.

Empedocles, when he prefaces to his philosophy thus,—

This old decree of fate unchanged stands,— Whoso with horrid crimes defiles his hands, To long-lived Daemons this commission’s given To chase him many ages out of heaven. Into this sad condition I am hurled, Banished from God to wander through the world,—

does not here only point at himself; but in what he says of himself he shows the condition of us all, that we are pilgrims and strangers and exiles here in this world. For know, says he, O men, that it is not blood nor a spirit tempered with it that gave being and beginning to the soul, but it is your terrestrial and mortal body that is made up of these. And by the soft name of pilgrimage, he insinuates the origin of the soul, that comes hither from another place. And the truth is, she flies and wanders up and down, being driven by the divine decrees and laws; and afterwards, as in an island surrounded with a great sea, as Plato speaks, she is tied and linked to the body, just like an oyster to its shell, and because she is not able to remember nor relate,

From what a vast and high degree Of honor and felicity

she has removed,—not from Sardis to Athens, not from Corinth to Lemnos or Scyros, but having changed heaven and the moon for earth and an earthly life,—if she is forced to make little removes here from place to place, the soul hereupon is ill at ease and troubled at her new and strange state, and hangs her head like a decaying plant. And indeed some one country is found to be more agreeable to a plant than another, in which it thrives and flourishes better; but no place can deprive a man of his happiness, unless he pleases, no more than of his virtue and prudence. For Anaxagoras wrote his book of the Squaring of a Circle in prison; and Socrates, just when he was going to drink the poison that killed him, discoursed of philosophy, and exhorted his friends to the study of it; who then admired him as a happy man. But Phaëton and Tantalus, though they mounted up to heaven, yet, the poets tell us, through their folly fell into the extremest calamities.

Of Brotherly Love.

1. The ancient statues of Castor and Pollux are called by the Spartans Docana; and they are two pieces of wood one over against the other joined with two other cross ends, and the community and undividedness of this consecrated representation seems to resemble the fraternal love of these two Gods. In like manner do I devote this discourse of Brotherly Love to you, Nigrinus and Quintus, as a gift in common betwixt you both, who well deserve it. For as to the things it advises to, you will, while you already practise them, seem rather to give your testimonies to them than to be exhorted by them. And the satisfaction you have from well-doing will give the more firm durance to your judgment, when you shall find yourselves approved by wise and judicious spectators. Aristarchus the father of Theodectes said indeed once, by way of flout of the Sophists, that formerly there were scarce seven Sophists to be found, but that in his time there could hardly be found so many who were not Sophists. But I see brotherly love is as scarce in our days as brotherly hatred was in ancient times, the instances of which have been publicly exposed in tragedies and public shows for their strangeness. But all in our times, when they have fortuned to have good brothers, do no less admire them than the famed Molionidae, that are supposed to have been born with their bodies joined with each other. And to enjoy in common their fathers’ wealth, friends, and slaves is looked upon as incredible and prodigious, as if one soul should make use of the hands, feet, and eyes of two bodies.

2. And Nature hath given us very near examples of the use of brothers, by contriving most of the necessary parts of our bodies double, as it were, brothers and twins,—as hands, feet, eyes, ears, nostrils,—thereby telling us that all these were thus distinguished for mutual benefit and assistance, and not for variance and discord. And when she parted the very hands into many and unequal fingers, she made them thereby the most curious and artificial of all our members; insomuch that the ancient philosopher Anaxagoras assigned the hands for the reason of all human knowledge and discretion. But the contrary to this seems the truth. For it is not man’s having hands that makes him the wisest animal, but his being naturally reasonable and capable of art was the reason why such organs were conferred upon him. And this also is most manifest to every one, that the reason why Nature out of one seed and source formed two, three, and more brethren was not for difference and opposition, but that their being apart might render them the more capable of assisting one another. For those that were treble-bodied and hundred-handed, if any such there were, while they had all their members joined to each other, could do nothing without them or apart, as brothers can who can live together and travel, undertake public employments and practise husbandry, by one another’s help, if they preserve but that principle of benevolence and concord that Nature hath bestowed upon them. But if they do not, they will not at all differ in my opinion from feet that trip up one another, and fingers that are unnaturally writhen and distorted by one another. Yea, rather, as things moist and dry, cold and hot, partake of one nature in the same body, and by their consent and agreement engender the best and most pleasant temperament and harmony,—without which (they say) there is neither satisfaction nor benefit in either riches or kingship itself, which renders man equal to Gods,—but if excess and discord befall them, they miserably ruinate and confound the animal; so, where there is an unanimous accordance amongst brothers, the family thrives and flourishes, and friends and acquaintance, like a well furnished choir, in all their actions, words, and thoughts maintain a delightful harmony.

But jarring feuds advance the worst of men,

such as a vile ill-tongued slave at home, an insinuating parasite abroad, or some other envious person. For as diseases in bodies nauseating their ordinary diet incline the appetite to every improper and noxious thing; so calumny freely entertained against relations, and through prejudging credulity enhanced into suspicion, occasions an adopting the pernicious acquaintance of such as are ready enough to crowd into the room of their betters.

3. The Arcadian prophet in Herodotus was forced to supply the loss of one of his feet with an artificial one made of wood. But he who in a difference throws off his brother, and out of places of common resort takes a stranger for his comrade, seems to do no less than wilfully to mangle off a part of himself, attempting to repair the barbarous breach by the unnatural application of an extraneous member. For the ordinary inclinations and desires of men, being after some sort of society or other, sufficiently admonish them to set the highest value upon relations, to pay them all becoming respects, and to have a tender regard for their persons, nothing being more irksome to nature than to live in that destitution and solitude that denies them the happiness of a friend and the privilege of communication. Well therefore was that of Menander:

’Tis not o’th’ store of sprightly wine, Nor plenty of delicious meats,

Though generous Nature should design T’ oblige us with perpetual treats; ’Tis not on these we for content depend, So much as on the shadow of a friend.

For a great deal of friendship in the world is really no better and no more than the mere imitation and resemblance of that first affection that Nature wrought in parents towards their children, and in their children towards one another. And whoever has not a particular esteem and regard for this kind of friendship, I know no reason any one has to credit his kindest pretensions. For what shall we make of that man who in his complaisance, either in company or in his letters, salutes his friend by the name of brother, and yet scorns the company of that very brother whose name was so serviceable to him in his compliment? For, as it is the part of a madman to adorn and set out the effigies of his brother, and in the mean time to abuse, beat, and maim his person; so, to value and honor the name in others but to hate and shun the brother himself is likewise an action of one that is not so well in his wits as he should be, and that never yet considered that Nature is a most sacred thing.

4. I remember, when I was at Rome, I undertook an umpirage between two brothers. The one pretended to the study of philosophy, but (as it appeared by the event) with as little reason as to the relation of a brother. For, when I advised him that now was the time for him to show his philosophy, in the prudent managery and government of himself, whilst he was to treat with so dear a relation as a brother, and such a one especially as wanted those advantages of knowledge and education that he had; Your counsel, replied my philosopher, may do well with some illiterate novice or other; but, for my part, I see no such great matter in that which you so gravely allege, our being the issue of the same parents. True, I answered, you declare evidently enough that you make no account of your affinity. But, by your favor, Mr. Philosopher, all of your profession that I ever was acquainted with, whatever their private opinions were, affirm both in their prose and poetry that, next to the Gods and the laws, her conservators and guardians, Nature had assigned to parents the highest honor and veneration. And there is nothing that men can perform more grateful to the Gods, than freely and constantly to pay their utmost acknowledgments and thanks to their parents, and those from whom they received their nurture and education; as, on the other hand, there is no greater argument of a profane and impious spirit than a contemptuous and surly behavior towards them. We are therefore enjoined to take heed of doing any one wrong. But he that demeans not himself with that exactness before his parents that all his actions may afford them a pleasure and satisfaction, though he give them no other distaste, is sure to undergo a very hard censure. Now what can more effectually express the gratitude of children to their parents, or what actions or dispositions in their children can be more delightful and rejoicing, than firm love and amity amongst them?

5. And this may be understood by lesser instances. For, if parents will be displeased when an old servant that has been favored by them shall be reproached and flouted at by the children, or if the plants and the fields wherein they took pleasure be neglected, if the forgetting a dog or a beloved horse fret their humorsome age (that is very apt to be jealous of the love and obedience of their children), if, lastly, when they disaffect and despise those recreations that are pleasing to the eye and ear, or those juvenile exercises and games which they themselves formerly delighted in,—if at any of all these things the parents will be angry and offended,—how will they endure such discord as inflames their children with mutual malice and hatred, fills their mouths with opprobrious and execrating language and works them into such an inveteracy that the contrary and spiteful method of their actions declares a drift and design of ruining one another? If, I say, those smaller matters provoke their anger, how will all the rest be resented? Who can resolve me? But, on the other hand, where the love of brothers is such that they make up that distance Nature has placed them at (in respect of their different bodies) by united affections, insomuch that their studies and recreations, their earnest and their jest, keep true time and agree exactly together, such a pleasing consort amongst their children proves a nursing melody to the decayed parents to preserve and maintain their quiet and peace in their old (though tender) age. For never was any father so intent upon oratory, ambitious of honor, or craving after riches, as fond of his children. Wherefore neither is it so great a satisfaction to hear them speak well, find them grow wealthy, or see them honored with the power of magistracy, as to be endeared to each other in mutual affection. Wherefore it is reported of Apollonis of Cyzicum, mother of King Eumenes and three other sons, Attalus, Philetaerus, and Athenaeus, that she always accounted herself happy and gave the Gods thanks, not so much for wealth or empire, as because she saw her three sons guarding the eldest, and him reigning securely among his armed brothers. And on the contrary, Artaxerxes, understanding that his son Ochus had laid a plot against his brothers, died with sorrow at the surprise. For the quarrels of brothers are pernicious, saith Euripides, but most of all to the parents themselves. For he that hates and plagues his brother can hardly forbear blaming the father who begot and the mother who bare him.

6. Wherefore Pisistratus, being about to marry again, his sons being grown up to a mature age, gave them their deserved character of praise, together with the reason of his designs for a second marriage,—that he might be the happy father of more such children. Now those who are truly ingenious do not only love one another the more entirely for the sake of their common parents, but they love their very parents for the sake of one another; always owning themselves bound to their parents especially for the mutual happiness that they enjoy in each other, and looking upon their brethren as the dearest and the most valuable treasure they could have received from their parents. And thus Homer elegantly expresses Telemachus bewailing the want of a brother:

Stern Jove has in some angry mood Condemned our race to solitude.[19]

But I like not Hesiod’s judgment so well, who is all for a single son’s inheriting. Not so well (I say) from Hesiod, a pupil of the Muses, who being endeared sisters kept always together, and therefore from that inseparate union (ὁμοῦ οὖσαι) were called Muses. To parents therefore the love of brothers is a plain argument of their children’s love to themselves. And to the children of the brothers themselves it is the best of precedents, and that which affords the most effectual advice that can be thought of; as again, they will be forward enough in following the worst of their parents’ humors and inheriting their animosities. But for one who has led his relations a contentious life, and quarrelled himself up into wrinkles and gray hairs,—for such a one to begin a lecture of love to his children is just like him.

Who boldly takes the fees, To cure in others what’s his own disease.[20]

In a word, his own actions weaken and confute all the arguments of his best counsel. Take Eteocles of Thebes reflecting upon his brother and flying out after this manner.

I’d mount the Heavens, I’d strive to meet the sun In’s setting forth, I’d travel with him down

Beneath the earth, I’d balk no enterprise. To gain Jove’s mighty power and tyrannize.[21]

Suppose, I say, out of this rage, he had presently fallen into the softer strain of good advice to his children, charging them thus:

Prize gentle amity that vies With none for grandeur; concord prize That joins together friends and states. And keeps them long confederates. Equality!—whatever else deceives Our trust, ’tis this our very selves outlives;

who is there that would not have despised him? Or what would you have thought of Atreus, after he had treated his brother at a barbarous supper, to hear him afterwards thus instructing his children:

Such love as doth become related friends Alone, when ills betide, its succor lends?

7. It is therefore very needful to throw off those ill dispositions, as being very grievous and troublesome to their parents, and more destructive to children in respect of the ill example. Besides, it occasions many strange censures and much obloquy amongst men. For they will not be apt to imagine that so near and intimate relations as brothers, that have eaten of the same bread and all along participated of the same common maintenance, and who have conversed so familiarly together, should break out into contention, except they were conscious to themselves of a great deal of naughtiness. For it must be some great matter that violates the bonds of natural affection; whence it is that such breaches are so hardly healed up again. For, as those things which are joined together by art, being parted, may by the same art be compacted again, but if there be a fracture in a natural body, there is much difficulty in setting and uniting the broken parts; so, if friendships that through a long tract of time have been firmly and closely contracted come once to be violated, no endeavors will bring them together any more. And brothers, when they have once broke natural affection, are hardly made true friends again; or, if there be some kind of peace made betwixt them, it is like to prove but superficial only, and such as carries a filthy festering scar along with it. Now all enmity between man and man which is attended with these perturbations of quarrelsomeness, passion, envy, recording of an injury, must needs be troublesome and vexatious; but that which is harbored against a brother, with whom they communicate in sacrifices and other religious rites of their parents, with whom they have the same common charnel-house and the same or a near habitation, is much more to be lamented,—especially if we reflect upon the horrid madness of some brothers, in being so prejudiced against their own flesh and blood, that his face and person once so welcome and familiar, his voice all along from his childhood as well beloved as known, should on a sudden become so very detestable. How loudly does this reproach their ill-nature and savage dispositions, that, whilst they behold other brethren lovingly conversing in the same house and dieting together at the same table, managing the same estate and attended by the same servants, they alone divide friends, choose contrary acquaintance, resolving to abandon every thing that their brother may approve of? Now it is obvious to any to understand, that new friends and companions may be compassed and new kindred may come in when the old, like decayed weapons and worn-out utensils, are lost and gone. But there is no more regaining of a lost brother, than of a hand that is cut off or an eye that is beaten out. The Persian woman therefore spake truth, when she preferred the saving her brother’s life before her very children’s, alleging that she was in a possibility of having more children if she should be deprived of those she had, but, her parents being dead, she could hope for no more brothers after him.[22]

8. You will ask me then, What shall a man do with an untoward brother? I answer, every kind and degree of friendship is subject to abuse from the persons, and in that respect has its taint, according to that of Sophocles:

Who into human things makes scrutinies, He may on most his censures exercise.

For, if you examine the love of relations, the love of associates, or the more sensual passion of fond lovers, you will find none of them all clear, pure, and free from all faults. Wherefore the Spartan, when he married a little wife, said that of evils he had to choose the least. But brothers would do well to bear with one another’s familiar failings, rather than to adventure upon the trial of strangers. For as the former is blameless because it is necessary, so the other is blameworthy because it is voluntary. For it is not to be expected that a sociable guest or a wild crony should be bound by the same

Chains of respect, forged by no human hand,

as one who was nourished from the same breast and carries the same blood in his veins. And therefore it would become a virtuous mind to make a favorable construction of his brother’s miscarriages, and to bespeak him with this candor:

I cannot leave you thus under a cloud Of infelicities,[23]

whether debauched with vice or eclipsed with ignorance, for fear my inadvertency to some failing that naturally descends upon you from one of our parents should make me too severe against you. For, as Theophrastus said, as to strangers, judgment must rule affection rather than affection prescribe to judgment; but where nature denies judgment this prerogative, and will not wait for the bushel of salt (as the proverb has it) to be eaten, but has already infused and begun in us the principle of love, there we should not be too rigid and exact in the examining of faults. Now what would you think of men when they can easily dispense with and smile at the sociable vices of their acquaintance, and in the mean time be so implacably incensed with the irregularities of a brother? Or when fierce dogs, horses, wolves, cats, apes, lions, are so much their favorites that they feed and delight in them, and yet cannot stomach only their brother’s passion, ignorance, or ambition? Or of others who have made away their houses and lands to harlots, and quarrelled with their brothers only about the floor or corner of the house? Nay, further, such a prejudice have they to them, that they justify the hating them from the rule of hating every ill thing, maliciously accounting them as such; and they go up and down cursing and reproaching their brothers for their vices, while they are never offended or discontented therewith in others, but are willing enough daily to frequent and haunt their company.

9. And this may serve for the beginning of my discourse. I shall enter upon my instructions not as others do, with the distribution of the parents’ goods, but with advice rather to avoid envious strifes and emulation whilst the parents are living. Agesilaus was punished with a mulct by the Lacedaemonian council for sending every one of the ancient men an ox as a reward of his fortitude; the reason they gave for their distaste was, that by this means he won too much upon the people, and made the commonalty become wholly serviceable to his own private interest. Now I would persuade the son to show all possible honor and reverence to his parents, but not with that greedy design of engrossing all their love to himself,—of which too many have been guilty, working their brethren out of favor, on purpose to make way for their own interest,—a fault which they are apt to palliate with specious, but unjust pretences. For they deprive and cheat their brethren out of the greatest and most valuable good they are capable of receiving from their parents, viz., their kindness and affection, whilst they slyly and disingenuously steal in upon them in their business, and surprise them in their errors, demeaning themselves with all imaginable observance to their parents, and especially with the greatest care and preciseness in those things wherein they see their brethren have been faulty or suspected to be so. But a kind brother, and one that truly deserves the name, will make his brother’s condition his own, freely take upon himself a share of his sufferings, particularly in the anger of his parents, and be ready to do any thing that may conduce to the restoring him into favor; but if he has neglected some opportunity or something which ought to have been done by him, to excuse it upon his nature, as being more ready and seriously disposed for other things. That of Agamemnon therefore was well spoken in the behalf of his brother:

Nor sloth, nor silly humor makes him stay; I am the only cause. All his delay Waits my attempts:[24]

and he says that this charge was delivered him by his brother. Fathers willingly allow of the changing of names, and have an inclination to believe their children when they make the best interpretation of their brother’s failings,—as when they call carelessness simple honesty, or stupidity goodness, or, if he be quarrelsome, term him a smart-spirited youth and one that will not endure to be trampled on. By this means it comes to pass, that he who makes his brother’s peace and ingratiates him with his offended father at the same time fairly advances his own interest, and grows deservedly the more in favor.

10. But when the storm is once over, it is necessary to be serious with him, to reprehend him sharply for his crime, discovering to him with all freedom wherein he has been wanting in his duty. For as such guilty brothers are not to be allowed in their faults, neither are they to be insulted with raillery. For to do the latter were to rejoice and find advantage in their failings, and to do the former were to take part in them. Therefore ought they so to manage their severities that they may show a solicitude and concernedness for their brethren and much discomposure and trouble at their follies. Now he is the fittest person to school his brother smartly who has been a ready and earnest advocate in his behalf. But suppose the brother wrongfully charged, it is fitting he should be obsequious to his parents in all other things whatsoever, and to bear with their angry humors; but a defence made before them for a brother that suffers by slander and false accusation is unreprovable and very good. In all such there is no need to fear that check in Sophocles,

Curst son! who with thy father durst contend;[25]

for there is allowed a liberty of vindicating a traduced brother. And where the parents are convinced of their injury, in cases of this kind defeat is more pleasant to them than victory.

11. But when the father is dead, it is fitting brothers should close the nearer in affection; immediately in their sadness and sorrow communicating their mutual love, and, in the next place, rejecting the suspicious stories and suggestions of servants, discountenancing their sly methods and subtle applications, and amongst other stories, adverting to the fable of Jupiter’s sons, Castor and Pollux, whose love to one another was such that Pollux, when one was whispering to him somewhat against his brother, killed him with a blow of his fist. And when they come to dividing their parents’ goods, let them take heed that they come not with prejudice and contentious resolutions, giving defiance and shouting the warcry, as so many do. But let them observe with caution that day above all others, as it may be to them the beginning either of mortal enmity or of friendship and concord. And then, either amongst themselves, or, if need be, in the presence of some common and indifferent friend, let them deal fairly and openly, allowing Justice (as Plato says) to draw the lot, giving and receiving what may consist with love and friendship. Thus they will appear to be sharers only in the care and disposal of these things, whilst the propriety and enjoyment is free and common to them all. But they that take an advantage in the controversy, and seize from one another nurses and children who have been fostered and brought up with them, prevailing by their eagerness, may perhaps go away with the gain of a single slave, but they have forfeited in the stead of it the best legacy their parents could have left them, the love and confidence of their brothers. I have known some brothers, without the instigation of lucre, and merely out of a savage disposition, fly upon the goods of their deceased parents with as much ravine and fierceness as they would upon the spoil of an enemy. Such were the actions of Charicles and Antiochus the Opuntians, who divided a silver cup and a garment in two pieces, as though by some tragical imprecation they had been set on

To share the patrimony with a sword.[26]

Others I have known proclaiming the success of their subtle methods of fierce and eager and sometimes sly and fallacious reasonings, by which means they have compassed larger proportion from their deluded brethren. Whereas their just actions and their kind and humble carriage had less reproached their pride, but raised the esteem of their persons. Wherefore that action of Athenodorus is very memorable, and indeed generally remembered by our countrymen. His elder brother Xeno in the time of his guardianship had wasted a great part of his substance, and at last was condemned for a rape, and all that was left was confiscated. Athenodorus was then but a youth; but when his share of the estate was given to him, he had that regard to his brother, that he brought all his own proportion and freely exposed it to a new division with him. And though in the dividing it he suffered great abuse from him, he resented it not so much as to repent of what he had done, but endured with most remarkable meekness and unconcerned ease his brother’s outrage, that was become notorious throughout all Greece.

12. Solon discoursing about the commonwealth approved of equality, as being that which would occasion no tumult or faction. But this opinion appeared too popular; for by this arithmetical method he would have set up democracy in the room of a far happier government, consisting with a more suitable (viz., a geometrical) proportion. But he that advises brethren in the dividing of an estate should give them Plato’s counsel to the citizens, that they would lay aside self-interest, or, if they cannot be persuaded to that, to be satisfied with an equal division. And this is the way to lay a good and lasting foundation of love and peace betwixt them. Besides that, he may have the advantage of naming eminent instances. Such was that of Pittacus, who, being asked of the Lydian king whether he had any estate, replied that he had twice as much as he wanted, his brother being dead. But since that not only in the affluence or want of riches he that has a less share is liable to hostility with him that has more, but generally, as Plato says, in all inequality there is inquietude and disturbance, and in the contrary a during confidence; so a disparity among brethren tends dangerously to discord. But for them to be equal in all respects, I grant, is impossible. For what through the difference that nature made immediately betwixt them at the first, and what through the following contingencies of their lives, it comes to pass that they contract an envy and hatred against one another, and such abominable humors as render them the plagues not only of their private families but even of commonwealths. And this indeed is a disease which it were well to prevent, or to cure when it is engendered. I would persuade that brother therefore that excels his fellows in any accomplishments, in those very things to communicate and impart to them the utmost he can, that they may shine in his honor, and flourish with his interest. For instance, if he be a good orator, to endeavor to make that faculty theirs, accounting it never the less for being imparted. And care ought to be taken that all this kindness be not followed with a fastidious pride, but rather with such a becoming condescension and familiarity as may secure his worth from envy, and by his own equanimity and sweet disposition, as far as is possible, make up the inequality of their fortunes. Lucullus refused the honor of magistracy on purpose to give way to his younger brother, contentedly waiting for the expiration of his year. Pollux chose rather to be half a deity with his brother than a deity by himself, and therefore to debase himself into a share of mortality, that he might raise his brother as much above it. You then are a happy man, one would think, that can oblige your brother at a cheaper rate, illustrate him with the honor of your virtues, and make him great like yourself, without any damage or derogation. Thus Plato made his brothers famous by mentioning them in the choicest of his books,—Glauco and Adimantus in that concerning the Commonwealth, and Antipho his youngest brother in his Parmenides.

13. Besides, as there is difference in the natures and fortunes of brothers, so neither is it possible that the one should excel the other in every particular thing. The elements exist out of one common matter, yet they are qualified with quite contrary faculties. No one ever saw two brothers by the same father and mother so strangely distinguished that, whereas the one was a Stoic and withal a wise man,—a comely, pleasant, liberal, eminent, wealthy, eloquent, studious, courteous man,—the other was quite contrary to all these. But, however, the vilest, the most despicable things have some proportion of good, or natural disposition to it.

Thus amongst hated thorns and prickly briers The fragrant violet retires.

Now therefore, he who has the eminency in other things, if he yet do not hinder nor stifle the credit of what is laudable in his brother, like an ambitious antagonist that grasps at all the applause, but if he rather yield to him, and declare that in many things he excels him, by this means takes away all occasion of envy, which being like fire without fuel, must needs die without it. Or rather he prevents the very beginnings of envy, and suffers it not so much as to kindle betwixt them. But he who, where he knows himself far superior to his brother, calls for his help and advice, whether it be in the business of a rhetorician, a magistrate, or a friend,—in a word, he that neglects or leaves him out in no honorable employment or concern, but joins him with himself in all his noble and worthy actions, employs him when present, waits for him when absent, and makes the world take notice that he is as fit for business as himself, but of a more modest and yielding disposition,—all this while has done himself no wrong, and has bravely advanced his brother.

14. And this is the advice one would offer to the excelling brother. The other should consider that, as his brother excels him in wealth, learning, esteem, he must expect to come behind not him only but millions more,

Who live o’ th’ offsprings of the spacious earth.

But if he envies all that are so happy, or is the only one in the world that repines at his own brother’s felicity, his malicious temper speaks him one of the most wretched creatures in the world. Wherefore, as Metellus’s opinion was, that the Romans were bound to thank the Gods that Scipio, being such a brave man, was not born in another city; so he who aspires after great things, if he miss of his designs for himself, can do no less than entitle his brother to his best wishes. But some are so unlucky in estimating of virtuous and worthy actions that, whereas they are overjoyed to see their friends grow in esteem, and are not a little proud of entertaining persons of honor or great opulency, their brother’s worth and eminency is in the mean time looked upon with a jealous eye, as though it threatened to cloud and eclipse the splendor of their condition. How do they exalt themselves at the memory of some prosperous exploits of their father, or the wise conduct of their great-grandfather, by all which they are nothing advantaged? But again, how are they daunted and dispirited to see a brother preferred to inheritances, dignities, or honorable marriage? But we should not envy any one; but if this cannot be, we ought at least to turn our malice and rancor out of the family against worse objects, in imitation of those who ease the city of sedition by turning the same upon their enemies without. We may say, as Diomedes said to Glaucus:

Trojans I have and friends; you, what I hate,— Grecians to envy and to emulate.[27]

15. Brothers should not be like the scales of a balance, the one rising upon the other’s sinking; but rather like numbers in arithmetic, the lesser and greater mutually helping and improving each other. For that finger which is not active in writing or touching musical instruments is not inferior to those that can do both; but they all move and act, one as well as another, and are assistant to each other, which makes the inequality among them seem designed by Nature, when the greatest cannot be without the help of the least that is placed in opposition to it. Thus Craterus and Perilaus, brothers to kings Antigonus and Cassander, betook themselves, the one to managing of military, the other of his domestic affairs. On the other hand, the men like Antiochus, Seleucus, Grypus, and Cyzicenus, disdaining any meaner things than purple and diadems, brought a great deal of trouble and mischief upon one another, and made Greece itself miserable with their quarrels. But in regard that men of ambitious inclinations will be apt to envy those who have got the start of them in honor, I judge it most convenient for brothers to take different methods in pursuit of it, rather than to vex and emulate one another in the same way. Those beasts fight and war one with another who feed in one pasture, and wrestlers are antagonists when they strive in the same game. But those that pretend to different games are the greatest friends, and ready to take one another’s parts with the utmost of their skill and power. So the two sons of Tyndarus, Castor and Pollux, carried the day,—Pollux at cuffs, and Castor at racing. Thus Homer brings in Teucer as expert in the bow, whom his brother Ajax, who was best in close fight,

Protected over with a glittering shield.[28]

And amongst those who are concerned in the Commonwealth a general of an army does not much envy the leaders of the people, nor among those that profess rhetoric do the lawyers envy the sophisters, nor amongst the physicians do those who prescribe rules for diet envy the chirurgeon; but they mutually aid and assert the credit of one another. But for brothers to study to be eminent in the same art and faculty is all the same, amongst ill men, as if rival lovers, courting one and the same mistress, should both strive to gain the greatest interest in her affections. Those indeed that travel different ways can probably do one another but little good; but those who carry on quite different designs, and take several methods in their conversations, avoid envy, and many times do one another a kindness. As Demosthenes and Chares, and again Aeschines and Eubulus, Hyperides and Leosthenes, the one treating the people with their discourses and writings, the others assisting them by action and conduct. Therefore, where the disposition of brothers is such that they cannot agree in prosecuting the same methods of becoming great, it is convenient that one of them should so command himself as to assume the most different inclinations and designs from his brother; that, if they both aim at honor, they may serve their ambition by different means, and that they may cheerfully congratulate each other on the success of their designs, and so enjoy at once their honor and themselves.

16. But, besides this, they must beware of the suggestions of kindred, servants, or even wives, that may work much in a vain-glorious mind. Your brother, say they, is the great man of action, whom the people honor and admire; but nobody comes near or regards you. Now a man that well understood himself would answer, I have indeed a brother that is a plausible man in the world, and the greatest part of his honor I have a right to. For Socrates said that he would rather have Darius for his friend than a Daric. But to a prudent and ingenious brother, it would be as great a satisfaction to see his brother an excellent orator, a person of great wealth or authority, as if he had been any or all these himself. And thus especially may that trouble and discontent, that arises from the great odds that are betwixt brethren, be mitigated. But there are other differences that happen amongst ill-constructed brothers in respect of their age. For, whilst the elder justly claim the privilege of pre-eminence and authority over the younger, they become troublesome and uneasy to them; and the younger, growing pert and refractory, begin to slight and contemn the elder. Hence it is that the younger, looking upon themselves as hated and curbed, decline and stomach their admonitions. The elder again, being fond of superiority, are jealous of their brothers’ advancement, as though it tended to lessen them. Therefore, as we judge of a kindness that it ought to be valued more by the party obliged than by him who bestows it, so, if the elder would be persuaded to set less by his seniority and the younger to esteem it more, there would be no supercilious slighting and contemptuous carriage betwixt them. But, seeing it is fitting the elder should take care of them, lead, and instruct them, and the younger respect, observe, and follow them; it is likewise convenient that the elder’s care should carry more of familiarity in it, and that he should act more by persuasion than command, being readier to express much satisfaction and to applaud his brother when he does well than to reprove and chastise him for his faults. Now the younger’s imitation should be free from such a thing as angry striving. For unprejudiced endeavors in following another speak the esteem of a friend and admirer, the other the envy of an antagonist. Whence it is that those who, out of love to virtue, desire to be like their brother are beloved; but those again who, out of a stomaching ambition, contend to be equal with them meet with answerable usage. But above all other respects due from the younger to the elder, that of observance is most commendable, and occasions the return of a strong affection and equal regard. Such was the obsequious behavior of Cato to his elder brother Caepio all along from their childhood, that, when they came to be men, he had so much overcome him with his humble and excellent disposition, and his meek silence and attentive obedience had begot in him such a reverence towards him, that Caepio neither spake nor did any thing material without him. It is recorded that, when Caepio had sealed some writing of depositions, and his brother coming in was against it, he called for the writing and took off his seal, without so much as asking Cato why he did suspect the testimony. The reverence that Epicurus’s brothers showed him was likewise remarkable, and well merited by his good will and affectionate care for them. They were so especially influenced by him in the way of his philosophy, that they began betimes to entertain a high opinion of his accomplishments, and to declare that there was never a wiser man heard of than Epicurus. If they erred, yet we may here observe the obliging behavior of Epicurus, and the return of their passionate respects to him. And amongst later philosophers, Apollonius the Peripatetic convinced him who said honor was incommunicable, by raising his younger brother Sotion to a higher degree of eminence than himself. Amongst all the good things I am bound to Fortune for, I have that of a kind and affectionate brother Timon, which cannot be unknown to any who have conversed with me, and especially those of my own family.

17. There are yet other disturbances that brothers near the same age ought to be warned of; they are but small indeed at present, but they are frequent and leave a lasting grudge, such as makes them ready upon all occasions to fret and exasperate one another, and conclude at last in implacable hatred and malice. For, having once begun to fall out in their sports, and to differ about little things, like the feeding and fighting of cocks and other fowl, the exercises of children, the hunting of dogs, the racing of horses, it comes to pass that they have no government of themselves in greater matters, nor the power to restrain a proud and contentious humor. So the great men among the Grecians in our time, disagreeing first about players and musicians, afterward about the bath in Aedepsus, and again about rooms of entertainment, from contending and opposing one another about places, and from cutting and turning water-courses, they were grown so fierce and mad against one another, that they were dispossessed of all their goods by a tyrant, reduced to extreme poverty, and put to very hard shifts. In a word, so miserably were they altered from themselves, that there was nothing of the same but their inveterate hatred remaining in them. Wherefore there is no small care to be taken by brothers in subduing their passions and preventing quarrels about small matters, yielding rather for peace’s sake, and taking greater pleasure in indulging than crossing and conquering one another’s humors. For the ancients accounted the Cadmean victory to be no other than that between the brothers at Thebes, esteeming that the worst and basest of victories. But you will say, Are there not some things wherein men of mild and quiet dispositions may have occasion to dissent from others? There are, doubtless; but then they must take care that the main difference be betwixt the things themselves, and that their passions be not too much concerned. But they must rather have a regard to justice, and as soon as they have referred the controversy to arbitrament, immediately discharge their thoughts of it, for fear too much ruminating leave a deep impression of it in the mind, and render it hard to be forgotten. The Pythagoreans were imitable for this, that, though no nearer related than by mere common discipline and education, if at any time in a passion they broke out into opprobrious language, before the sun set they gave one another their hands, and with them a discharge from all injuries, and so with a mutual salutation concluded friends. For as a fever attending an inflamed sore threatens no great danger to the body, but, if the sore being healed the fever stays, it appears then to be a distemper and to have some deeper cause; so, when among brothers upon the ending of a difference all discord ceases betwixt them, it is an argument that the cause lay in the matter of difference only, but, if the discord survive the decision of the controversy, it is plain that the pretended matter served only for a false scar, drawn over on purpose to hide the cause of an incurable wound.

18. It is worth the while at present to hear an account of a dispute between two foreign brothers, not concerning a little patch of land, nor a few servants or cattle, but no less than the kingdom of Persia. When Darius was dead, some were for Ariamenes’s succeeding to the crown as being eldest son; others were for Xerxes, who was born to Darius of Atossa, the daughter of Cyrus, in the time of his reign over Persia. Ariamenes therefore came from Media in no hostile posture, but very peaceably, to hear the matter determined. Xerxes being there used the majesty and power of a king. But when his brother was come, he laid down his crown and other royal ornaments, went and meeting greeted him. And sending him presents, he gave a charge to his servants to deliver them with these words: With these presents your brother Xerxes expresses the honor he has for you; and, if by the judgment and suffrage of the Persians I be declared king, I place you next to myself. Ariamenes replied: I accept your gifts, but presume the kingdom of Persia to be my right. Yet for all my younger brethren I shall have an honor, but for Xerxes in the first place. The day of determining who should reign being come, the Persians made Artabanus brother to Darius judge. Xerxes excepting against him, confiding most in the multitude, his mother Atossa reproved him, saying: Why, son, are you so shy of Artabanus, your uncle, and one of the best men amongst the Persians? And why should you dread the trial, where the worst you can fear is to be next the throne, and to be called the king of Persia’s brother? Xerxes at length submitting, after some debate Artabanus adjudged the kingdom to Xerxes. Ariamenes presently started up, and went and showed obeisance to his brother, and taking him by the hand, placed him in the throne. And from that time, being placed himself by Xerxes next in the kingdom, he continued the same affection to him, insomuch that, for his brother’s honor engaging himself in the naval fight at Salamis, he was killed there. And this may serve for a clear and unquestionable instance of true kindness and greatness of mind.

Antiochus’s restless ambition after a crown was as much to be condemned; but still we may admire this in him, that it did not totally extinguish natural affection and destroy the love of a brother. He went to war with his brother Seleucus for the kingdom, himself being the younger brother, and having the assistance of his mother. In the durance of which war Seleucus joins battle with the Galatians and is defeated; being not heard of for a time, he is supposed to be slain and his whole army to be slaughtered by the enemy. Antiochus, understanding it, put off his purple, went into mourning, caused his palace to be shut up, and retired to lament the death of his brother. But, within a short time after, hearing that his brother was safe and raising new forces, he went and offered sacrifices for joy, and commanded his subjects to do the like and to crown themselves with garlands. But the Athenians, though they made a ridiculous story about a falling out amongst the Deities, compensated for the absurdity pretty well in striking out the second day of their month Boedromion, because upon that day Neptune and Minerva were at variance. And why should not we cancel out of our memories, as an unhappy day and no more to be spoken of, that wherein we have differed with any of our family or relations? But rather, far be it from us that the feuds of that day should bury the memory of all that happier time wherein we were educated and conversed together. For, except nature has bestowed those virtues of meekness and patience upon us in vain and to no purpose, we have certainly the greatest reason to exercise them towards our intimate friends and kindred. Now the acknowledgments of the offender and the begging pardon for the crime express a kind and amicable nature no less than the remitting of it. Wherefore it is not for us to slight the anger of those whom we have incensed through our folly, neither should they be so implacable as to refuse an humble submission; but rather, where we have done the wrong, we should endeavor to prevent a distaste by the earliest and humblest acknowledgments and impetrations of pardon, and where we have received any, to be as ready and free in the forgiving of it. Euclides, Socrates’s auditor, was famous in the schools for his mild return to his raving brother, whom he heard bellow out threats against him after this manner: Let me perish, if I be not revenged on you. He answered: And let me perish, if I do not prevail with you to desist from this passion, and to let us be as good friends as ever we were. This Euclides spake; but what king Eumenes did was an act of meekness seldom to be paralleled, and never yet outdone. For Perseus king of Macedon, being his great enemy, had engaged some persons to attempt the killing him. In order to which barbarous act they lay in wait for him at Delphi, and, when they perceived him going from the sea toward the Oracle, came behind him and set upon him with great stones, wounding him in the head and neck, till reeling with his hurt he fell down and was supposed dead. The rumor of this action dispersed every way, and some friends and servants of his coming to Pergamus, who were the amazed spectators of the supposed murder, brought the news. Whereupon Attalus, Eumenes’s eldest brother, a well-tempered man and one that had showed the greatest affection and respect to his brother, was proclaimed king, and not only assumed the crown, but married his deceased brother’s queen, Stratonica. But intelligence coming a while after that Eumenes was alive and coming home, he presently laid aside the crown, and putting on his usual habiliments, went with the rest of the guard to meet and attend him. Eumenes received him with the most affectionate embrace, and saluted the queen with honorable respect and much endearment. And not long after, at his death, he was so free from passion or jealousy against his brother, that he bequeathed to him both his crown and his queen. The return of Attalus to his brother’s kindness was ingenuous and very remarkable. For after his brother’s death he took no care to advance his own children, though he had many, but provided especially for the education of Eumenes’s son, and when he came to age, placed the crown upon his head, and saluted him with the title of king. But Cambyses, being disturbed only with a dream that his brother was like to reign over Asia, without any enquiry after farther evidence or ground for his jealousy, caused him to be put to death. Whereupon the succession went out of Cyrus’s family into the line of Darius, a prince who understood how to share the management of his affairs and even his regal authority not merely with his brothers, but also with his friends.

19. Again, this rule is to be observed, that, whenever any difference happens betwixt brothers, during the time of strangeness especially they hold a correspondence with one another’s friends, but by all means avoid their enemies. The Cretans are herein very observable; who, being accustomed to frequent skirmishes and fights, nevertheless, as soon as they were attacked by a foreign enemy, were reconciled and went together. And that was it which they commonly called Syncretism. For there are some who, like waters running among loose and chinky grounds, overthrow all familiarity and friendship; enemies to both parties, but especially bent upon the ruining of him whose weakness exposes him most to danger. For every sincere substantial friend joins in affection with one that approves himself such to him. And you shall observe, on the other hand, that the most inveterate and pernicious enemy contributes the poison of his ill-nature to heighten the passion of an angry brother. Therefore as the cat, in Aesop, out of pretended kindness asked the sick hen how she did, and she answered, The better if you were further off; after the same manner one would answer an incendiary that throws in words to breed discord, and to that end pries into things that are not to be spoken of, saying: I have no controversy with my brother nor he with me, if neither of us shall hearken to such sycophants as you are. I cannot understand why—seeing it is commonly held convenient for those who have tender eyes and a weak sight to shun those objects that are apt to make a strong reflection—the rule should not hold good in morals, and why those whom we would imagine sick of the trouble of fraternal quarrels and contentions should rather seem to take pleasure in them, and even seek the company of those who will only excite them the more and make all worse. How much more prudential a course would they take in avoiding the enemies of their offended brethren, and rather conversing with their relations and friends or even with their wives, and discovering their grievances to them frankly and with plainness of speech! But some are of that scrupulous opinion, that brothers walking together must not suffer a stone to lie in the way betwixt them, and are very much concerned if a dog happen to run betwixt them; and many such things, being looked upon as ominous, discompose and terrify them. Whereas none of them all any way tends to the breaking of friendship or the causing of dissension; but they are not in the least aware that men of snarling dispositions, base detractors, and instigators of mischief, whom they improvidently admit into their society, are the things that do them the greatest hurt.

20. Therefore (this discourse suggesting one thing after another) Theophrastus said well: If there ought to be all things common amongst friends, why should not the best of those things, their friends themselves, be communicated? And this is advice that cannot be too soon tendered to brethren, for their separate acquaintance and conversation conduce to the estranging them from one another. For those who affect divers friends will be apt to delight in them so much as to emulate them, and will therefore be easily drawn and persuaded by them; for friendships have their distinctive marks and manners, and there is no greater argument of a different genius and disposition than the choice of different friends. Wherefore neither the common table nor the common recreations nor any other sort of intimacy comprehends so much of amity betwixt brothers, as to be united in their interest and to have the same common friends and enemies; for ordinary friendship suffers neither calumnies nor clashings, but if there be any anger or discontent, honest and impartial friends make an end of it. For as tin unites and solders up broken brass, being put to the ends and attempered to the nature of the broken pieces; so it is the part of a friend betwixt two brothers, to suit and accommodate himself to the humors of both, that he may confirm and secure their friendship. But those of different and uncomplying tempers are like improper notes in music, that serve only to spoil the consort, and offend the ear with a harsh noise. It is a question therefore whether Hesiod was in the right or not when he said:

Let not thy friend become thy brother’s peer.[29]

For one of an even behavior, that freely communicates himself between both, may by his interest in both contract a firm and happy tie and engagement of love between brothers. But Hesiod, it seems, spoke of those he suspected,—the greatest part and the worst sort of friends,—men of envious and selfish designs. He is wise who avoids such friends; and if in the mean time he divide his kindness equally between a true friend and a brother, let him do it with this reserve always, that the brother have the preference in magistracy and the management of public affairs, that he have the greater respect shown him in invitations and in contracting acquaintance with great persons, and in any thing that looks honorable and great in the eyes of the people, that the pre-eminence be given to Nature; for in these instances to prefer a friend does him not so much credit as that base and unworthy action of lessening and slighting a brother does the vilifying brother disgrace. But several have given their opinions in this thing. That of Menander is very well,

No one who loves will bear to be contemned.

This may remind brothers to preserve a tender regard to one another, and not to presume that Nature will overcome all their slights and disdain. A horse naturally loves a man, and a dog his master; but, if they are neglected in what is fitting and necessary for them, they will grow strange and unmanageable. The body, that is so intimately united to the soul, if the soul suspend a careful influence from it, will not be forward to assist it in its operations; it may rather spoil and cross them.

21. Now as the kind regards of brother to brother are highly commendable, so may they be expressed to the greater advantage, when he confines them not wholly to his person, but pays them, as occasion serves, rather by reflection to his kindred and such as retain to him; when he maintains a kind and complaisant humor amidst all contingencies, when he obliges the servile part of the family with a courteous and affable carriage, when he is grateful to the physician and good friends for the safe recovery of his brother, and is ready to go upon any expedition or service for him. Again, it is highly commendable in him to have the highest esteem and honor for his brother’s wife, reputing and honoring her as the most sacred of all his brother’s sacred treasures, and thus to do honor to him; condoling with her when she is neglected, and appeasing her when she is angered; if she have a little offended, to intercede and sue for her peace; if there have been any private difference between himself and his brother, to make his complaint before her in order to a reconcilement. But especially let him be much troubled at his brother’s single state; or, if he be married, at his want of children. If not married, let him follow him with arguments and persuasions, to teaze him with rebukes and reproaches, and to do every thing that may incline him to enter into a conjugal state. When he has children, let him express his affection and respects to both parents with the greater ardency. Let him love the children equally with his own, but be more favorable and indulgent to them, that, if it chance that they commit some of their youthful faults, they may not run away and hide themselves among naughty acquaintances through fear of their parents’ anger, but may have in their uncle a recourse and refuge, where they will be admonished lovingly and will find an intercessor to make their excuse and get their pardon. So Plato reclaimed his nephew Speusippus, that was far gone in idleness and debauchery; the young man, impatient of his parents’ reprehensions, ran away from them, who were more impatient of his extravagancies. His uncle expressed nothing of disturbance at all this, but continued calm and free from passion; whereupon Speusippus was seized with an extraordinary shame, and from that time became an admirer of both his uncle and his philosophy. Many of Plato’s friends blamed him that he had not instructed the youth; he made answer, that he instructed him by his life and conversation, from which he might learn, if he pleased, the difference betwixt ill and virtuous actions. The father of Aleuas the Thessalian, looking upon his son as of a fierce and injurious nature, kept him under with a great deal of severity, but his uncle received him with as great kindness. When therefore the Thessalians sent some lots to the oracle at Delphi, to enquire by them who should be their king, his uncle stole in one lot privately in the name of Aleuas; the priestess answered from the oracle, that Aleuas should be king. His father being surprised averred that there was never a lot thrown in for Aleuas that he knew of; at last all concluded that some mistake was committed in putting down the names, whereupon they sent again to enquire of the oracle. The priestess, confirming her first words, answered:

I mean the youth with reddish hair, Whom dame Archedice did bear.

Thus Aleuas was by the oracle, through his uncle’s kind policy, declared king; by which means he surmounted all his ancestors, and advanced his family into a splendid condition. For it is prudence in a brother, when he beholds with joy the brave and worthy actions of his nephews growing great and honorable by their own deserts, to prompt and encourage them on by congratulation and applause. For to praise his own son may be absurd and offensive, but to commend the good actions of a brother’s son, is an excellent thing, and one which proceeds from no self-interest, nor any other principle but a true veneration for virtue. Now the very name of uncle (θεῖος) intimates that mutual beneficence and friendship that ought to be between him and his nephews. Besides this, we have a precedent from those that are of a sublimer make and nature than ourselves. Hercules, who was the father of sixty-eight sons, had a brother’s son that was as dear to him as any of his own; and even to this time Hercules and his nephew Iolaus have in many places one common altar betwixt them, and share in the same adorations. He is called literally Hercules’s assistant. And when his brother Iphicles was slain in a battle at Lacedaemon, in his exceeding grief he left the whole of Peloponnesus. Also Leucothea, her sister being dead, took her infant, nursed him up, and consecrated him with herself among the deities; from whence the Roman matrons, upon the festivals of Leucothea (whom they call also Matuta) have a custom of nursing their sisters’ children instead of their own, during the time of the festival.

WHEREFORE THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS NOW CEASES TO DELIVER HER ORACLES IN VERSE.

I. BASILOCLES, PHILINUS.

II. PHILINUS, DIOGENIANUS, THEO, SERAPIO, BOETHUS, INTERPRETERS.

1. BASILOCLES. You have spun out the time, Philinus, till it is late in the evening, in giving the strangers a full sight of all the consecrated rarities; so that I am quite tired with waiting longer for your society.

PHILINUS. Therefore we walked slowly along, talking and discoursing, O Basilocles, sowing and reaping by the way such sharp and hot disputes as offered themselves, which sprung up anew and grew about us as we walked, like the armed men from the Dragon’s teeth of Cadmus.

BASILOCLES. Shall we then call some of those that were present; or wilt thou be so kind as to tell us what were the discourses and who were the disputants?

PHILINUS. That, Basilocles, it must be my business to do. For thou wilt hardly meet with any one else in the city able to serve thee; for we saw most of the rest ascending with the stranger up to the Corycian cave and to Lycorea.

BASILOCLES. This same stranger is not only covetous of seeing what may be seen, but wonderfully civil and genteel.

PHILINUS. He is besides a great lover of science, and studious to learn. But these are not the only exercises which are to be admired in him. He is a person modest, yet facetious, smart and prudent in dispute, void of all passion and contumacies in his answers; in short, you will say of him at first sight that he is the son of a virtuous father. For dost thou not know Diogenianus, a most excellent person?

BASILOCLES. I have not seen him, Philinus, but many report several things of the young gentleman, much like what you say. But, pray now, what was the beginning of these discourses? Upon what occasion did they arise?

2. PHILINUS. The interpreters of the sacred mysteries acted without any regard to us, who desired them to contract their relation into as few words as might be, and to pass by the most part of the inscriptions. But the stranger was but indifferently taken with the form and workmanship of the statues, being one, as it appeared, who had already been a spectator of many rare pieces of curiosity. He admired the beautiful color of the brass, not foul and rusty, but shining with a tincture of blue. What, said he, was it any certain mixture and composition of the ancient artists in brass, like the famous art of giving a keen edge to swords, without which brass could not be used in war? For Corinthian brass received its lustre not from art, but by chance, when a fire had devoured some house wherein there was both gold and silver, but of brass the greater plenty; which, being intermixed and melted into one mass, derives its name from the brass, of which there was the greater quantity. Then Theo interposing said: But we have heard another more remarkable reason than this; how an artist in brass at Corinth, happening upon a chest full of gold, and fearing to have it divulged, cut the gold into small pieces, and mixed it by degrees with the brass, till he found the more noble metal gave a more than usual lustre to the baser, and so transformed it that he sold at a great rate the unknown mixture, that was highly admired for its beauty and color. But I believe both the one and the other to be fabulous; for by all likelihood this Corinthian brass was a certain mixture and temperature of metals, prepared by art; just as at this day artisans temper gold and silver together, and make a peculiar and wonderful pale yellow metal; howbeit, in my eye it is of a sickly color and a corrupt hue, without any beauty in the world.

3. What then, said Diogenianus, do you believe to be the cause of this extraordinary color in the brass? And Theo replied: Seeing that of those first and most natural elements, which are and ever will be,—that is to say, fire, air, earth, and water,—there is none that approaches so near to brass or that so closely environs it as air alone, we have most reason to believe that the air occasions it, and that from thence proceeds the difference which brass displays from other metals. Or did you know this even “before Theognis was born,” as the comic poet intimates; but would you know by what natural quality or by what virtual power this same air thus colors the brass, being touched and surrounded by it? Yes, said Diogenianus; and so would I, dear son, replied the worthy Theo. First then let us endeavor, altogether with submission to your good pleasure, said the first propounder, to find out the reason wherefore of all moistures oil covers brass with rust. For it cannot be imagined that oil of itself causes that defilement, if when first laid on it is clean and pure. By no means, said the young gentleman, in regard the effect seems to proceed from another cause; for the rust appears through the oil, which is thin, pure, and transparent, whereas it is clouded by other more thick and muddy liquors, and so is not able to show itself. It is well said, son, replied the other, and truly; but hear, however, and then consider the reason which Aristotle produces. I am ready, returned the young gentleman. He says then, answered the other, that the rust insensibly penetrates and dilates itself through other liquids, as being of parts unequal, and of a thin substance; but that it grows to a consistency, and is, as it were, incorporated by the more dense substance of the oil. Now if we could but suppose how this might be done, we should not want a charm to lull this doubt asleep.

4. When we had made our acknowledgment that he had spoken truth, and besought him to proceed, he told us that the air of the city of Delphi is heavy, compacted, thick, and forcible, by reason of the reflection and resistency of the adjacent mountains, and besides that, is sharp and cutting (as appears by the eager stomachs and swift digestion of the inhabitants); and that this air, entering and penetrating the brass by its keenness, fetches forth from the body of the brass much rust and earthy matter, which afterwards it stops and coagulates by its own density, ere it can get forth; by which means the rust abounding in quantity gives that peculiar grain and lustre to the superficies. When we approved this argument, the stranger declared his opinion, that it needed no more than one of those suppositions to clear the doubt; for, said he, that tenuity or subtilty seems to be in some measure contrary to that thickness supposed to be in the air, and therefore there is no reason to suppose it; for the brass, as it grows old, of itself exhales and sends forth that rust, which afterwards, being stopped and fixed by the thickness of the air, becomes apparent by reason of its quantity. Then Theo replied: and what hinders but that the same thing may be thick and thin both together, like the woofs of silk or fine linen?—of which Homer says:

Thin was the stuff, Yet liquid oil ran o’er the tissued woof,[30]

intimating the extreme fineness of the texture, yet so close woven that it could not suffer oil to pass through it. In like manner may we make use of the subtilty of the air, not only to scour the brass and fetch the rust out of it, but also to render the color more pleasing and more azure-like, by intermixing light and splendor amidst the blue.

5. This said, after short silence, the guides began again to cite certain words of an ancient oracle in verse, which, as it seemed to me, pointed at the sovereignty of Aegon king of Argos. I have often wondered, said Diogenianus, at the meanness and ill-contrived hobbling of the verses which conveyed the ancient oracles into the world. And yet Apollo is called the chief of the Muses; whom it therefore behooved to take no less care of elegancy and beauty in style and language, than of the voice and manner of singing. Besides, he must needs be thought to surpass in a high degree either Homer or Hesiod in poetic skill. Nevertheless we find several of the oracles lame and erroneous, as well in reference to the measure as to the words. Upon which the poet Serapio, newly come from Athens, being then in company, said: If we believe that those verses were composed by Apollo, can we acknowledge what you allege, that they come short of the beauty and elegancy which adorn the writings of Homer and Hesiod; and shall we not make use of them as examples of neatness and curiosity, correcting our judgment anticipated and forestalled by evil custom? To whom Boethus the geometer (the person who you know has lately gone over to the camp of Epicurus) said: Have you not heard the story of Pauson the painter? Not I, replied Serapio. It is worth your attention, answered Boethus. He, having contracted to paint a horse wallowing upon his back, drew the horse galloping at full speed; at which when the person that had agreed with him seemed to be not a little displeased, Pauson fell a laughing, and turned the picture upside downward; by which means the posture was quite altered, and the horse that seemed to run before lay tumbling now upon the ground. This (as Bion says) frequently happens to propositions, when they are once inverted; for some will deny the oracles to be elegant, because they come from Apollo; others will deny Apollo to be the author, because of their rude and shapeless composure. For the one is dubious and uncertain; but this is manifest, that the verses wherein the oracles are generally delivered are no way laboriously studied. Nor can I appeal to a better judge than yourself, whose compositions and poems are not only written so gravely and philosophically, but, for invention and elegancy, more like to those of Homer and Hesiod than the homely Pythian raptures.

6. To whom Serapio: We labor, Boethus, said he, under the distempered senses both of sight and hearing, being accustomed through niceness and delicacy to esteem and call that elegant which most delights; and perhaps we may find fault with the Pythian priestess because she does not warble so charmingly as the fair lyric songstress Glauca, or else because she does not perfume herself with precious odors or appear in rich and gaudy habit. And some may mislike her because she burns for incense rather barley-meal and laurel than frankincense, ladanon, and cinnamon. Do you not see, some one will say, what a grace there is in Sappho’s measures, and how they delight and tickle the ears and fancies of the hearers? Whereas the Sibyl with her frantic grimaces, as Heraclitus says, uttering sentences altogether thoughtful and serious, neither bespiced nor perfumed, continues her voice a thousand years by the favor of the Deity that speaks within her. Pindar therefore tells us that Cadmus heard from heaven a sort of music that was neither lofty nor soft, nor shattered into trills and divisions; for severe holiness will not admit the allurements of pleasure, that was for the most part thrown into the world and flowed (as it appears) into the ears of men at the same time with the Goddess of mischief.

7. Serapio thus concluding, Theo with a smile proceeded. Serapio, said he, has not forgot his wonted custom of taking an opportunity to discourse of pleasure. But we, Boethus, believe not these prophetic verses to be the compositions of Apollo, if they are worse than Homer’s; but we believe that he supplied the principle of motion, and that every one of the prophetesses was disposed to receive his inspiration. For if the oracles were to be set down in writing, not verbally to be pronounced, surely we should not find fault with the hand, taking it to be Apollo’s, because the letters were not so fairly written as in the epistles of kings. For neither the voice, nor the sound, nor the word, nor the metre proceeds from the God, but from the woman. God only presents the visions, and kindles in the soul a light to discover future events; which is called divine inspiration. But in short, I find it is a hard matter to escape the hands of Epicurus’s priests (of which number I perceive you are), since you reprove the ancient priestesses for making bad verses, and the modern prophetesses for delivering the oracles in prose and vulgar language, which they do that they may escape being by you called to an account for their lame and mistaken verses. But then, Diogenianus, I beseech you, said he, in the name of all the Gods, be serious with us; unriddle this question, and explain this mystery unto us, which is now grown almost epidemical. For indeed there is hardly any person that does not with an extreme curiosity search after the reason wherefore the Pythian oracle has ceased to make use of numbers and verse. Hold, son, said Theo, we shall disoblige our historical directors by taking their province out of their hands. First suffer them to make an end, and then at leisure we will go on with what you please.

8. Thus walking along, we were by this time got as far as the statue of Hiero the tyrant, while the stranger, although a most learned historian, yet out of his complaisant and affable disposition, attentively leaned to the present relations. But then, among other things, hearing how that one of the brazen pillars that supported the said statue of Hiero fell of itself the same day that the tyrant died at Syracuse, he began to admire the accident. Thereupon at the same time I called to mind several other examples of the like nature: as that of Hiero the Spartan, the eyes of whose statue fell out of its head just before he was slain at the battle of Leuctra;—how the two stars vanished which Lysander offered and consecrated to the Gods after the naval engagement near Aegos Potami, and how there sprung of a sudden from his statue of stone such a multitude of thorny bushes and weeds as covered all his face;—how, when those calamities and misfortunes befell the Athenians in Sicily, the golden dates dropped from the palm-tree, and the ravens with their beaks pecked holes in the shield of Pallas;—how the crown of the Cnidians which Philomelus, the tyrant of the Phocians, gave Pharsalia, a female dancer, was the occasion of her death; for, passing out of Greece into Italy, one day as she was playing and dancing in the temple of Apollo in the city of Metapontum, having that crown upon her head, the young men of the place falling upon her, and fighting one among another for lucre of the gold, tore the damsel in pieces. Now, though Aristotle was wont to say that only Homer composed names and terms that had motion, by reason of the vigor and vivacity of his expressions, for my part I am apt to believe that the offerings made in this city of statues and consecrated presents sympathize with Divine Providence, and move themselves jointly therewith to foretell and signify future events; and that no part of all those sacred donatives is void of sense, but that every part is full of the Deity.

It is very probable, answered Boethus; for, to tell you truth, we do not think it sufficient to enclose the Divinity every month in a mortal body, unless we incorporate him with every stone and lump of brass; as if Fortune and Chance were not sufficient artists to bring about such accidents and events. Say ye so then? said I. Seems it to you that these things happen accidentally and by hap-hazard; and is it likely that your atoms never separate, never move or incline this or that way either before or after, but just in that nick of time when some one of those who have made these offerings is to fare either better or worse? Shall Epicurus avail thee by his writings and his sayings, which he wrote and uttered above three hundred years ago, and shall the Deity, unless he crowd himself into all substances and blend himself with all things, not be allowed to be a competent author of the principles of motion and affection?

9. This was the reply I made Boethus, and the same answer I gave him touching the Sibyl’s verses; for when we drew near that part of the rock which joins to the senate-house, which by common fame was the seat of the first Sibyl that came to Delphi from Helicon, where she was bred by the Muses (though others affirm that she fixed herself at Maleo, and that she was the daughter of Lamia, the daughter of Neptune), Serapio made mention of certain verses of hers, wherein she had extolled herself as one that should never cease to prophesy even after her death; for that after her decease she should make her abode in the orb of the moon, being metamorphosed into the face of that planet; that her voice and prognostications should be always heard in the air, intermixed with the winds and by them driven about from place to place; and that from her body should spring various plants, herbs, and fruits to feed the sacred victims, which should have sundry forms and qualities in their entrails, whereby men would be able to foretell all manner of events to come. At this Boethus laughed outright; but the stranger replied that, though the Sibyl’s vain-glory seemed altogether fabulous, yet the subversions of several Grecian cities, transmigrations of the inhabitants, several invasions of barbarian armies, the destructions of kingdoms and principalities, testified the truth of ancient prophecies and predictions. And were not those accidents that fell out not many years ago in our memories at Cumae and Puteoli, said he, long before that time the predictions and promises of the Sibyl, which Time, as a debtor, afterwards discharged and paid? Such were the breaking forth of kindled fire from the sulphuric wombs of mountains, boiling of the sea, cities so swallowed up as not to leave behind the least footsteps of the ruins where they stood; things hard to be believed, much harder to be foretold, unless by Divine foresight.

10. Then Boethus said: I would fain know what accidents fall out which time does not owe at length to Nature. What so prodigious or unlooked for, either by land or sea, either in respect of cities or men, which, if it be foretold, may not naturally come to pass at one season or other, in process of time? So that such a prophecy, to speak properly, cannot be called a prediction, but a bare speech or report, or rather a scattering or sowing of words in boundless infinity that have no probability or foundation; which, as they rove and wander in the air, Fortune accidentally meets, and musters together by chance, to correspond and agree with some event. For, in my opinion, there is a great difference between the coming to pass of what has been said and the saying of what shall happen. For the discourse of things that are not, being already in itself erroneous and faulty, cannot, in justice, claim the honor of after-credit from a fortuitous accident. Nor is it a true sign that the prophet foretells of his certain knowledge, because what he spoke happened to come to pass; in regard there are an infinite number of accidents, that fall in the course of nature, suitable to all events. He therefore that conjectures best, and whom the common proverb avers to be the exactest diviner, is he who finds out what shall happen hereafter, by tracing the footsteps of future probabilities. Whereas these Sibyls and enthusiastic wizards have only thrown into the capacious abyss of time, as into a vast and boundless ocean, whole heaps of words and sentences, comprehending all sorts of accidents and events, which, though some perchance may come to pass, were yet false when uttered, though afterwards by chance they may happen to be true.

11. Boethus having thus discoursed, Serapio replied, that Boethus had rightly and judiciously argued in reference to cursory predictions uttered not determinately and without good ground. One fairly guessed that such a captain should get the victory, and he won the field; another cried that such things portended the subversion of such a city, and it was laid in ashes. But when the person does not only foretell the event, but how and when, by what means, and by whom it shall come to pass, this is no hazardous conjecture, but an absolute demonstration, and pre-inspired discovery of what shall come to pass hereafter, and that too by the determined decree of fate, long before it comes to pass. For example, to instance the halting of Agesilaus,

Sparta, beware, though thou art fierce and proud, Lest a lame king thy ancient glories cloud; For then 'twill be thy fate to undergo Tedious turmoils of war, and sudden woe;

together with what was prophesied concerning the island which the sea threw up right against Thera and Therasia; as also the prediction of the war between King Philip and the Romans,

When Trojan race shall tame Phoenicians bold, Prodigious wonders shall the world behold; From burning seas shall flames immense ascend; Lightning and whirlwinds hideous rocks shall rend From their foundations, and an island rear, Dreadful to sight and terrible to hear. In vain shall greater strength and valor then Withstand the contemned force of weaker men.

Soon after this island shot up out of the ocean, surrounded with flames and boiling surges; and then it was that Hannibal was overthrown, and the Carthaginians were subdued by the distressed and almost ruined Romans, and that the Aetolians, assisted by the Romans, vanquished Philip King of Macedon. So that it is never to be imagined that these things were the effects of negligent and careless chance; besides, the series and train of events ensuing the prodigy clearly demonstrate the foreknowledge of a prophetic spirit. The same may be said of the prophecy made five hundred years beforehand to the Romans of the time when they should be engaged in war with all the world at once; which happened when their own slaves made war upon their masters. In all this there was nothing of conjecture, nothing of blind uncertainty, nor is there any occasion to grope into the vast obscurity of chance for the reason of these events; but we have many pledges of experience, that plainly demonstrate the beaten path by which destiny proceeds. For certainly there is no man who will believe that ever those events answered accidentally the several circumstances of the prediction; otherwise we may as well say that Epicurus himself never wrote his book of dogmatic precepts, but that the work was perfected by the accidental meeting and interchange of the letters, one among another.

12. Thus discoursing, we kept on our walk; but when we came into the Corinthian Hall and observed the brazen palm-tree, the only remainder left of all the consecrated donatives, Diogenianus wondered to observe several figures of frogs and water-snakes, all in cast work about the root of the tree. Nor were we less at a stand, well knowing the palm to be no tree that grows by the water or delights in moist or fenny places; neither do frogs at all concern or belong to the Corinthians, either by way of emblem or religious ceremony, or as the city arms; as the Selinuntines formerly offered to their Gods parsley or smallage (selinon) of goldsmith’s work and of the choicest yellow metal; and the inhabitants of Tenedos always kept in their temple a consecrated axe, a fancy taken from their esteem of the crab-fish that breed in that island near the promontory of Asterium, they being the only crabs that carry the figure of an axe upon the upper part of their shells. For as for Apollo, we were of opinion that crows, swans, wolves, sparrow-hawks, or any other sort of creature, would be more acceptable to him than despicable animals. To this Serapio replied, that sure the workman thereby designed to show that the Sun was nourished by moisture and exhalations; whether it was that he thought at that time of that verse in Homer

The rising Sun then causing day to break, Quits the cool pleasure of the oozy lake,[31]

or whether he had seen how the Egyptians, to represent sunrise, paint a little boy sitting upon a lotus. Thereupon, not able to refrain laughing, What, said I, are you going about to obtrude your stoicisms again upon us; or do you think to slide insensibly into our discourse your exhalations and fiery prodigies? What is this but, like the Thessalian women, to call down the Sun and Moon by enchantments from the skies, while you derive their original from the earth and water?

Therefore Plato will have a man to be a heavenly tree, growing with his root, which is his head, upward. But you deride Empedocles for affirming that the Sun, being illumined by the reflection of the celestial light, with an intrepid countenance casts a radiant lustre back upon the convex of heaven; while you yourselves make the Sun to be a mere terrestrial animal or water plant, confining him to ponds, lakes, and such like regions of frogs. But let us refer these things to the tragical monstrosity of Stoical opinions, and now make some particular reflections touching the extravagant pieces of certain artificers, who, as they are ingenious and elegant in some things, so are no less weakly curious and ambitious in others of their inventions; like him who, designing to signify the dawn of day-light or the hours of sunrise, painted a cock upon the hand of Apollo. And thus may these frogs be thought to have been designed by the artist to denote the spring, when the Sun begins to exercise his power in the air and to dissolve the winter congealments; at least, if we may believe, as you yourselves affirm, that Apollo and the Sun are both one God, and not two distinct Deities. Why, said Serapio, do you think the Sun and Apollo differ the one from the other? Yes, said I, as the Moon differs from the Sun. Nay, the difference is somewhat greater. For the Moon neither very often nor from all the world conceals the Sun; but the Sun is the cause that all men are ignorant of Apollo, by sense withdrawing the rational intellect from that which is to that which appears.

13. After this, Serapio put the question to the Historical Directors, why that same hall did not bear the name of Cypselus, who was both the founder and the consecrator, but was called the Corinthians’ Hall? When all the rest were silent, because perhaps they knew not what to say; How can we imagine, said I with a smile, that these people should either know or remember the reason, having been so amused and thunderstruck by your high-flown discourses of prodigies altogether supernatural? However we have heard it reported, when the monarchical government of Corinth was dissolved by the ruin of Cypselus, the Corinthians claimed the honor to own both the golden statue at Pisa, and the treasure that lay in that place; which was also by the Delphians decreed to be their just right. This glory being envied them by the Eleans, they were by a decree of the Corinthians utterly excluded from the solemnities of the Isthmian games. This is the true reason, that never since any person of the country of Elis was admitted to any trial of skill at those festivals. For as for that murder of the Molionidae, slain by Hercules near Cleonae, that was not the reason wherefore Eleans were excluded, as some have vainly alleged; for on the contrary it had been more proper for the Eleans themselves to have excluded the Corinthians from the Olympic games, had they any animosity against them on this account. And this is all that I have to say in reference to this matter.

14. But when we came into the treasury of the Acanthians and Brasidas, the director showed us the place where formerly stood the obelisks dedicated to the memory of the courtesan Rhodopis. Then Diogenianus in a kind of passion said: It was no less ignominy for this city to allow Rhodopis a place wherein to deposit the tenth of her gains got by the prostitution of her body, than to put Aesop her fellow-servant to death. But why should you be offended at this, said Serapio, when you have but to cast up your eye, and you may yonder behold the golden statue of Mnesarete standing between kings and emperors, which Crates averred to be a trophy of the Grecian intemperance? The young man observed the statue, and said: But it was Phryne of whom Crates uttered that expression. That is very true, replied Serapio; for her proper name was Mnesarete; but Phryne was a nickname, given her by reason of the yellowness of her complexion, like the color of a toad that lies among moist and overgrown bushes, called in Greek φρύνη. For many times it happens that nicknames eclipse and drown the proper names both of men and women. Thus the mother of Alexander, whose true name was Polyxena, was afterwards called Myrtale, then Olympias, and Stratonice; Eumetis the Corinthian was afterwards called from her father’s name Cleobule; and Herophyle of the city of Erythraea, skilful in divination, was called Sibylla. And the grammarians will tell you that Leda herself was first called Mnesionoe, and Orestes Achaeus. But how, said he, looking upon Theo, can you answer this complaint concerning Phryne, for being placed in so much state above her quality?

15. In the same manner, and as easily, replied Serapio, as I may charge and accuse yourself for reproaching the slightest faults among the Greeks. For as Socrates reprehended Callias for being always at enmity with perfumes and precious odors, while yet he could endure to see boys and girls dance and tumble together, and to be a spectator of the lascivious gestures of wanton mummers and merry-andrews; so, in my opinion, it is with you that envy the standing of a woman’s statue in the temple, because she made ill use of her beauty. Yet, though you see Apollo surrounded with the first-fruits and tenths of murders, wars, and plunder, and all the temple full of spoils and pillage taken from the Greeks, these things never move your indignation; you never commiserate your countrymen, when you read engraved upon these gaudy donatives such doleful inscriptions as these,—Brasidas and the Acanthians dedicate these spoils taken from Athenians,—the Athenians these from the Corinthians,—the Phocians these from the Thessalians,—the Orneatae these from the Sicyonians,—the Amphictyons these from the Phocians. Now if it is true that Praxiteles offended Crates by erecting a statue in honor of his mistress, in my opinion Crates rather ought to have commended him for placing among the golden monuments of kings and princes the statue of a courtesan, thereby showing a contempt and scorn of riches, to which there is nothing of grandeur or veneration due; for it becomes princes and kings to consecrate to the God the lasting monuments of justice, temperance, magnanimity, not of golden and superfluous opulency, which are as frequently erected to the most flagitious of men.

16. But you forgot, said one of the directors, that Croesus honored the woman that baked his bread with a golden statue, which he caused to be set up in this place, not to make a show of royal superfluity, but upon a just and honest occasion of gratitude, which happened thus. It is reported that Alyattes, the father of Croesus, married a second wife, by whom he had other children. This same step-dame, therefore, designing to remove Croesus out of the way, gave the woman-baker a dose of poison, with a strict charge to put it in the bread which she made for the young prince. Of this the woman privately informed Croesus, and gave the poisoned bread to the queen’s children. By which means Croesus quietly succeeded his father; when he did no less than acknowledge the fidelity of the woman by making even the God himself a testimony of his gratitude, wherein he did like a worthy and virtuous prince. And therefore it is but fitting that we should extol, admire, and honor the magnificent presents and offerings consecrated by several cities upon such occasions, like that of the Opuntines. For when the tyrants of Phocis had broken to pieces, melted down, and coined into money the most precious of their sacred donatives, which they spent as profusely in the neighboring parts, the Opuntines made it their business to buy up all the plundered metal, wherever they could meet with it; and putting it up into a vessel made on purpose, they sent it as an offering to Apollo. And, for my part, I cannot but highly applaud the inhabitants of Myrina and Apollonia, who sent hither the first-fruits of their harvests in sheaves of gold; but much more the Eretrians and Magnesians, who dedicated to our God the first-fruits of their men, not only acknowledging that from him all the fruits of the earth proceeded, but that he was also the giver of children, as being the author of generation and a lover of mankind. But I blame the Megarians, for that they alone erected here a statue of our God holding a spear in his hand, in memory of the battle which they won from the Athenians, whom they vanquished after the defeat of the Medes, and expelled their city, of which they were masters before. However, afterwards they presented a golden plectrum to Apollo, remembering perhaps those verses of Scythinus, who thus wrote of the harp:

This was the harp which Jove’s most beauteous son Framed by celestial skill to play upon; And for his plectrum the Sun’s beams he used, To strike those cords that mortal ears amused.

17. Now as Serapio was about to have added something of the same nature, the stranger, taking the words out of his mouth, said: I am wonderfully pleased to hear discourses upon such subjects as these; but I am constrained to claim your first promise, to tell me the reason wherefore now the Pythian prophetess no longer delivers her oracles in poetic numbers and measures. And therefore, if you please, we will surcease the remaining sight of these curiosities, choosing rather to sit a while and discourse the matter among ourselves. For it seems to be an assertion strangely repugnant to the belief and credit of the oracle, in regard that of necessity one of these two things must be true, either that the Pythian prophetess does not approach the place where the deity makes his abode, or that the sacred vapor that inspired her is utterly extinct, and its efficacy lost. Walking therefore to the south side of the temple, we took our seats within the portico, over against the temple of Tellus, having from thence a prospect of the Castalian fountain; insomuch that Boethus presently told us that the very place itself favored the stranger’s question. For formerly there stood a temple dedicated to the Muses, close by the source of the rivulet, whence they drew their water for the sacrifices, according to that of Simonides:

There flows the spring, whose limpid stream supplies The fair-haired Muses water for their hands, Before they touch the hallowed sacrifice.

And the said Simonides a little lower calls Clio somewhat more curiously

The chaste inspectress of those sacred wells, Whose fragrant water all her cisterns fills; Water, through dark ambrosial nooks conveyed, By which Castalian rivulets are fed.

And therefore Eudoxus erroneously gave credit to those that gave the epithet of Stygian to this water, near which the wiser sort placed the temple of the Muses, as guardians of the springs and assistants to prophecy; as also the temple of Tellus, to which the oracle appertained, and where the answers were delivered in verses and songs. And here it was, as some report, that first a certain heroic verse was heard to this effect:

Ye birds, bring hither all your plumes; Ye bees, bring all your wax;

which related to the time that the oracle, forsaken by the Deity, lost its veneration.

18. These things, then said Serapio, seem to belong of right to the Muses, as being their particular province; for it becomes us not to fight against the gods, nor with divination to abolish providence and divinity, but to search for convincement to refel repugnant arguments; and, in the mean time, not to abandon that religious belief and persuasion which has been so long propagated among us, from father to son, for so many generations.

You say very right, said I, Serapio; for we do not as yet despair of philosophy or give it over for lost, because, although formerly the ancient philosophers published their precepts and sentences in verse,—as did Orpheus, Hesiod, Parmenides, Xenophanes, Empedocles, and Thales,—yet that custom has been lately laid aside by all others except yourself. For you indeed once more have arrayed philosophy in poetic numbers, on purpose to render it more sprightly, more charming, and delightful to youth. Nor is astrology as yet become more ignoble or less valued, because Aristarchus, Timochares, Aristillus, and Hipparchus have written in prose, though formerly Eudoxus, Hesiod, and Thales wrote of that science in verse; at least if that astrology was the legitimate offspring of Thales which goes under his name. Pindar also acknowledges his dissatisfaction touching the manner of melody neglected in this time, and wonders why it should be so despised. Neither is it a thing that looks like hurtful or absurd, to enquire into the causes of these alterations. But to destroy the arts and faculties themselves because they have undergone some certain mutations, is neither just nor rational.

19. Upon which Theo interposing said: It cannot be denied but that there have been great changes and innovations in reference to poetry and the sciences; yet is it as certain, that from all antiquity oracles have been delivered in prose. For we find in Thucydides, that the Lacedaemonians, desirous to know the issue of the war then entered into against the Athenians, were answered in prose, that they should become potent and victorious, and that the Deity would assist them, whether invoked or not invoked; and again, that unless they recalled Pausanias, they would plough with a silver ploughshare.[32] To the Athenians consulting the oracle concerning their expedition into Sicily, he gave order to send for the priestess of Minerva from the city of Erythrae; which priestess went by the name of Hesychia, or repose. And when Dinomenes the Sicilian enquired what should become of his children, the oracle returned for answer, that they should all three be lords and princes. And when Dinomenes replied, But then, most powerful Apollo, let it be to their confusion; the God made answer, That also I both grant and promise. The consequence of which was, that Gelo was troubled with the dropsy during his reign, Hiero was afflicted with the stone, and the third, Thrasybulus, surrounded with war and sedition, was in a short time expelled his dominions. Procles also, the tyrant of Epidaurus, after he had cruelly and tyrannically murdered several others, put Timarchus likewise to death, who fled to him for protection from Athens with a great sum of money,—after he had pledged him his faith and received him at his first arrival with large demonstrations of kindness and affection,—and then threw his carcass into the sea, enclosed in a pannier. All this he did by the persuasion of one Cleander of Aegina, no other of his courtiers being privy to it. After which, meeting with no small trouble and misfortune in all his affairs, he sent to the oracle his brother Cleotimus, with orders to enquire whether he should provide for his safety by flight, or retire to some other place. Apollo made answer, that he advised Procles to fly where he had directed his Aeginetan guest to dispose of the pannier, or where the hart had cast his horns. Upon which the tyrant, understanding that the oracle commanded him either to throw himself into the sea or to bury himself in the earth (in regard that a stag, when he sheds his antlers, scrapes a hole in the ground and hides his ignominy), demurred a while; but at length, seeing the condition of his affairs grew every day worse and worse, he resolved to save himself by flight; at which time the friends of Timarchus, having seized upon his person, slew him and threw his body into the sea. But what is more than all this, the oracular answers according to which Lycurgus composed the form of the Lacedaemonian commonwealth were given in prose. Besides, Alyrius, Herodotus, Philochorus and Ister, than whom no men have been more diligent to collect the answers of the oracles, among the many which they cite in verse, quote several also in prose. And Theopompus, the most diligent that ever made scrutiny into oracular history, sharply reprehends those who believed the Pythian oracles were not delivered in verse at that time; and yet, when he labors to prove his assertion, he is able to produce but very few, because doubtless the rest even then were uttered in prose.

20. Yet there are some that now at this day run in verse; one of which has become notorious above the rest. There is in Phocis a temple consecrated to Hercules the woman-hater, the chief priest of which is forbid by the law and custom of the place to have private familiarity with his wife during the year that he officiates; for which reason they most commonly make choice of old men to perform that function. Nevertheless, some time since a young man, no way vicious and covetous of honor, yet doting upon a new married wife, took upon him the dignity. At first he was very chaste and temperate, and abstained from the woman; but soon after, the young lady coming to give him a visit as he was laid down to rest himself after a brisk dancing and drinking bout, he could not resist the charming temptation. But then, coming to himself and remembering what he had done, perplexed and terrified, he fled to the oracle to consult Apollo upon the crime which he had committed; who returned him this answer,

All things necessary God permitteth.

But should we grant that in our age no oracles are delivered in verse, we should be still doubtful about the ancient times, when the oracles were delivered sometime in verse sometime in prose. Though, whether it be in prose or verse, the oracle is never a whit the falser or the more miraculous, so that we have but a true and religious opinion of the Deity; not irreverently conceiting that formerly he composed a stock of verses to be now repeated by the prophetess, as if he spoke through masks and visors.

21. But these things require a more prolix discourse and a stricter examination, to be deferred till another time. For the present, therefore, let us only call to mind thus much, that the body makes use of several instruments, and the soul employs the body and its members; the soul being the organ of God. Now the perfection of the organ is to imitate the thing that makes use of it, so far as it is capable, and to exhibit the operation of its thought, according to the best of its own power; since it cannot show it as it is in the divine operator himself,—neat, without any affection, fault, or error whatsoever,—but imperfect and mixed. For of itself, the thing is to us altogether unknown, till it is infused by another and appears to us as fully partaking of the nature of that other. I forbear to mention gold or silver, brass or wax, or whatever other substances are capable to receive the form of an imprinted resemblance. For true it is, they all admit the impression; but still one adds one distinction, another another, to the imitation arising from their presentation itself; as we may readily perceive in mirrors, both plane, concave, and convex, infinite varieties of representations and faces from one and the same original; there being no end of that diversity.

But there is no mirror that more exactly represents any shape or form, nor any instrument that yields more obsequiously to the use of Nature, than the Moon herself. And yet she, receiving from the Sun his masculine splendor and fiery light, does not transmit the same to us; but when it intermixes with her pellucid substance, it changes color and loses its power. For warmth and heat abandon the pale planet, and her light grows dim before it can reach our sight. And this is that which, in my opinion, Heraclitus seems to have meant, when he said that the prince who rules the oracle of Delphi neither speaks out nor conceals, but signifies. Add then to these things thus rightly spoken this farther consideration, that the Deity makes use of the Pythian prophetess, so far as concerns her sight and hearing, as the Sun makes use of the Moon; for he makes use of a mortal body and an immortal soul as the organs of prediction. Now the body lies dull and immovable of itself; but the soul being restless, when once the soul begins to be in motion, the body likewise stirs, not able to resist the violent agitation of the nimbler spirit, while it is shaken and tossed as in a stormy sea by the tempestuous passions that ruffle within it. For as the whirling of bodies that merely move circularly is nothing violent, but when they move round by force and tend downward by nature, there results from both a confused and irregular circumrotation; thus that divine rapture which is called enthusiasm is a commixture of two motions, wherewith the soul is agitated, the one extrinsic, as by inspiration, the other by nature. For, seeing that as to inanimate bodies, which always remain in the same condition, it is impossible by preternatural violence to offer a force which is contrary to their nature and intended use, as to move a cylinder spherically or cubically, or to make a lyre sound like a flute, or a trumpet like a harp; how is it possible to manage an animate body, that moves of itself, that is indued with reason, will, and inclination, otherwise than according to its pre-existent reason, power, or nature; as (for example) to incline to music a person altogether ignorant and an utter enemy to music, or to make a grammarian of one that never knew his letters, or to make him speak like a learned man that never understood the least tittle of any science in the world?

22. For proof of this I may call Homer for my witness, who affirms that there is nothing done or brought to perfection of which God is not the cause, supposing that God makes use not of all men for all things alike, but of every man according to his ability either of art or nature. Thus, dost thou not find it to be true, friend Diogenianus, that when Minerva would persuade the Greeks to undertake any enterprise, she brings Ulysses upon the stage?—when she designs to break the truce, she finds out Pandarus?—when she designs a rout of the Trojans, she addresses herself to Diomede? For the one was stout of body and valiant; the other was a good archer, but without brains; the other a shrewd politician and eloquent. For Homer was not of the same opinion with Pindar, at least if it was Pindar that made the following verses:

Were it the will of Heaven, an ozier bough Were vessel safe enough the seas to plough.[33]

For he well knew that there were different abilities and natures designed for different effects, every one of which is qualified with different motions, though there be but one moving cause that gives motion to all. So that the same virtual power which moves the creature that goes upon all four cannot cause it to fly, no more than he that stammers can speak fluently and eloquently, or he that has a feeble squeaking voice can give a loud hollow. Therefore in my opinion it was that Battus, when he consulted the oracle, was sent into Africa, there to build a new city, as being a person who, although he lisped and stammered, had nevertheless endowments truly royal, which rendered him fit for sovereign government. In like manner it is impossible the Pythian priestess should learn to speak learnedly and elegantly; for, though it cannot be denied but that her parentage was virtuous and honest, and that she always lived a sober and a chaste life, yet her education was among poor laboring people; so that she was advanced to the oracular seat rude and unpolished, void of all the advantages of art or experience. For as it is the opinion of Xenophon, that a virgin ready to be espoused ought to be carried to the bridegroom’s house when she has seen and heard as little as possible; so the Pythian priestess ought to converse with Apollo, illiterate and ignorant almost of every thing, still approaching his presence with a truly and pure virgin soul.

But it is a strange fancy of men; they believe that the God makes use of herons, wrens, and crows to signify future events, expressing himself according to their vulgar notes, but do not expect of these birds, although they are the messengers and ambassadors of the God, to deliver their predictions in words clear and intelligible; but they will not allow the Pythian priestess to pronounce her answers in plain, sincere, and natural expressions, but they demand that she shall speak in the poetical magnificence of high and stately verses, like those of a tragic chorus, with metaphors and figurative phrases, accompanied with the delightful sounds of flutes and hautboys.

23. What then shall we say of the ancients? Not one, but many things. First then, as hath been said already, that the ancient Pythian priestesses pronounced most of their oracles in prose. Secondly, that those ages produced complexions and tempers of body much more prone and inclined to poetry, with which immediately were associated those other ardent desires, affections, and preparations of the mind, which wanted only something of a beginning and a diversion of the fancy from more serious studies, not only to draw to their purpose (according to the saying of Philinus) astrologers and philosophers, but also in the heat of wine and pathetic affections, either of sudden compassion or surprising joy, to slide insensibly into voices melodiously tuned, and to fill banquets with charming odes or love songs, and whole volumes with amorous canzonets and mirthful inventions. Therefore, though Euripides tells us,

Love makes men poets who before no music knew,

he does not mean that love infuses music and poetry into men that were not already inclined to those accomplishments, but that it warms and awakens that disposition which lay unactive and drowsy before. Otherwise we might say that now there were no lovers in the world, but that Cupid himself was vanished and gone, because that now-a-days there is not one

Who now, true archer-like, Lets his poetic raptures fly To praise his mistress’s lip or eye,

as Pindar said. But this were absurd to affirm. For amorous impatiencies torment and agitate the minds of many men not addicted either to music or poetry, that know not how to handle a flute or touch a harp, and yet are no less talkative and inflamed with desire than the ancients. And I believe there is no person who would be so unkind to himself as to say that the Academy or the quires of Socrates and Plato were void of love, with whose discourses and conferences touching that passion we frequently meet, though they have not left any of their poems behind. And would it not be the same thing to say, there never was any woman that studied courtship but Sappho, nor ever any that were endued with the gift of prophecy but Sibylla and Aristonica and those that delivered their oracles and sacred raptures in verse? For wine, as saith Chaeremon, soaks and infuses itself into the manners and customs of them that drink it. Now poetic rapture, like the raptures of love, makes use of the ability of its subject, and moves every one that receives it, according to its proper qualification.

24. Nevertheless, if we do but make a right reflection upon God and his Providence, we shall find the alteration to be much for the better. For the use of speech seems to be like the exchange of money; that which is good and lawful is commonly current and known, and goes sometimes at a higher, sometimes at a lower value. Thus there was once a time when the stamp and coin of language was approved and passed current in verses, songs, and sonnets; for then all histories, all philosophical learning, all affections and subjects that required grave and solid discussion, were written in poetry and fitted for musical composition. For what now but a few will scarce vouchsafe to hear, then all men listened to,

The shepherd, ploughman, and bird-catcher too,[34]

as it is in Pindar; all delighted in songs and verses. For such was the inclination of that age and their readiness to versify, that they fitted their very precepts and admonitions to vocal and instrumental music. If they were to teach, they did it in songs fitted to the harp. If they were to exhort, reprove, or persuade, they made use of fables and allegories. And then for their praises of the Gods, their vows, and paeans after victory, they were all composed in verse; by some, as being naturally airy and flowing in their invention; by others, as habituated by custom. And therefore it is not that Apollo envies this ornament and elegancy to the science of divination; nor was it his design to banish from the Tripos his beloved Muse, but rather to introduce her when rejected by others, being rather a lover and kindler of poetic rapture in others, and choosing rather to furnish laboring fancies with imaginations, and to assist them to bring forth the lofty and learned kind of language, as most becoming and most to be admired.

But afterwards, when the conversation of men and custom of living altered with the change of their fortunes and dispositions, consuetude expelling and discarding all manner of superfluity rejected also golden top-knots, and silken vestments loosely flowing in careless folds, clipped their long dishevelled locks, and, laying aside their embroidered buskin, taught men to glory in sobriety and frugality in opposition to wantonness and superfluity, and to place true honor in simplicity and modesty, not in pomp and vain curiosity. And then it was that, the manner of writing being quite altered, history alighted from versifying, as it were from riding in chariots, and on foot distinguished truth from fable; and philosophy, in a clear and plain style, familiar and proper to instruct rather than to astonish the world with metaphors and figures, began to dispute and enquire after truth in common and vulgar terms. And then it was, that Apollo caused the Pythian priestess to surcease calling her fellow-citizens fire-inflaming, the Spartans serpent-devourers, men by the name of Oreanes, and rivers by the name of mountain-drainers; and discarding verses, uncouth words, circumlocutions, and obscurity, taught the oracles to speak as the laws discourse to cities, and as princes speak to their people and their subjects, or as masters teach their scholars, appropriating their manner of speech to good sense and persuasive grace.

25. For, as Sophocles tells us, we are to believe the Deity to be

Easy to wise men, who can truth discern; The fool’s bad teacher, who will never learn.

And ever since belief and perspicuity thus associated together, it came to pass by alteration of circumstances that, whereas formerly the vulgar looked with a high veneration upon whatever was extraordinary and extravagant, and conceived a more than common sanctity to lie concealed under the veil of obscurity, afterwards men desirous to understand things clearly and easily, without flowers of circumlocutions and disguisements of dark words, not only began to find fault with oracles enveloped with poetry, as repugnant to the easy understanding of the real meaning, and overshadowing the sentence with mist and darkness, but also suspected the truth of the very prophecy itself which was muffled up in so many metaphors, riddles, and ambiguities, which seemed no better than holes to creep out at and evasions of censure, should the event prove contrary to what had been foretold. And some there were who reported that there were several extempore poets entertained about the Tripos, who were to receive the words as they dropped roughly from the oracle, and presently by virtue of their extempore fancy to model them into verses and measures, that served (as it were) instead of hampers and baskets to convey the answers from place to place. I forbear to tell how far those treacherous deceivers like Onomacritus, Herodotus (?), and Cyneso, have contributed to dishonor the sacred oracles, by their interlarding of bombast expressions and high-flown phrases, where there was no necessity of any such alteration. It is also as certain, that those mountebanks, jugglers, impostors, gipsies, and all that altar-licking tribe of vagabonds that set up their throats at the festivals and sacrifices to Cybele and Serapis, have highly undervalued poesy; some of them extempore, and others by lottery from certain little books, composing vain predictions, which they may sell to servants and silly women, that easily suffer themselves to be deluded by the overawing charms of serious ambiguity couched in strained and uncouth ballatry. Whence it comes to pass, that poetry, seeming to prostitute itself among cheats and deluders of the people, among mercenary gipsies and mumping charlatans, has lost its ancient credit, and is therefore thought unworthy the honor of the Tripos.

26. And therefore I do not wonder that the ancients stood in need of double meaning, of circumlocution, and obscurity. For certainly never any private person consulted the oracle when he went to buy a slave or hire workmen; but potent cities, kings and princes, whose undertakings and concernments were of vast and high concernment, and whom it was not expedient for those that had the charge of the oracle to disoblige or incense by the return of answers ungrateful to their ears. For the deity is not bound to observe that law of Euripides, where he says,

Phoebus alone, and none but he, Should unto men the prophet be.

Therefore, when he makes use of mortal prophets and agents, of whom it behooves him to take a more especial care that they be not destroyed in his service, he does not altogether go about to suppress the truth, but only eclipses the manifestation of it, like a light divided into sundry reflections, rendering it by the means of poetic umbrage less severe and ungrateful in the delivery. For it is not convenient that princes or their enemies should presently know what is by Fate decreed to their disadvantage. Therefore he so envelops his answers with doubts and ambiguities as to conceal from others the true understanding of what was answered; though to them that came to the oracle themselves, and gave due attention to the deliverer, the meaning of the answer is transparently obvious. Most impertinent therefore are they who, considering the present alteration of things, accuse and exclaim against the Deity for not assisting in the same manner as before.

27. And this may be farther said, that poetry brings no other advantage to the answer than this, that the sentence being comprised and confined within a certain number of words and syllables bounded by poetic measure is more easily carried away and retained in memory. Therefore it behooved those that formerly lived to have extraordinary memories, to retain the marks of places, the times of such and such transactions, the ceremonies of deities beyond the sea, the hidden monuments of heroes, hard to be found in countries far from Greece. For in those expeditions of Phalanthus and several other admirals of great navies, how many signs were they forced to observe, how many conjectures to make, ere they could find the seat of rest allotted by the oracle! In the observance of which there were some nevertheless that failed, as Battus among others. For he said that he failed because he had not landed in the right place to which he was sent; and therefore returning back he complained to the oracle. But Apollo answered:

As well as I thou knowest, who ne’er hast been In Libya covered o’er with sheep and kine; If this is true, thy wisdom I admire:

and so sent him back again. Lysander also, ignorant of the hillock Archelides, also called Alopecus, and the river Hoplites, nor apprehensive of what was meant by

The earth-born dragon, treacherous foe behind,

being overthrown in battle, was there slain by Neochorus the Haliartian, who bare for his device a dragon painted upon his shield. But it is needless to recite any more of these ancient examples of oracles, difficult to be retained in memory, especially to you that are so well read.

28. And now, God be praised, there is an end of all those questions which were the grounds of consulting the oracle. For now we repose altogether in the soft slumbers of peace, all our wars are at an end. There are now no tumults, no civil seditions, no tyrannies, no pestilences nor calamities depopulating Greece, no epidemic diseases needing powerful and choice drugs and medicines. Now, when there is nothing of variety, nothing of mystery, nothing dangerous, but only bare and ordinary questions about small trifles and vulgar things, as whether a man may marry, whether take a voyage by sea, or lend his money safely at interest,—and when the most important enquiries of cities are concerning the next harvest, the increase of their cattle, or the health of the inhabitants,—there to make use of verses, ambiguous words, and confounding obscurities, where the questions require short and easy answers, causes us to suspect that the sacred minister studies only cramp expressions, like some ambitious sophister, to wrest admiration from the ignorant. But the Pythian priestess is naturally of a more generous disposition; and therefore, when she is busy with the Deity, she has more need of truth than of satisfying her vain-glory, or of minding either the commendations or the dispraise of men.

29. And well it were, that we ourselves should be so affected. But on the contrary, being in a quandary and jealousy lest the oracle should lose the reputation it has had for these three thousand years, and lest people should forsake it and forbear going to it, we frame excuses to ourselves, and feign causes and reasons of things which we do not know, and which it is not convenient for us to know; out of a fond design to persuade the persons thus oddly dissatisfied, whom it became us rather to let alone. For certainly the mistake must redound to ourselves,[35] when we shall have such an opinion of our Deity as to approve and esteem those ancient and pithy proverbs of wise men, written at the entrance into the temple, “Know thyself,” “Nothing to excess,” as containing in few words a full and close compacted sentence, and yet find fault with the modern oracle for delivering answers concise and plain. Whereas those apophthegms are like waters crowded and pent up in a narrow room or running between contracted banks, where we can no more discern the bottom of the water than we can the depth and meaning of the sentence. And yet, if we consider what has been written and said concerning those sentences by such as have dived into their signification with an intent to clear their abstruseness, we shall hardly find disputes more prolix than those are. But the language of the Pythian priestess is such as the mathematicians define a right line to be, that is to say, the shortest that may be drawn betwixt two points. So likewise doth she avoid all winding and circles, all double meanings and abstruse ambiguities, and proceed directly to the truth. And though she has been obnoxious to strict examination, yet is she not to be misconstrued without danger, nor could ever any person to this very day convict her of falsehood; but on the other side, she has filled the temple with presents, gifts, and offerings, not only of the Greeks but barbarians, and adorned the seat of the oracle with the magnificent structures and fabrics of the Amphictyons. And we find many additions of new buildings, many reparations of the old ones that were fallen down or decayed by time. And as we see from trees overgrown with shade and verdant boughs other lesser shoots sprout up; thus has the Delphian concourse afforded growth and grandeur to the assembly of the Amphictyons, which is fed and maintained by the abundance and affluence arising from thence, and has the form and show of magnificent temples, stately meetings, and sacred waters; which, but for the ceremonies of the altar, would not have been brought to perfection in a thousand years. And to what other cause can we attribute the fertility of the Galaxian Plains in Boeotia but to their vicinity to this oracle, and to their being blessed with the neighboring influences of the Deity, where from the well-nourished udders of the bleating ewes milk flows in copious streams, like water from so many fountain-heads?

Their pails run o’er, and larger vessels still With rich abundance all their dairies fill.

To us appear yet more clear and remarkable signs of the Deity’s liberality, while we behold the glory of far-famed store and plenty overflowing former penury and barrenness. And I cannot but think much the better of myself for having in some measure contributed to these things with Polycrates and Petraeus. Nor can I less admire the first author and promoter of this good order and management. And yet it is not to be thought that such and so great change should come to pass in so small a time by human industry, without the favor of the Deity assisting and blessing his oracle.

30. But although there were some formerly who blamed the ambiguity and obscurity of the oracle, and others who at this day find fault with its modern plainness and perspicuity, yet are they both alike unjust and foolish in their passion; for, like children better pleased with the sight of rainbows, comets, and those halos that encircle the sun and moon, than to see the sun and moon themselves in their splendor, they are taken with riddles, abstruse words, and figurative speeches, which are but the reflections of oracular divination to the apprehension of our mortal understanding. And because they are not able to make a satisfactory judgment of this change, they find fault with the God himself, not considering that neither we nor they are able by discourse of reason to reach unto the hidden counsels and designs of the Deity.

Of Those Sentiments Concerning Nature With Which Philosophers Were Delighted. Book I.

OF THOSE SENTIMENTS CONCERNING NATURE WITH WHICH PHILOSOPHERS WERE DELIGHTED.

BOOK I.

It being our determination to discourse of Natural Philosophy, we judge it necessary, in the first place and chiefly, to divide the body of philosophy into its proper members, that we may know what is that which is called philosophy, and what part of it is physical, or the explanation of natural things. The Stoics affirm that wisdom is the knowledge of things human and divine; that philosophy is the exercise of that art which is expedient to this knowledge; that virtue is the sole and sovereign art which is thus expedient; and this distributes itself into three general parts,—natural, moral, and logical. By which just reason (they say) philosophy is tripartite; of which one is natural, the other moral, the third logical. The natural is when our enquiries are concerning the world and all things contained in it; the ethical is the employment of our minds in those things which concern the manners of man’s life; the logical (which they also call dialectical) regulates our conversation with others in speaking. Aristotle, Theophrastus, and after them almost all the Peripatetics give the following division of philosophy. It is absolutely requisite that the complete person be contemplator of things which have a being, and the practiser of those things which are decent; and this easily appears by the following instances. If the question be proposed, whether the sun, which is so conspicuous to us, be informed with a soul or inanimate, he that makes this disquisition is the thinking man; for he proceeds no farther than to consider the nature of that thing which is proposed. Likewise, if the question be proposed, whether the world be infinite, or whether beyond the system of this world there is any real being, all these things are the objects about which the understanding of man is conversant. But if these be the questions,—what measures must be taken to compose the well ordered life of man, what are the best methods to govern and educate children, or what are the exact rules whereby sovereigns may command and establish laws,—all these queries are proposed for the sole end of action, and the man conversant therein is the moral and practical man.

Chapter I.

WHAT IS NATURE?

Since we have undertaken to make a diligent search into Nature, I cannot but conclude it necessary to declare what Nature is. It is very absurd to attempt a discourse of the essence of natural things, and not to understand what is the power and sphere of Nature. If Aristotle be credited, Nature is the principle of motion and rest, in that thing in which it exists principally and not by accident. For all things that are conspicuous to our eyes, which are neither fortuitous nor necessary, nor have a divine original, nor acknowledge any such like cause, are called natural and enjoy their proper nature. Of this sort are earth, fire, water, air, plants, animals; to these may be added all things produced from them, such as showers, hail, thunders, hurricanes, and winds. All these confess they had a beginning, none of these were from eternity, but had something as the origin of them; and likewise animals and plants have a principle whence they are produced. But Nature, which in all these things hath the priority, is the principle not only of motion but of repose; whatsoever enjoys the principle of motion, the same has a possibility to find a dissolution. Therefore on this account it is that Nature is the principle of motion and rest.

Chapter II.

WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A PRINCIPLE AND AN ELEMENT?

The followers of Aristotle and Plato conclude that the elements are discriminated from a principle. Thales the Milesian supposeth that a principle and the elements are one and the same thing, but it is evident that they vastly differ one from another. For the elements are things compounded; but we do pronounce that principles admit not of a composition, nor are the effects of any other being. Those which we call elements are earth, water, air, and fire. But we term those principles which have nothing precedent to them out of which they are produced; for otherwise not these themselves, but rather those things whereof they are produced, would be the principles. Now there are some things which have a pre-existence to earth and water, from which they are begotten; to wit, matter, which is without form or shape; then form, which we call ἐντελέχεια (actuality); and lastly, privation. Thales therefore is very peccant, by affirming that water is both an element and a principle.

Chapter III. Of Principles, And What They Are.

CHAPTER III.

OF PRINCIPLES, AND WHAT THEY ARE.

Thales the Milesian doth affirm that water is the principle whence all things in the universe spring. This person appears to be the first of philosophers; from him the Ionic sect took its denomination, for there are many families and successions amongst philosophers. After he had professed philosophy in Egypt, when he was very old, he returned to Miletus. He pronounced, that all things had their original from water, and into water all things are resolved. His first reason was, that whatsoever was the prolific seed of all animals was a principle, and that is moist; so that it is probable that all things receive their original from humidity. His second reason was, that all plants are nourished and fructified by that thing which is moist, of which being deprived they wither away. Thirdly, that that fire of which the sun and stars are made is nourished by watery exhalations,—yea, and the world itself; which moved Homer to sing that the generation of it was from water:—

The ocean is Of all things the kind genesis.[36]

Anaximander, who himself was a Milesian, assigns the principle of all things to the Infinite, from whence all things flow, and into the same are corrupted; hence it is that infinite worlds are framed, and those vanish again into that whence they have their original. And thus he farther proceeds, For what other reason is there of an Infinite but this, that there may be nothing deficient as to the generation or subsistence of what is in nature? There is his error, that he doth not acquaint us what this Infinite is, whether it be air, or water, or earth, or any other such like body. Besides he is peccant, in that, giving us the material cause, he is silent as to the efficient cause of beings; for this thing which he makes his Infinite can be nothing but matter; but operation cannot take place in the sphere of matter, except an efficient cause be annexed.

Anaximenes his fellow-citizen pronounceth, that air is the principle of all beings; from it all receive their original, and into it all return. He affirms that our soul is nothing but air; it is that which constitutes and preserves; the whole world is invested with spirit and air. For spirit and air are synonymous. This person is in this deficient, that he concludes that of pure air, which is a simple body and is made of one only form, all animals are composed. It is not possible to think that a single principle should be the matter of all things, from whence they receive their subsistence; besides this there must be an operating cause. Silver (for example) is not of itself sufficient to frame a drinking cup; an operator also is required, which is the silversmith. The like may be applied to vessels made of wood, brass, or any other material.

Anaxagoras the Clazomenian asserted Homoeomeries (or parts similar or homogeneous) to be the original cause of all beings; it seemed to him impossible that any thing could arise of nothing or be resolved into nothing. Let us therefore instance in nourishment, which appears simple and uniform, such as bread which we owe to Ceres, and water which we drink. Of this very nutriment, our hair, our veins, our arteries, nerves, bones, and all our other parts are nourished. These things thus being performed, it must be granted that the nourishment which is received by us contains all those things by which these parts of us are increased. In it there are those particles which are producers of blood, bones, nerves, and all other parts; which particles (as he thought) reason discovers for us. For it is not necessary that we should reduce all things under the objects of sense; for bread and water are fitted to the senses, yet in them there are those particles latent which are discoverable only by reason. It being therefore evident that there are particles in the nourishment similar to what is produced thereby, he terms these homogeneous parts, averring that they are the principles of beings. Matter is according to him these similar parts, and the efficient cause is a Mind, which orders all things that have an existence. Thus he begins his discourse: “All things were confused one among another; but Mind divided and reduced them to order.” In this he is to be commended, that he yokes together matter and an intellectual agent.

Archelaus the son of Apollodorus, the Athenian, pronounceth, that the principles of all things have their original from an infinite air rarefied or condensed. Air rarefied is fire, condensed is water.

These philosophers, the followers of Thales, succeeding one another, made up that sect which takes to itself the denomination of the Ionic.

* * * * *

Pythagoras the Samian, the son of Mnesarchus, from another origin deduces the principles of all things; it was he who first gave philosophy its name. He assigns the first principles to be numbers, and those symmetries resulting from them which he styles harmonies; and the result of both combined he terms elements, called geometrical. Again, he enumerates unity and the indefinite binary number amongst the principles. One of these principles tends to an efficient and forming cause, which is Mind, and that is God; the other to the passive and material part, and that is the visible world. Moreover the nature of number (he saith) consists in the ten; for all people, whether Grecians or barbarians, reckon from one to ten, and thence return to one again. Farther he avers the virtue of ten consists in the quaternion; the reason whereof is this,—if any person reckon from one, and by addition place his numbers so as to take in the quaternary, he shall complete the number ten; if he exceed the four, he shall go beyond the ten; for one, two, three, and four being cast up together make up ten. The nature of numbers, therefore, if we regard the units, resteth in the ten; but if we regard its power, in the four. Therefore the Pythagoreans say that their most sacred oath is by that God who delivered to them the quaternary.

By th’ founder of the sacred number four, Eternal Nature’s font and root, they swore.

Of this number the soul of man is composed; for mind, knowledge, opinion, and sense are the four that complete the soul, from which all sciences, all arts, all rational faculties derive themselves. For what our mind perceives, it perceives after the manner of a thing that is one, the soul itself being a unity; as for instance, a multitude of persons are not the object of our sense nor are comprehended by us, for they are infinite; our understanding gives the general notion of a man, in which all individuals agree. The number of individuals is infinite; the generic or specific nature of all being is a unit, or to be apprehended as one only thing; from this one conception we give the genuine measures of all existence, and therefore we affirm that a certain class of beings are rational and discoursive beings. But when we come to give the nature of a horse, it is that animal which neighs; and this being common to all horses, it is manifest that the understanding, which hath such like conceptions, is in its nature unity. The number which is called the infinite binary must needs be science; in every demonstration or belief belonging to science, and in every syllogism, we draw that conclusion which is the question doubted of, from those propositions which are by all granted, by which means another proposition is demonstrated. The comprehension of these we call knowledge; for which reason science is the binary number. But opinion is the ternary; for that rationally follows from comprehension. The objects of opinion are many things, and the ternary number denotes a multitude, as “Thrice happy Grecians;” for which reason Pythagoras admits the ternary. This sect of philosophers is called the Italic, by reason Pythagoras opened his school in Italy; his hatred of the tyranny of Polycrates enforced him to leave his native country Samos.

Heraclitus and Hippasus of Metapontum suppose that fire gives the origination to all beings, that they all flow from fire, and in fire they all conclude; for of fire when first quenched the world was constituted. The first part of the world, being most condensed and contracted within itself, made the earth; but part of that earth being loosened and made thin by fire, water was produced; afterwards this water being exhaled and rarefied into vapors became air; after all this the world itself, and all other corporeal beings, shall be dissolved by fire in the universal conflagration. By them therefore it appears that fire is what gives beginning to all things, and is that in which all things receive their period.

Epicurus the son of Neocles, the Athenian, his philosophical sentiments being the same with those of Democritus, affirms that the principles of all being are bodies which are perceptible only by reason; they admit not of a vacuity, nor of any original, but being of a self-existence are eternal and incorruptible; they are not liable to any diminution, they are indestructible, nor is it possible for them to receive any transformation of parts, or admit of any alterations; of these reason only is the discoverer; they are in a perpetual motion in vacuity, and by means of the empty space; for the vacuum itself is infinite, and the bodies that move in it are infinite. Those bodies acknowledge these three accidents, figure, magnitude, and gravity. Democritus acknowledged but two, magnitude and figure. Epicurus added the third, to wit, gravity; for he pronounced that it is necessary that bodies receive their motion from that impression which springs from gravity, otherwise they could not be moved. The figures of atoms cannot be apprehended by our senses, but they are not infinite. These figures are neither hooked nor trident-shaped nor ring-shaped, such figures as these being easily broken; but the atoms are impassible, impenetrable; they have indeed figures proper to themselves, which are discovered only by reason. It is called an atom, by reason not of its smallness but of its indivisibility; in it no vacuity, no passible affection is to be found. And that there is an atom is perfectly clear; for there are elements which have a perpetual duration, and there are animals which admit of a vacuity, and there is a unity.

Empedocles the Agrigentine, the son of Meton, affirms that there are four elements, fire, air, earth, and water, and two powers which bear the greatest command in nature, concord and discord, of which one is the union, the other the division of beings. Thus he sings,

Mark the four roots of all created things:— Bright shining Jove, Juno that giveth life, Pluto beneath the earth, and Nestis who Doth with her tears supply the mortal fount.

By Jupiter he means fire and aether, by Juno that gives life he means the air, by Pluto the earth, by Nestis and the fountain of all mortals (as it were) seed and water.

Socrates the son of Sophroniscus, and Plato son of Ariston, both natives of Athens, entertain the same opinion concerning the universe; for they suppose three principles, God, matter, and the idea. God is the universal understanding; matter is that which is the first substratum, accommodated for the generation and corruption of beings; the idea is an incorporeal essence, existing in the cogitations and apprehensions of God; for God is the soul and mind of the world.

Aristotle the son of Nichomachus, the Stagirite, constitutes three principles; Entelecheia (which is the same with form), matter, and privation. He acknowledges four elements, and adds a certain fifth body, which is ethereal and not obnoxious to mutation.

Zeno son of Mnaseas, the native of Citium, avers these principles to be God and matter, the first of which is the efficient cause, the other the passible and receptive. Four elements he likewise confesses.

Chapter IV.

HOW WAS THIS WORLD COMPOSED IN THAT ORDER AND AFTER THAT MANNER IT IS?

The world being broken and confused, after this manner it was reduced into figure and composure as now it is. The insectible bodies or atoms, by a wild and fortuitous motion, without any governing power, incessantly and swiftly were hurried one amongst another, many bodies being jumbled together; upon this account they have a diversity in the figures and magnitude. These therefore being so jumbled together, those bodies which were the greatest and heaviest sank into the lowest place; they that were of a lesser magnitude, being round, smooth, and slippery, meeting with those heavier bodies were easily broken into pieces, and were carried into higher places. But when that force whereby these variously figured particles fought with and struck one another, and forced the lighter upwards, did cease, and there was no farther power left to drive them into superior regions, yet they were wholly hindered from descending downwards, and were compelled to reside in those places capable to receive them; and these were the heavenly spaces, unto which a multitude of these little bodies were whirled, and these being thus shivered fell into coherence and mutual embraces, and by this means the heaven was produced. Then a various and great multitude of atoms enjoying the same nature, as it is before asserted, being hurried aloft, did form the stars. The multitude of these exhaled bodies, having struck and broke the air in shivers, forced a passage through it; this being converted into wind invested the stars, as it moved, and whirled them about, by which means to this present time that circulary motion which these stars have in the heavens is maintained. Much after the same manner the earth was made; for by those little particles whose gravity made them to reside in the lower places the earth was formed. The heaven, fire, and air were constituted of those particles which were carried aloft. But a great deal of matter remaining in the earth, this being condensed by the forcible driving of the winds and the breathings from the stars, every little part and form of it was broken in pieces, which produced the element of water; but this being fluidly disposed did run into those places which were hollow, and these places were those that were capable to receive and protect it; or else the water, subsisting by itself, did make the lower places hollow. After this manner the principal parts of the world were constituted.

Chapter V. Whether The Universe Is One.

CHAPTER V.

WHETHER THE UNIVERSE IS ONE.

The Stoics pronounce that the world is one thing, and this they say is the universe and is corporeal.

Empedocles’s opinion is, that the world is one; yet by no means the system of this world must be styled the universe, but that it is a small part of it, and the remainder is idle matter.

What to Plato seems the truest he thus declares, that there is one world, and that world is the universe; and this he endeavors to evince by three arguments. First, that the world could not be complete and perfect, if it did not within itself include all beings. Secondly, nor could it give the true resemblance of its original and exemplar, if it were not the one only begotten thing. Thirdly, it could not be incorruptible, if there were any being out of its compass to whose power it might be obnoxious. But to Plato it may be thus returned. First, that the world is not complete and perfect, nor doth it contain all things within itself. And if man is a perfect being, yet he doth not encompass all things. Secondly, that there are many exemplars and originals of statues, houses, and pictures. Thirdly, how is the world perfect, if any thing beyond it is possible to be moved about it? But the world is not incorruptible, nor can it be so conceived, because it had an original.

To Metrodorus it seems absurd, that in a large field one only stalk should grow, and in an infinite space one only world exist; and that this universe is infinite is manifest by this, that there are causes infinite. Now if this world were finite and the causes which produced it infinite, it is necessary that the worlds likewise be infinite; for where all causes do concur, there the effects also must appear, let the causes be what they will, either atoms or elements.

Chapter VI. Whence Did Men Obtain The Knowledge Of The Existence And Essence Of A

CHAPTER VI.

WHENCE DID MEN OBTAIN THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE EXISTENCE AND ESSENCE OF A DEITY?

The Stoics thus define the essence of a God. It is a spirit intellectual and fiery, which acknowledges no shape, but is continually changed into what it pleases, and assimilates itself to all things. The knowledge of this Deity they first received from the pulchritude of those things which so visibly appeared to us; for they concluded that nothing beauteous could casually or fortuitously be formed, but that it was framed from the art of a great understanding that produced the world. That the world is very resplendent is made perspicuous from the figure, the color, the magnitude of it, and likewise from the wonderful variety of those stars which adorn this world. The world is spherical; the orbicular hath the pre-eminence above all other figures, for being round itself it hath its parts likewise round. (On this account, according to Plato, the understanding, which is the most sacred part of man, is in the head.) The color of it is most beauteous; for it is painted with blue; which, though little blacker than purple, yet hath such a shining quality, that by reason of the vehement efficacy of its color it cuts through such an interval of air; whence it is that at so great a distance the heavens are to be contemplated. And in this very greatness of the world the beauty of it appears. View all things: that which contains the rest carries a beauty with it, as an animal or a tree. Also all things which are visible to us accomplish the beauty of the world. The oblique circle called the Zodiac in the heaven is with different images painted and distinguished:

There’s Cancer, Leo, Virgo, and the Claws; Scorpio, Arcitenens, and Capricorn; Amphora, Pisces, then the Ram, and Bull; The lovely pair of Brothers next succeed.[37]

There are a thousand others that give us the suitable reflections of the beauty of the world. Thus Euripides:

The starry splendor of the skies, The wondrous work of that most wise Creator, Time.[38]

From this the knowledge of a God is conveyed to man; that the sun, the moon, and the rest of the stars, being carried under the earth, rise again in their proper color, magnitude, place, and times. Therefore they who by tradition delivered to us the knowledge and veneration of the Gods did it by these three manner of ways:—first, from Nature; secondly, from fables; thirdly, from the testimony given by the laws of commonwealths. Philosophers taught the natural way; poets, the fabulous; and the political way is received from the constitutions of each commonwealth. All sorts of this learning are distinguished into these seven parts. The first is from things that are conspicuous, and the observation of those bodies which are in places superior to us. To men the heavenly bodies that are so visible did give the knowledge of the Deity; when they contemplated that they are the causes of so great an harmony, that they regulate day and night, winter and summer, by their rising and setting, and likewise considered those things which by their influences in the earth do receive a being and do likewise fructify. It was manifest to men that the Heaven was the father of those things, and the Earth the mother; that the Heaven was the father is clear, since from the heavens there is the pouring down of waters, which have their spermatic faculty; the Earth the mother, because she receives them and brings forth. Likewise men considering that the stars are running (θέοντες) in a perpetual motion, that the sun and moon give us the power to view and contemplate (θεωρεῖν), they call them all Gods (θεούς).

In the second and third place, they thus distinguished the Deities into those which are beneficial and those that are injurious to mankind. Those which are beneficial they call Jupiter, Juno, Mercury, Ceres; those who are mischievous the Dirae, Furies, and Mars. These, which threaten dangers and violence, men endeavor to appease and conciliate by sacred rites. The fourth and the fifth order of Gods they assign to things and passions; to passions, Love, Venus, and Desire; the Deities that preside over things, Hope, Justice, and Eunomia.

The sixth order of deities are those made by the poets; Hesiod, willing to find out a father for those Gods that acknowledge an original, invented their progenitors,

Hyperion, Coeus, and Iapetus, With Creius:[39]

upon which account this is called the fabulous. The seventh rank of the deities added to the rest are those which, by their beneficence to mankind, were honored with a divine worship, though they were born of mortal race; of this sort were Hercules, Castor and Pollux, and Bacchus. These are reputed to be of a human species; for of all beings that which is divine is most excellent, and man amongst all animals is adorned with the greatest beauty, and is also the best, being distinguished by virtue above the rest because of his intellect: therefore it was thought that those who were admirable for goodness should resemble that which is the best and most beautiful.

Chapter VII.

WHAT IS GOD?

Some of the philosophers, such as Diagoras the Melian, Theodorus the Cyrenean, and Euemerus the Tegeatan, did unanimously deny there were any Gods; and Callimachus the Cyrenean discovered his mind touching Euemerus in these Iambic verses, thus writing:

To th’ ante-mural temple flock apace, Where he that long ago composed of brass[40] Great Jupiter, Thrasonic old bald pate, Now writes his impious books,—a boastful ass!

meaning books which denote there are no Gods. Euripides the tragedian durst not openly declare his sentiment; the court of Areopagus terrified him. Yet he sufficiently manifested his thoughts by this method. He presented in his tragedy Sisyphus, the first and great patron of this opinion, and introduced himself as one agreeing with him:

Disorder in those days did domineer, And brutal power kept the world in fear.

Afterwards by the sanction of laws wickedness was suppressed; but by reason that laws could prohibit only public villanies, yet could not hinder many persons from acting secret impieties, some wise persons gave this advice, that we ought to blind truth with lying disguises, and to persuade men that there is a God:

There’s an eternal God does hear and see And understand every impiety; Though it in dark recess or thought committed be.

But this poetical fable ought to be rejected, he thought, together with Callimachus, who thus saith:

If you believe a God, it must be meant That you conceive this God omnipotent.

But God cannot do every thing; for, if it were so, then God could make snow black, and the fire cold, and him that is in a posture of sitting to be upright, and so on the contrary. The brave-speaking Plato pronounceth that God formed the world after his own image; but this smells rank of the old dotages, old comic poets would say; for how did God, casting his eye upon himself, frame this universe? Or how can God be spherical, and not be inferior to man?

Anaxagoras avers that bodies did consist from all eternity, but the divine intellect did reduce them into their proper orders, and effected the origination of all beings. Plato did not suppose that the primary bodies had their consistence and repose, but that they were moved confusedly and in disorder; but God, knowing that order was better than confusion, did digest them into the best methods. Both these were equally peccant; for both suppose God to be the great moderator of human affairs, and for that cause to have formed this present world; when it is apparent that an immortal and blessed being, replenished with all his glorious excellencies, and not at all obnoxious to any sort of evil, but being wholly occupied with his own felicity and immortality, would not employ himself with the concerns of men; for certainly miserable is the being which, like a laborer or artificer, is molested by the troubles and cares which the forming and governing of this world must give him. Add to this, that the God whom these men profess was either not at all existing previous to this present world (when bodies were either reposed or in a disordered motion), or that then God did either sleep, or else was in a perpetual watchfulness, or that he did neither of these. Now neither the first nor the second can be entertained, because they suppose God to be eternal; if God from eternity was in a continual sleep, he was in an eternal death,—and what is death but an eternal sleep?—but no sleep can affect a Deity, for the immortality of God and alliance to death are vastly different. But if God was in a continual vigilance, either there was something wanting to make him happy, or else his beatitude was perfectly complete; but according to neither of these can God be said to be blessed; not according to the first, for if there be any deficiency there is no perfect bliss; not according to the second, for, if there be nothing wanting to the felicity of God, it must be a useless enterprise for him to busy himself in human affairs. And how can it be supposed that God administers by his own providence human concerns, when to vain and trifling persons prosperous things happen, to great and high adverse? Agamemnon was both

A virtuous prince, for warlike acts renowned,[41]

and by an adulterer and adulteress was vanquished and perfidiously slain. Hercules, after he had freed the life of man from many things that were pernicious to it, perished by the witchcraft and poison of Deianira.

Thales said that the intelligence of the world was God.

Anaximander concluded that the stars were heavenly Deities.

Democritus said that God, being a globe of fire, is intelligence and the soul of the world.

Pythagoras says that, of his principles, unity is God; and the perfect good, which is indeed the nature of a unity, is mind itself; but the binary number, which is infinite, is a devil, and in its own nature evil,—about which the multitude of material beings, and this world which is the object of our eyes, are conversant.

Socrates and Plato agree that God is that which is one, hath its original from its own self, is of a singular subsistence, is one only being perfectly good; all these various names signifying goodness do all centre in mind; hence God is to be understood as that mind and intellect, which is a separate idea, that is to say, pure and unmixed of all matter, and not twisted with any thing obnoxious to passions.

Aristotle’s sentiment is, that God hath his residence in superior regions, and hath placed his throne in the sphere of the universe, and is a separate idea; which sphere is an ethereal body, which is by him styled the fifth essence or quintessence. For there is a division of the universe into spheres, which are contiguous by their nature but appear to reason to be separated; and he concludes that each of the spheres is an animal, composed of a body and soul; the body of them is ethereal, moved orbicularly, the soul is the rational form, which is unmoved, and yet is the cause that the sphere is actually in motion.

The Stoics affirm that God is a thing more common and obvious, and is a mechanic fire which every way spreads itself to produce the world; it contains in itself all seminal virtues, and by this means all things by a fatal necessity were produced. This spirit, passing through the whole world, received various names from the mutations in the matter through which it ran in its journey. God therefore is the world, the stars, the earth, and (highest of all) the supreme mind in the heavens.

In the judgment of Epicurus all the Gods are anthropomorphites, or have the shape of men; but they are perceptible only by reason, for their nature admits of no other manner of being apprehended, their parts being so small and fine that they give no corporeal representations. The same Epicurus asserts that there are four other natural beings which are immortal: of this sort are atoms, the vacuum, the infinite, and the similar parts; and these last are called Homoeomeries and likewise elements.

Chapter VIII. Of Those That Are Called Geniuses And Heroes.

CHAPTER VIII.

OF THOSE THAT ARE CALLED GENIUSES AND HEROES.

Having treated of the essence of the deities in a just order, it follows that we discourse of daemons and heroes. Thales, Pythagoras, Plato, and the Stoics do conclude that daemons are essences which are endowed with souls; that the heroes are the souls separated from their bodies, some are good, some are bad; the good are those whose souls are good, the evil those whose souls are wicked. All this is rejected by Epicurus.

Chapter IX. Of Matter.

CHAPTER IX.

OF MATTER.

Matter is that first being which is substrate for generation, corruption, and all other alterations.

The disciples of Thales and Pythagoras, with the Stoics, are of opinion that matter is changeable, mutable, convertible, and sliding through all things.

The followers of Democritus aver that the vacuum, the atom, and the incorporeal substance are the first beings, and not obnoxious to passions.

Aristotle and Plato affirm that matter is of that species which is corporeal, void of any form, species, figure, and quality, but apt to receive all forms, that she may be the nurse, the mother, and origin of all other beings. But they that do say that water, earth, air, and fire are matter do likewise say that matter cannot be without form, but conclude it is a body; but they that say that individual particles and atoms are matter do say that matter is without form.

Chapter X. Of Ideas.

CHAPTER X.

OF IDEAS.

An idea is a being incorporeal, which has no subsistence by itself, but gives figure and form unto shapeless matter, and becomes the cause of its manifestation.

Socrates and Plato conjecture that these ideas are essences separate from matter, having their existence in the understanding and fancy of the Deity, that is, of mind.

Aristotle objected not to forms and ideas; but he doth not believe them separated from matter, or patterns of what God has made.

Those Stoics, that are of the school of Zeno, profess that ideas are nothing else but the conceptions of our own mind.

Chapter XI. Of Causes.

CHAPTER XI.

OF CAUSES.

A cause is that by which any thing is produced, or by which any thing is effected.

Plato gives this triple division of causes,—the material, the efficient, and the final cause; the principal cause he judges to be the efficient, which is the mind and intellect.

Pythagoras and Aristotle judge the first causes are incorporeal beings, but those that are causes by accident or participation become corporeal substances; by this means the world is corporeal.

The Stoics grant that all causes are corporeal, inasmuch as they are breath.

Chapter XII. Of Bodies.

CHAPTER XII.

OF BODIES.

A body is that being which hath these three dimensions, breadth, depth, and length;—or a bulk which makes a sensible resistance;—or whatsoever of its own nature possesseth a place.

Plato saith that it is neither heavy nor light in its own nature, when it exists in its own place; but being in the place where another should be, then it has an inclination by which it tends to gravity or levity.

Aristotle saith that, if we simply consider things in their own nature, the earth only is to be judged heavy, and fire light; but air and water are sometimes heavy and sometimes light.

The Stoics think that of the four elements two are light, fire and air; two ponderous, earth and water; that which is naturally light doth by its own nature, not by any inclination, recede from its own centre; but that which is heavy doth by its own nature tend to its centre; for the centre is not a heavy thing of itself.

Epicurus thinks that bodies are not to be limited; but the first bodies, which are simple bodies, and all those composed of them, all acknowledge gravity; that all atoms are moved, some perpendicularly, some obliquely; some are carried aloft either by direct impulse or with vibrations.

Chapter XIII. Of Those Things That Are Least In Nature.

CHAPTER XIII.

OF THOSE THINGS THAT ARE LEAST IN NATURE.

Empedocles, precedent to the four elements, introduceth the most minute bodies which resemble elements; but they did exist before the elements, having similar parts and orbicular.

Heraclitus brings in the smallest fragments, and those indivisible.

Chapter XIV. Of Figures.

CHAPTER XIV.

OF FIGURES.

A figure is the exterior appearance, the circumscription, and the boundary of a body.

The Pythagoreans say that the bodies of the four elements are spherical, fire being in the supremest place only excepted, whose figure is conical.

Chapter XV. Of Colors.

CHAPTER XV.

OF COLORS.

Color is the visible quality of a body.

The Pythagoreans called color the outward appearance of a body. Empedocles, that which is consentaneous to the passages of the eye. Plato, that they are fires emitted from bodies, which have parts harmonious for the sight. Zeno the Stoic, that colors are the first figurations of matter. The Pythagoreans, that colors are of four sorts, white and black, red and pale; and they derive the variety of colors from the diversity of the elements, and that seen in animals also from the variety of food and the air in which they live and are bred.

Chapter XVI. Of The Division Of Bodies.

CHAPTER XVI.

OF THE DIVISION OF BODIES.

The disciples of Thales and Pythagoras grant that all bodies are passible and divisible unto infinity. Others hold that atoms and indivisible parts are there fixed, and admit not of a division into infinity. Aristotle, that all bodies are potentially but not actually divisible into infinity.

Chapter XVII. How Bodies Are Mixed And Contemperated One With Another.

CHAPTER XVII.

HOW BODIES ARE MIXED AND CONTEMPERATED ONE WITH ANOTHER.

The ancient philosophers held that the mixture of elements proceeded from the alteration of qualities; but the disciples of Anaxagoras and Democritus say it is done by apposition. Empedocles composes the elements of still smaller bulks, those which are the most minute and may be termed the elements of elements. Plato assigns three bodies (but he will not allow these to be elements, nor properly so called), air, fire, and water, which are mutable into one another; but the earth is mutable into none of these.

Chapter XVIII. Of A Vacuum.

CHAPTER XVIII.

OF A VACUUM.

All the natural philosophers from Thales to Plato rejected a vacuum. Empedocles says that there is nothing of a vacuity in nature, nor any thing superabundant. Leucippus, Democritus, Demetrius, Metrodorus, Epicurus, that the atoms are infinite in number; and that a vacuum is infinite in magnitude. The Stoics, that within the compass of the world there is no vacuum, but beyond it the vacuum is infinite. Aristotle,[42] that the vacuum beyond the world is so great that the heaven has liberty to breathe into it, for the heaven is fiery.

Chapter XIX. Of Place.

CHAPTER XIX.

OF PLACE.

Plato, to define place, calls it that thing which in its own bosom receives forms and ideas; by which metaphor he signifies matter, being (as it were) a nurse or receptacle of beings. Aristotle, that it is the ultimate superficies of the circumambient body, contiguous to that which it doth encompass.

Chapter XX. Of Space.

CHAPTER XX.

OF SPACE.

The Stoics and Epicureans make a place, a vacuum, and a space to differ. A vacuum is that which is void of any thing that may be called a body; place is that which is possessed by a body; a space that which is partly filled with a body, as a cask with wine.

Chapter XXI. Of Time.

CHAPTER XXI.

OF TIME.

In the sense of Pythagoras, time is that sphere which encompasses the world. Plato says that it is a movable image of eternity, or the interval of the world’s motion. Eratosthenes, that it is the solar motion.

Chapter XXII. Of The Essence And Nature Of Time.

CHAPTER XXII.

OF THE ESSENCE AND NATURE OF TIME.

Plato says that the heavenly motion is time. Most of the Stoics affirm that motion itself is time. Most philosophers think that time had no beginning; Plato, that time had only an ideal beginning.

Chapter XXIII. Of Motion.

CHAPTER XXIII.

OF MOTION.

Plato and Pythagoras say that motion is a change and alteration in matter. Aristotle, that it is the actual operation of that which may be moved. Democritus, that there is but one sort of motion, and it is that which is vibratory. Epicurus, that there are two species of motion, one perpendicular, and the other oblique. Herophilus, that one species of motion is obvious only to reason, the other to sense. Heraclitus utterly denies that there is any thing of quiet or repose in nature; for that is the state of the dead; one sort of motion is eternal, which he assigns to beings eternal, the other perishable, to those things which are perishable.

Chapter XXIV. Of Generation And Corruption.

CHAPTER XXIV.

OF GENERATION AND CORRUPTION.

Parmenides, Melissus, and Zeno deny that there are any such things as generation and corruption, for they suppose that the universe is unmovable. Empedocles, Epicurus, and other philosophers that combine in this, that the world is framed of small corporeal particles meeting together, affirm that corruption and generation are not so properly to be accepted; but there are conjunctions and separations, which do not consist in any alteration according to their qualities, but are made according to quantity by coalition or disjunction. Pythagoras, and all those who take for granted that matter is subject to mutation, say that generation and corruption are to be accepted in their proper sense, and that they are accomplished by the alteration, mutation, and dissolution of elements.

Chapter XXV. Of Necessity.

CHAPTER XXV.

OF NECESSITY.

Thales says that necessity is omnipotent, and that it exerciseth an empire over every thing. Pythagoras, that the world is invested by necessity. Parmenides and Democritus, that there is nothing in the world but what is necessarily, and that this same necessity is otherwise called fate, justice, providence, and the architect of the world.

Chapter XXVI. Of The Nature Of Necessity.

CHAPTER XXVI.

OF THE NATURE OF NECESSITY.

Plato distinguisheth and refers some things to Providence, others to necessity. Empedocles makes the nature of necessity to be that cause which employs principles and elements. Democritus makes it to be a resistance, impulse, and force of matter. Plato sometimes says that necessity is matter; at other times, that it is the habitude or respect of the efficient cause towards matter.

Chapter XXVII. Of Destiny Or Fate.

CHAPTER XXVII.

OF DESTINY OR FATE.

Heraclitus, who attributes all things to fate, makes necessity to be the same thing with it. Plato admits of a necessity in the minds and the actions of men, but yet he introduceth a cause which flows from ourselves. The Stoics, in this agreeing with Plato, say that necessity is a cause invincible and violent; that fate is the ordered complication of causes, in which there is an intexture of those things which proceed from our own determination, so that some things are to be attributed to fate, others not.

Chapter XXVIII. Of The Nature Of Fate.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

OF THE NATURE OF FATE.

According to Heraclitus, the essence of fate is a certain reason which penetrates the substance of all being; and this is an ethereal body, containing in itself that seminal faculty which gives an original to every being in the universe. Plato declares that it is the eternal reason and the eternal law of the nature of the universe. Chrysippus, that it is a spiritual faculty, which in due order doth manage and rule the universe. Again, in his book styled the Definitions, that fate is the reason of the world, or that it is that law whereby Providence rules and administers every thing that is in the world; or it is that reason by which all things past have been, all things present are, and all things future will be. The Stoics say that it is a chain of causes, that is, it is an order and connection of causes which cannot be resisted. Posidonius, that it is a being the third in degree from Jupiter; the first of beings is Jupiter, the second nature, and the third fate.

Chapter XXIX. Of Fortune.

CHAPTER XXIX.

OF FORTUNE.

Plato says, that it is an accidental cause and a casual consequence in things which proceed from the election and counsel of men. Aristotle, that it is an accidental cause in those things which are done by an impulse to a certain end; and this cause is uncertain and unstable: there is a great deal of difference betwixt that which flows from chance and that which falls out by Fortune; for that which is fortuitous admits also of chance, and belongs to things practical; but what is by chance cannot be also by Fortune, for it belongs to things without action: Fortune, moreover, belongs to rational beings, but chance to rational and irrational beings alike, and even to inanimate things. Epicurus, that it is a cause not always consistent, but various as to persons, times, and manners. Anaxagoras and the Stoics, that it is that cause which human reason cannot comprehend; for there are some things which proceed from necessity, some things from Fate, some from choice and free-will, some from Fortune, some from chance.

Chapter XXX. Of Nature.

CHAPTER XXX.

OF NATURE.

Empedocles believes that Nature is nothing else but the mixture and separation of the elements; for thus he writes in the first book of his natural philosophy:

Nature gives neither life nor death, Mutation makes us die or breathe. The elements first are mixed, then all Do separate: this mortals Nature call.

Anaxagoras is of the same opinion, that Nature is coalition and separation, that is, generation and corruption.

Book II.

Having finished my dissertation concerning principles and elements and those things which chiefly appertain to them, I will turn my pen to discourse of those things which are produced by them, and will take my beginning from the world, which contains and encompasseth all beings.

Chapter I. Of The World.

CHAPTER I.

OF THE WORLD.

Pythagoras was the first philosopher that gave the name of κόσμος to the world, from the order and beauty of it; for so that word signifies. Thales and his followers say the world is one. Democritus, Epicurus, and their scholar Metrodorus affirm that there are infinite worlds in an infinite space, for that infinite vacuum in its whole extent contains them. Empedocles, that the circle which the sun makes in its motion circumscribes the world, and that circle is the utmost bound of the world. Seleucus, that the world knows no limits. Diogenes, that the universe is infinite, but this world is finite. The Stoics make a difference between that which is called the universe, and that which is called the whole world;—the universe is the infinite space considered with the vacuum, the vacuity being removed gives the right conception of the world; so that the universe and the world are not the same thing.

Chapter II. Of The Figure Of The World.

CHAPTER II.

OF THE FIGURE OF THE WORLD.

The Stoics say that the figure of the world is spherical, others that it is conical, others oval. Epicurus, that the figure of the world may be globular, or that it may admit of other shapes.

Chapter III. Whether The World Be An Animal.

CHAPTER III.

WHETHER THE WORLD BE AN ANIMAL.

Democritus, Epicurus, and those philosophers who introduced atoms and a vacuum, affirm that the world is not an animal, nor governed by any wise Providence, but that it is managed by a nature which is void of reason. All the other philosophers affirm that the world is informed with a soul, and governed by reason and Providence. Aristotle is excepted, who is somewhat different; he is of opinion, that the whole world is not acted by a soul in every part of it, nor hath it any sensitive, rational, or intellectual faculties, nor is it guided by reason and Providence in every part of it; of all which the heavenly bodies are made partakers, for the circumambient spheres are animated and are living beings; but those things which are about the earth are void of those endowments; and though those terrestrial bodies are of an orderly disposition, yet that is casual and not primogenial.

Chapter IV. Whether The World Is Eternal And Incorruptible.

CHAPTER IV.

WHETHER THE WORLD IS ETERNAL AND INCORRUPTIBLE.

Pythagoras [and Plato], with the Stoics, affirm that the world was framed by God, and being corporeal is obvious to the senses, and in its own nature is obnoxious to destruction; but it shall never perish, it being preserved by the providence of God. Epicurus, that the world had a beginning, and so shall have an end, as plants and animals have. Xenophanes, that the world never had a beginning, is eternal and incorruptible. Aristotle, that the part of the world which is sublunary is obnoxious to change, and there terrestrial beings find a decay.

Chapter V.

WHENCE DOES THE WORLD RECEIVE ITS NUTRIMENT?

Aristotle says that, if the world be nourished, it will likewise be dissolved; but it requires no aliment, and will therefore be eternal. Plato, that this very world prepares for itself a nutriment, by the alteration of those things which are corruptible in it. Philolaus believes that a destruction happens to the world in two ways; either by fire falling from heaven, or by the lunary water being poured down through the whirling of the air; and the exhalations proceeding from thence are the aliment of the world.

Chapter VI. From What Element God Did Begin To Raise The Fabric Of The World.

CHAPTER VI.

FROM WHAT ELEMENT GOD DID BEGIN TO RAISE THE FABRIC OF THE WORLD.

The natural philosophers pronounce that the forming of this world took its original from the earth, it being its centre, for the centre is the principal part of the globe. Pythagoras, from the fire and the fifth element. Empedocles determines, that the first and principal element separated from the rest was the ether, then fire, after that the earth, which earth being strongly compacted by the force of a violent revolution, water springs from it, the exhalations of which water produce the air; the heaven took its origin from the ether, and fire gave a being to the sun; those things that belong to the earth are condensed from the remainders. Plato, that the visible world was framed after the exemplar of the intellectual world; the soul of the visible world was first produced, then the corporeal figure, first that which came from fire and earth, afterwards that which came from air and water. Pythagoras, that the world was formed of five solid figures which are called mathematical; the earth was produced by the cube, the fire by the pyramid, the air by the octahedron, the water by the icosahedron, and the globe of the universe by the dodecahedron. In all these Plato hath the same sentiments with Pythagoras.

Chapter VII. In What Form And Order The World Was Composed.

CHAPTER VII.

IN WHAT FORM AND ORDER THE WORLD WAS COMPOSED.

Parmenides believes that there are small coronets alternately twisted one within another, some made up of a thin, others of a condensed matter; and there are others between them mixed mutually together of light and of darkness, and about them all there is a solid substance, which like a firm wall surrounds these coronets. Leucippus and Democritus wrap the world round about, as with a garment and membrane. Epicurus says that that which bounds some worlds is thin, and that which limits others is gross and condensed; and of these worlds some are in motion, others are fixed. Plato, that fire takes the first place in the world, the second the ether, after that the air, under that the water; the last place the earth possesseth: sometimes he puts the ether and the fire in the same place. Aristotle gives the first place to the ether, as that which is impassible, it being a kind of fifth body; after which he placeth those that are passible, fire, air, and water, and last of all the earth. To those bodies that are accounted celestial he assigns a motion that is circular, but to those that are seated under them, if they be light bodies, an ascending, if heavy, a descending motion. Empedocles, that the places of the elements are not always fixed and determined, but they all succeed one another in their respective stations.

Chapter VIII.

WHAT IS THE CAUSE OF THE WORLD’S INCLINATION.

Diogenes and Anaxagoras affirm that, after the world was composed and the earth had produced living creatures, the world out of its own propensity made an inclination towards the south. Perhaps this may be attributed to a wise Providence (they say), that thereby some parts of the world may be habitable, others uninhabitable, according as the various climates are affected with a rigorous cold, or a scorching heat, or a just temperament of cold and heat. Empedocles, that the air yielding to the impetuous force of the solar rays, the pole received an inclination; whereby the northern parts were exalted and the southern depressed, by which means the whole world received its inclination.

Chapter IX. Of That Thing Which Is Beyond The World, And Whether It Be A Vacuum Or Not.

CHAPTER IX.

OF THAT THING WHICH IS BEYOND THE WORLD, AND WHETHER IT BE A VACUUM OR NOT.

Pythagoras and his followers say that beyond the world there is a vacuum, into which and out of which the world hath its respiration. The Stoics, that there is a vacuum into which the infinite world by a conflagration shall be dissolved. Posidonius, not an infinite vacuum, but as much as suffices for the dissolution of the world; and this he asserts in his first book concerning the Vacuum. Aristotle affirms, that there is no vacuum. Plato concludes that neither within nor without the world there is any vacuum.

Chapter X. What Parts Of The World Are On The Right Hand, And What Parts Are On The Left.

CHAPTER X.

WHAT PARTS OF THE WORLD ARE ON THE RIGHT HAND, AND WHAT PARTS ARE ON THE LEFT.

Pythagoras, Plato, and Aristotle say that the eastern parts of the world, from whence motion commences, are of the right, those of the western are of the left-hand of the world. Empedocles, that those that are of the right-hand are towards the summer solstice, those of the left towards the winter solstice.

Chapter XI. Of Heaven, What Is Its Nature And Essence.

CHAPTER XI.

OF HEAVEN, WHAT IS ITS NATURE AND ESSENCE.

Anaximenes declares that the circumference of heaven is the limit of the earth’s revolution. Empedocles, that the heaven is a solid substance, and hath the form and hardness of crystal, it being composed of the air compacted by fire, and that in both hemispheres it invests the elements of air and fire. Aristotle, that it is formed by the fifth body, and by the mixture of extreme heat and cold.

Chapter XII.

INTO HOW MANY CIRCLES IS THE HEAVEN DISTINGUISHED; OR, OF THE DIVISION

Of Heaven.

Thales, Pythagoras, and the followers of Pythagoras do distribute the universal globe of heaven into five circles which they denominate zones; one of which is called the arctic circle, which is always conspicuous to us, another is the summer tropic, another is the equinoctial, another is the winter tropic, another is the antarctic circle, which is always invisible. The circle called the zodiac is placed under the three that are in the midst, and lies obliquely, gently touching them all. Likewise, they are all cut in right angles by the meridian, which runs from pole to pole. It is supposed that Pythagoras made the first discovery of the obliquity of the zodiac, but one Oenopides of Chios challenges to himself the invention of it.

Chapter XIII. What Is The Essence Of The Stars, And How They Are Composed.

CHAPTER XIII.

WHAT IS THE ESSENCE OF THE STARS, AND HOW THEY ARE COMPOSED.

Thales believes that they are globes of earth set on fire. Empedocles, that they are fiery bodies arising from that fire which the ether embraced within itself, and did shatter in pieces when the elements were first separated one from another. Anaxagoras, that the circumambient ether is of a fiery substance, which, by a vehement force in its whirling about, did tear stones from the earth, and by its own power set them on fire, and establish them as stars in the heavens. Diogenes thinks they resemble pumice stones, and that they are the breathings of the world; again he supposeth that there are some invisible stones, which sometimes fall from heaven upon the earth, and are there quenched; as it happened at Aegos-potami, where a stony star resembling fire did fall. Empedocles, that the fixed stars are fastened to the crystal, but the planets are loosened. Plato, that the stars for the most part are of a fiery nature, but they are made partakers of another element, with which they are mixed after the resemblance of glue. Xenophanes, that they are composed of inflamed clouds, which in the daytime are quenched, and in the night are kindled again. The like we see in coals; for the rising and setting of the stars is nothing else but the quenching and kindling of them. Heraclides and the Pythagoreans, that every star is a world in an infinite ether, and itself encompasseth air, earth, and ether; this opinion is current among the followers of Orpheus, for they suppose that each of the stars does make a world. Epicurus condemns none of these opinions, for he embraces any thing that is possible.

Chapter XIV. Of What Figure The Stars Are.

CHAPTER XIV.

OF WHAT FIGURE THE STARS ARE.

The Stoics say that the stars are of a circular form, like the sun, the moon, and the world. Cleanthes, that they are of a conical figure. Anaximenes, that they are fastened as nails in the crystalline firmament; some others, that they are fiery plates of gold, resembling pictures.

Chapter XV. Of The Order And Place Of The Stars.

CHAPTER XV.

OF THE ORDER AND PLACE OF THE STARS.

Xenocrates says that the stars are moved in one and the same superficies. The other Stoics say that they are moved in various superficies, some being superior, others inferior. Democritus, that the fixed stars are in the highest place; after those the planets; after which the sun, Venus, and the moon, in their order. Plato, that the first after the fixed stars that makes its appearance is Phaenon, the star of Saturn; the second Phaëton, the star of Jupiter; the third the fiery, which is the star of Mars; the fourth the morning star, which is the star of Venus the fifth the shining star, and that is the star of Mercury; in the sixth place is the sun, in the seventh the moon. Plato and some of the mathematicians conspire in the same opinion; others place the sun as the centre of the planets. Anaximander, Metrodorus of Chios, and Crates assign to the sun the superior place, after him they place the moon, after them the fixed stars and planets.

Chapter XVI. Of The Motion And Circulation Of The Stars.

CHAPTER XVI.

OF THE MOTION AND CIRCULATION OF THE STARS.

Anaxagoras, Democritus, and Cleanthes say that all the stars have their motion from east to west. Alcmaeon and the mathematicians, that the planets have a contrary motion to the fixed stars, and in opposition to them are carried from the west to the east. Anaximander, that they are moved by those circles and spheres on which they are placed. Anaximenes, that they are turned under and about the earth. Plato and the mathematicians, that the sun, Venus, and Mercury have equal measures in their motions.

Chapter XVII.

WHENCE DO THE STARS RECEIVE THEIR LIGHT?

Metrodorus says that all the fixed stars derive their light from the sun. Heraclitus and the Stoics, that earthly exhalations are those by which the stars are nourished. Aristotle, that the heavenly bodies require no nutriment, for they being eternal cannot be obnoxious to corruption. Plato and the Stoics, that the whole world and the stars are fed by the same things.

Chapter XVIII. What Are Those Stars Which Are Called The Dioscuri, The Twins, Or

CHAPTER XVIII.

WHAT ARE THOSE STARS WHICH ARE CALLED THE DIOSCURI, THE TWINS, OR CASTOR AND POLLUX?

Xenophanes says that those which appear as stars in the tops of ships are little clouds shining by their peculiar motion. Metrodorus, that the eyes of frighted and astonished people emit those lights which are called the Twins.

Chapter XIX. How Stars Prognosticate, And What Is The Cause Of Winter And Summer.

CHAPTER XIX.

HOW STARS PROGNOSTICATE, AND WHAT IS THE CAUSE OF WINTER AND SUMMER.

Plato says that the summer and winter indications proceed from the rising and setting of the stars, that is, from the rising and setting of the sun, the moon, and the fixed stars. Anaximenes, that the others in this are not at all concerned, but that it is wholly performed by the sun. Eudoxus and Aratus assign it in common to all the stars, for thus Aratus sings:

Thund’ring Jove stars in heaven hath fixed, And them in such beauteous order mixed, Which yearly future things predict.

Chapter XX. Of The Essence Of The Sun.

CHAPTER XX.

OF THE ESSENCE OF THE SUN.

Anaximander says, that the sun is a circle eight and twenty times bigger than the earth, and has a circumference which very much resembles that of a chariot-wheel, which is hollow and full of fire; the fire of which appears to us through its mouth, as by a hole in a pipe; and this is the sun. Xenophanes, that the sun is constituted of small bodies of fire compact together and raised from a moist exhalation, which collected together make the body of the sun; or that it is a cloud enfired. The Stoics, that it is an intelligent flame proceeding from the sea. Plato, that it is composed of abundance of fire. Anaxagoras, Democritus, and Metrodorus, that it is an enfired stone, or a burning mass. Aristotle, that it is a sphere formed out of the fifth body. Philolaus the Pythagorean, that the sun shines as crystal, which receives its splendor from the fire of the world and so reflecteth its light upon us; so that first, the body of fire which is celestial belongs to the sun; and secondly, the fiery reflection that proceeds from it, in the form of a mirror; and lastly, the light which is spread upon us by way of reflection from that mirror; and this last we call the sun, which is (as it were) an image of an image. Empedocles, that there are two suns; the one the prototype, which is a fire placed in the other hemisphere, which it totally fills, and is always ordered in a direct opposition to the reflection of its own light; and the sun which is visible to us, formed by the reflection of that splendor in the other hemisphere (which is filled with air mixed with heat), the light reflected from the circular sun in the opposite hemisphere falling upon the crystalline sun; and this reflection is carried round with the motion of the fiery sun. To give briefly the full sense, the sun is nothing else but the light and brightness of that fire which encompasseth the earth. Epicurus, that it is an earthy bulk well compacted, with hollow passages like a pumice-stone or a sponge, which is kindled by fire.

Chapter XXI. Of The Magnitude Of The Sun.

CHAPTER XXI.

OF THE MAGNITUDE OF THE SUN.

Anaximander says, that the sun itself in greatness is equal to the earth, but that the circle from whence it receives its respiration and in which it is moved is seven and twenty times larger than the earth. Anaxagoras, that it is far greater than Peloponnesus. Heraclitus, that it is no broader than a man’s foot. Epicurus, that he equally embraceth all the foresaid opinions,—that the sun may be of magnitude as it appears, or it may be somewhat greater or somewhat less.

Chapter XXII. What Is The Figure Or Shape Of The Sun.

CHAPTER XXII.

WHAT IS THE FIGURE OR SHAPE OF THE SUN.

Anaximenes affirms that in its dilatation it resembles a leaf. Heraclitus, that it hath the shape of a boat, and is somewhat crooked. The Stoics, that it is spherical, and it is of the same figure with the world and the stars. Epicurus, that the recited dogmas may be defended.

Chapter XXIII. Of The Turning And Returning Of The Sun, Or The Summer And Winter Solstice.

CHAPTER XXIII.

OF THE TURNING AND RETURNING OF THE SUN, OR THE SUMMER AND WINTER SOLSTICE.

Anaximenes thinks that the stars are forced by a condensed and resisting air. Anaxagoras, by the repelling force of the northern air, which is violently pushed on by the sun, and thus rendered more condensed and powerful. Empedocles, that the sun is hindered from a continual direct course by its spherical vehicle and by the two circular tropics. Diogenes, that the sun, when it comes to its utmost declination, is extinguished, a rigorous cold damping the heat. The Stoics, that the sun maintains its course only through that space in which its aliment is seated, let it be the ocean or the earth; by the exhalations proceeding from these it is nourished. Plato, Pythagoras, and Aristotle, that the sun receives a transverse motion from the obliquity of the zodiac, which is guarded by the tropics; all these the globe clearly manifests.

Chapter XXIV. Of The Eclipses Of The Sun.

CHAPTER XXIV.

OF THE ECLIPSES OF THE SUN.

Thales was the first who affirmed that the eclipse of the sun was caused by the moon’s running in a perpendicular line between it and the earth; for the moon in its own nature is terrestrial. And by mirrors it is made perspicuous that, when the sun is eclipsed, the moon is in a direct line below it. Anaximander, that the sun is eclipsed when the fiery mouth of it is stopped and hindered from expiration. Heraclitus, that it is after the manner of the turning of a boat, when the concave appears uppermost to our sight, and the convex nethermost. Xenophanes, that the sun is eclipsed when it is extinguished; and that a new sun is created to rise in the east. He gives a farther account of an eclipse of the sun which remained for a whole month, and again of a total eclipse which changed the day into night. Some say that the cause of an eclipse is the invisible concourse of condensed clouds which cover the orb of the sun. Aristarchus placeth the sun amongst the fixed stars, and believeth that the earth [the moon?] is moved about the sun, and that by its inclination and vergency it intercepts its light and shadows its orb. Xenophanes, that there are many suns and many moons, according as the earth is distinguished by climates, circles, and zones. At some certain times the orb of the sun, falling upon some part of the world which is uninhabited, wanders in a vacuum and becomes eclipsed. The same person affirms that the sun, proceeding in its motion in the infinite space, appears to us to move orbicularly, receiving that representation from its infinite distance from us.

Chapter XXV. Of The Essence Of The Moon.

CHAPTER XXV.

OF THE ESSENCE OF THE MOON.

Anaximander affirms that the circle of the moon is nineteen times bigger than the earth, and resembles the sun, its orb being full of fire; and it suffers an eclipse when the wheel turneth,—which he describes by the divers turnings of a chariot-wheel, in the midst of it there being a hollow replenished with fire, which hath but one way of expiration. Xenophanes, that it is a condensed cloud. The Stoics, that it is mixed of fire and air. Plato, that it is a body of the greatest part earthy. Anaxagoras and Democritus, that it is a solid, condensed, and fiery body, in which there are champaign countries, mountains, and valleys. Heraclitus, that it is an earth covered with a cloud. Pythagoras, that the body of the moon was of a nature like a mirror.

Chapter XXVI. Of The Magnitude Of The Moon.

CHAPTER XXVI.

OF THE MAGNITUDE OF THE MOON.

The Stoics declare, that in magnitude it exceeds the earth, as the sun itself doth. Parmenides, that it is equal to the sun, from whom it receives its light.

Chapter XXVII. Of The Figure Of The Moon.

CHAPTER XXVII.

OF THE FIGURE OF THE MOON.

The Stoics believe that it is of the same figure with the sun, spherical. Empedocles, that the figure of it resembles a quoit. Heraclitus, a boat. Others, a cylinder.

Chapter XXVIII.

FROM WHENCE IS IT THAT THE MOON RECEIVES HER LIGHT?

Anaximander thinks that she gives light to herself, but it is very slender and faint. Antiphon, that the moon shines by its own proper light; but when it absconds itself, the solar beams darting on it obscure it. Thus it naturally happens, that a more vehement light puts out a weaker; the same is seen in other stars. Thales and his followers, that the moon borrows all her light of the sun. Heraclitus, that the sun and moon are after the same manner affected; in their configurations both are shaped like boats, and are made conspicuous to us, receiving their light from moist exhalations. The sun appears to us more refulgent, by reason it is moved in a clearer and purer air; the moon appears more duskish, it being carried in an air more troubled and gross.

Chapter XXIX. Of The Eclipse Of The Moon.

CHAPTER XXIX.

OF THE ECLIPSE OF THE MOON.

Anaximenes believes that the mouth of the hollow wheel, about which the moon is turned, being stopped is the cause of an eclipse. Berosus, that it proceeds from the turning of the dark side of the lunar orb towards us. Heraclitus, that it is performed just after the manner of a boat turned upside downwards. Some of the Pythagoreans say, that the splendor arises from the earth, its obstruction from the Antichthon (or counter-earth). Some of the later philosophers, that there is such a distribution of the lunar flame, that it gradually and in a just order burns until it be full moon; in like manner, that this fire decays by degrees, until its conjunction with the sun totally extinguisheth it. Plato, Aristotle, the Stoics, and all the mathematicians agree in this, that the obscurity with which the moon is every month affected ariseth from a conjunction with the sun, by whose more resplendent beams she is darkened; and the moon is then eclipsed when she falls upon the shadow of the earth, the earth interposing between the sun and moon, or (to speak more properly) the earth intercepting the light of the moon.

Chapter XXX.

OF THE PHASES OF THE MOON, OR THE LUNAR ASPECTS; OR HOW IT COMES TO

Pass That The Moon Appears To Us Terrestrial.

The Pythagoreans say, that the moon appears to us terraneous, by reason it is inhabited as our earth is, and in it there are animals of a larger size and plants of a rarer beauty than our globe affords; that the animals in their virtue and energy are fifteen degrees superior to ours; that they emit nothing excrementitious; and that the days are fifteen times longer. Anaxagoras, that the reason of the inequality ariseth from the commixture of things earthy and cold; and that fiery and caliginous matter is jumbled together, whereby the moon is said to be a star of a counterfeit aspect. The Stoics, that by reason of the diversity of her substance the composition of her body is subject to corruption.

Chapter XXXI. How Far The Moon Is Removed From The Sun.

CHAPTER XXXI.

HOW FAR THE MOON IS REMOVED FROM THE SUN.

Empedocles affirms, that the distance of the moon from the sun is double her remoteness from the earth. The mathematicians, that her distance from the sun is eighteen times her distance from the earth. Eratosthenes, that the sun is remote from the earth seven hundred and eighty thousand furlongs.

CHAPTER XXXII.

OF THE YEAR, AND HOW MANY CIRCULATIONS MAKE UP THE GREAT YEAR OF EVERY PLANET.

The year of Saturn is completed when he has had his circulation in the space of thirty solar years; of Jupiter in twelve; of Mars in two, of the sun in twelve months; in so many Mercury and Venus, the spaces of their circulation being equal; of the moon in thirty days, in which time her course from her prime to her conjunction is finished. As to the great year, some make it to consist of eight years solar, some of nineteen, others of fifty-nine. Heraclitus, of eighteen thousand. Diogenes, of three hundred and sixty-five such years as Heraclitus assigns. Others there are who lengthen it to seven thousand seven hundred and seventy-seven years.

Book III.

In my two precedent treatises having in due order taken a compendious view and given an account of the celestial bodies, and of the moon which divides between them and the terrestrial, I must now convert my pen to discourse in this third book of Meteors, which are beings above the earth and below the moon, and are extended to the site and position of the earth, which is supposed to be the centre of the sphere of this world; and from thence will I take my beginning.

Chapter I. Of The Galaxy, Or The Milky Way.

CHAPTER I.

OF THE GALAXY, OR THE MILKY WAY.

It is a cloudy circle, which continually appears in the air, and by reason of the whiteness of its colors is called the galaxy, or the milky way. Some of the Pythagoreans say that, when Phaëton set the world on fire, a star falling from its own place in its circular passage through the region caused an inflammation. Others say that originally it was the first course of the sun; others, that it is an image as in a looking-glass, occasioned by the sun’s reflecting its beams towards the heavens, and this appears in the clouds and in the rainbow. Metrodorus, that it is merely the solar course, or the motion of the sun in its own circle. Parmenides, that the mixture of a thick and thin substance gives it a color which resembles milk. Anaxagoras, that the sun moving under the earth and not being able to enlighten every place, the shadow of the earth, being cast upon the part of the heavens, makes the galaxy. Democritus, that it is the splendor which ariseth from the coalition of many small bodies, which, being firmly united amongst themselves, do mutually enlighten one another. Aristotle, that it is the inflammation of dry, copious, and coherent exhalations, by which the fiery train, whose seat is beneath the ether and the planets, is produced. Posidonius, that it is a combination of fire, of rarer substance than the stars, but denser than light.

Chapter II. Of Comets And Shooting Fires, And Those Which Resemble Beams.

CHAPTER II.

OF COMETS AND SHOOTING FIRES, AND THOSE WHICH RESEMBLE BEAMS.

Some of the Pythagoreans say, that a comet is one of those stars which do not always appear, but after they have run through their determined course, they then rise and are visible to us. Others, that it is the reflection of our sight upon the sun, which gives the resemblance of comets much after the same manner as images are reflected in mirrors. Anaxagoras and Democritus, that two or more stars being in conjunction by their united light make a comet. Aristotle, that it is a fiery coalition of dry exhalations. Strato, that it is the light of the star darting through a thick cloud that hath invested it; this is seen in light shining through lanterns. Heraclides, native of Pontus, that it is a lofty cloud inflamed by a sublime fire. The like causes he assigns to the bearded comet, to those circles that are seen about the sun or stars, or those meteors which resemble pillars or beams, and all others which are of this kind. This way unanimously go all the Peripatetics, believing that these meteors, being formed by the clouds, do differ according to their various configurations. Epigenes, that a comet arises from an elevation of spirit or wind, mixed with an earthy substance and set on fire. Boëthus, that it is a phantasy presented to us by inflamed air. Diogenes, that comets are stars. Anaxagoras, that those styled shooting stars fall down from the ether like sparks, and therefore are soon extinguished. Metrodorus, that it is a forcible illapse of the sun upon clouds which makes them to sparkle as fire. Xenophanes, that all such fiery meteors are nothing else but the conglomeration of the enfired clouds, and the flashing motions of them.

CHAPTER III.

OF VIOLENT ERUPTION OF FIRE OUT OF THE CLOUDS. OF LIGHTNING. OF THUNDER. OF HURRICANES. OF WHIRLWINDS.

Anaximander affirms that all these are produced by the wind after this manner: the wind being enclosed by condensed clouds, by reason of its minuteness and lightness it violently endeavors to make its passage; and in breaking through the cloud it gives the noise; and the rending the cloud, because of the blackness of it, gives a resplendent flame. Metrodorus, that when the wind falls upon a cloud whose densing firmly compacts it, by breaking the cloud it causeth a great noise, and by striking and rending the cloud it gives the flame; and in the swiftness of its motion, the sun imparting heat to it, it throws out the thunderbolt. The weak declining of the thunderbolt ends in a violent tempest. Anaxagoras, that when heat and cold meet and are mixed together (that is, ethereal parts with airy), thereby a great noise of thunder is produced, and the color seen against the blackness of the cloud causes the flashing of fire; the full and great splendor is lightning, the more enlarged and embodied fire becomes a whirlwind, the cloudiness of it gives the hurricane. The Stoics, that thunder is the clashing of clouds one upon another, the flash of lightning is their fiery inflammation; their more rapid splendor is the thunderbolt, the faint and weak the whirlwind. Aristotle, that all these proceed from dry exhalations, which, if they meet with moist vapors, force their passage, and the breaking of them gives the noise of thunder; they, being very dry, take fire and make lightning; tempests and hurricanes arise from the plenitude of matter which each draw to themselves, the hotter parts attracted make the whirlwinds, the duller the tempests.

Chapter IV. Of Clouds, Rain, Snow, And Hail.

CHAPTER IV.

OF CLOUDS, RAIN, SNOW, AND HAIL.

Anaximenes thinks that by the air being very much condensed clouds are formed; this air being more compacted, rain is compressed through it; when water in its falling down freezeth, then snow is generated; when it is encompassed with a moist air, it is hail. Metrodorus, that a cloud is composed of a watery exhalation carried into a higher place. Epicurus, that they are made of vapors; and that hail and rain are formed in a round figure, being in their long descent pressed upon by the circumambient air.

Chapter V. Of The Rainbow.

CHAPTER V.

OF THE RAINBOW.

Those things which affect the air in the superior places of it are of two sorts. Some have a real subsistence, such are rain and hail; others not. Those which enjoy not a proper subsistence are only in appearance; of this sort is the rainbow. Thus the continent to us that sail seems to be in motion.

Plato says, that men admiring it feigned that it took origination from one Thaumas, which word signifies admiration. Homer says:

Jove paints the rainbow with a purple dye, Alluring man to cast his wandering eye.[43]

Others therefore fabled that the bow hath a head like a bull, by which it swallows up rivers.

But what is the cause of the rainbow? It is evident that what apparent things we see come to our eyes in right or in crooked lines, or by reflection: these last are incorporeal and to sense obscure, but to reason they are obvious. Those which are seen in right lines are those which we see through the air or horn or transparent stones, for all the parts of these things are very fine and tenuious; but those which appear in crooked lines are in water, the thickness of the water presenting them bended to our sight. This is the reason that oars in themselves straight, when put into the sea, appear to us crooked. The third manner of our seeing is by reflection, and this is perspicuous by mirrors. After this third sort the rainbow is affected. We conceive it is a moist exhalation converted into a cloud, and in a short space it is dissolved into small and moist drops. The sun declining towards the west, it will necessarily follow that the whole bow is seen opposite to the sun; for the eye being directed to those drops receives a reflection, and by this means the bow is formed. The eye doth not consider the figure and form, but the color of these drops; the first of which colors is a shining red, the second a purple, the third is blue and green. Let us consider whether the reason of this shining red color be the splendor of the sun falling upon these small drops, the whole body of light being reflected, by which this bright red color is produced; the second part being troubled, and the light languishing in the drops, the color becomes purple (for the purple is the faint red); but the third part, being more and more troubled, is changed into the green color. And this is proved by other effects of Nature; if any one shall put water in his mouth and spit it out so opposite to the sun that its rays may be reflected on the drops, he shall see the resemblance of a rainbow; the same appears to men that are blear-eyed, when they fix their watery eyes upon a candle.

Anaximenes thinks the bow is thus formed; the sun casting its splendor upon a thick, black, and gross cloud, and the rays not being in a capacity to penetrate beyond the superficies. Anaxagoras, that, the solar rays being reflected from a condensed cloud, the sun being placed directly opposite to it forms the bow after the mode of the repercussion of a mirror; after the same manner he assigns the natural cause of the Parhelia or mock-suns, which are often seen in Pontus. Metrodorus, that when the sun casts its splendor through a cloud, the cloud gives itself a blue, and the light a red color.

Chapter VI. Of Meteors Which Resemble Rods, Or Of Rods.

CHAPTER VI.

OF METEORS WHICH RESEMBLE RODS, OR OF RODS.

These rods and the mock-suns are constituted of a double nature, a real subsistence, and a mere appearance;—of a real subsistence, because the clouds are the object of our eyes; of a mere appearance, for their proper color is not seen, but that which is adventitious. The like affections, natural and adventitious, in all such things do happen.

Chapter VII. Of Winds.

CHAPTER VII.

OF WINDS.

Anaximander believes that wind is a fluid air, the sun putting into motion or melting the moist subtle parts of it. The Stoics, that all winds are a flowing air, and from the diversity of the regions whence they have their origin receive their denomination; as, from darkness and the west the western wind; from the sun and its rising the eastern; from the north the northern, and from the south the southern winds. Metrodorus, that moist vapors heated by the sun are the cause of the impetuousness of violent winds. The Etesian, or those winds which annually commence about the rising of the Little Dog, the air about the northern pole being more compacted, blow vehemently following the sun when he returns from the summer solstice.

Chapter VIII. Of Winter And Summer.

CHAPTER VIII.

OF WINTER AND SUMMER.

Empedocles and the Stoics believe that winter is caused by the thickness of the air prevailing and mounting upwards; and summer by fire, it falling downwards.

* * * * *

This description being given by me of Meteors, or those things that are above us, I must pass to those things which are terrestrial.

Chapter IX. Of The Earth, What Is Its Nature And Magnitude.

CHAPTER IX.

OF THE EARTH, WHAT IS ITS NATURE AND MAGNITUDE.

Thales and his followers say that there is but one earth. Hicetes the Pythagorean, that there are two earths, this and the Antichthon, or the earth opposite to it. The Stoics, that this earth is one, and that finite and limited. Xenophanes, that the earth, being compacted of fire and air, in its lowest parts hath laid a foundation in an infinite depth. Metrodorus, that the earth is mere sediment and dregs of water, as the sun is of the air.

Chapter X. Of The Figure Of The Earth.

CHAPTER X.

OF THE FIGURE OF THE EARTH.

Thales, the Stoics, and their followers say that the earth is globular. Anaximander, that it resembles a smooth stony pillar. Anaximenes, that it hath the shape of a table. Leucippus, of a drum. Democritus, that it is like a quoit in its surface, and hollow in the middle.

Chapter XI. Of The Site And Position Of The Earth.

CHAPTER XI.

OF THE SITE AND POSITION OF THE EARTH.

The disciples of Thales say that the earth is the centre of the universe. Xenophanes, that it is first, being rooted in the infinite space. Philolaus the Pythagorean gives to fire the middle place, and this is the hearth-fire of the universe; the second place to the Antichthon; the third to that earth which we inhabit, which is seated in opposition unto and whirled about the opposite,—which is the reason that those which inhabit that earth cannot be seen by us. Parmenides was the first that confined the habitable world to the two solstitial (or temperate) zones.

Chapter XII. Of The Inclination Of The Earth.

CHAPTER XII.

OF THE INCLINATION OF THE EARTH.

Leucippus affirms that the earth vergeth towards the southern parts, by reason of the thinness and fineness that is in the south; the northern parts are more compacted, they being congealed by a rigorous cold, but those parts of the world that are opposite are enfired. Democritus, because, the southern parts of the atmosphere being the weaker, the earth as it enlarges bends towards the south; the northern parts are of an unequal, the southern of an equal temperament; and this is the reason that the earth bends towards those parts where the earth is laden with fruits and its own increase.

Chapter XIII. Of The Motion Of The Earth.

CHAPTER XIII.

OF THE MOTION OF THE EARTH.

Most of the philosophers say that the earth remains fixed in the same place. Philolaus the Pythagorean, that it is moved about the element of fire, in an oblique circle, after the same manner of motion that the sun and moon have. Heraclides of Pontus and Ecphantus the Pythagorean assign a motion to the earth, but not progressive, but after the manner of a wheel being carried on its own axis; thus the earth (they say) turns itself upon its own centre from west to east. Democritus, that when the earth was first formed it had a motion, the parts of it being small and light; but in process of time the parts of it were condensed, so that by its own weight it was poised and fixed.

Chapter XIV.

INTO HOW MANY ZONES IS THE EARTH DIVIDED?

Pythagoras says that, as the celestial sphere is distributed into five zones, into the same number is the terrestrial; which zones are the arctic and antarctic, the summer and winter tropics (or temperate zones), and the equinoctial; the middle of which zones equally divides the earth and constitutes the torrid zone; but that part which is in the middle of the summer and winter tropics is habitable, by reason the air is there temperate.

Chapter XV. Of Earthquakes.

CHAPTER XV.

OF EARTHQUAKES.

Thales and Democritus assign the cause of earthquakes to water. The Stoics say that it is a moist vapor contained in the earth, making an irruption into the air, that makes the earthquake. Anaximenes, that the dryness and rarety of the earth are the cause of earthquakes, the one of which is produced by extreme drought, the other by immoderate showers. Anaxagoras, that the air endeavoring to make a passage out of the earth, meeting with a thick superficies, is not able to force its way, and so shakes the circumambient earth with a trembling. Aristotle, that a cold vapor encompassing every part of the earth prohibits the evacuation of vapors; for those which are hot, being in themselves light, endeavor to force a passage upwards, by which means the dry exhalations, being left in the earth, use their utmost endeavor to make a passage out, and being wedged in, they suffer various circumvolutions and shake the earth. Metrodorus, that whatsoever is in its own place is incapable of motion, except it be pressed upon or drawn by the operation of another body; the earth being so seated cannot naturally be removed, yet divers parts and places of the earth may move one upon another. Parmenides and Democritus, that the earth being so equally poised hath no sufficient cause why it should incline rather to one side than to the other; so that it may be shaken, but cannot be removed. Anaximenes, that the earth by reason of its latitude is borne upon the air which presseth upon it. Others opine that the earth swims upon the waters, as boards and broad planks, and by that reason is moved. Plato, that motion is by six manner of ways, upwards, downwards, on the right-hand and on the left, behind and before; therefore it is not possible that the earth should be moved in any of these modes, for it is altogether seated in the lowest place; it therefore cannot receive a motion, since there is nothing about it so peculiar as to make it incline any way; but some parts of it are so rare and thin that they are capable of motion. Epicurus, that the possibility of the earth’s motion ariseth from a thick and aqueous air beneath the earth, which may, by moving or pushing it, be capable of its quaking; or that being so compassed, and having many passages, it is shaken by the wind which is dispersed through the hollow dens of it.

Chapter XVI. Of The Sea, And How It Is Composed, And How It Becomes To The Taste Bitter.

CHAPTER XVI.

OF THE SEA, AND HOW IT IS COMPOSED, AND HOW IT BECOMES TO THE TASTE BITTER.

Anaximander affirms that the sea is the remainder of the primogenial humidity, the greatest part of which being dried up by the fire, the influence of the great heat altered its quality. Anaxagoras, that in the beginning water did not flow, but was as a standing pool; and that it was burnt by the motion of the sun about it, by which the oily part of the water being exhaled, the residue became salt and bitter. Empedocles, that the sea is the sweat of the earth burnt by the sun. Antiphon, that the sweat of that which was hot was separated from the other parts which were moist; these by seething and boiling became bitter, as happens in all sweats. Metrodorus, that the sea was strained through the earth, and retained some part of the density thereof; the same is observed in all those things which are strained through ashes. The schools of Plato, that the element of water being compacted by the rigor of the air became sweet, but that part which was exhaled from the earth, being enfired, became of a brackish taste.

Chapter XVII. Of Tides, Or Of The Ebbing And Flowing Of The Sea.

CHAPTER XVII.

OF TIDES, OR OF THE EBBING AND FLOWING OF THE SEA.

Aristotle and Heraclides say, they proceed from the sun, which moves and whirls about the winds; and these falling with a violence upon the Atlantic, it is pressed and swells by them, by which means the sea flows; and their impression ceasing, the sea retracts, hence they ebb. Pytheas the Massilian, that the fulness of the moon gives the flow, the wane the ebb. Plato attributes it all to a certain oscillation of the sea, which by means of a mouth or orifice causes the alternate ebb and flow; and by this means the seas do rise and flow contrarily. Timaeus believes that those rivers which fall from the mountains of the Celtic Gaul into the Atlantic produce a tide. For upon their entering upon that sea, they violently press upon it, and so cause the flow; but they disemboguing themselves, there is a cessation of the impetuousness, by which means the ebb is produced. Seleucus the mathematician attributes a motion to the earth; and thus he pronounceth that the moon in its circumlation meets and repels the earth in its motion; between these two, the earth and the moon, there is a vehement wind raised and intercepted, which rushes upon the Atlantic Ocean, and gives us a probable argument that it is the cause the sea is troubled and moved.

CHAPTER XVIII. OF THE HALO, OR A CIRCLE ABOUT A STAR.

CHAPTER XVIII.

OF THE HALO, OR A CIRCLE ABOUT A STAR.

The halo or circle is thus formed. A thick and dark air intervening between the moon or any other star and our eye, by which means our sight is dilated and reflected, when now our sight is incident upon the outward circumference of the orb of that star, there presently seems a circle to appear. This circle thus appearing is called the ἅλως or halo; and there is constantly such a circle seen by us, when such a density of sight happens.

BOOK IV.

Having taken a survey of the general parts of the world, I will take a view of the particular members of it.

CHAPTER I.

OF THE OVERFLOWING OF THE NILE.

Thales conjectures that the Etesian or anniversary northern winds blowing strongly against Egypt heighten the swelling of the Nile, the mouth of that river being obstructed by the force of the sea rushing into it. Euthymenes the Massilian concludes that the Nile is filled by the ocean and that sea which is outward from it, this being naturally sweet. Anaxagoras, that the snow in Ethiopia which is frozen in winter is melted in summer, and this makes the inundation. Democritus, that the snows which are in the northern climates when the sun enters the summer solstice are dissolved and diffused; from those vapors clouds are compacted, and these are forcibly driven by the Etesian winds into the southern parts and into Egypt, from whence violent showers are poured; and by this means the fens of Egypt are filled with water, and the river Nile hath its inundation. Herodotus the historian, that the waters of the Nile receive from their fountain an equal portion of water in winter and in summer; but in winter the water appears less, because the sun, making its approach nearer to Egypt, draws up the rivers of that country into exhalations. Ephorus the historiographer, that in summer all Egypt seems to be melted and sweats itself into water, to which the thin and sandy soils of Arabia and Lybia contribute. Eudoxus relates that the Egyptian priests affirm that, when it is summer to us who dwell under the northern tropic, it is winter with them that inhabit under the southern tropic; by this means there is a various contrariety and opposition of the seasons in the year, which cause such showers to fall as make the water to overflow the banks of the Nile and diffuse itself throughout all Egypt.

CHAPTER II. OF THE SOUL.

CHAPTER II.

OF THE SOUL.

Thales first pronounced that the soul is that being which is in a perpetual motion, or that whose motion proceeds from itself. Pythagoras, that it is a number moving itself; he takes a number to be the same thing with a mind. Plato, that it is an intellectual substance moving itself, and that motion is in a numerical harmony. Aristotle, that it is the first actuality (ἐντελέχεια) of a natural organical body which has life potentially; and this actuality must be understood to be the same thing with energy or operation. Dicaearchus, that it is the harmony of the four elements. Asclepiades the physician, that it is the concurrent exercitation of the senses.

CHAPTER III. WHETHER THE SOUL BE A BODY, AND WHAT IS THE NATURE AND ESSENCE OF IT.

CHAPTER III.

WHETHER THE SOUL BE A BODY, AND WHAT IS THE NATURE AND ESSENCE OF IT.

All those that have been named by me do affirm that the soul itself is incorporeal, and by its own nature is in a perpetual motion, and in its own essence is an intelligent substance, and the actuality of a natural organical body which has life. The followers of Anaxagoras, that it is airy and a body. The Stoics, that it is a hot breath. Democritus, that it is a fiery composition of things which are perceptible by reason, the same having their forms spherical and without an inflaming faculty; and it is a body. Epicurus, that it is constituted of four qualities, of a fiery quality, of an aerial quality, a pneumatical, and of a fourth quality which hath no name, but it contains the virtue of the sense. Heraclitus, that the soul of the world is the exhalation which proceeds from the moist parts of it; but the soul of animals, arising from exhalations that are exterior and from those that are within them, is homogeneous to it.

CHAPTER IV. OF THE PARTS OF THE SOUL.

CHAPTER IV.

OF THE PARTS OF THE SOUL.

Plato and Pythagoras, according to their former account distribute the soul into two parts, the rational and irrational. By a more accurate and strict account the soul is branched into three parts; they divide the unreasonable part into the concupiscible and the irascible. The Stoics say the soul is constituted of eight parts; five of which are the senses, hearing, seeing, tasting, touching, smelling, the sixth is the faculty of speaking, the seventh of generating, the eighth of commanding; this is the principal of all, by which all the other are guided and ordered in their proper organs, as we see the arms of a polypus aptly disposed. Democritus and Epicurus divide the soul into two parts, the rational, which hath its residence in the breast, and the irrational, which is diffused through the whole structure of the body. Democritus, that the quality of the soul is communicated to every thing, yea, to the dead corpses; for they are partakers of heat and some sense, when the most of both is expired out of them.

CHAPTER V.

WHAT IS THE PRINCIPAL PART OF THE SOUL, AND IN WHAT PART OF THE BODY IT RESIDES.

Plato and Democritus place its residence in the whole head. Strato, in that part of the forehead where the eyebrows are separated. Erasistratus, in the Epikranis, or membrane which involves the brain. Herophilus, in that sinus of the brain which is the basis of it. Parmenides, in the whole breast; which opinion is embraced by Epicurus. The Stoics are generally of this opinion, that the seat of the soul is throughout the heart, or in the spirit which is about it. Diogenes, in the arterial ventricle of the heart, which is also filled with vital spirit. Empedocles, in the mass of the blood. There are that say it is in the neck of the heart, others in the pericardium, others in the midriff. Certain of the Neoterics, that the seat of the soul is extended from the head to the diaphragm. Pythagoras, that the animal part of the soul resides in the heart, the intellectual in the head.

CHAPTER VI.

OF THE MOTION OF THE SOUL.

Plato believes that the soul is in perpetual motion, but that the mind is immovable with respect to motion from place to place. Aristotle, that the soul is not naturally moved, but its motion is accidental, resembling that which is in the forms of bodies.

CHAPTER VII.

OF THE SOUL’S IMMORTALITY.

Plato and Pythagoras say that the soul is immortal; when it departs out of the body, it retreats to the soul of the world, which is a being of the same nature with it. The Stoics, when the souls leave the bodies, they are carried to divers places; the souls of the unlearned and ignorant descend to the coagmentation of earthly things, but the learned and vigorous endure till the general fire. Epicurus and Democritus, the soul is mortal, and it perisheth with the body. Plato and Pythagoras, that part of the soul of man which is rational is eternal; for though it be not God, yet it is the product of an eternal Deity; but that part of the soul which is divested of reason dies.

CHAPTER VIII. OF THE SENSES, AND OF THOSE THINGS WHICH ARE OBJECTS OF THE SENSES.

CHAPTER VIII.

OF THE SENSES, AND OF THOSE THINGS WHICH ARE OBJECTS OF THE SENSES.

The Stoics give this definition of sense: Sense is the apprehension or comprehension of an object by means of an organ. There are several ways of expressing what sense is; it is either a habit, a faculty, an operation, or an imagination which apprehends by means of an organ of sense,—and also the eighth principal thing, from whence the senses are derived. The instruments of sense are intelligent spirits, which from the said commanding part reach unto all the organs of the body. Epicurus, that sense is a faculty, and that which is perceived by the sense is the product of it; so that sense hath a double acceptation,—sense which is the faculty, and the thing received by the sense, which is the effect. Plato, that sense is that commerce which the soul and body have with those things that are exterior to them; the power of which is from the soul, the organ by which is from the body; but both of them apprehend exterior objects by means of the imagination. Leucippus and Democritus, that sense and intelligence arise from external images; so neither of them can operate without the assistance of an image falling upon us.

CHAPTER IX. WHETHER WHAT APPEARS TO OUR SENSES AND IMAGINATIONS BE TRUE OR NOT.

CHAPTER IX.

WHETHER WHAT APPEARS TO OUR SENSES AND IMAGINATIONS BE TRUE OR NOT.

The Stoics say that what the senses represent is true; what the imagination, is partly false, partly true. Epicurus, that every impression which either the sense or fancy gives us is true, but of those things that fall under the account of opinion, some are true, some false: sense gives us a false representation of those things only which are the objects of our understanding; but the fancy gives us a double error, both of things sensible and things intellectual. Empedocles and Heraclides, that the senses perceive by a just accommodation of the pores in every case; every thing that is perceived by the sense being congruously adapted to its proper organ.

CHAPTER X. HOW MANY SENSES ARE THERE?

CHAPTER X.

HOW MANY SENSES ARE THERE?

The Stoics say that there are five senses properly so called, seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching. Aristotle indeed doth not add a sixth sense; but he assigns a common sense, which is the judge of all compounded species; into this each sense casts its proper representation, in which is discovered a transition of one thing into another, like as we see in figure and motion where there is a change of one into another. Democritus, that there are several species of senses, which appertain to beings destitute of reason, to the Gods, and to wise men.

CHAPTER XI.

HOW THE ACTIONS OF THE SENSES, THE CONCEPTIONS OF OUR MINDS, AND THE HABIT OF OUR REASON ARE FORMED.

The Stoics affirm that every man, as soon as he is born, has the principal and commanding part of his soul, which is in him like a sheet of writing-paper, to which he commits all his notions. The first manner of his inscribing is by denoting those notions which flow from the senses. Suppose it be of a thing that is white; when the present sense of it is vanished, there is yet retained the remembrance; when many memorative notions of the same similitude do concur, then he is said to have an experience; for experience is nothing else but the abundance of notions that are of the same form met together. Some of these notions are naturally begotten according to the aforesaid manner, without the assistance of art; the others are produced by discipline, learning, and industry; these only are properly called notions, the others are prenotions. But reason, which gives us the denomination of rational, is completed by prenotions in the first seven years. The conception of the mind is the vision that the intelligence of a rational animal hath received; when that vision falls upon the rational soul, then it is called the conception of the mind, for it hath derived its name from the mind (ἐννόημα from νοῦς). Therefore these visions are not to be found in any other animals; they are appropriated only to Gods and to us men. If these we consider generally, they are phantasms; if specifically, they are notions. As pence or staters, if you consider them according to their own value, are merely pence and staters; but if you give them as a price for a naval voyage, they are called not merely pence, &c., but your fraught.

CHAPTER XII.

WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN IMAGINATION (φαντασια[** φαντασία]), IMAGINABLE (φανταστόν), FANCY (φανταστικόν), AND PHANTOM (φάντασμα)?

Chrysippus affirms, these four are different one from another. Imagination (he says) is that passion raised in the soul which discovers itself and that which was the efficient of it; for example, after the eye hath looked upon a thing that is white, the sight of which produceth in the mind a certain impression, this gives us reason to conclude that the object of this impression is white, which affecteth us. So is it with touching and smelling.

Phantasy or imagination is denominated from φῶς, which denotes light; for as light discovers itself and all other things which it illuminates, so this imagination discovers itself and that which is the cause of it. The imaginable is the efficient cause of imagination; as any thing that is white, or any thing that is cold, or every thing that may make an impression upon the imagination. Fancy is a vain impulse upon the mind of man, proceeding from nothing which is really imaginable; this is experienced in those that whirl about their idle hands and fight with shadows; for to the imagination there is always some real imaginable thing presented, which is the efficient cause of it; but to the fancy nothing. A phantom is that to which we are led by such a fanciful and vain attraction; this is to be seen in melancholy and distracted persons. Of this sort was Orestes in the tragedy, pronouncing these words:

Mother, these maids with horror me affright; Oh hurl them not, I pray, into my sight! They’re smeared with blood, and cruel, dragon-like, Skipping about with deadly fury strike.

These rave as frantic persons, they see nothing, and yet imagine they see. Thence Electra thus returns to him:

O wretched man, securely sleep in bed; Nothing thou seest, thy fancy’s vainly led.[44]

After the same manner Theoclymenus in Homer.

CHAPTER XIII. OF OUR SIGHT, AND BY WHAT MEANS WE SEE.

CHAPTER XIII.

OF OUR SIGHT, AND BY WHAT MEANS WE SEE.

Democritus and Epicurus suppose that sight is caused by the insinuation of little images into the visive organ, and by the entrance of certain rays which return to the eye after striking upon the object. Empedocles supposes that images are mixed with the rays of the eye; these he styles the rays of images. Hipparchus, that the visual rays extend from both the eyes to the superficies of bodies, and give to the sight the apprehension of those same bodies, after the same manner in which the hand touching the extremity of bodies gives the sense of feeling. Plato, that the sight is the splendor of united rays; there is a light which reaches some distance from the eyes into a congruous air, and there is likewise a light emitted from bodies, which meets and is joined with the fiery visual light in the intermediate air (which is liquid and mutable); and the conjunction of these rays gives the sense of seeing. This is Plato’s corradiancy, or splendor of united rays.

CHAPTER XIV. OF THOSE IMAGES WHICH ARE PRESENTED TO OUR EYES IN MIRRORS.

CHAPTER XIV.

OF THOSE IMAGES WHICH ARE PRESENTED TO OUR EYES IN MIRRORS.

Empedocles says that these images are caused by certain effluvias which, meeting together and insisting upon the superficies of the mirror, are perfected by that fiery quality emitted by the said mirror, which transmutes withal the air that surrounds it. Democritus and Epicurus, that the specular appearances are formed by the subsistence of the images which flow from our eyes; these fall upon the mirror and remain, while the light rebounds to the eye. The followers of Pythagoras explain it by the reflection of the sight; for our sight being extended (as it were) to the brass, and meeting with the smooth dense surface thereof it is struck back, and caused to return upon itself: the same appears in the hand, when it is stretched out and then brought back again to the shoulder. Any one may apply these instances to explain the manner of seeing.

CHAPTER XV. WHETHER DARKNESS CAN BE VISIBLE TO US.

CHAPTER XV.

WHETHER DARKNESS CAN BE VISIBLE TO US.

The Stoics say that darkness is seen by us, for out of our eyes there issues out some light into it; and our eyes do not impose upon us, for they really perceive there is darkness. Chrysippus says that we see darkness by the striking of the intermediate air; for the visual spirits which proceed from the principal part of the soul and reach to the ball of the eye pierce this air, which, after they have made those strokes upon it, presses conically on the surrounding air, where this is homogeneous. For from the eyes those rays are poured forth which are neither black nor cloudy. Upon this account darkness is visible to us

CHAPTER XVI. OF HEARING.

CHAPTER XVI.

OF HEARING.

Empedocles says that hearing is formed by the insidency of the air upon the spiral, which it is said hangs within the ear as a bell, and is beat upon by the air. Alcmaeon, that the vacuity that is within the ear makes us to have the sense of hearing, for the air forcing a vacuum gives the sound; every inanity affords a ringing. Diogenes, the air which is in the head, being struck upon by the voice, gives the hearing. Plato and his followers, the air which exists in the head being struck upon, is reflected to the principal part of the soul, and this causeth the sense of hearing.

CHAPTER XVII. OF SMELLING.

CHAPTER XVII.

OF SMELLING.

Alcmaeon believes that the principal part of the soul, residing in the brain, draws to itself odors by respiration. Empedocles, that scents insert themselves into the breathing of the lungs; for, when there is a great difficulty in breathing, odors are not perceived by reason of the sharpness; and this we experience in those who have the defluxion of rheum.

CHAPTER XVIII. OF TASTE.

CHAPTER XVIII.

OF TASTE.

Alcmaeon says that a moist warmth in the tongue, joined with the softness of it, gives the difference of taste. Diogenes, that by the softness and sponginess of the tongue, and because the veins of the body are joined in it, tastes are diffused by the tongue; for they are attracted from it to that sense and to the commanding part of the soul, as from a sponge.

CHAPTER XIX. OF THE VOICE.

CHAPTER XIX.

OF THE VOICE.

Plato thus defines a voice,—that it is a breath drawn by the mind through the mouth, and a blow given to the air and through the ear, brain, and blood transmitted to the soul. Voice is abusively attributed to irrational and inanimate beings; thus we improperly call the neighing of horses or any other sound by the name of voice. But properly a voice (φωνή) is an articulate sound, which illustrates (φωτίζει) the understanding of man. Epicurus says that it is an efflux emitted from things that are vocal, or that give sounds or great noises; this is broken into those fragments which are after the same configuration. Like figures are round figures with round, and irregular and triangular with those of the same nature. These falling upon the ears produce the sense of hearing. This is seen in leaking vessels, and in fullers when they fan or blow their cloths.

Democritus, that the air is broken into bodies of similar configuration, and these are rolled up and down with the fragments of the voice; as it is proverbially said, One daw lights with another, or, God always brings like to like. Thus we see upon the shore, that stones like to one another are found in the same place, in one place the long-shaped, in another the round are seen. So in sieves, things that are of the same form meet together, but those that are different are divided; as pulse and beans falling from the same sieve are separated one from another. To this it may be objected: How can some fragments of air fill a theatre in which there is an infinite company of persons? The Stoics, that the air is not composed of small fragments, but is a continued body and nowhere admits a vacuum; and being struck with the breath, it is infinitely moved in waves and in right circles, until it fill that air which invests it; as we see in a fish-pool which we smite by a falling stone cast upon it; yet the air is moved spherically, the water orbicularly. Anaxagoras says a voice is then formed, when upon a solid air the breath is incident, which being repercussed is carried to the ears; after the same manner the echo is produced.

CHAPTER XX. WHETHER THE VOICE IS INCORPOREAL. WHAT IS IT THAT GIVES THE ECHO?

CHAPTER XX.

WHETHER THE VOICE IS INCORPOREAL. WHAT IS IT THAT GIVES THE ECHO?

Pythagoras, Plato, and Aristotle say that the voice is incorporeal; for it is not the air that makes the voice, but the figure which compasseth the air and its superficies, having received a stroke, give the voice. But every superficies of itself is incorporeal. True it is that it moveth with the body, but of itself it hath no body; as we perceive in a staff that is bended, the matter only admits of an inflection, while the superficies doth not. According to the Stoics, a voice is corporeal, since every thing that is an agent or operates is a body; a voice acts and operates, for we hear it and are sensible of it; for it falls and makes an impression on the ear, as a seal of a ring gives its similitude upon the wax. Moreover, every thing that creates a delight or molestation is a body; harmonious music affects with delight, but discord is tiresome. And every thing that is moved is a body; and the voice moves, and having its illapse upon smooth places is reflected, as when a ball is cast against a wall it rebounds. A voice spoken in the Egyptian pyramids is so broken, that it gives four or five echoes.

CHAPTER XXI.

BY WHAT MEANS THE SOUL IS SENSIBLE, AND WHAT IS THE PRINCIPAL AND COMMANDING PART OF IT.

The Stoics say that the highest part of the soul is the commanding part of it: this is the cause of sense, imagination, consents, and desires; and this we call the rational part. From this principal and commander there are produced seven parts of the soul, which are spread through the body, as the seven arms in a polypus. Of these seven parts, five are assigned to the senses, seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching. Sight is a spirit which is extended from the commanding part to the eyes; hearing is that spirit which from the principal reacheth to the ears; smelling a spirit drawn from the principal to the nostrils; tasting a spirit extended from the principal to the tongue; touching is a spirit which from the principal is drawn to the extremity of those bodies which are obnoxious to a sensible touch. Of the rest, the one called the spermatical is a spirit which reacheth from the principal to the generating vessels; the other, which is the vocal and termed the voice, is a spirit extended from the principal to the throat, tongue, and other proper organs of speaking. And this principal part itself hath that place in our spherical head which God hath in the world.

CHAPTER XXII. OF RESPIRATION OR BREATHING.

CHAPTER XXII.

OF RESPIRATION OR BREATHING.

Empedocles thinks, that the first breath the first animal drew was when the moisture in unborn infants was separated, and by that means an entrance was given to the external air into the gaping vessels, the moisture in them being evacuated. After this the natural heat, in a violent force pressing upon the external air for a passage, begets an expiration; but this heat returning to the inward parts, and the air giving way to it, causeth an inspiration. The respiration that now is arises when the blood is carried to the exterior surface, and by this fluxion drives the airy substance through the nostrils; thus in its recess it causeth expiration, but the air being again forced into those places which are emptied of blood, it causeth an inspiration. To evince which, he proposeth the instance of a water-clock which gives the account of time by the running of water.

Asclepiades supposeth the lungs to be in the manner of a tunnel, and maketh the cause of breathing to be the fineness of the inward parts of the breast; for thither the outward air which is more gross hastens, but is forced backward, the breast not being capable either to receive or want it. But there being always some of the more tenuous parts of the air left, so that all of it is not exploded, to that which there remains the more ponderous external air with equal violence is forced; and this he compares to cupping-glasses. All spontaneous breathings are formed by the contracting of the smaller pores of the lungs, and to the closing up of the pipes in the neck; for these are at our command.

Herophilus attributes a moving faculty to the nerves, arteries, and muscles, but believes that the lungs are affected only with a natural desire of enlarging and contracting themselves. Farther, there is the first operation of the lungs by attraction of the outward air, which is drawn in because of the abundance of the external air. Next to this, there is a second natural appetite of the lungs; the breast, pouring in upon itself the breath, and being filled, is no longer able to make an attraction, and throws the superfluity of it upon the lungs, whereby it is in turn sent forth by way of expiration; the parts of the body mutually concurring to this function by the alternate participation of fulness and emptiness. So that to lungs pertain four motions;—first, when the lungs receive the outward air; secondly, when the outward air thus entertained is transmitted to the breast; thirdly, when the lungs again receive that air which they imparted to the breast; fourthly, when this air then received from the breast is thrown outwards. Of these four motions two are dilatations, one when the lungs attract the external air, another when the breast dischargeth itself of it upon the lungs; two are contractions, one when the breast draws into itself the air, the second when it expels this which was insinuated into it. The breast admits only of two motions;—of dilatation, when it draws from the lungs the breath, and of contraction, when it returns what it did receive.

CHAPTER XXIII.

OF THE PASSIONS OF THE BODY, AND WHETHER THE SOUL HATH A SYMPATHETICAL CONDOLENCY WITH IT.

The Stoics say that all the passions are seated in those parts of the body which are affected, the senses have their residence in the commanding part of the soul. Epicurus, that all the passions and all the senses are in those parts which are affected, but the commanding part is subject to no passion. Strato, that all the passions and senses of the soul are in the rational or commanding part of it, and are not fixed in those places which are affected; for in this part patience takes its residence, and this is apparent in terrible and dolorous things, as also in timorous and valiant persons.

BOOK V.

CHAPTER I. OF DIVINATION.

CHAPTER I.

OF DIVINATION.

Plato and the Stoics introduce divination as a divine enthusiasm, the soul itself being of a divine constitution, and this prophetic faculty being an inspiration, or an illapse of the divine knowledge into man; and so likewise they explain interpretation by dreams. And these same admit many divisions of the art of divination. Xenophanes and Epicurus utterly refuse any such art of foretelling future contingencies. Pythagoras rejects all manner of divination which is by sacrifices. Aristotle and Dicaearchus admit only these two kinds of it, a fury by a divine inspiration, and dreams; they deny the immortality of the soul, yet they affirm that the mind of man hath a participation of something that is divine.

CHAPTER II. WHENCE DREAMS DO ARISE.

CHAPTER II.

WHENCE DREAMS DO ARISE.

Democritus says that dreams are formed by the illapse of adventitious representations. Strato, that the irrational part of the soul in sleep becoming more sensible is moved by the rational part of it. Herophilus, that dreams which are caused by divine instinct have a necessary cause; but dreams which have their origin from a natural cause arise from the soul’s forming within itself the images of those things which are convenient for it, and which will happen; those dreams which are of a constitution mixed of both these have their origin from the fortuitous appulse of images, as when we see those things which please us; thus it happens many times to those persons who in their sleep imagine they embrace their mistresses.

CHAPTER III. OF THE NATURE OF GENERATIVE SEED.

CHAPTER III.

OF THE NATURE OF GENERATIVE SEED.

Aristotle says, that seed is that thing which contains in itself a power of moving, whereby it is enabled to produce a being like unto that from whence it was emitted. Pythagoras, that seed is the sediment of that which nourisheth us, the froth of the purest blood, of the same nature as the blood and marrow of our bodies. Alcmaeon, that it is a part of the brain. Plato, that it is the deflux of the spinal marrow. Epicurus, that it is a fragment torn from the body and soul. Democritus, that it proceeds from all the parts of the body, and chiefly from the principal parts, as the flesh and muscles.

CHAPTER IV. WHETHER THE SPERM BE A BODY.

CHAPTER IV.

WHETHER THE SPERM BE A BODY.

Leucippus and Zeno say, that it is a body and a fragment of the soul. Pythagoras, Plato, and Aristotle, that the spermatic faculty is incorporeal, as the mind is which moves the body; but the effused matter is corporeal. Strato and Democritus, that the very power is a body; for it is like spirit.

CHAPTER V. WHETHER WOMEN DO GIVE A SPERMATIC EMISSION AS MEN DO.

CHAPTER V.

WHETHER WOMEN DO GIVE A SPERMATIC EMISSION AS MEN DO.

Pythagoras, Epicurus, and Democritus say, that women have a seminal projection, but their spermatic vessels are inverted; and it is this that makes them have a venereal appetite. Aristotle and Plato, that they emit a material moisture, as sweat we see produced by exercise and labor; but that moisture has no spermatic power. Hippo, that women have a seminal emission, but not after the mode of men; it contributes nothing to generation, for it falls without the matrix; and therefore some women without coition, especially widows, give the seed. The same also asserts that from men the bones, from women the flesh proceeds.

CHAPTER VI. HOW IT IS THAT CONCEPTIONS ARE MADE.

CHAPTER VI.

HOW IT IS THAT CONCEPTIONS ARE MADE.

Aristotle says, that conception takes place when the womb is drawn forward by the natural purgation, and the monthly terms attract from the whole bulk part of the purest blood, and this is met by the genital seed of man. On the contrary, there is a failure by the impurity and inflation of the womb, by the passions of fear and grief, by the weakness of women, or the decay of strength in men.

CHAPTER VII. AFTER WHAT MANNER MALES AND FEMALES ARE GENERATED.

CHAPTER VII.

AFTER WHAT MANNER MALES AND FEMALES ARE GENERATED.

Empedocles affirms, that heat and cold give the difference in the generation of males and females. Hence is it, as histories acquaint us, that the first men had their original from the earth in the eastern and southern parts, and the first females in the northern parts thereof. Parmenides is of opinion perfectly contrariant. He affirms that men first sprouted out of the northern earth, for their bodies are more dense; women out of the southern, for theirs are more rare and fine. Hippo, that the more compacted and strong sperm, and the more fluid and weak, discriminate the sexes. Anaxagoras and Parmenides, that the seed of the man is naturally cast from his right side into the right side of the womb, or from the left side of the man into the left side of the womb; when there is an alteration in this course of nature, females are generated. Cleophanes, whom Aristotle makes mention of, assigns the generation of men to the right testicle, of women to the left. Leucippus gives the reason of it to the alteration or diversity of parts, according to which the man hath a yard, the female the matrix; as to any other reason he is silent. Democritus, that the parts which are common to both sexes are engendered indifferently by one or the other; but the peculiar parts by the one that is more prevalent. Hippo, that if the spermatic faculty be more effectual, the male, if the nutritive aliment, the female is generated.

CHAPTER VIII. BY WHAT MEANS IT IS THAT MONSTROUS BIRTHS ARE EFFECTED.

CHAPTER VIII.

BY WHAT MEANS IT IS THAT MONSTROUS BIRTHS ARE EFFECTED.

Empedocles believes that monsters receive their origination from the abundance or defect of seed, or from its division into parts which are superabundant, or from some perturbation in the motion, or else that there is an error by a lapse into an improper receptacle; and thus he presumes he hath given all the causes of monstrous conceptions. Strato, that it comes from addition, subtraction, or transposition of the seed, or the distension or inflation of the matrix. And some physicians say that the matrix suffers distortion, being distended with wind.

CHAPTER IX.

HOW IT COMES TO PASS THAT A WOMAN’S TOO FREQUENT CONVERSATION WITH A MAN HINDERS CONCEPTION.

Diocles the physician says that either no genital sperm is projected, or, if there be, it is in a less quantity than nature requires, or there is no prolific faculty in it; or there is a deficiency of a due proportion of heat, cold, moisture, and dryness; or there is a resolution of the generative parts. The Stoics attribute sterility to the obliquity of the yard, by which means it is not able to ejaculate in a due manner, or to the unproportionable magnitude of the parts, the matrix being so contracted as not to be in a capacity to receive. Erasistratus assigns it to the womb’s being more callous or more carneous, thinner or smaller, than nature does require.

CHAPTER X. WHENCE IT IS THAT ONE BIRTH GIVES TWO OR THREE CHILDREN.

CHAPTER X.

WHENCE IT IS THAT ONE BIRTH GIVES TWO OR THREE CHILDREN.

Empedocles affirms, that the superabundance of sperm and the division of it causes the bringing forth of two or three infants. Asclepiades, that it is performed from the excellent quality of the sperm, after the manner that from the root of one barleycorn two or three stalks do grow; sperm that is of this quality is the most prolific. Erasistratus, that superfetation may happen to women as to irrational creatures; for, if the womb be well purged and very clean, then there may be divers births. The Stoics, that it ariseth from the various receptacles that are in the womb: when the seed illapses into the first and second of them at once, then there are conceptions upon conception; and so two or three infants are born.

CHAPTER XI. WHENCE IT IS THAT CHILDREN REPRESENT THEIR PARENTS AND PROGENTITORS.

CHAPTER XI.

WHENCE IT IS THAT CHILDREN REPRESENT THEIR PARENTS AND PROGENTITORS.

Empedocles says, that the similitude of children to their parents proceeds from the vigorous prevalency of the generating sperm; the dissimilitude from the evaporation of the natural heat contained in the same. Parmenides, that when the sperm descends from the right side of the womb, then the infant gives the resemblance of the father; if from the left, it is stamped with the similitude of the mother. The Stoics, that the whole body and soul give the sperm; and hence arise the resemblances in the characters and figures of the children, as a painter in his copy imitates the colors which are in the picture before him. Women have a concurrent emission of seed; if the feminine seed have the predominancy, then the child resembles the mother; if the masculine, the father.

CHAPTER XII.

HOW IT COMES TO PASS THAT CHILDREN HAVE A GREATER SIMILITUDE WITH STRANGERS THAN WITH THEIR PARENTS.

The greatest part of physicians affirm, that this happens casually and fortuitously; for, when the sperm of the man and woman is too much refrigerated, then children carry a dissimilitude to their parents. Empedocles, that a woman’s imagination when she conceives impresses a shape upon the infant; for women have been enamored with images and statues, and the children which were born of them gave their similitudes. The Stoics, that the resemblances flow from the sympathy and consent of minds, by the insertion of effluvias and rays, not of images or pictures.

CHAPTER XIII. WHENCE ARISETH BARRENNESS IN WOMEN, AND IMPOTENCY IN MEN?

CHAPTER XIII.

WHENCE ARISETH BARRENNESS IN WOMEN, AND IMPOTENCY IN MEN?

The physicians maintain, that sterility in women may arise from the womb; for if it be after any ways thus affected, there will be barrenness,—if it be more condensed, or more spongy, or more hardened, or more callous, or more carneous; or it may be from low spirits, or from an atrophy or vicious distemper of body; or, lastly, it may arise from a twisted or distorted configuration. Diocles holds that the sterility in men ariseth from some of these causes,—either that they cannot at all ejaculate any sperm, or if they do, it is less than nature doth require, or else there is no generative faculty in the sperm, or the genital members are flagging; or from the obliquity of the yard. The Stoics attribute the cause of sterility to the contrariant qualities and dispositions of those who lie with one another; but if it chance that these persons are separated, and there happen a conjunction of those who are of a suitable temperament, then there is a commixture according to nature, and by this means an infant is formed.

CHAPTER XIV. HOW IF COMES TO PASS THAT MULES ARE BARREN.

CHAPTER XIV.

HOW IF COMES TO PASS THAT MULES ARE BARREN.

Alcmaeon says, that the barrenness of the male mules ariseth from the thinness of the genital sperm, that is, the seed is too chill; the female mules are barren, for their womb does not open its mouth (as he expresses it). Empedocles, the matrix of the mule is so small, so depressed, so narrow, so invertedly growing to the belly, that the sperm cannot be regularly cast into it, and if it could, there would be no capacity to receive it. Diocles concurs in this opinion with him; for, saith he, in our anatomical dissection of mules we have seen that their matrices are of such configurations; and it is possible that there may be the same reason why some women are barren.

CHAPTER XV. WHETHER THE INFANT IN THE MOTHER’S WOMB BE AN ANIMAL.

CHAPTER XV.

WHETHER THE INFANT IN THE MOTHER’S WOMB BE AN ANIMAL.

Plato says, that the embryo is an animal; for, being contained in the mother’s womb, motion and aliment are imparted to it. The Stoics say that it is not an animal, but to be accounted part of the mother’s belly; like as we see the fruit of trees is esteemed part of the trees, until it be full ripe; then it falls and ceaseth to belong to the tree; and thus it is with the embryo. Empedocles, that the embryo is not an animal, yet whilst it remains in the belly it breathes. The first breath that it draws as an animal is when the infant is newly born; then the child having its moisture separated, the extraneous air making an entrance into the empty places, a respiration is caused in the infant by the empty vessels receiving of it. Diogenes, that infants are bred in the matrix inanimate, yet they have a natural heat; but presently, when the infant is cast into the open air, its heat draws air into the lungs, and so it becomes an animal. Herophilus acknowledgeth that infants have a natural, but not a respiratory motion, and that the nerves are the cause of that motion; that then they become animals, when being first born they suck in something of the air.

CHAPTER XVI.

HOW EMBRYOS ARE NOURISHED, OR HOW THE INFANT IN THE BELLY RECEIVES ITS ALIMENT.

Democritus and Epicurus say, that the embryos in the womb receive their aliment by the mouth, for we perceive, as soon as ever the infant is born, it applies its mouth to the breast; in the wombs of women (our understanding concludes) there are little dugs, and the embryos have small mouths by which they receive their nutriment. The Stoics, that by the secundines and navel they partake of aliment, and therefore the midwife instantly after their birth binds the navel, and opens the infant’s mouth, that it may receive another sort of aliment. Alcmaeon, that they receive their nourishment from every part of the body; as a sponge sucks in water.

CHAPTER XVII. WHAT PART OF THE BODY IS FIRST FORMED IN THE WOMB.

CHAPTER XVII.

WHAT PART OF THE BODY IS FIRST FORMED IN THE WOMB.

The Stoics believe that the greater part is formed at the same time. Aristotle, as the keel of a ship is first made, so the first part that is formed is the loins. Alcmaeon, the head, for that is the commanding and the principal part of the body. The physicians, the heart, in which are the veins and arteries. Some think the great toe is first formed; others affirm the navel.

CHAPTER XVIII. WHENCE IS IT THAT INFANTS BORN IN THE SEVENTH MONTH ARE BORN ALIVE.

CHAPTER XVIII.

WHENCE IS IT THAT INFANTS BORN IN THE SEVENTH MONTH ARE BORN ALIVE.

Empedocles says, that when the human race took first its original from the earth, the sun was so slow in its motion that then one day in its length was equal to ten months, as now they are; in process of time one day became as long as seven months are; and there is the reason that those infants which are born at the end of seven months or ten months are born alive, the course of nature so disposing that the infant shall be brought to maturity in one day after that night in which it is begotten. Timaeus says, that we count not ten months but nine, by treason that we reckon the first conception from the retention of the menstruas; and so it may generally pass for seven months when really there are not seven; for it sometimes happens that even after conception a woman is purged in some degree. Polybus, Diocles, and the Empirics acknowledge that the eighth month gives a vital birth to the infant, though the life of it is more faint and languid; many therefore we see born in that month die out of mere weakness. Though we see many born in that month arrive at the state of man, yet (they affirm) if children be born in that month, none are willing to rear them.

Aristotle and Hippocrates, that if the womb is grown full in seven months, then the child falls from the mother and is born alive; but if it falls from her but is not properly nourished, the navel being weak on account of the heavy burden of the infant, then it doth not thrive; but if the infant continues nine months in the womb, and then breaks forth from the woman, it is entire and perfect. Polybus, that a hundred and eighty-two days and a half suffice for the bringing forth of a living child; that is, six months, in which space of time the sun moves from one tropic to the other; and this is called seven months, for the days which are overplus in the sixth are accounted to give the seventh month. Those children which are born in the eighth month cannot live, for, the infant then falling from the womb, the navel, which is the cause of nourishment, is thereby too much stretched; and is the reason that the infant languishes and hath an atrophy. The astrologers, that eight months are enemies to every birth, seven are friends and kind to it. The signs of the zodiac are then enemies, when they fall upon those stars which are lords of houses; whatever infant is then born will have a life short and unfortunate. Those signs of the zodiac which are malevolent and injurious to generation are those pairs of which the last is reckoned the eighth from the first, as the first and the eighth, the second and the ninth, &c.; so is the Ram unsociable with Scorpio, the Bull with Sagittarius, the Twins with the Goat, the Crab with Aquarius, the Lion with Pisces, the Virgin with the Ram. Upon this reason those infants that are born in the seventh or tenth months are like to live, but those in the eighth month will die.

CHAPTER XIX.

OF THE GENERATION OF ANIMALS, HOW ANIMALS ARE BEGOTTEN, AND WHETHER THEY ARE OBNOXIOUS TO CORRUPTION.

Those philosophers who entertain the opinion that the world had an original do likewise assert that all animals are generated and corruptible. The followers of Epicurus, who gives an eternity to the world, affirm the generation of animals ariseth from the various permutation of parts mutually among themselves, for they are parts of this world. With them Anaxagoras and Euripides concur:

For nothing dies, But different changes give their various forms.

Anaximander’s opinion is, that the first animals were generated in moisture, and were enclosed in bark on which thorns grew; but in process of time they came upon dry land, and this thorny bark with which they were covered being broken, they lived for a short space of time. Empedocles says, that the first generation of animals and plants was by no means completed, for the parts were disjoined and would not admit of a union; the second preparation for their being generated was when their parts were united and appeared in the form of images; the third preparation for generation was when their parts mutually amongst themselves gave a being to one another; the fourth, when there was no longer a mixture of similar elements (like earth and water), but a union of animals among themselves,—in some the nourishment being made dense, in others female beauty provoking a lust of spermatic motion. All sorts of animals are discriminated by their proper temperament and constitution; some are carried by a proper appetite and inclination to water; some, which partake of a more fiery quality, to breathe in the air; those that are heavier incline to the earth; but those animals whose parts are of a just and equal temperament are fitted equally for all places.

CHAPTER XX.

HOW MANY SPECIES OF ANIMALS THERE ARE, AND WHETHER ALL ANIMALS HAVE THE ENDOWMENTS OF SENSE AND REASON.

There is a certain treatise of Aristotle, in which animals are distributed into four kinds, terrestrial, aqueous, fowl, and heavenly; and he calls the stars and the world also animals, yea, and God himself he defines to be an animal endowed with reason and immortal. Democritus and Epicurus esteem all animals rational which have their residence in the heavens. Anaxagoras says that animals have only that reason which is operative, but not that which is passive, which is justly styled the interpreter of the mind, and is like the mind itself. Pythagoras and Plato, that the souls of all those who are styled brutes are rational; but by the evil constitution of their bodies, and because they have a want of a discoursive faculty, they do not act rationally. This is manifested in apes and dogs, which have voice but not speech. Diogenes, that this sort of animals are partakers of intelligence and air, but by reason of the density in some parts of them, and by the superfluity of moisture in others, they enjoy neither understanding nor sense; but they are affected as madmen are, the commanding rational part being defectuous and impeached.

CHAPTER XXI. WHAT TIME IS REQUIRED TO SHAPE THE PARTS OF ANIMALS IN THE WOMB.

CHAPTER XXI.

WHAT TIME IS REQUIRED TO SHAPE THE PARTS OF ANIMALS IN THE WOMB.

Empedocles believes, that the joints of men begin to be formed from the thirty-sixth day, and their shape is completed in the nine and fortieth. Asclepiades, that male embryos, by reason of a greater natural heat, have their joints begun to be formed in the twenty-sixth day,—many even sooner,—and that they are completed in all their parts on the fiftieth day; the parts of the females are articulated in two months, but by the defect of heat are not consummated till the fourth; but the members of brutes are completed at various times, according to the commixture of the elements of which they consist.

CHAPTER XXII. OF WHAT ELEMENTS EACH OF THE MEMBERS OF US MEN IS COMPOSED.

CHAPTER XXII.

OF WHAT ELEMENTS EACH OF THE MEMBERS OF US MEN IS COMPOSED.

Empedocles says, that the fleshy parts of us are constituted by the contemperation of the four elements in us; earth and fire mixed with a double proportion of water make the nerves; but when it happens that the nerves are refrigerated where they meet the air, then the nails are made; the bones are produced by two parts of water and the same of air, with four parts of fire and the same of earth, duly mixed together; sweat and tears flow from the liquefaction of these bodies of ours.

CHAPTER XXIII. WHAT ARE THE CAUSES OF SLEEP AND DEATH?

CHAPTER XXIII.

WHAT ARE THE CAUSES OF SLEEP AND DEATH?

Alcmaeon says, that sleep is caused when the blood retreats to the concourse of the veins, but when the blood diffuses itself, then we awake; and when there is a total retirement of the blood, then men die. Empedocles, that a moderate cooling of the blood causeth sleep, but a total remotion of heat from blood causeth death. Diogenes, that when all the blood is so diffused as that it fills all the veins, and forces the air contained in them to the back and to the belly that is below it, the breast being thereby more heated, thence sleep arises; but if every thing that is airy in the breast forsakes the veins, then death succeeds. Plato and the Stoics, that sleep ariseth from the relaxation of the sensitive spirit, it not receiving such total remission as if it fell to the earth, but so that that spirit is carried about the intestine parts of the eyebrows, in which the principal part has its residence; but when there is a total remission of the sensitive spirit, then death ensues.

CHAPTER XXIV. WHEN AND FROM WHENCE THE PERFECTION OF A MAN COMMENCES.

CHAPTER XXIV.

WHEN AND FROM WHENCE THE PERFECTION OF A MAN COMMENCES.

Heraclitus and the Stoics say, that men begin their completeness when the second septenary of years begins, about which time the seminal serum is emitted. Trees first begin their perfection when they give their seeds; till then they are immature, imperfect, and unfruitful. After the same manner a man is completed in the second septenary of years, and is capable of learning what is good and evil, and of discipline therein.

CHAPTER XXV. WHETHER SLEEP OR DEATH APPERTAINS TO THE SOUL OR BODY.

CHAPTER XXV.

WHETHER SLEEP OR DEATH APPERTAINS TO THE SOUL OR BODY.

Aristotle’s opinion is, that both the soul and body sleep; and this proceeds from the moisture in the breast, which doth steam and arise in the manner of a vapor into the head, and from the aliment in the stomach, whose natural heat is cooled in the heart. Death is the perfect refrigeration of all heat in the body; but death is only of the body, and not of the soul, for the soul is immortal. Anaxagoras thinks, that sleep makes the operations of the body to cease; it is a corporeal passion and affects not the soul. Death is the separation of the soul from the body. Leucippus, that sleep is only of the body; but when the smaller particles cause immoderate evaporation from the soul’s heat, this makes death; but these affections of death and sleep are of the body, not of the soul. Empedocles, that death is nothing else but separation of those fiery parts by which man is composed, and according to this sentiment both body and soul die; but sleep is only a smaller separation of the fiery qualities.

CHAPTER XXVI. HOW PLANTS GROW, AND WHETHER THEY ARE ANIMALS.

CHAPTER XXVI.

HOW PLANTS GROW, AND WHETHER THEY ARE ANIMALS.

Plato and Empedocles believe, that plants are animals, and are informed with a soul; of this there are clear arguments, for they have tossing and shaking, and their branches are extended; when the woodmen bend them they yield, but they return to their former straightness and strength again when they are let loose, and even draw up weights that are laid upon them. Aristotle doth grant that they live, but not that they are animals; for animals are affected with appetite, sense, and reason. The Stoics and Epicureans deny that they are informed with a soul; by reason that all sorts of animals have either sense, appetite, or reason; but plants move fortuitously, and not by means of any soul. Empedocles, that the first of all animals were trees, and they sprang from the earth before the sun in its glory enriched the world, and before day and night were distinguished; but by the harmony which is in their constitution they partake of a masculine and feminine nature; and they increase by that heat which is exalted out of the earth, so that they are parts belonging to it, as embryos in the womb are parts of the womb. Fruits in plants are excrescences proceeding from water and fire; but the plants which have a deficiency of water, when this is dried up by the heat of summer, lose their leaves; whereas they that have plenty thereof keep their leaves on still, as the olive, laurel, and palm. The differences of their moisture and juice arise from the difference of particles and various other causes, and they are discriminated by the various particles that feed them. And this is apparent in vines; for the excellence of wine flows not from the difference in the vines, but from the soil from whence they receive their nutriment.

CHAPTER XXVII. OF NOURISHMENT AND GROWTH.

CHAPTER XXVII.

OF NOURISHMENT AND GROWTH.

EMPEDOCLES believes, that animals are nourished by the remaining in them of that which is proper to their own nature; they are augmented by the application of heat; and the subtraction of either of these makes them to languish and decay. The stature of men in this present age, if compared with the magnitude of those men which were first produced, is no other than a mere infancy.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

WHENCE IT IS THAT IN ANIMALS THERE ARE APPETITES AND PLEASURES.

Empedocles says that the want of those elements which compose animals gives to them appetite, and pleasures spring from humidity. As to the motions of dangers and such like things, as perturbations, &c....

CHAPTER XXIX.

WHAT IS THE CAUSE OF A FEVER, OR WHETHER IT IS AN AFFECTION OF THE BODY ANNEXED TO A PRIMARY PASSION.

Erasistratus gives this definition of a fever: A fever is a quick motion of blood, not produced by our consent, which enters into the vessels proper unto the vital spirits. This we see in the sea; it is in a serene calm when nothing disturbs it, but is in motion when a violent preternatural wind blows upon it, and then it rageth and is circled with waves. After this manner it is in the body of man; when the blood is in a nimble agitation, then it falls upon those vessels in which the spirits are, and there being in an extraordinary heat, it fires the whole body. The opinion that a fever is an appendix to a preceding affection pleaseth him. Diocles proceeds after this manner: Those things which are internal and latent are manifested by those which externally break forth and appear; and it is clear to us that a fever is annexed to certain outward affections, for example, to wounds, inflaming tumors, inguinary abscesses.

CHAPTER XXX. OF HEALTH, SICKNESS, AND OLD AGE.

CHAPTER XXX.

OF HEALTH, SICKNESS, AND OLD AGE.

Alcmaeon says that the preserver of health is an equal proportion of the qualities of heat, moisture, cold, dryness, bitterness, sweetness, and the other qualities; on the contrary, the prevailing empire of one above the rest is the cause of diseases and author of destruction. The efficient cause of disease is the excess of heat or cold, the material cause is superabundance or defect, the place is the blood or brain. But health is the harmonious commixture of the elements. Diocles, that sickness for the most part proceeds from the irregular disposition of the elements in the body, for that makes an ill habit or constitution of it. Erasistratus, that sickness is caused by the excess of food, indigestion, and corruptions; on the contrary, health is the moderation of the diet, and the taking that which is convenient and sufficient for us. It is the unanimous opinion of the Stoics that the want of heat brings old age, for (they say) those persons in whom heat more abounds live the longer. Asclepiades, that the Ethiopians soon grow old, and at thirty years of age are ancient men, their bodies being excessively heated and scorched by the sun; in Britain persons live a hundred and twenty years, on account of the coldness of the country, and because the people contain the fiery element within their bodies; for the bodies of the Ethiopians are more fine and thin, because they are relaxed by the sun’s heat, while they who live in northern countries have a contrary state of their bodies, for they are condensed and robust, and by consequence live the longer.

A BREVIATE OF A DISCOURSE, SHOWING THAT THE STOICS SPEAK GREATER IMPROBABILITIES THAN THE POETS.

1. Pindar’s Caeneus hath been taken to task by several, being improbably feigned, impenetrable by steel and impassible in his body, and so

Descending into hell without a wound, And with sound foot parting in two the ground.

But the Stoics’ Lapithes, as if they had carved him out of the very adamantine matter of impassibility itself, though he is not invulnerable, nor exempt from either sickness or pain, yet remains fearless, regretless, invincible, and unconstrainable in the midst of wounds, dolors, and torments, and in the very subversions of the walls of his native city, and other such like great calamities. Again, Pindar’s Caeneus is not wounded when struck; but the Stoics’ wise man is not detained when shut up in a prison, suffers no compulsion by being thrown down a precipice, is not tortured when on the rack, takes no hurt by being maimed, and when he catches a fall in wrestling he is still unconquered; when he is encompassed with a rampire, he is not besieged; and when sold by his enemies, he is still not made a prisoner. The wonderful man is like to those ships that have inscribed upon them A PROSPEROUS VOYAGE, or PROTECTING PROVIDENCE, or A PRESERVATIVE AGAINST DANGERS, and yet for all that endure storms, and are miserably shattered and overturned.

2. Euripides’s Iolaus of a feeble, superannuated old man, by means of a certain prayer, became on a sudden youthful and strong for battle; but the Stoics’ wise man was yesterday most detestable and the worst of villains, but to-day is changed on a sudden into a state of virtue, and is become of a wrinkled, pale fellow, and, as Aeschylus speaks,

Of an old sickly wretch with stitch in’s back, Distent with rending pains as on a rack,

a gallant, god-like, and beauteous person.

3. The Goddess Minerva took from Ulysses his wrinkles, baldness, and deformity, to make him appear a handsome man. But these men’s wise man, though old age quits not his body, but contrariwise still lays on and heaps more upon it, though he remains (for instance) hump-backed, toothless, one-eyed, is yet neither deformed, disfigured, nor ill-favored. For as beetles are said to relinquish perfumes and to pursue after ill scents; so Stoical love, having used itself to the most foul and deformed persons, if by means of philosophy they change into good form and comeliness, becomes presently disgusted.

4. He that in the Stoics’ account was in the forenoon (for example) the worst man in the world is in the afternoon the best of men; and he that falls asleep a very sot, dunce, miscreant, and brute, nay, by Jove, a slave and a beggar to boot, rises up the same day a prince, a rich and a happy man, and (which is yet more) a continent, just, determined, and unprepossessed person;—not by shooting forth out of a young and tender body a downy beard or the sprouting tokens of mature youth, but by having in a feeble, soft, unmanful, and undetermined mind, a perfect intellect, a consummate prudence, a godlike disposition, an unprejudiced science, and an unalterable habit. All this time his viciousness gives not the least ground in order to it, but he becomes in an instant, I had almost said, of the vilest brute, a sort of hero, genius, or God. For he that receives his virtue from the Stoics’ portico may say,

Ask what thou wilt, it shall be granted thee.[45]

It brings wealth along with it, it contains kingship in it, it confers fortune; it renders men prosperous, and makes them to want nothing and to have a sufficiency of every thing, though they have not one drachm of silver in the house.

5. The fabular relations of the poets are so careful of decorum, that they never leave a Hercules destitute of necessaries; but those still spring, as out of some fountain, as well for him as for his companions. But he that hath received of the Stoics Amalthaea becomes indeed a rich man, but he begs his victuals of other men; he is a king, but resolves syllogisms for hire; he is the only man that hath all things, but yet he pays rent for the house he lives in, and oftentimes buys bread with borrowed money, or else begs it of those that have nothing themselves.

6. The king of Ithaca begs with a design that none may know who he is, and makes himself

As like a dirty sorry beggar[46]

as he can. But he that is of the Portico, while he bawls and cries out, It is I only that am a king, It is I only that am a rich man, is yet many times seen at other people’s doors saying:

On poor Hipponax, pray, some pity take. Bestow an old cast coat for heaven’s sake; I’m well nigh dead with cold, and all o’er quake.

PLUTARCH’S SYMPOSIACS.

BOOK I.

Some, my dear Sossius Senecio, imagine that this sentence, μισέω μνάμονα συμπόταν, was principally designed against the stewards of a feast, who are usually troublesome and press liquor too much upon the guests. For the Dorians in Sicily (as I am informed) called the steward μνάμονα, a remembrancer. Others think that this proverb admonisheth the guests to forget every thing that is spoken or done in company; and agreeably to this, the ancients used to consecrate forgetfulness with a ferula to Bacchus, thereby intimating that we should either not remember any irregularity committed in mirth and company, or apply a gentle and childish correction to the faults. But because you are of opinion that to forget absurdities is indeed (as Euripides says) a piece of wisdom, but to deliver over to oblivion all sort of discourse that merry meetings do usually produce is not only repugnant to that endearing quality that most allow to an entertainment, but against the known practice of the greatest philosophers (for Plato, Xenophon, Aristotle, Speusippus, Epicurus, Prytanis, Hieronymus, Dion the Academic, have thought it a worthy and noble employment to deliver down to us those discourses they had at table), and since it is your pleasure that I should gather up the chiefest of those scattered topics which both at Rome and Greece amidst our cups and feasting we have disputed on, in obedience to your commands I have sent three books, each containing ten problems; and the rest shall quickly follow, if these find good acceptance and do not seem altogether foolish and impertinent.

QUESTION I.

WHETHER MIDST OUR CUPS IT IS FIT TO TALK LEARNEDLY AND PHILOSOPHIZE?

SOSSIUS SENECIO, ARISTO, PLUTARCH, CRATO, AND OTHERS.

1. The first question is, Whether at table it is allowable to philosophize? For I remember at a supper at Athens this doubt was started, whether at a merry meeting it was fit to use philosophical discourse, and how far it might be used? And Aristo presently cried out: What then, for heaven’s sake, are there any that banish philosophy from company and wine? And I replied: Yes, sir, there are, and such as with a grave scoff tell us that philosophy, like the matron of the house, should never be heard at a merry entertainment; and commend the custom of the Persians, who never let their wives appear, but drink, dance, and wanton with their whores. This they propose for us to imitate; they permit us to have mimics and music at our feasts, but forbid philosophy; she, forsooth, being very unfit to be wanton with us, and we in a bad condition to be serious. Isocrates the rhetorician, when at a drinking bout some begged him to make a speech, only returned: With those things in which I have skill the time doth not suit; and in those things with which the time suits I have no skill.

2. And Crato cried out: By Bacchus, he was right in forswearing talk, if he designed to make such long-winded discourses as would have spoiled all mirth and conversation; but I do not think there is the same reason to forbid philosophy as to take away rhetoric from our feasts. For philosophy is quite of another nature; it is an art of living, and therefore must be admitted into every part of our conversation, into all our gay humors and our pleasures, to regulate and adjust them, to proportion the time, and keep them from excess; unless, perchance, upon the same scoffing pretence of gravity, they would banish temperance, justice, and moderation. It is true, were we to feast in a court-room, as those that entertained Orestes, and were silence enjoined by law, that might prove a not unlucky cloak of our ignorance; but if Bacchus is really λύσιος (a looser of every thing), and chiefly takes off all restraints and bridles from the tongue, and gives the voice the greatest freedom, I think it is foolish and absurd to deprive that time in which we are usually most talkative of the most useful and profitable discourse; and in our schools to dispute of the offices of company, in what consists the excellence of a guest, how mirth, feasting, and wine are to be used, and yet deny philosophy a place in these feasts, as if not able to confirm by practice what by precepts it instructs.

3. And when you affirmed that none ought to oppose what Crato said, but determine what sorts of philosophical topics were to be admitted as fit companions at a feast, and so avoid that just and pleasant taunt put upon the wrangling disputers of the age.

Come now to supper, that we may contend;

and when you seemed concerned and urged us to speak to that head, I first replied: Sir, we must consider what company we have; for if the greater part of the guests are learned men,—as for instance, at Agatho’s entertainment, men like Socrates, Phaedrus, Pausanias, Euryximachus; or at Callias’s board, Charmides, Antisthenes, Hermogenes, and the like,—we will permit them to philosophize, and to mix Bacchus with the Muses as well as with the Nymphs; for the latter make him wholesome and gentle to the body, and the other pleasant and agreeable to the soul. And if there are some few illiterate persons present, they, as mute consonants with vowels, in the midst of the other learned, will participate in a voice not altogether inarticulate and insignificant. But if the greater part consists of such who can better endure the noise of any bird, fiddle-string, or piece of wood than the voice of a philosopher, Pisistratus hath shown us what to do; for being at difference with his sons, when he heard his enemies rejoiced at it, in a full assembly he declared that he had endeavored to persuade his sons to submit to him, but since he found them obstinate, he was resolved to yield and submit to their humors. So a philosopher, midst those companions that slight his excellent discourse, will lay aside his gravity, follow them, and comply with their humor as far as decency will permit; knowing very well that men cannot exercise their rhetoric unless they speak, but may their philosophy even whilst they are silent or jest merrily, nay, whilst they are piqued upon or repartee. For it is not only (as Plato says) the highest degree of injustice not to be just and yet seem so; but it is the top of wisdom to philosophize, yet not appear to do it; and in mirth to do the same with those that are serious, and yet seem in earnest. For as in Euripides, the Bacchae, though unprovided of iron weapons and unarmed, wounded their invaders with their boughs, thus the very jests and merry talk of true philosophers move and correct in some sort those that are not altogether insensible.

4. I think there are topics fit to be used at table, some of which reading and study give us, others the present occasion; some to incite to study, others to piety and great and noble actions, others to make us rivals of the bountiful and kind; which if a man cunningly and without any apparent design inserts for the instruction of the rest, he will free these entertainments from many of those considerable evils which usually attend them. Some that put borage into the wine, or sprinkle the floor with water in which verbena and maiden-hair have been steeped, as good to raise mirth and jollity in the guests (in imitation of Homer’s Helen, who with some medicament diluted the pure wine she had prepared), do not understand that that fable, coming round from Egypt, after a long way ends at last in easy and fit discourse. For whilst they were drinking, Helen relates the story of Ulysses,

How Fortune’s spite the hero did control, And bore his troubles with a manly soul.[47]

For that, in my opinion, was the Nepenthe, the care-dissolving medicament,—that story exactly fitted to the then disasters and juncture of affairs. The pleasing men, though they designedly and apparently instruct, draw on their maxims with persuasive and smooth arguments, rather than the violent force of demonstrations. You see that even Plato in his Symposium, where he disputes of the chief end, the chief good, and is altogether on subjects theological, doth not lay down strong and close demonstrations; he doth not prepare himself for the contest (as he is wont) like a wrestler, that he may take the faster hold of his adversary and be sure of giving him the trip; but he draws men on by more soft and pliable attacks, by pleasant fictions and pat examples.

5. Besides, the questions should be easy, the problems known, the interrogations plain and familiar, not intricate and dark, that they might neither vex the unlearned, nor fright them from the disquisition. For—as it is allowable to dissolve our entertainment into a dance, but if we force our guests to pitch quoits or play at cudgels, we shall not only make our feast unpleasant, but hurtful and unnatural—thus light and easy disquisitions do pleasantly and profitably excite us, but we must forbear all contentious and (to use Democritus’s word) wrangling disputes, which perplex the proposers with intricate and inexplicable doubts, and trouble all the others that are present. Our discourse should be like our wine, common to all, and of which every one may equally partake; and they that propose hard problems seem no better fitted for society than Aesop’s fox and crane. For the fox vexed the crane with thin broth poured out upon a flat stone, and laughed at her when he saw her, by reason of the narrowness of her bill and the thinness of the broth, incapable of partaking what he had prepared; and the crane, in requital, inviting the fox to supper, brought forth her dainties in a pot with a long and narrow neck, which she could conveniently thrust her bill into, whilst the fox could not reach one bit. Just so, when philosophers midst their cups dive into minute and logical disputes, they are very troublesome to those that cannot follow them through the same depths; and those that bring in idle songs, trifling disquisitions, common talk, and mechanical discourse destroy the very end of conversation and merry entertainments, and abuse Bacchus. Therefore, as when Phrynichus and Aeschylus brought tragedy to discourse of fables and misfortunes, it was asked, What is this to Bacchus?—so methinks, when I hear some pedantically drawing a syllogism into table-talk, I have reason to cry out, Sir, what is this to Bacchus? Perchance one, the great bowl standing in the midst, and the chaplets given round, which the God in token of the liberty he bestows sets on every head, sings one of those songs called σκολιά (crooked or obscure); this is not fit nor agreeable to a feast. Though some say these σκολιά were not dark and intricate composures; but that the guests sang the first song all together, praising Bacchus and describing the power of the God; and the second each man sang singly in his turn, a myrtle bough being delivered to every one in order, which they call an αἴσακον because he that received it was obliged to sing (ᾄδειν); and after this a harp being carried round the company, the skilful took it, and fitted the music to the song; this when the unskilful could not perform, the song was called σκολιόν, because it was hard to them, and one in which they could not bear a part. Others say this myrtle bough was not delivered in order, but from bed to bed; and when the uppermost of the first table had sung, he sent it to the uppermost of the second, and he to the uppermost of the third; and so the second in like manner to the second; and from these many windings and this circuit it was called σκολιόν, crooked.

QUESTION II.

WHETHER THE ENTERTAINER SHOULD SEAT THE GUESTS, OR LET EVERY MAN TAKE HIS OWN PLACE.

TIMON, A GUEST, PLUTARCH, PLUTARCH’S FATHER, LAMPRIAS, AND OTHERS.

1. My brother Timon, making a great entertainment, desired the guests as they came to seat themselves; for he had invited strangers and citizens, neighbors and acquaintance, and all sorts of persons to the feast. A great many being already come, a certain stranger at last appeared, dressed as fine as hands could make him, his clothes rich, and an unseemly train of foot-boys at his heels; he walked up to the parlor-door, and, staring round upon those that were already seated, turned his back and scornfully retired; and when a great many stepped after him and begged him to return, he said, I see no fit place left for me. At that, the other guests (for the glasses had gone round) laughed abundantly, and desired his room rather than his company.

2. But after supper, my father addressing himself to me, who sat at another quarter of the table,—Timon, said he, and I have a dispute, and you are to be judge, for I have been upon his skirts already about that stranger; for if according to my directions he had seated every man in his proper place, we had never been thought unskilful in this matter, by one

Whose art is great in ordering horse and foot.[48]

And story says that Paulus Aemilius, after he had conquered Perseus the king of Macedon, making an entertainment, besides his costly furniture and extraordinary provision, was very critical in the order of his feast; saying, It is the same man’s task to order a terrible battle and a pleasing entertainment, for both of them require skill in the art of disposing right. Homer often calls the stoutest and the greatest princes κοσμήτορας λαῶν, disposers of the people; and you use to say that the great Creator, by this art of disposing, turned disorder into beauty, and neither taking away nor adding any new being, but setting every thing in its proper place, out of the most uncomely figure and confused chaos produced this beauteous, this surprising face of nature that appears. In these great and noble doctrines indeed you instruct us; but our own observation sufficiently assures us, that the greatest profuseness in a feast appears neither delightful nor genteel, unless beautified by order. And therefore it is absurd that cooks and waiters should be solicitous what dish must be brought first, what next, what placed in the middle, and what last; and that the garlands, and ointment, and music (if they have any) should have a proper place and order assigned, and yet that the guests should be seated promiscuously, and no respect be had to age, honor, or the like; no distinguishing order by which the man in dignity might be honored, the inferior learn to give place, and the disposer be exercised in distinguishing what is proper and convenient. For it is not rational that, when we walk or sit down to discourse, the best man should have the best place, and that the same order should not be observed at table; or that the entertainer should in civility drink to one before another, and yet make no difference in their seats, at the first dash making the whole company one Myconus[49] (as they say), a hodge-podge and confusion. This my father brought for his opinion.

3. And my brother said: I am not so much wiser than Bias, that, since he refused to be arbitrator between two only of his friends, I should pretend to be a judge between so many strangers and acquaintance; especially since it is not a money matter, but about precedence and dignity, as if I invited my friends not to treat them kindly, but to abuse them. Menelaus is accounted absurd and passed into a proverb, for pretending to advise when unasked; and sure he would be more ridiculous that instead of an entertainer should set up for a judge, when nobody requests him or submits to his determination which is the best and which the worst man in the company; for the guests do not come to contend about precedency, but to feast and be merry. Besides, it is no easy task for him to distinguish; for some claim respect by reason of their age, others from their familiarity and acquaintance; and, like those that make declamations consisting of comparisons, he must have Aristotle’s τόποι and Thrasymachus’s ὑπερβάλλοντες (books that furnish him with heads of argument) at his fingers’ end; and all this to no good purpose or profitable effect, but to bring vanity from the bar and the theatre into our feasts and entertainments, and, whilst by good fellowship we endeavor to remit all other passions, to intend pride and arrogance, from which, in my opinion, we should be more careful to cleanse our souls than to wash our feet from dirt, that our conversation may be free, simple, and full of mirth. And while by such meetings we strive to end all differences that have at any time risen amongst the invited, we should make them flame anew, and kindle them again by emulation, by thus debasing some and puffing up others. And if, according as we seat them, we should drink oftener and discourse more with some than others, and set daintier dishes before them, instead of being friendly we should be lordly in our feasts. And if in other things we treat them all equally, why should we not begin at the first part, and bring it into fashion for all to take their seats promiscuously, without ceremony or pride, and to let them see, as soon as they enter, that they are invited to a dinner whose order is free and democratical, and not as particular chosen men to the government of a city where aristocracy is the form; since the richest and the poorest sit promiscuously together.

4. When this had been offered on both sides, and all present required my determination, I said: Being an arbitrator and not a judge, I shall close strictly with neither side, but go indifferently in the middle between both. If a man invites young men, citizens, or acquaintance, they should (as Timon says) be accustomed to be content with any place, without ceremony or concernment; and this good-nature and unconcernedness would be an excellent means to preserve and increase friendship. But if we use the same method to strangers, magistrates, or old men, I have just reason to fear that, whilst we seem to thrust our pride at the fore-door, we bring it in again at the back, together with a great deal of indifferency and disrespect. But in this, custom and the established rules of decency must guide; or else let us abolish all those modes of respect expressed by drinking to or saluting first; which we do not use promiscuously to all the company, but according to their worth we honor every one

With better places, meat, and larger cups,[50]

as Agamemnon says, naming the place first, as the chiefest sign of honor. And we commend Alcinous for placing his guest next himself:

He stout Laomedon his son removed, Who sat next him, for him he dearly loved;[51]

For to place a suppliant stranger in the seat of his beloved son was wonderful kind, and extreme courteous. Nay, even amongst the Gods themselves this distinction is observed; for Neptune, though he came last into the assembly,

Sat in the middle seat,[52]

as if that was his proper place. And Minerva seems to have that assigned her which is next Jupiter himself; and this the poet intimates, when speaking of Thetis he says,

She sat next Jove, Minerva giving place.[53]

And Pindar plainly says,

She sits just next the thunder-breathing flames

Indeed Timon urges, we ought not to rob many to honor one. Now it seems to me that he does this very thing himself, even more than others; for he robs that makes something that is proper common; and suitable honor to his worth is each man’s property. And he gives that pre-eminence to running fast and making haste, which is due to virtue, kindred, magistracies, and such other qualities; and whilst he endeavors not to affront his guests, he necessarily falls into that very inconvenience; for he must affront every one by defrauding them of their proper honor. Besides, in my opinion it is no hard matter to make this distinction, and seat our guests according to their quality; for first, it very seldom happens that many of equal honor are invited to the same banquet; and then, since there are many honorable places, you have room enough to dispose them according to content, if you can but guess that this man must be seated uppermost, that in the middle, another next to yourself, or with his friend, acquaintance, tutor, or the like, appointing every one some place of honor; and as for the rest, I would supply their want of honor with some little presents, affability, and kind discourse. But if their qualities are not easy to be distinguished, and the men themselves hard to be pleased, see what device I have in that case; for I seat in the most honorable place my father, if invited; if not, my grandfather, father-in-law, uncle, or somebody whom the entertainer hath a more particular reason to esteem. And this is one of the many rules of decency that we have from Homer; for in his poem, when Achilles saw Menelaus and Antilochus contending about the second prize of the horse-race, fearing that their strife and fury would increase, he gave the prize to another, under pretence of comforting and honoring Eumelus, but indeed to take away the cause of their contention.

5. When I had said this, Lamprias, sitting (as he always doth) upon a low bed, cried out: Sirs, will you give me leave to correct this sottish judge? And the company bidding him speak freely and tell me roundly of my faults, and not spare, he said: And who can forbear that philosopher, who disposes of places at a feast according to the birth, wealth, or offices of the guests, as if they were seats in a theatre or the Amphictyonic Council, so that pride and arrogance must be admitted even into our mirth and entertainments? In seating our guests we should not have respect to honor, but mirth and conversation; not look after every man’s quality, but their agreement and harmony with one another, as those do that join several different things in one composure. Thus a mason doth not set an Athenian or a Spartan stone, because formed in a more noble country, before an Asian or a Spanish; nor does a painter give the most costly color the chiefest place; nor a shipwright the Corinthian fir or Cretan cypress; but they so distribute them as will best serve to the common end, and make the whole composure strong, beautiful, and fit for use. Nay, you see even the Deity himself (by our Pindar named the most skilful artificer) doth not everywhere place the fire above and the earth below; but, as Empedocles hath it,

The oysters, murets of the sea, and shell-fish every one, With massy coat, the tortoise eke, with crust as hard as stone, And vaulted back, which archwise he aloft doth hollow rear, Show all that heavy earth they do above their bodies bear;

the earth not having that place that Nature appoints, but that which is necessary to compound bodies and serviceable to the common end, the preservation of the whole. Disorder is in every thing an evil; but then its badness is principally discovered, when it is amongst men whilst they are making merry; for then it breeds contentions and a thousand unspeakable mischiefs, which to foresee and hinder shows a man well skilled in good order and disposing right.

6. We all agreed that he said well, but asked him why he would not instruct us how to order things aright, and communicate his skill. I am content, says he, to instruct you, if you will permit me to change the present order of the feast, and will yield as ready obedience to me as the Thebans to Epaminondas when he altered the order of their battle. We gave him full power; and he, having turned all the servants out, looked round upon every one, and said: Hear (for I will tell you first) how I design to order you together. In my mind, the Theban Pammenes justly taxeth Homer as unskilful in love matters, for setting together, in his description of an army, tribe and tribe, family and family; for he should have joined the lover and the beloved, so that the whole body being united in their minds might perfectly agree. This rule will I follow, not set one rich man by another, a youth by a youth, a magistrate by a magistrate, and a friend by a friend; for such an order is of no force, either to beget or increase friendship and good-will. But fitting that which wants with something that is able to supply it, next one that is willing to instruct I will place one that is as desirous to be instructed; next a morose, one good-natured; next a talkative old man, a youth patient and eager for a story; next a boaster, a jeering smooth companion; and next an angry man, a quiet one. If I see a wealthy fellow bountiful and kind, I will take some poor honest man from his obscure place, and set him next, that something may run out of that full vessel into the other empty one. A sophister I will forbid to sit by a sophister, and one poet by another;

For beggars beggars, poets poets, envy[54]

I separate the clamorous scoffers and the testy, by putting some good-nature between them, that they may not justle so roughly on one another; but wrestlers, hunters, and farmers I put in one company. For some of the same nature, when put together, fight as cocks; others are very sociable as daws. Drinkers and lovers I set together, not only those who (as Sophocles says) feel the sting of masculine love, but those that are mad after virgins or married women; for they being warmed with the like fire, as two pieces of iron to be joined, will more readily agree; unless perhaps they both fancy the same person.

QUESTION III.

UPON WHAT ACCOUNT IS THE PLACE AT THE TABLE CALLED CONSULAR ESTEEMED HONORABLE.

THE SAME.

This raised a dispute about the dignity of places, for the same place is not accounted honorable amongst all nations; in Persia the midst, for that is the place proper to the king himself; in Greece the uppermost; at Rome the lowermost of the middle bed, and this is called the consular; the Greeks about Pontus, as those of Heraclea, reckon the uppermost of the middle bed to be the chief. But we were most puzzled about the place called consular; for though it is esteemed most honorable, yet it is not for any well-defined reason, as if it were either the first or the midst; and its other circumstances are either not proper to that alone, or very frivolous. Though I confess three of the reasons alleged seemed to have something in them. The first was, that the consuls, having dissolved the monarchy, and reduced every thing to a more equal level and popular estate, left the middle, the kingly place, and sat in a lower seat; that by this means their power and authority might be less subject to envy, and not so grievous to their fellow-citizens. The second was, that, two beds being appointed for the invited guests, the third—and the first place in this—is most convenient for the master of the feast, whence, like a coachman or a pilot, he can guide and order every thing, and readily overlook the management of the whole affair. Besides, he is not so far removed but that he may easily discourse, talk to, and compliment his guests; for next below him his wife and children usually are placed; next above him the most honorable of the invited, that being the most proper place, as near the master of the feast. The third reason was, that it is peculiar to this place to be most convenient for the despatch of any sudden business; for the Roman consul is not such a one as Archias the governor of Thebes, so as to say, when letters of importance are brought to him at dinner, “serious things to-morrow,” and then throw aside the packet and take the great bowl; but he will be careful, circumspect, and mind it at that very instant. For not only (as the common saying hath it)

Each throw doth make the skilful dicer fear,

but even midst his feasting and his pleasure a magistrate should be intent on intervening business; and he hath this place appointed, as the most convenient for him to receive any message, answer it, or sign a bill; for there the second bed joining with the third,[55] the turning at the corner leaves a vacant space, so that a notary, servant, guardsman, or a messenger from the army might approach, deliver the message, and receive commands; and the consul, having room enough to speak or use his hand, neither troubles any one, nor is hindered by any of the guests.

QUESTION IV.

WHAT MANNER OF MAN SHOULD A STEWARD OF A FEAST BE?

CRATO, THEON, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. Crato a relative of ours, and Theon my acquaintance, at a certain banquet, where the glasses had gone round freely, and a little stir arose but was suddenly appeased, began to discourse of the office of the steward of a feast; declaring that it was my duty to wear the chaplet, assert the decaying privilege, and restore that office which should take care for the decency and good order of the banquet. This proposal pleased every one, and they were all an end begging me to do it. Well then, said I, since you will have it so, I make myself steward and director of you all, and command the rest of you to drink every one what he will, but Crato and Theon, the first proposers and authors of this decree, I enjoin to declare in short what qualifications fit a man for this office, what he should principally aim at, and how behave himself towards those under his command. This is the subject, and let them agree amongst themselves which head each shall manage.

2. They made some slight excuse at first; but the whole company urging them to obey, Crato began thus. A captain of a watch (as Plato says) ought to be most watchful and diligent himself, and the director of merry companions ought to be the best. And such a one he is, that will not be easily overtaken or apt to refuse a glass; but as Cyrus in his epistle to the Spartans says, that in many other things he was more fit than his brother to be a king, and chiefly because he could bear abundance of wine. For one that is drunk must have an ill carriage and be apt to affront; and he that is perfectly sober, must be unpleasant, and fitter to be a governor of a school than of a feast. Pericles, as often as he was chosen general, when he first put on his cloak, used to say to himself, as it were to refresh his memory, Take heed, Pericles, thou dost govern free-men, thou dost govern Greeks, thou dost govern Athenians. So let our director say privately to himself, Thou art a governor over friends, that he may remember to neither suffer them to be debauched nor stint their mirth. Besides, he ought to have some skill in the serious studies of the guests, and not be altogether ignorant of mirth and humor; yet I would have him (as pleasant wine ought to be) a little severe and rough, for the liquor will soften and smooth him, and make his temper pleasant and agreeable. For as Xenophon says, that Clearchus’s rustic and morose humor in a battle, by reason of his bravery and heat, seemed pleasant and surprising; thus one that is not of a very sour nature, but grave and severe, being softened by a chirping cup, becomes more pleasant and complaisant. But chiefly he should be acquainted with every one of the guests’ humors, what alteration the liquor makes in him, what passion he is most subject to, and what quantity he can bear; for it is not to be supposed the water bears various proportions to different sorts of wine (which kings’ cup-bearers understanding sometimes pour in more, sometimes less) and that man hath no such relation to them. This our director ought to know, and knowing, punctually observe; so that like a good musician, screwing up one and letting down another, he may make between these different natures a pleasing harmony and agreement; so that he shall not proportion his wine by measure, but give every one what was proper and agreeable, according to the present circumstances of time and strength of body. But if this is too difficult a task, yet it is necessary that a steward should know the common accidents of age and nature, such as these,—that an old man will be sooner overtaken than a youth, one that leaps about or talks sooner than he that is silent or sits still, the thoughtful and melancholy sooner than the cheerful and the brisk. And he that understands these things is much more able to preserve quietness and order, than one that is perfectly ignorant and unskilful. Besides, I think none will doubt but that the steward ought to be a friend, and have no pique at any of the guests; for otherwise in his injunctions he will be intolerable, in his distributions unequal, in his jests apt to scoff and give offence. Such a figure, Theon, as out of wax, hath my discourse framed for the steward of a feast; and now I deliver him to you.

3. And Theon replied: He is welcome,—a very well-shaped gentleman, and fitted for the office; but whether I shall not spoil him in my particular application, I cannot tell. In my opinion he seems such a one as will keep an entertainment to its primitive institution, and not suffer it to be changed, sometimes into a mooting hall, sometimes a school of rhetoric, now and then a dicing-room, a play house, or a stage. For do not you observe some making fine orations and putting cases at a supper, others declaiming or reading some of their own compositions, and others proposing prizes to dancers and mimics? Alcibiades and Theodorus turned Polition’s banquet into a place of initiation, representing there the sacred procession and mysteries of Ceres; now such things as these, in my opinion, ought not to be suffered by a steward, but he must permit such discourse only, such shows, such merriment, as promote the particular end and design of such entertainments; and that is, by pleasant conversation either to beget or maintain friendship and good-will among the guests; for an entertainment is only a pleasant recreation at the table with a glass of wine, aiming to contract friendship through mutual good-will.

But now because things pure and unmixed are usually surfeiting and odious, and the very mixture itself, unless the simples be well proportioned and opportunely put together, spoils the sweetness and goodness of the composition; it is evident that there ought to be a director who shall take care that the mirth and jollity of the guests be exactly and opportunely tempered. It is a common saying, that a voyage near the land and a walk near the sea are the best recreation. Thus our steward should place seriousness and gravity next jollity and humor; that, when they are merry, they should be on the very borders of gravity itself, and when grave and serious, they might be refreshed as sea-sick persons, having an easy and short prospect to the mirth and jollity on the shore. For mirth may be exceeding useful, and make our grave discourses smooth and pleasant,—

As near the bramble oft the lily grows, And neighboring rue commends the blushing rose.

But against vain and empty humors, that wantonly break in upon our feasts, like henbane mixed with the wine, he must caution the guests, lest scoffing and affronts creep in under these, lest in their questions or commands they grow scurrilous and abuse, as for instance by enjoining stutterers to sing, bald-pates to comb their heads, or a cripple to rise and dance. So the company once abused Agapestor the Academic, one of whose legs was lame and withered, when in a ridiculing frolic they ordained that every man should stand upon his right leg and take off his glass, or pay a forfeit; and he, when it was his turn to command, enjoined the company to follow his example and drink as he did, and having a narrow earthen pitcher brought in, he put his withered leg into it, and drank his glass, and every one in the company, after a fruitless endeavor to imitate, paid his forfeit. It was a good humor of Agapestor’s, and thus every little merry abuse must be as merrily revenged. Besides, he must give such commands as will both please and profit, putting such as are familiar and easy to the person, and when performed will be for his credit and reputation. A songster must be enjoined to sing, an orator to speak, a philosopher to solve a problem, and a poet to make a song; for every one very readily and willingly undertakes that

In which he may outdo himself.

An Assyrian king by public proclamation promised a reward to him that would find out any new sort of luxury and pleasure. And let the governor, the king of an entertainment, propose some pleasant reward for any one that introduceth inoffensive merriment, profitable delight and laughter, such as attends not scoffs and abusive jests, but kindness, pleasant humor, and good-will; for these matters not being well looked after and observed spoil and ruin most of our entertainments. It is the office of a prudent man to hinder all sort of anger and contention; in the exchange, that which springs from covetousness; in the fencing and wrestling schools, from emulation; in offices and state affairs, from ambition; and in a feast or entertainment, from pleasantness and joke.

QUESTION V.

WHY IT IS COMMONLY SAID THAT LOVE MAKES A MAN A POET.

SOSSIUS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. One day when Sossius entertained us, after singing some Sapphic verses, this question was started, how it could be true

That love in all doth vigorous thoughts inspire, And teaches ignorants to tune the lyre?[56]

Since Philoxenus, on the contrary, asserts, that the Cyclops

With sweet-tongued Muses cured his love.

Some said that love was bold and daring, venturing at new contrivances, and eager to accomplish, upon which account Plato calls it the enterpriser of every thing; for it makes the reserved man talkative, the modest complimental, the negligent and sluggish industrious and observant; and, what is the greatest wonder, a close, hard, and covetous fellow, if he happens to be in love, as iron in fire, becomes pliable and soft, easy, good-natured, and very pleasant; as if there were something in that common jest, A lover’s purse is tied with the blade of a leek. Others said that love was like drunkenness; it makes men warm, merry, and dilated; and, when in that condition, they naturally slide down to songs and words in measure; and it is reported of Aeschylus, that he wrote tragedies after he was heated with a glass of wine; and my grandfather Lamprias in his cups seemed to outdo himself in starting questions and smart disputing, and usually said that, like frankincense, he exhaled more freely after he was warmed. And as lovers are extremely pleased with the sight of their beloved, so they praise with as much satisfaction as they behold; and as love is talkative in every thing, so more especially in commendation; for lovers themselves believe, and would have all others think, that the object of their passion is pleasing and excellent; and this made Candaules the Lydian force Gyges into his chamber to behold the beauty of his naked wife. For they delight in the testimony of others, and therefore in all composures upon the lovely they adorn them with songs and verses, as we dress images with gold, that more may hear of them, and that they may be remembered the more. For if they present a cock, horse, or any other thing to the beloved, it is neatly trimmed and set off with all the ornaments of art; and therefore, when they would present a compliment, they would have it curious, pleasing, and majestic, as verse usually appears.

2. Sossius applauding these discourses added: Perhaps we may make a probable conjecture from Theophrastus’s discourse of Music, for I have lately read the book. Theophrastus lays down three causes of music,—grief, pleasure, and enthusiasm; for each of these changes the usual tone, and makes the voice slide into a cadence; for deep sorrow has something tunable in its groans, and therefore we perceive our orators in their conclusions, and actors in their complaints, are somewhat melodious, and insensibly fall into a tune. Excess of joy provokes the more airy men to frisk and dance and keep their steps, though unskilful in the art; and, as Pindar hath it,

They shout, and roar, and wildly toss their heads.

But the graver sort are excited only to sing, raise their voice, and tune their words into a sonnet. But enthusiasm quite changes the body and the voice, and makes it far different from its usual constitution. Hence the very Bacchae use measure, and the inspired give their oracles in measure. And we shall see very few madmen but are frantic in rhyme and rave in verse. This being certain, if you will but anatomize love a little, and look narrowly into it, it will appear that no passion in the world is attended with more violent grief, more excessive joy, or greater ecstasies and fury; a lover’s soul looks like Sophocles’s city:

At once ’tis full of sacrifice, Of joyful songs, of groans and cries.[57]

And therefore it is no wonder, that since love contains all the causes of music,—grief, pleasure, and enthusiasm,—and is besides industrious and talkative, it should incline us more than any other passion to poetry and songs.

QUESTION VI.

WHETHER ALEXANDER WAS A GREAT DRINKER.

PHILINUS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. Some said that Alexander did not drink much, but sat long in company, discoursing with his friends; but Philinus showed this to be an error from the king’s diary, where it was very often registered that such a day, and sometimes two days together, the king slept after a debauch; and this course of life made him cold in love, but passionate and angry, which argues a hot constitution. And some report his sweat was fragrant and perfumed his clothes; which is another argument of heat, as we see the hottest and driest climates bear frankincense and cassia; for a fragrant smell, as Theophrastus thinks, proceeds from a due concoction of the humors, when the noxious moisture is conquered by the heat. And it is thought probable, that he took a pique at Calisthenes for avoiding his table because of the hard drinking, and refusing the great bowl called Alexander’s in his turn, adding, I will not drink of Alexander’s cup, to stand in need of Aesculapius’s. And thus much of Alexander’s drinking.

2. Story tells us, that Mithridates, the famous enemy of the Romans, among other trials of skill that he instituted, proposed rewards to the greatest eater and to the stoutest drinker in his kingdom. He won both the prizes himself; he out-drank every man living, and for his excellency that way he was called Bacchus. But this reason for his surname is a vain fancy and an idle story; for whilst he was an infant a flash of lightning burnt his cradle, but did his body no harm, and only left a little mark on his forehead, which his hair covered when he was grown a boy; and after he came to be a man, another flash broke into his bed-chamber, and burnt the arrows in a quiver that was hanging under him; from whence his diviners presaged, that archers and light-armed men should win him considerable victories in his wars; and the vulgar gave him this name, because in those many dangers by lightning he bore some resemblance to the Theban Bacchus.

3. From hence great drinkers were the subject of our discourse; and the wrestler Heraclides (or, as the Alexandrians mince it, Heraclus), who lived but in the last age, was accounted one. He, when he could get none to hold out with him, invited some to take their morning’s draught, others to dinner, to supper others, and others after, to take a merry glass of wine; so that as the first went off, the second came, and the third and fourth company, and he all the while without any intermission took his glass round, and outsat all the four companies.

4. Amongst the retainers to Drusus, the Emperor Tiberius’s son, there was a physician that drank down all the court; he, before he sat down, would usually take five or six bitter almonds to prevent the operation of the wine; but whenever he was forbidden that, he knocked under presently, and a single glass dozed him. Some think these almonds have a penetrating, abstersive quality, are able to cleanse the face, and clear it from the common freckles; and therefore, when they are eaten, by their bitterness vellicate and fret the pores, and by that means draw down the ascending vapors from the head. But, in my opinion, a bitter quality is a drier, and consumes moisture; and therefore a bitter taste is the most unpleasant. For, as Plato says, dryness, being an enemy to moisture, unnaturally contracts the spongy and tender nerves of the tongue. And green ulcers are usually drained by bitter injections. Thus Homer:

He squeezed his herbs, and bitter juice applied; And straight the blood was stanched, the sore was dried.[58]

And he guesses well, that what is bitter to the taste is a drier. Besides, the powders women use to dry up their sweat are bitter, and by reason of that quality astringent. This then being certain, it is no wonder that the bitterness of the almonds hinders the operation of the wine, since it dries the inside of the body and keeps the veins from being overcharged; for from their distention and disturbance they say drunkenness proceeds. And this conjecture is much confirmed from that which usually happens to a fox; for if he eats bitter almonds without drinking, his moisture suddenly fails, and it is present death.

QUESTION VII.

WHY OLD MEN LOVE PURE WINE.

PLUTARCH AND OTHERS.

It was debated why old men loved the strongest liquors. Some, fancying that their natural heat decayed and their constitution grew cold, said, such liquors were most necessary and agreeable to their age; but this was mean and obvious, and besides, neither a sufficient nor a true reason; for the like happens to all their other senses. They are not easily moved or wrought on by any qualities, unless they are in intense degrees and make a vigorous impression; but the reason is the laxity of the habit of their body, for that, being grown lax and weak, loves a smart stroke. Thus their taste is pleased most with strong sapors, their smelling with brisk odors; for strong and unalloyed qualities make a more pleasing impression on the sense. Their touch is almost senseless to a sore, and a wound generally raises no sharp pain. The like also in their hearing may be observed; for old musicians play louder and sharper than others, that they may move their own dull tympanum with the sound. For what steel is to the edge in a knife, that spirit is to the sense in the body; and therefore, when the spirits fail, the sense grows dull and stupid, and cannot be raised, unless by something, such as strong wine, that makes a vigorous impression.

QUESTION VIII.

WHY OLD MEN READ BEST AT A DISTANCE.

PLUTARCH, LAMPRIAS, AND OTHERS.

1. To my discourse in the former problem some objection may be drawn from the sense of seeing in old men; for, if they hold a book at a distance, they will read pretty well, nearer they cannot see a letter. This Aeschylus means by these verses:

Behold from far; for near thou canst not see; A good old scribe thou mayst much sooner be.

And Sophocles more plainly:

Old men are slow in talk, they hardly hear; Far off they see; but all are blind when near

And therefore, if old men’s organs are more obedient to strong and intense qualities, why, when they read, do they not take the reflection near at hand, but, holding the book a good way off, mix and weaken it by the intervening air, as wine by water?

2. Some answered, that they did not remove the book to lessen the light, but to receive more rays, and let all the space between the letters and their eyes be filled with lightsome air. Others agreed with those that imagine the rays of vision mix with one another; for since there is a cone stretched between each eye and the object, whose point is in the eye and whose basis is the object, it is probable that for some way each cone extends apart and by itself; but, when the distance increases, they mix and make but one common light; and therefore every object appears single and not two, though it is seen by both eyes at once; for the conjunction of the cones makes these two appearances but one. These things supposed, when old men hold the letters near to their eyes, the cones not being joined, but each apart and by itself, their sight is weak; but when they remove it farther, the two lights being mingled and increased, they see better, as a man with both hands can hold that for which either singly is too weak.

3. But my brother Lamprias, though unacquainted with Hieronymus’s notions, gave us the same reason. We see, said he, some species that come from the object to the eye, which at their first rise are thick and great, and therefore when near disturb old men, whose eyes are stiff and not easily penetrated; but when they are separated and diffused into the air, the thick obstructing parts are easily removed, and the subtile remainders coming to the eye slide gently and easily into the pores; and so the disturbance being less, the sight is more vigorous and clear. Thus a rose smells most fragrant at a distance; but if you bring it near the nose, it is not so pure and delightful; and the reason is this,—many earthy disturbing particles are carried with the smell, and spoil the fragrancy when near, but in a longer passage those are lost, and the pure brisk odor, by reason of its subtility, reaches and acts upon the sense.

4. But we, according to Plato’s opinion, assert that a bright spirit darted from the eye mixes with the light about the object, and those two are perfectly blended into one similar body; now these must be joined in due proportion one to another; for one part ought not wholly to prevail on the other, but both, being proportionally and amicably joined, should agree in one third common power. Now this (whether flux, illuminated spirit, or ray) in old men being very weak, there can be no combination, no mixture with the light about the object; but it must be wholly consumed, unless, by removing the letters from their eyes, they lessen the brightness of the light, so that it comes to the sight not too strong or unmixed, but well proportioned and blended with the other. And this explains that common affection of creatures seeing in the dark; for their eye-sight being weak is overcome and darkened by the splendor of the day; because the little light that flows from their eyes cannot be proportionably mixed with the stronger and more numerous beams; but it is proportionable and sufficient for the feeble splendor of the stars, and so can join with it, and co-operate to move the sense.

QUESTION IX.

WHY FRESH WATER WASHES CLOTHES BETTER THAN SALT.

THEON, THEMISTOCLES, METRIUS FLORUS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. Theon the grammarian, when Metrius Florus gave us an entertainment, asked Themistocles the Stoic, why Chrysippus, though he frequently mentioned some strange phenomena in nature (as that salt fish soaked in salt water grows fresher than before, fleeces of wool are more easily separated by a gentle than a quick and violent force, and men that are fasting eat slower than those who took a breakfast), yet never gave any reason for the appearance. And Themistocles replied, that Chrysippus only proposed such things by the by, as instances to correct us, who easily and without any reason assent to what seems likely, and disbelieve every thing that seems unlikely at the first sight. But why, sir, are you concerned at this? For if you are speculative and would enquire into the causes of things, you need not want subjects in your own profession; but pray tell me why Homer makes Nausicaa wash in the river rather than the sea, though it was near, and in all likelihood hotter, clearer, and fitter to wash with than that?

2. And Theon replied: Aristotle hath already given an account for this from the grossness of the sea water; for in this an abundance of rough earthy particles is mixed, and those make it salt; and upon this account swimmers or any other weights sink not so much in sea water as in fresh, for the latter, being thin and weak, yields to every pressure and is easily divided, because it is pure and unmixed; and by reason of this subtility of parts it penetrates better than salt water, and so looseneth from the clothes the sticking particles of the spot. And is not this discourse of Aristotle very probable?

3. Probable indeed, I replied, but not true; for I have observed that with ashes, gravel, or, if these are not to be gotten, with dust itself they usually thicken the water, as if the earthy particles being rough would scour better than fair water, whose thinness makes it weak and ineffectual. Therefore he is mistaken when he says the thickness of the sea water hinders the effect, since the sharpness of the mixed particles very much conduces to make it cleansing; for that opens the pores, and draws out the stain. But since all oily matter is most difficult to be washed out and spots a cloth, and the sea is oily, that is the reason why it doth not scour as well as fresh; and that it is oily, even Aristotle himself asserts, for salt in his opinion hath some oil in it, and therefore makes candles, when sprinkled on them, burn the better and clearer than before. And sea water sprinkled on a flame increaseth it, and is more easily kindled than any other; and this, in my opinion, makes it hotter than the fresh. Besides, I may urge another cause; for the end of washing is drying, and that seems cleanest which is driest; and the moisture that scours (as hellebore, with the humors that it purges) ought to fly away quickly together with the stain. The sun quickly draws out the fresh water, because it is so light; but the salt water being rough lodges in the pores, and therefore is not easily dried.

4. And Theon replied: You say just nothing, sir; for Aristotle in the same book affirms that those that wash in the sea, if they stand in the fresh sun, are sooner dried than those that wash in the fresh streams. It is true, I answered, he says so; but I hope that Homer asserting the contrary will, by you especially, be more easily believed; for Ulysses (as he writes) after his shipwreck meeting Nausicaa,

A frightful sight, and with the salt besmeared,

said to her maidens,

Retire a while, till I have washed my skin.

And when he had leaped into the river,

He from his head did scour the foaming sea.[59]

The poet knew very well what happens in such a case; for when those that come wet out of the sea stand in the sun, the subtilest and lightest parts suddenly exhale, but the salt and rough particles stick upon the body in a crust, till they are washed away by the fresh water of a spring.

QUESTION X.

WHY AT ATHENS THE CHORUS OF THE TRIBE AEANTIS WAS NEVER DETERMINED TO BE THE LAST.

PHILOPAPPUS, MARCUS, MILO, GLAUCIAS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. When we were feasting at Serapion’s, who gave an entertainment after the chorus of the tribe Leontis under his order and direction had won the prize (for we were citizens and free of that tribe), a very pertinent discourse, and proper to the then occasion, happened. It had been a very notable trial of skill, the king Philopappus being very generous and magnificent in his rewards, and defraying the expenses of all the tribes. He was at the same feast with us, and being a very good-humored man and eager for instruction, he would now and then freely discourse of ancient customs, and as freely hear.

2. Marcus the grammarian began thus: Neanthes the Cyzicenian, in his book called the Fabulous Narrations of the City, affirms that it was a privilege of the tribe Aeantis that their chorus should never be determined to be the last. It is true, he brings some stories for confirmation of what he says; but if he falsifies, the matter is open, and let us all enquire after the reason of the thing. But, says Milo, suppose it be a mere tale. It is no strange thing, replied Philopappus, if in our disquisitions after truth we meet now and then with such a thing as Democritus the philosopher did; for he one day eating a cucumber, and finding it of a honey taste, asked his maid where she bought it; and she telling him such a garden, he rose from table and bade her direct him to the place. The maid surprised asked him what he meant; and he replied, I must search after the cause of the sweetness of the fruit, and shall find it the sooner if I see the place. The maid with a smile replied, Sit still, pray sir, for I unwittingly put it into a honey barrel. And he, as it were discontented, cried out, Shame take thee, yet I will pursue my purpose, and seek after the cause, as if this sweetness were a taste natural and proper to the fruit. Therefore neither will we admit Neanthes’s credulity and inadvertency in some stories as an excuse and a good reason for avoiding this disquisition; for we shall exercise our thoughts by it, though no other advantage rises from that enquiry.

3. Presently every one poured out something in commendation of that tribe, mentioning every matter that made for its credit and reputation. Marathon was brought in as belonging to it, and Harmodius with his associates, by birth Aphidneans, were also produced as glorious members of that tribe. The orator Glaucias proved that that tribe made up the right wing in the battle at Marathon, from the elegies of Aeschylus, who had himself fought valiantly in the same encounter; and farther evinced that Callimachus the field marshal was of that tribe, who behaved himself very bravely, and was the principal cause next to Miltiades, with whose opinion he concurred, that that battle was fought. To this discourse of Glaucias I added, that the edict which impowered Miltiades to lead forth the Athenians, was made when the tribe Aeantis was chief of the assembly, and that in the battle of Plataea the same tribe acquired the greatest glory; and upon that account, as the oracle directed, that tribe offered a sacrifice for this victory to the nymphs Sphragitides, the city providing a victim and all other necessaries belonging to it. But you may observe (I continued) that other tribes likewise have their peculiar glories; and you know that mine, the tribe Leontids, yields to none in any point of reputation. Besides, consider whether it is not more probable that this was granted out of a particular respect, and to please Ajax, from whom this tribe received its name; for we know he could not endure to be outdone, but was easily hurried on to the greatest enormities by his contentious and passionate humor; and therefore to comply with him and afford him some comfort in his disasters, they secured him from the most vexing grievance that follows the misfortune of the conquered, by ordering that his tribe should never be determined to be last.

BOOK II.

Of the several things that are provided for an entertainment, some, my Sossius Senecio, are absolutely necessary; such are wine, bread, meat, couches, and tables. Others are brought in, not for necessity, but pleasure; such are songs, shows, mimics, and buffoons (like Philip who came from the house of Callias); which, when present, delight indeed, but when absent, are not eagerly desired; nor is the entertainment looked upon as mean because such are wanting. Just so of discourses; some the sober men admit as necessary to a banquet, and others for their pretty speculations, as more profitable and agreeable than a fiddle and a pipe. My former book gives you examples of both sorts. Of the first are these, Whether we should philosophize at table?—Whether the entertainer should appoint proper seats, or leave the guests to agree upon their own? Of the second, Why lovers are inclined to poetry? and the question about the tribe Aeantis. The former I call properly συμποτικά, table-talk, but both together I comprehend under the general name of Symposiacs. They are promiscuously set down, not in any exact method, but as each singly occurred to memory. And let not my readers wonder that I dedicate these collections to you, which I have received from others or your own mouth; for if all learning is not bare remembrance, yet to learn and to remember are very commonly one and the same thing.

QUESTION I.

WHAT, AS XENOPHON INTIMATES, ARE THE MOST AGREEABLE QUESTIONS AND MOST PLEASANT RAILLERY AT AN ENTERTAINMENT?

SOSSIUS SENECIO AND PLUTARCH.

1. Now each book being divided into ten questions, that shall make the first in this, which Socratical Xenophon hath as it were proposed; for he tells us that, Gobryas banqueting with Cyrus, amongst other things that he found admirable in the Persians, he was surprised to hear them ask one another such questions that it was more delightful to be interrogated than to be let alone, and pass such jests on one another that it was more pleasant to be jested on than not. For if some, even whilst they praise, offend, why should not their polite and neat facetiousness be admired, whose very raillery is delightful and pleasant to him that is the subject of it? Once when you were entertaining us at Patrae, you said: I wish I could learn what kind of questions those are; for to be skilled in and make right use of apposite questions and pleasant raillery, I think is no small part of conversation.

2. A considerable one, I replied; but pray observe whether Xenophon himself, in his descriptions of Socrates’s and the Persian entertainments, hath not sufficiently explained them. But if you would have my thoughts,—first, men are pleased to be asked those questions to which they have an answer ready; such are those in which the persons asked have some skill and competent knowledge; for when the enquiry is above their reach, those that can return nothing are troubled, as if requested to give something beyond their power; and those that do answer, producing some crude and insufficient demonstration, must needs be very much concerned, and apt to blunder on the wrong. Now, if the answer not only is easy but hath something not common, it is more pleasing to them that make it; and this happens, when their knowledge is greater than that of the vulgar, as suppose they are well skilled in points of astrology or logic. For not only in action and serious matters, but also in discourse, every one hath a natural disposition to be pleased (as Euripides hath it)

To seem far to outdo himself.[60]

And all are delighted when men put such questions as they understand, and would have others know that they are acquainted with; and therefore travellers and merchants are most satisfied when their company is inquisitive about other countries, the unknown ocean, and the laws and manners of the barbarians; they are ready to inform them, and describe the countries and the creeks, imagining this to be some recompense for their toil, some comfort for the dangers they have passed. In short, whatever we are wont to discourse of though unrequested, we are desirous to be asked; because then we seem to gratify those whom otherwise our prattle would disturb and force from our conversation. And this is the common disease of navigators. But more genteel and modest men love to be asked about those things which they have bravely and successfully performed, and which modesty will not permit to be spoken by themselves before company; and therefore Nestor did well when, being acquainted with Ulysses’s desire of reputation, he said,

Tell, brave Ulysses, glory of the Greeks, How you the horses seized.[61]

For man cannot endure the insolence of those who praise themselves and repeat their own exploits, unless the company desires it and they are forced to a relation; therefore it tickles them to be asked about their embassies and administrations of the commonwealth, if they have done any thing notable in either. And upon this account the envious and ill-natured start very few questions of that sort; they thwart and hinder all such kind of motions, being very unwilling to give any occasion or opportunity for that discourse which shall tend to the advantage of the relator. In short, we please those to whom we put them, when we start questions about those matters which their enemies hate to hear.

3. Ulysses says to Alcinous,

You bid me tell what various ills I bore,[62] That the sad tale might make me grieve the more.

And Oedipus says to the chorus,

’Tis pain to raise again a buried grief.[63]

But Euripides on the contrary,

How sweet it is, when we are lulled in ease, To think of toils!—when well, of a disease![64]

True indeed, but not to those that are still tossed, still under a misfortune. Therefore be sure never to ask a man about his own calamities; it is irksome to relate his losses of children or estate, or any unprosperous adventure by sea or land; but ask a man how he carried the cause, how he was caressed by the King, how he escaped such a storm, such an assault, thieves, and the like; this pleaseth him, he seems to enjoy it over again in his relation, and is never weary of the topic. Besides, men love to be asked about their happy friends, or children that have made good progress in philosophy or the law, or are great at court; as also about the disgrace and open conviction of their enemies; for of such matters they are most eager to discourse, yet are cautious of beginning it themselves, lest they should seem to insult over and rejoice at the misery of others. You please a hunter if you ask him about dogs, a wrestler about exercise, and an amorous man about beauties; the ceremonious and superstitious man discourses about dreams, and what success he hath had by following the directions of omens or sacrifices, and by the kindness of the Gods; and questions concerning those things will extremely please him. He that enquires any thing of an old man, though the story doth not at all concern him, wins his heart, and urges one that is very willing to discourse:

Nelides Nestor, faithfully relate How great Atrides died, what sort of fate; And where was Menelaus largely tell? Did Argos hold him when the hero fell?[65]

Here is a multitude of questions and variety of subjects; which is much better than to confine and cramp his answers, and so deprive the old man of the most pleasant enjoyment he can have. In short, they that had rather please than distaste will still propose such questions, the answers to which shall rather get the praise and good-will than the contempt and hatred of the hearers. And so much of questions.

4. As for raillery, those that cannot use it cautiously with art, and time it well, should never venture at it. For as in a slippery place, if you but just touch a man as you pass by, you throw him down; so when we are in drink, we are in danger of tripping at every little word that is not spoken with due address. And we are sometimes more offended with a joke than a plain and scurrilous abuse; for we see the latter often slip from a man unwittingly in passion, but consider the former as a thing voluntary, proceeding from malice and ill-nature; and therefore we are generally more offended at a sharp jeerer than a whistling snarler. Such a jeer has indeed something artfully malicious about it, and often seems to be an insult devised and thought of beforehand. For instance, he that calls thee salt-fish monger plainly and openly abuseth; but he that says, I remember when you wiped your nose upon your sleeve, maliciously jeers. Such was Cicero’s to Octavius, who was thought to be descended from an African; for when Cicero spoke something, and Octavius said he did not hear him, Cicero rejoined, Strange, for you have a hole through your ear. And Melanthius, when he was ridiculed by a comedian, said, You pay me now something that you do not owe me. And upon this account jeers vex more; for like bearded arrows they stick a long while, and gall the wounded sufferer. Their smartness is pleasant, and delights the company; and those that are pleased with the saying seem to believe the detracting speaker. For, according to Theophrastus, a jeer is a figurative reproach for some fault or misdemeanor; and therefore he that hears it supplies the concealed part, as if he knew and gave credit to the thing. For he that laughs and is tickled at what Theocritus said to one whom he suspected of a design upon his purse, and who asked him if he went to supper at such a place,—Yes, he replied, I go, but shall likewise lodge there all night,—doth, as it were confirm the accusation, and believe the fellow was a thief. Therefore an impertinent jeerer makes the whole company seem ill-natured and abusive, as being pleased with and consenting to the scurrility of the jeer. It was one of the excellent rules in Sparta, that none should be bitter in their jests, and the jeered should patiently endure; but if he took offence, the other was to forbear, and pursue the frolic no farther. How is it possible therefore to determine such raillery as shall delight and please the person that is jested on, when to be smart without offence is no mean piece of cunning and address?

5. First then, such as will vex and gall the conscious must please those that are clean, innocent, and not suspected of the matter. Such a joke is Xenophon’s, when he pleasantly brings in a very ugly ill-looking fellow, and is smart upon him for being Sambaulas’s minion. Such was that of Aufidius Modestus, who, when our friend Quintius in an ague complained his hands were cold, replied, Sir, you brought them warm from your province; for this made Quintius laugh, and extremely pleased him; yet it had been a reproach and abuse to a covetous and oppressing governor. Thus Socrates, pretending to compare faces with the beauteous Critobulus, rallied only, and not abused. And Alcibiades again was smart on Socrates, as his rival in Agatho’s affection. Kings are pleased when jests are put upon them as if they were private and poor men. Such was the flatterer’s to Philip, who chided him: Sir, don’t I keep you? For those that mention faults of which the persons are not really guilty intimate those virtues with which they are really adorned. But then it is requisite that those virtues should be evident and certainly belong to them; otherwise the discourse will breed disturbance and suspicion. He that tells a very rich man that he will procure him a sum of money,—a temperate sober man, and one that drinks water only, that he is foxed, or hath taken a cup too much,—a hospitable, generous, good-humored man, that he is a niggard and pinch-penny,—or threatens an excellent lawyer to meet him at the bar,—must make the persons smile and please the company. Thus Cyrus was very obliging and complaisant, when he challenged his play-fellows at those sports in which he was sure to be overcome. And Ismenias piping at a sacrifice, when no good omens appeared, the man that hired him snatched the pipe, and played very ridiculously himself; and when all found fault, he said: To play satisfactorily is the gift of Heaven. And Ismenias with a smile replied: Whilst I played, the Gods were so well pleased that they were careless of the sacrifice; but to be rid of thy noise they presently received it.

6. But more, those that jocosely put scandalous names upon things commendable, if it be opportunely done, please more than he that plainly and openly commends; for those that cover a reproach under fair and respectful words (as he that calls an unjust man Aristides, a coward Achilles) gall more than those that openly abuse. Such is that of Oedipus, in Sophocles,

The faithful Creon, my most constant friend.[66]

The familiar irony in commendations answers to this on the other side. Such Socrates used, when he called the kind endeavor and industry of Antisthenes to make men friends pimping, bawds-craft, and allurement; and others that called Crates the philosopher, who wherever he went was caressed and honored, the door-opener.

7. Again, a complaint that implies thankfulness for a received favor is pleasant raillery. Thus Diogenes of his master Antisthenes:

That man that made me leave my precious ore, Clothed me with rags, and forced me to be poor; That man that made me wander, beg my bread, And scorn to have a house to hide my head.

For it had not been half so pleasant to have said, that man that made me wise, content, and happy. And thus a Spartan, making as if he would find fault with the master of the exercises for giving him wood that would not smoke, said, He will not permit us even to shed a tear. So he that calls a hospitable man, and one that treats often, a kidnapper, and a tyrant who for a long time would not permit him to see his own table; and he whom the King hath raised and enriched, that says he had a design upon him and robbed him of his sleep and quiet. So if he that hath an excellent vintage should complain of Aeschylus’s Cabeiri for making him want vinegar, as they had jocosely threatened. For such as these have a pungent pleasantness, so that the praised are not offended nor take it ill.

8. Besides, he that would be civilly facetious must know the difference between a vice and a commendable study or recreation; for instance, between the love of money or contention and of music or hunting; for men are grieved if twitted with the former, but take it very well if they are laughed at for the latter. Thus Demosthenes the Mitylenæan was pleasant enough when, knocking at a man’s door that was much given to singing and playing on the harp, and being bid come in, he said, I will, if you will tie up your harp. But the flatterer of Lysimachus was offensive; for being frighted at a wooden scorpion that the king threw into his lap, and leaping out of his seat, he said after he knew the humor, And I’ll fright your majesty too; give me a talent.

9. In several things about the body too the like caution is to be observed. Thus he that is jested on for a flat or hooked nose usually laughs at the jest. Thus Cassander’s friend was not at all displeased when Theophrastus said to him, ’Tis strange, sir, that your eyes don’t sing, since your nose is so near to give them the tune; and Cyrus commanded a long hawk-nosed fellow to marry a flat-nosed girl, for then they would very well agree. But a jest on any for his stinking breath or filthy nose is irksome; for baldness it may be borne, but for blindness or infirmity in the eyes it is intolerable. It is true, Antigonus would joke upon himself, and once, receiving a petition written in great letters, he said, This a man may read if he were stark blind. But he killed Theocritus the Chian for saying,—when one told him that as soon as he appeared before the King’s eyes he would be pardoned,—Sir, then it is impossible for me to be saved. And the Byzantine to Pasiades saying, Sir, your eyes are weak, replied, You upbraid me with this infirmity, not considering that thy son carries the vengeance of Heaven on his back: now Pasiades’s son was hunch-backed. And Archippus the popular Athenian was much displeased with Melanthius for being smart on his crooked back; for Melanthius had said that he did not stand at the head of the state (προεστάναι) but bowed down before it (προκεκυφέναι). It is true, some are not much concerned at such jeers. Thus Antigonus’s friend, when he had begged a talent and was denied, desired a guard, lest somebody should rob him of that talent he was now to carry home. Different tempers make men differently affected, and that which troubles one is not regarded by another. Epaminondas feasting with his fellow-magistrates drank vinegar; and some asking if it was good for his health, he replied, I cannot tell that, but I know it makes me remember what I drink at home. Therefore it becomes every man that would rally, to look into the humors of his company, and take heed to converse without offence.

10. Love, as in most things else, so in this matter causes different effects; for some lovers are pleased and some displeased at a merry jest. Therefore in this case a fit time must be accurately observed; for as a blast of wind puffs out a fire whilst it is weak and little, but when thoroughly kindled strengthens and increaseth it; so love, before it is evident and confessed, is displeased at a discoverer, but when it breaks forth and blazes in everybody’s eyes, then it is delighted and gathers strength by the frequent blasts of joke and raillery. When their beloved is present it will gratify them most to pass a jest upon their passion, but to fall on any other subject will be counted an abuse. If they are remarkably loving to their own wives, or entertain a generous affection for a hopeful youth, then are they proud, then tickled when jeered for such a love. And therefore Arcesilaus, when an amorous man in his school laid down this proposition, In my opinion one thing cannot touch another, replied, Sir, you touch this person, pointing to a lovely boy that sat near him.

11. Besides, the company must be considered; for what a man will only laugh at when mentioned amongst his friends and familiar acquaintance, he will not endure to be told of before his wife, father, or tutor, unless perhaps it be something that will please those too; as for instance, if before a philosopher one should jeer a man for going barefoot or studying all night; or before his father, for carefulness and thrift; or in the presence of his wife, for being cold to his companions and doating upon her. Thus Tigranes, when Cyrus asked him, What will your wife say when she hears that you are put to servile offices? replied, Sir, she will not hear it, but be present herself and see it.

12. Again, those jokes are accounted less affronting which reflect somewhat also on the man that makes them; as when one poor man, base-born fellow, or lover jokes upon another. For whatever comes from one in the same circumstances looks more like a piece of mirth than a designed affront; but otherwise it must needs be irksome and distasteful. Upon this account, when a slave whom the King had lately freed and enriched behaved himself very impertinently in the company of some philosophers, asking them, how it came to pass that the broth of beans, whether white or black, was always green, Aridices putting another question, why, let the whips be white or not, the wales and marks they made were still red, displeased him extremely, and made him rise from the table in a great rage and discontent. But Amphias the Tarsian, who was supposed to be sprung from a gardener, joking upon the governor’s friend for his obscure and mean birth, and presently subjoining, But ’tis true, I sprung from the same seed, caused much mirth and laughter. And the harper very facetiously put a check to Philip’s ignorance and impertinence; for when Philip pretended to correct him, he cried out, God forbid, sir, that ever you should be brought so low as to understand these things better than I. For by this seeming joke he instructed him without giving any offence. Therefore some of the comedians seem to lay aside their bitterness in every jest that may reflect upon themselves; as Aristophanes, when he is merry upon a bald-pate; and Cratinus in his play Pytine upon drunkenness and excess.

13. Besides, you must be very careful that the jest should seem to be extempore, taken from some present question or merry humor; not far fetched, as if premeditate and designed. For as men are not much concerned at the anger and debates among themselves at table while they are in the midst of their cups, but if any stranger should come in and offer abuse to any of the guests, they would hate and look upon him as an enemy; so they will easily pardon and indulge a jest if undesignedly taken from any present circumstance; but if it is nothing to the matter in hand but fetched from another thing, it must look like a design and be resented as an affront. Such was that of Timagenes to the husband of a woman that often vomited,—“Thou beginnest thy troubles when thou bringest home this vomiting woman,”[67]—saying τήνδ’ ἐμοῦσαν (this vomiting woman), when the poet had written τήνδε Μοῦσαν (this Muse); and also his question to Athenodorus the philosopher,—Is the affection to our children natural? For when the raillery is not founded on some present circumstance, it is an argument of ill-nature and a mischievous temper; and such as delight in jests like these do often for a mere word, the lightest thing in the world (as Plato says), suffer the heaviest punishment. But those that know how to time and apply a jest confirm Plato’s opinion, that to rally pleasantly and facetiously is the business of a scholar and a wit.

QUESTION II.

WHY IN AUTUMN MEN HAVE BETTER STOMACHS THAN IN OTHER SEASONS OF THE YEAR.

GLAUCIAS, XENOCLES, LAMPRIAS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

In Eleusis, after the solemn celebration of the sacred mysteries, Glaucias the orator entertained us at a feast; where, after the rest had done, Xenocles of Delphi, as his humor is, began to be smart upon my brother Lamprias for his good Boeotian stomach. I in his defence opposing Xenocles, who was an Epicurean, said, Pray, sir, do not all place the very essence of pleasure in privation of pain and suffering? But Lamprias, who prefers the Lyceum before the Garden, ought by his practice to confirm Aristotle’s doctrine; for he affirms that every man hath a better stomach in the autumn than in other seasons of the year, and gives the reason, which I cannot remember at present. So much the better (says Glaucias), for when supper is done, we will endeavor to discover it ourselves. That being over, Glaucias and Xenocles drew various reasons from the autumnal fruit. One said, that it scoured the body, and by this evacuation continually raised new appetites. Xenocles affirmed, that ripe fruit had usually a pleasing vellicating sapor, and thereby provoked the appetite better than sauces or sweetmeats; for sick men of a vitiated stomach usually recover it by eating fruit. But Lamprias said, that our natural heat, the principal instrument of nutrition, in the midst of summer is scattered and becomes rare and weak, but in autumn it unites again and gathers strength, being shut in by the ambient cold and contraction of the pores. I for my part said: In summer we are more thirsty and use more moisture than in other seasons; and therefore Nature, observing the same method in all her operations, at this change of seasons employs the contrary and makes us hungry; and to maintain an equal temper in the body, she gives us dry food to countervail the moisture taken in the summer. Yet none can deny but that the food itself is a partial cause; for not only new fruit, bread, or corn, but flesh of the same year, is better tasted than that of the former, more forcibly provokes the guests, and enticeth them to eat on.

QUESTION III.

WHICH WAS FIRST, THE BIRD OR THE EGG?

PLUTARCH, ALEXANDER, SYLLA, FIRMUS, SOSSIUS SENECIO, AND OTHERS.

1. When upon a dream I had forborne eggs a long time, on purpose that in an egg (as in a Carian[68]) I might make experiment of a notable vision that often troubled me; some at Sossius Senecio’s table suspected that I was tainted with Orpheus’s or Pythagoras’s opinions, and refused to eat an egg (as some do the heart and brain) imagining it to be the principle of generation. And Alexander the Epicurean ridiculingly repeated,—

To feed on beans and parents’ heads Is equal sin;

as if the Pythagoreans covertly meant eggs by the word κύαμοι (beans), deriving it from κύω or κυέω (to conceive), and thought it as unlawful to feed on eggs as on the animals that lay them. Now to pretend a dream for the cause of my abstaining, to an Epicurean, had been a defence more irrational than the cause itself; and therefore I suffered jocose Alexander to enjoy his opinion, for he was a pleasant man and excellently learned.

2. Soon after he proposed that perplexed question, that plague of the inquisitive, Which was first, the bird or the egg? And my friend Sylla, saying that with this little question, as with an engine, we shook the great and weighty question (whether the world had a beginning), declared his dislike of such problems. But Alexander deriding the question as slight and impertinent, my relation Firmus said: Well, sir, at present your atoms will do me some service; for if we suppose that small things must be the principles of greater, it is likely that the egg was before the bird; for an egg amongst sensible things is very simple, and the bird is more mixed, and contains a greater variety of parts. It is universally true, that a principle is before that whose principle it is; now the seed is a principle, and the egg is somewhat more than the seed, and less than the bird; for as a disposition or a progress in goodness is something between a tractable mind and a habit of virtue, so an egg is as it were a progress of Nature tending from the seed to a perfect animal. And as in an animal they say the veins and arteries are formed first, upon the same account the egg should be before the bird, as the thing containing before the thing contained. Thus art first makes rude and ill-shapen figures, and afterwards perfects every thing with its proper form; and it was for this reason that the statuary Polycletus said, Then our work is most difficult, when the clay comes to be fashioned by the nail. So it is probable that matter, not readily obeying the slow motions of contriving Nature, at first frames rude and indefinite masses, as the egg, and of these moulded anew, and joined in better order, the animal afterward is formed. As the canker is first, and then growing dry and cleaving lets forth a winged animal, called psyche; so the egg is first as it were the subject matter of the generation. For it is certain that, in every change, that out of which the thing changes must be before the thing changing. Observe how worms and caterpillars are bred in trees from the moisture corrupted or concocted; now none can say but that the engendering moisture is naturally before all these. For (as Plato says) matter is as a mother or nurse in respect of the bodies that are formed, and we call that matter out of which any thing that is is made. And with a smile continued he, I speak to those that are acquainted with the mystical and sacred discourse of Orpheus, who not only affirms the egg to be before the bird, but makes it the first being in the whole world. The other parts, because deep mysteries (as Herodotus would say), we shall now pass by; but let us look upon the various kinds of animals, and we shall find almost every one beginning from an egg,—fowls and fishes; land animals, as lizards; amphibious, as crocodiles; some with two legs, as a cock; some without any, as a snake; and some with many, as a locust. And therefore in the solemn feast of Bacchus it is very well done to dedicate an egg, as the emblem of that which begets and contains every thing in itself.

3. To this discourse of Firmus, Senecio replied: Sir, your last similitude contradicts your first, and you have unwittingly opened the world (instead of the door, as the saying is) against yourself. For the world was before all, being the most perfect; and it is rational that the perfect in Nature should be before the imperfect, as the sound before the maimed, and the whole before the part. For it is absurd that there should be a part when there is nothing whose part it is; and therefore nobody says the seed’s man or egg’s hen, but the man’s seed and hen’s egg; because those being after these and formed in them, pay as it were a debt to Nature, by bringing forth another. For they are not in themselves perfect, and therefore have a natural appetite to produce such a thing as that out of which they were first formed; and therefore seed is defined as a thing produced that is to be perfected by another production. Now nothing can be perfected by or want that which as yet is not. Everybody sees that eggs have the nature of a concretion or consistence in some animal or other, but want those organs, veins, and muscles which animals enjoy. Therefore no story delivers that ever any egg was formed immediately from earth; and the poets themselves tell us, that the egg out of which came the Tyndaridae fell down from heaven. But even till this time the earth produceth some perfect and organized animals, as mice in Egypt, and snakes, frogs, and grasshoppers almost everywhere, some external and invigorating principle assisting in the production. And in Sicily, where in the servile war much blood was shed, and many carcasses rotted on the ground, whole swarms of locusts were produced, and spoiled the corn over the whole isle. Such spring from and are nourished by the earth; and seed being formed in them, pleasure and titillation provoke them to mix, upon which some lay eggs, and some bring forth their young alive; and this evidently proves that animals first sprang from earth, and afterwards by copulation, after different ways, propagated their several kinds. In short, it is the same thing as if you said the womb was before the woman; for as the womb is to the egg, the egg is to the chick that is formed in it; so that he that inquires how birds should be when there were no eggs, might ask as well how men and women could be before any organs of generation were formed. Parts generally have their subsistence together with the whole; particular powers follow particular members, and operations follow those powers, and effects those operations. Now the effect of the generative power is the seed and egg; so that these must be after the formation of the whole. Therefore consider, as there can be no digestion of food before the animal is formed, so there can be no seed nor egg; for those, it is likely, are made by some digestion and alterations; nor can it be that, before the animal is, the superfluous parts of the food of the animal should have a being. Besides, though seed may perhaps pretend to be a principle, the egg cannot; for it doth not subsist first, nor hath it the nature of a whole, for it is imperfect. Therefore we do not affirm that the animal is produced without a principle of its being; but we call the principle that power which changes, mixes, and tempers the matter, so that a living creature is regularly produced; but the egg is an after-production, as the blood or milk of an animal after the taking in and digestion of the food. For we never see an egg formed immediately of mud, for it is produced in the bodies of animals alone; but a thousand living creatures rise from the mud. What need of many instances? None ever found the spawn or egg of an eel; yet if you empty a pit and take out all the mud, as soon as other water settles in it, eels likewise are presently produced. Now that must exist first which hath no need of any other thing that it may exist, and that after, which cannot be without the concurrence of another thing. And of this priority is our present discourse. Besides, birds build nests before they lay their eggs; and women provide cradles, swaddling-clothes, and the like; yet who says that the nest is before the egg, or the swaddling-clothes before the infant? For the earth (as Plato says) doth not imitate a woman, but a woman, and so likewise all other females, the earth. Moreover it is probable that the first production out of the earth, which was then vigorous and perfect, was self-sufficient and entire, nor stood in need of those secundines, membranes, and vessels, which now Nature forms to help the weakness and supply the defects of breeders.

QUESTION IV.

WHETHER OR NO WRESTLING IS THE OLDEST EXERCISE.

SOSICLES, LYSIMACHUS, PLUTARCH, PHILINUS.

Sosicles of Coronea having at the Pythian games won the prize from all the poets, we gave him an entertainment. And the time for running, cuffing, wrestling, and the like drawing on, there was a great talk of the wrestlers; for there were many and very famous men, who came to try their skill. Lysimachus, one of the company, a procurator of the Amphictyons, said he heard a grammarian lately affirm that wrestling was the most ancient exercise of all, as even the very name witnessed; for some modern things have the names of more ancient transferred to them; thus tuning a pipe is called fitting it, and playing on it is called striking; both these being transferred to it from the harp. Thus all places of exercise they call wrestling schools, wrestling being the oldest exercise, and therefore denominating the newer sorts. That, said I, is no good argument, for these palaestras or wrestling schools are called so from wrestling (πάλη), not because it is the most ancient exercise, but because it is the only sort in which they use clay (πηλός), dust, and oil; for in these there is neither racing nor cuffing, but wrestling only, and that part of the pancratium in which they struggle on the ground,—for the pancratium comprises both wrestling and cuffing. Besides, it is unlikely that wrestling, being more artificial and methodical than any other sort of exercise, should likewise be the most ancient; for mere want or necessity, putting us upon new inventions, produces simple and inartificial things first, and such as have more of force in them than sleight and skill. This ended, Sosicles said: You speak right, and I will confirm your discourse from the very name; for, in my opinion, πάλη, wrestling, is derived from παλέυειν, i. e. to throw down by sleight and artifice. And Philinus said, it seems to me to be derived from παλαιστή, the palm of the hand, for wrestlers use that part most, as cuffers do the πυγμή, fist; and hence both these sorts of exercises have their proper names, the one πάλη, the other πυγμή. Besides, since the poets use the word παλύνειν for καταπάσσειν and συμπάσσειν, to sprinkle, and this action is most frequent amongst wrestlers, this exercise πάλη may receive its name from that word. But more, consider that racers strive to be distant from one another; cuffers, by the judges of the field, are not permitted to take hold; and none but wrestlers come up close breast to breast, and clasp one another round the waist, and most of their turnings, liftings, lockings, bring them very close. It is probable therefore that this exercise is called πάλη from πλησιάζειν or πέλας γίγνεσθαι, to come up close or to be near together.

QUESTION V.

WHY, IN RECKONING UP DIFFERENT KINDS OF EXERCISES, HOMER PUTS CUFFING FIRST, WRESTLING NEXT, AND RACING LAST.

LYSIMACHUS, CRATES, TIMON, PLUTARCH.

1. This discourse being ended, and Philinus hummed, Lysimachus began again, What sort of exercise then shall we imagine to be first? Racing, as at the Olympian games? For here in the Pythian, as every exercise comes on, all the contenders are brought in, the boy wrestlers first, then the men, and the same method is observed when the cuffers and fencers are to exercise; but there the boys perform all first, and then the men. But, says Timon interposing, pray consider whether Homer hath not determined this matter; for in his poems cuffing is always put in the first place, wrestling next, and racing last. At this Menecrates the Thessalian surprised cried out, Good God, what things we skip over! But, pray sir, if you remember any of his verses to that purpose, do us the favor to repeat them. And Timon replied: That the funeral solemnities of Patroclus had this order I think every one hath heard; but the poet, all along observing the same order, brings in Achilles speaking to Nestor thus:

With this reward I Nestor freely grace, Unfit for cuffing, wrestling, or the race.

And in his answer he makes the old man impertinently brag:

I cuffing conquered Oinop’s famous son, With Anceus wrestled, and the garland won, And outran Iphiclus.[69]

And again he brings in Ulysses challenging the Phaeacians

To cuff, to wrestle, or to run the race;

and Alcinous answers:

Neither in cuffing nor in wrestling strong, But swift of foot are we.[70]

So that he doth not carelessly confound the order, and, according to the occasion, now place one sort first and now another; but he follows the then custom and practice, and is constant in the same. And this was so as long as the ancient order was observed.

2. To this discourse of my brother’s I subjoined, that I liked what he said, but could not see the reason of this order. And some of the company, thinking it unlikely that cuffing or wrestling should be a more ancient exercise than racing, desired me to search farther into the matter; and thus I spake upon the sudden. All these exercises seem to me to be representations of feats of arms and training therein; for after all, a man armed at all points is brought in to show that that is the end at which all these exercises and trainings aim. And the privilege granted to the conquerors—as they rode into the city, to throw down some part of the wall—hath this meaning, that walls are but a small advantage to that city which hath men able to fight and overcome. In Sparta those that were victors in any of the crowned games had an honorable place in the army, and were to fight near the King’s person. Of all creatures a horse only can have a part in these games and win the crown, for that alone is designed by nature to be trained to war, and to prove assisting in a battle. If these things seem probable, let us consider farther, that it is the first work of a fighter to strike his enemy and ward the other’s blows; the second, when they come up close and lay hold of one another, to trip and overturn him; and in this, they say, our countrymen being better wrestlers very much distressed the Spartans at the battle of Leuctra. Aeschylus describes a warrior thus,

One stout, and skilled to wrestle in his arms;

and Sophocles somewhere says of the Trojans,

They rid the horse, they could the bow command, And wrestle with a rattling shield in hand.

But it is the third and last, either when conquered to fly, or when conquerors to pursue. And therefore it is likely that cuffing is set first, wrestling next, and racing last; for the first bears the resemblance of charging or warding the blows; the second, of close fighting and repelling; and the third, of flying a victorious, or pursuing a routed enemy.

QUESTION VI.

WHY FIR-TREES, PINE-TREES, AND THE LIKE WILL NOT BE GRAFTED UPON.

SOCLARUS, CRATO, PHILO.

1. Soclarus entertaining us in his gardens, round which the river Cephissus runs, showed us several trees strangely varied by the different grafts upon their stocks. We saw an olive upon a mastic, a pomegranate upon a myrtle, pear grafts on an oak, apple upon a plane, a mulberry on a fig, and a great many such like, which were grown strong enough to bear. Some joked on Soclarus as nourishing stranger kinds of things than the poets’ Sphinxes or Chimaeras; but Crato set us to enquire why those stocks only that are of an oily nature will not admit such mixtures, for we never see a pine, fir, or cypress bear a graft of another kind.

2. And Philo subjoined: There is, Crato, a reason for this amongst the philosophers, which the gardeners confirm and strengthen. For they say, oil is very hurtful to all plants, and any plant dipped in it, like a bee, will soon die. Now these trees are of a fat and oily nature, insomuch that they weep pitch and rosin; and, if you cut them gore (as it were) appears presently in the wound. Besides, a torch made of them sends forth an oily smoke, and the brightness of the flame shows it to be fat; and upon this account these trees are as great enemies to all other kinds of grafts as oil itself. To this Crato added, that the bark was a partial cause; for that, being rare and dry, could not afford either convenient room or sufficient nourishment to the grafts; but when the bark is moist, it quickly joins with those grafts that are let into the body of the tree.

3. Then Soclarus added: This too ought to be considered, that that which receives a graft of another kind ought to be easy to be changed, that the graft may prevail, and make the sap in the stock fit and natural to itself. Thus we break up the ground and soften it, that being thus broken it may more easily be wrought upon, and applied to what we plant in it; for things that are hard and rigid cannot be so quickly wrought upon nor so easily changed. Now those trees, being of very light wood, do not mix well with the grafts, because they are very hard either to be changed or overcome. But more, it is manifest that the stock which receives the graft should be instead of a soil to it, and a soil should have a breeding faculty; and therefore we choose the most fruitful stocks to graft on, as women that are full of milk, when we would put out a child to nurse. But everybody knows that the fir, cypress, and the like are no great bearers. For as men very fat have few children (for, the whole nourishment being employed in the body, there remains no overplus to make seed), so these trees, spending all their sap in their own stock, flourish indeed and grow great; but as for fruit, some bear none at all, some very little, and that too slowly ripens; therefore it is no wonder that they will not nourish another’s fruit, when they are so very sparing to their own.

QUESTION VII.

ABOUT THE FISH CALLED REMORA OR ECHENEIS.

CHAEREMONIANUS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. Chaeremonianus the Trallian, when we were at a very noble fish dinner, pointing to a little, long, sharp-headed fish, said the echeneis (ship-stopper) was like that, for he had often seen it as he sailed in the Sicilian sea, and wondered at its strange force; for it stopped the ship when under full sail, till one of the seamen perceived it sticking to the outside of the ship, and took it off. Some laughed at Chaeremonianus for believing such an incredible and unlikely story. Others on this occasion talked very much of antipathies, and produced a thousand instances of such strange effects; for example, the sight of a ram quiets an enraged elephant; a viper lies stock-still, if touched with a beechen leaf; a wild bull grows tame, if bound with the twigs of a fig-tree; amber draws all light things to it, except basil and such as are dipped in oil; and a loadstone will not draw a piece of iron that is rubbed with garlic. Now all these, as to matter of fact, are very evident; but it is hard, if not altogether impossible, to find the cause.

2. Then said I: This is a mere shift and avoiding of the question, rather than a declaration of the cause; but if we please to consider, we shall find a great many accidents that are only consequents of the effect to be unjustly esteemed the causes of it; as for instance, if we should fancy that by the blossoming of the chaste-tree the fruit of the vine is ripened; because this is a common saying,

The chaste-tree blossoms, and the grapes grow ripe;

or that the little protuberances in the candle-snuff thicken the air and make it cloudy; or the hookedness of the nails is the cause and not an accident consequential to an internal ulcer. Therefore as those things mentioned are but consequents to the effect, though proceeding from one and the same cause, so one and the same cause stops the ship, and joins the echeneis to it; for the ship continuing dry, not yet made heavy by the moisture soaking into the wood, it is probable that it glides lightly, and as long as it is clean, easily cuts the waves; but when it is thoroughly soaked, when weeds, ooze, and filth stick upon its sides, the stroke of the ship is more obtuse and weak; and the water, coming upon this clammy matter, doth not so easily part from it; and this is the reason why they usually scrape the sides of their ships. Now it is likely that the echeneis in this case, sticking upon the clammy matter, is not thought an accidental consequent to this cause, but the very cause itself.

QUESTION VIII.

WHY THEY SAY THOSE HORSES CALLED λυκοσπάδες ARE VERY METTLESOME.

PLUTARCH, HIS FATHER, AND OTHERS.

Some say the horses called λυκοσπάδες received that name from the fashion of their bridles (called λύκοι), that had prickles like the teeth on the wolf’s jaw; for being fiery and hard-mouthed, the riders used such to tame them. But my father, who seldom speaks but on good reason, and breeds excellent horses, said, those that were set upon by wolves when colts, if they escaped, grew swift and mettlesome, and were called λυκοσπάδες. Many agreeing to what he said, it began to be enquired why such an accident as that should make them more mettlesome and fierce; and many of the company thought that, from such an assault, fear and not courage was produced; and that thence growing fearful and apt to start at every thing, their motions became more quick and vigorous, as they are in wild beasts when entangled in a net. But, said I, it ought to be considered whether the contrary be not more probable; for the colts do not become more swift by escaping the assault of a wild beast, but they had never escaped unless they had been swift and mettlesome before. As Ulysses was not made wise by escaping from the Cyclops, but he escaped by being wise before.

QUESTION IX.

WHY THE FLESH OF SHEEP BITTEN BY WOLVES IS SWEETER THAN THAT OF OTHERS, AND THE WOOL MORE APT TO BREED LICE.

PATROCLIAS, THE SAME.

After the former discourse, mention was made of those sheep that wolves have bitten; for it is commonly said of them, that their flesh is very sweet, and their wool breeds lice. Our relation Patroclias seemed to be pretty happy in his reasoning upon the first part, saying, that the beast by biting it did mollify the flesh; for wolves’ spirits are so hot and fiery, that they soften and digest the hardest bones; and for the same reason things bitten by wolves rot sooner than others. But concerning the wool we could not agree, being not fully resolved whether it breeds those lice, or only opens a passage for them, separating the flesh by its fretting roughness or proper warmth; and it seemed that this power proceeded from the bite of the wolf, which alters even the very hair of the creature that it kills. And this some particular instances seem to confirm; for we know some huntsmen and cooks will kill a beast with one stroke, so that it never breathes after, whilst others repeat their blows, and scarce do it with a great deal of trouble. But (what is more strange) some, as they kill it, infuse such a quality that the flesh rots presently and cannot be kept sweet above a day; yet others that despatch it as soon find no such alteration, but the flesh will keep sweet a long while. And that by the manner of killing a great alteration is made even in the skins, nails, and hair of a beast, Homer seems to witness, when, speaking of a good hide, he says,

An ox’s hide that fell by violent blows;[71]

for those that fell not by a disease or old age, but by a violent death, leave us tough and strong hides; but when they are bitten by wild beasts, their hoofs grow black, their hair falls, their skins putrefy and are good for nothing.

QUESTION X.

WHETHER THE ANCIENTS, WHO PROVIDED EVERY ONE HIS MESS, DID BETTER THAN WE, WHO SET MANY TO THE SAME DISH.

PLUTARCH, HAGIAS.

1. When I was chief magistrate, most of the suppers consisted of distinct messes, where every particular guest had his portion of the sacrifice allowed him. Some were wonderfully well pleased with this order; others blamed it as unsociable and ungenteel, and were of the opinion that, as soon as I was out of my office, the manner of entertainments ought to be reformed; for, says Hagias, we invite one another not barely to eat and drink, but to eat and drink together. Now this division into messes takes away all society, makes many suppers, and many eaters, but no one sups with another; but every man takes his pound of beef, as from the market, sets it before himself, and falls on. And is it not the same thing to provide a different cup and different table for every guest (as the Demophontidae treated Orestes), as now to set each man his loaf of bread and mess of meat, and feed him, as it were, out of his own proper manger? Only, it is true, we are not (as those that treated Orestes were) obliged to be silent and not discourse. Besides, to show that all the guests should have a share in every thing, we may draw an argument from hence;—the same discourse is common to us all, the same songstress sings, the same musician plays to all. So, when the same cup is set in the midst, not appropriated to any, it is a large spring of good-fellowship, and each man may take as much as his appetite requires; not like this most unjust distribution of bread and meat, which prides itself forsooth in being equal to all, though unequal, stomachs; for the same portion to a man of a small appetite is too much; to one of a greater, too little. And, sir, as he that administers the very same dose of physic to all sorts of patients must be very ridiculous; so likewise must that entertainer who, inviting a great many guests that can neither eat nor drink alike, sets before every one an equal mess, and measures what is just and fit by an arithmetical not geometrical proportion. When we go to a shop to buy, we all use, it is true, one and the same public measure; but to an entertainment each man brings his own belly, which is satisfied with a portion, not because it is equal to that which others have, but because it is sufficient for itself. Those entertainments where every one had his single mess Homer mentions amongst soldiers and in the camp, which we ought not to bring into fashion amongst us; but we should rather imitate the good friendship of the ancients, who, to show what reverence they had for all kinds of societies, not only honored those that lived with them or under the same roof, but also those that drank out of the same cup or ate out of the same dish. Let us never mind Homer’s entertainments; they were good for nothing but to starve a man, and the makers of them were kings, more stingy and observant than the Italian cooks; insomuch that in the midst of a battle, whilst they were at handy-blows with their enemies, they could exactly reckon up how many glasses each man drank at his table. Those that Pindar describes are much better,

Where heroes mixed sat round the noble board,

because they maintained society and good fellowship; for the latter truly mixed and joined friends, but this modern custom divides and asperses them as persons who, though seemingly very good friends, cannot so much as eat with one another out of the same dish.

2. To this polite discourse of Hagias they urged me to reply. And I said: Hagias, it is true, hath reason to be troubled at this unusual disappointment, because having so great a belly (for he was an excellent trencher-man) he had no larger mess than others; for in a fish eaten in common, Democritus says, there are no bones. But that very thing is especially apt to bring us a share beyond our own proper allowance. For it is equality, as the old woman in Euripides hath it,

That fastens towns to towns, and friends to friends;[72]

and entertainments chiefly stand in need of this. The necessity is from nature as well as custom, and is not lately introduced or founded only on opinion. For when the same dish lies in common before all, the man that is slow and eats little must be offended at the other that is too quick for him, as a slow ship at the swift sailer. Besides, snatching, contention, shoving, and the like, are not, in my mind, neighborly beginnings of mirth and jollity; but they are absurd, doggish, and often end in anger or reproaches, not only against one another, but also against the entertainer himself or the carvers of the feast. But as long as Moera and Lachesis (division and distribution) kept an equality in feasts, nothing uncivil or disorderly appeared, and they called the feasts δαῖτες, distributions, the entertained δαιτυμόνες, and the carvers δαιτροί, distributers, from dividing and distributing to every man his proper mess. The Lacedaemonians had officers called distributers of the flesh, no mean men, but the chief of the city; for Lysander himself by King Agesilaus was constituted one of these in Asia. But when luxury crept into our feasts, distributing was thrown out; for I suppose they had not leisure to divide these numerous tarts, cheese-cakes, pies, and other delicate varieties; but, surprised with the pleasantness of the taste and tired with the variety, they left off cutting it into portions, and left all in common. This is confirmed from the present practice; for in our religious or public feasts, where the food is simple and inartificial, each man hath his mess assigned him; so that he that endeavors to retrieve the ancient custom will likewise recover thrift and almost lost frugality again. But, you object, where only property is, community is lost. True indeed, where equality is not; for not the possession of what is proper and our own, but the taking away of another’s and coveting that which is common, is the cause of all injury and contention; and the laws, restraining and confining these within the bounds of propriety, receive their name from their office, being a power distributing equality to every[*P1: no hyphen in image|P3 not needed see next line] one in order to the common good. Thus every one is not to be honored by the entertainer with the garland or the chiefest place; but if any one brings with him his sweet-heart or a minstrel-wench, they must be common to him and his friends, that all things may be huddled together in one mass, as Anaxagoras would have it. Now if propriety in these things doth not in the least hinder but that things of greater moment, and the only considerable, as discourse and civility, may be still common, let us leave off disgracing distributions or the lot, the son of Fortune (as Euripides hath it), which hath no respect either to riches or honor, but which in its inconsiderate wheel now and then raiseth up the humble and the poor, and makes him master of himself, and, by accustoming the great and rich to endure and not be offended at equality, pleasingly instructs.

BOOK III.

Simonides the poet, my Sossius Senecio, seeing one of the company sit silent and discourse nobody, said: Sir, if you are a fool, it is wisely done; if a wise man, very foolishly. It is good to conceal a man’s folly, but (as Heraclitus says) it is very hard to do it over a glass of wine,

Which doth the gravest men to mirth advance, And let them loose to sing, to laugh, and dance, And speak what had been better left unsaid.[73]

In which lines the poet in my mind shows the difference between being a little heated and downright drunk; for to sing, laugh, and dance may agree very well with those that have gone no farther than a merry cup; but to prattle, and speak what had been better left unsaid, argues a man to be quite gone. Therefore Plato thinks that wine is the most ingenious discoverer of men’s humors; and Homer, when he says,

At feasts they had not known each other’s minds,[74]

evidently shows that he knew wine was powerful to open men’s thoughts, and was full of new discoveries. It is true from the bare eating and drinking, if they say nothing, we can give no guess at the tempers of the men; but because drinking leads them on to discourse, and discourse lays a great many things open and naked which were secret and hid before, therefore to sport a glass of wine together lets us into one another’s humors. And therefore a man may reasonably fall foul on Aesop: Why, sir, would you have a window in every man’s breast, through which we may look in upon his thoughts? Wine opens and exposes all, it will not suffer us to be silent, but takes off all mask and visor, and makes us regardless of the severe precepts of decency and custom. Thus Aesop, or Plato, or any other that designs to look into a man, may have his desires satisfied by the assistance of a bottle; but those that are not solicitous to pump one another, but to be sociable and pleasant, discourse of such matters and handle such questions as make no discovery of the bad parts of the soul, but such as comfort the good, and, by the help of neat and polite learning, lead the intelligent part into an agreeable pasture and garden of delight. This made me collect and dedicate to you this third dedication of table discourses, the first of which is about chaplets made of flowers.

QUESTION I.

WHETHER IT IS BECOMING TO WEAR CHAPLETS OF FLOWERS AT TABLE.

ERATO, AMMONIUS, TRYPHO, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. At Athens Erato the musician keeping a solemn feast to the Muses, and inviting a great many to the treat, the company was full of talk, and the subject of the discourse garlands. For after supper many of all sorts of flowers being presented to the guests, Ammonius began to jeer me for choosing a rose chaplet before a laurel, saying that those made of flowers were effeminate, and fitted toyish girls and women more than grave philosophers and men of music. And I admire that our friend Erato, that abominates all flourishing in songs, and blames good Agatho, who first in his tragedy of the Mysians ventured to introduce the chromatic airs, should himself fill his entertainment with such various and such florid colors, and that, while he shuts out all the soft delights that through the ears can enter to the soul, he should introduce others through the eyes and through the nose, and make these garlands, instead of signs of piety, to be instruments of pleasure. For it must be confessed that this ointment gives a better smell than those trifling flowers, which wither even in the hands of those that wreathe them. Besides, all pleasure must be banished the company of philosophers, unless it is of some use or desired by natural appetite; for as those that are carried to a banquet by some of their invited friends (as, for instance, Socrates carried Aristodemus to Agatho’s table) are as civilly entertained as the bidden guests, but he that goes on his own account is shut out of doors; thus the pleasures of eating and drinking, being invited by natural appetite, should have admission; but all the others which come on no account, and have only luxury to introduce them, ought in reason to be denied.

2. At this some young men, not thoroughly acquainted with Ammonius’s humor, being abashed, privately tore their chaplets; but I, perceiving that Ammonius proposed this only for discourse and disputation’s sake, applying myself to Trypho the physician, said: Sir, you must put off that sparkling rosy chaplet as well as we, or declare, as I have often heard you, what excellent preservatives these flowery garlands are against the strength of liquor. But here Erato putting in said: What, is it decreed that no pleasure must be admitted without profit? And must we be angry with our delight, unless hired to endure it? Perhaps we may have reason to be ashamed of ointments and purple vests, because so costly and expensive, and to look upon them as (in the barbarian’s phrase) treacherous garments and deceitful odors; but these natural smells and colors are pure and simple as fruits themselves, and without expense or the curiosity of art. And I appeal to any one, whether it is not absurd to receive the pleasant tastes Nature gives us, and reject those smells and colors that the seasons afford us, because forsooth they blossom with delight, if they have no other external profit or advantage. Besides, we have an axiom against you, for if (as you affirm) Nature makes nothing vain, those things that have no other use were designed on purpose to please and to delight. Besides, observe that to thriving trees Nature hath given leaves, for the preservation of the fruit and of the stock itself; for those sometimes warming sometimes cooling it, the seasons creep on by degrees, and do not assault it with all their violence at once. But now the flower, whilst it is on the plant, is of no profit at all, unless we use it to delight our nose with the admirable smell, and to please our eyes when it opens that inimitable variety of colors. And therefore, when the leaves are plucked off, the plants as it were suffer injury and grief. There is a kind of an ulcer raised, and an unbecoming nakedness attends them; and we must not only (as Empedocles says)

By all means spare the leaves that grace the palm,

but likewise the leaves of all other trees, and not injuriously against Nature robbing them of their leaves, bring deformity on them to adorn ourselves. But to pluck the flowers doth no injury at all. It is like gathering of grapes at the time of vintage; unless plucked when ripe, they wither of themselves and fall. And therefore, like the barbarians who clothe themselves with the skins more commonly than with the wool of sheep, those that wreathe leaves rather than flowers into garlands seem to me to use the plants according to neither the dictates of reason nor the design of Nature. And thus much I say in defence of those who sell chaplets of flowers; for I am not grammarian enough to remember those poems which tell us that the old conquerors in the sacred games were crowned with flowers. Yet, now I think of it, there is a story of a rosy crown that belongs to the Muses; Sappho mentions it in a copy of verses to a woman unlearned and unacquainted with the Muses:

Dead thou shalt lie forgotten in thy tomb, Since not for thee Pierian roses bloom.[75]

But if Trypho can produce any thing to our advantage from physic, pray let us have it.

3. Then Trypho taking the discourse said: The ancients were very curious and well acquainted with all these things, because plants were the chief ingredients of their physic. And of this some signs remain till now; for the Tyrians offer to the son of Agenor, and the Magnesians to Chiron, the first supposed practitioners of physic, as the first fruits, the roots of those plants which have been successful on a patient. And Bacchus was counted a physician not only for finding wine, the most pleasing and most potent remedy, but for bringing ivy, the greatest opposite imaginable to wine, into reputation, and for teaching his drunken followers to wear garlands of it, that by that means they might be secured against the violence of a debauch, the heat of the liquor being remitted by the coldness of the ivy. Besides, the names of several plants sufficiently evidence the ancients’ curiosity in this matter; for they named the walnut-tree καρύα, because it sends forth a heavy and drowsy (καρωτικόν) spirit, which affects their heads who sleep beneath it; and the daffodil, νάρκισσος, because it benumbs the nerves and causes a stupid narcotic heaviness in the limbs; and therefore Sophocles calls it the ancient garland flower of the great (that is, the earthy) Gods. And some say rue was called πήγανον from its astringent quality; for, by its dryness proceeding from its heat, it fixes (πήγνυσι) or coagulates the seed, and is very hurtful to great-bellied women. But those that imagine the herb amethyst (ἀμέθυστος), and the precious stone of the same name, are called so because powerful against the force of wine are much mistaken; for both receive their names from their color; for its leaf is not of the color of strong wine, but resembles that of weak diluted liquor. And indeed I could mention a great many which have their names from their proper virtues. But the care and experience of the ancients sufficiently appears in those of which they made their garlands when they designed to be merry and frolic over a glass of wine; for wine, especially when it seizes on the head, and strains the body just at the very spring and origin of the sense, disturbs the whole man. Now the effluvia of flowers are an admirable preservative against this, they secure the brain, as it were a citadel, against the efforts of drunkenness; for those that are hot open the pores and give the fumes free passage to exhale, and those that are moderately cold repel and keep down the ascending vapors. Of this last nature are the violet and rose; for the odors of both these are prevalent against any ache and heaviness in the head. The flowers of privet and crocus bring those that have drunk freely into a gentle sleep; for they send forth a smooth and gentle effluvia, which softly takes off all asperities that arise in the body of the drunken; and so all things being quiet and composed, the violence of the noxious humor is abated and thrown off. The smells of some flowers being received into the brain cleanse the organs and instruments of sense, and gently by their heat, without any violence or force, dissolve the humors, and warm and cherish the brain itself, which is naturally cold. Upon this account, they called those little posies they hung about their necks ὑποθύμιδες, and anointed their breasts with the oils that were squeezed from them; and of this Alcaeus is a witness, when he bids his friends,

Pour ointment o’er his laboring temples, pressed With various cares, and o’er his aged breast.

Hence the odors by means of the heat shoot upward into the very brain, being caught up by the nostrils. For they did not call those garlands hung about the neck ὑποθυμίδες because they thought the heart was the seat and citadel of the mind (θυμός), for on that account they should rather have called them ἐπιθυμίδες; but, as I said before, from their vapor and exhalation. Besides, it is no strange thing that these smells of garlands should be of so considerable a virtue; for some tell us that the shadow of the yew, especially when it blossoms, kills those that sleep under it; and a subtile spirit ariseth from pressed poppy, which suddenly overcomes the unwary squeezers. And there is an herb called alyssus, which to some that take it in their hands, to others that do but look on it, is found a present remedy against the hiccough; and some affirm that planted near the stalls it preserves sheep and goats from the rot and mange. And the rose is called ῥόδον, probably because it sends forth a stream (ῥεῦμα) of odors; and for that reason it withers presently. It is a cooler, yet fiery to look upon; and no wonder, for upon the surface a subtile heat, being driven out by the inward cold, looks vivid and appears.

QUESTION II.

WHETHER IVY IS OF A HOT OR COLD NATURE.

AMMONIUS, TRYPHO, ERATO.

1. Upon this discourse, when we all hummed Trypho, Ammonius with a smile said: It is not decent by any contradiction to pull in pieces, like a chaplet, this various and florid discourse of Trypho’s. Yet methinks the ivy is a little oddly interwoven, and unjustly said by its cold powers to temper the heat of strong wine; for it is rather fiery and hot, and its berries steeped in wine make the liquor more apt to inebriate and inflame. And from this cause, as in sticks warped by the fire, proceeds the crookedness of the boughs. And snow, that for many days will lie on other trees, presently melts from the branches of the ivy, and wastes all around, as far as the warmth reaches. But the greatest evidence is this. Theophrastus tells us, that when Alexander commanded Harpalus to plant some Grecian trees in the Babylonian gardens, and—because the climate is very hot and the sun violent—such as were leafy, thick, and fit to make a shade, the ivy only would not grow; though all art and diligence possible was used, it withered and died. For being hot itself, it could not agree with the fiery nature of the soil; for excess in similar qualities is destructive, and therefore we see every thing as it were affects its contrary; a cold plant flourishes in a hot ground, and a hot plant is delighted with a cold. Upon which account it is that bleak mountains, exposed to cold winds and snow, bear firs, pines, and the like, full of pitch, fiery, and excellent to make a torch. But besides, Trypho, trees of a cold nature, their little feeble heat not being able to diffuse itself but retiring to the heart, shed their leaves; but their natural oiliness and warmth preserve the laurel, olive, and cypress always green; and the like too in the ivy may be observed. And therefore it is not likely our dear friend Bacchus, who called wine μέθυ (intoxicating) and himself μεθυμναῖος, should bring ivy into reputation for being a preservative against drunkenness and an enemy to wine. But in my opinion, as lovers of wine, when they have not any juice of the grape ready, drink ale, mead, cider, or the like; thus he that in winter would have a vine-garland on his head, finding the vine naked and without leaves, used the ivy that is like it; for its boughs are twisted and irregular, its leaves moist and disorderly confused, but chiefly the berries, like ripening clusters, make an exact representation of the vine. But grant the ivy to be a preservative against drunkenness,—that to please you, Trypho, we may call Bacchus a physician,—still I affirm that power to proceed from its heat, which either opens the pores or helps to digest the wine.

2. Upon this Trypho sat silent, studying for an answer. Erato addressing himself to us youths, said: Trypho wants your assistance; help him in this dispute about the garlands, or be content to sit without any. Ammonius too bade us not be afraid, for he would not reply to any of our discourses; and Trypho likewise urging me to propose something, I said: To demonstrate that the ivy is cold is not so proper a task for me as Trypho, for he often useth coolers and binders; but that proposition, that wine in which ivy berries have been is more inebriating, is not true; for that disturbance which it raiseth in those that drink it is not so properly called drunkenness as alienation of mind or madness, such as hyoscyamus and a thousand other things that set men beside themselves usually produce. The crookedness of the bough is no argument at all, for such violent and unnatural effects cannot be supposed to proceed from any natural quality or power. Now sticks are bent by the fire, because that draws the moisture, and so the crookedness is a violent distortion; but the natural heat nourishes and preserves the body. Consider therefore, whether it is not the weakness and coldness of the body that makes it wind, bend, and creep upon the ground; for those qualities check its rise, and depress it in its ascent, and render it like a weak traveller, that often sits down and then goes on again. Therefore the ivy requires something to twine about, and needs a prop; for it is not able to sustain and direct its own branches, because it wants heat, which naturally tends upward. The snow is melted by the wetness of the leaf, for water destroys it easily, passing through the thin contexture, it being nothing but a congeries of small bubbles; and therefore in very cold but moist places the snow melts as soon as in hot. That it is continually green doth not proceed from its heat, for to shed its leaves doth not argue the coldness of a tree. Thus the myrtle and maiden-hair, though not hot, but confessedly cold, are green all the year. Some imagine this comes from the equal and duly proportioned mixture of the qualities in the leaf, to which Empedocles hath added a certain aptness of pores, through which the nourishing juice is orderly transmitted, so that there is still supply sufficient. But now it is otherwise in trees whose leaves fall, by reason of the wideness of their higher and narrowness of their lower pores; for the latter do not send juice enough, nor do the former keep it, but pour it out as soon as a small stock is received. This may be illustrated from the usual watering of our gardens; for when the distribution is unequal, the plants that are always watered have nourishment enough, seldom wither, and look always green. But you further argue, that being planted in Babylon it would not grow. It was well done of the plant, methinks, being a particular friend and familiar of the Boeotian God, to scorn to live amongst the barbarians, or imitate Alexander in following the manners of those nations; but it was not its heat but cold that was the cause of this aversion, for that could not agree with the contrary quality. For one similar quality doth not destroy but cherish another. Thus dry ground bears thyme, though it is naturally hot. Now at Babylon they say the air is so suffocating, so intolerably hot, that many of the merchants sleep upon skins full of water, that they may lie cool.

QUESTION III.

WHY WOMEN ARE HARDLY, OLD MEN EASILY, FOXED.

FLORUS, SYLLA.

Florus thought it strange that Aristotle in his discourse of Drunkenness, affirming that old men are easily, women hardly, overtaken, did not assign the cause, since he seldom failed on such occasions. He therefore proposed it to us (we were a great many acquaintance met at supper) as a fit subject for our enquiry. Sylla began: One part will conduce to the discovery of the other; and if we rightly hit the cause in relation to the women, the difficulty, as it concerns the old men, will be easily despatched; for their two natures are quite contrary. Moistness, smoothness, and softness belong to the one; and dryness, roughness, and hardness are the accidents of the other. As for women, I think the principal cause is the moistness of their temper; this produceth a softness in the flesh, a shining smoothness, and their usual purgations. Now when wine is mixed with a great deal of weak liquor, it is overpowered by that, loses its strength, and becomes flat and waterish. Some reason likewise may be drawn from Aristotle himself; for he affirms that those that drink fast, and take a large draught without drawing breath, are seldom overtaken, because the wine doth not stay long in their bodies, but having acquired an impetus by this greedy drinking, suddenly runs through; and women are generally observed to drink after that manner. Besides, it is probable that their bodies, by reason of the continual defluction of the moisture in order to their usual purgations, are very porous, and divided as it were into many little pipes and conduits; into which when the wine falls, it is quickly conveyed away, and doth not lie and fret the principal parts, from whose disturbance drunkenness proceeds. But that old men want the natural moisture, even the name γέρουτες, in my opinion, intimates; for that name was given them not as inclining to the earth (ῥέοντες εἰς γῆν), but as being in the habit of their body γεώδεις and γεηροί, earthlike and earthy. Besides, the stiffness and roughness prove the dryness of their nature. Therefore it is probable that, when they drink, their body, being grown spongy by the dryness of its nature, soaks up the wine, and that lying in the vessels it affects the senses and prevents the natural motions. For as floods of water glide over the close grounds, nor make them slabby, but quickly sink into the open and chapped fields; thus wine, being sucked in by the dry parts, lies and works in the bodies of old men. But besides, it is easy to observe, that age of itself hath all the symptoms of drunkenness. These symptoms every body knows; shaking of the joints, faltering of the tongue, babbling, passion, forgetfulness, and distraction of the mind; many of which being incident to old men, even whilst they are well and in perfect health, are heightened by any little irregularity and accidental debauch. So that drunkenness doth not beget in old men any new and proper symptoms, but only intend and increase the common ones. And an evident sign of this is, that nothing is so like an old man as a young man drunk.

QUESTION IV.

WHETHER THE TEMPER OF WOMEN IS COLDER OR HOTTER THAN THAT OF MEN.

APOLLONIDES, ATHRYILATUS.

1. Thus Sylla said, and Apollonides the marshal subjoined: Sir, what you discoursed of old men I willingly admit; but in my opinion you have omitted a considerable reason in relation to the women, the coldness of their temper, which quencheth the heat of the strongest wine, and makes it lose all its destructive force and fire. This reflection seeming reasonable, Athryilatus the Thasian, a physician, kept us from a hasty conclusion in this matter, by saying that some supposed the female sex was not cold, but hotter than the male; and others thought wine rather cold than hot.

2. When Florus seemed surprised at this discourse, Athryliatus continued: Sir, what I mention about wine I shall leave to this man to make out (pointing to me, for a few days before we had handled the same matter). But that women are of a hot constitution, some suppose, may be proved, first, from their smoothness, for their heat wastes all the superfluous nourishment which breeds hair; secondly from their abundance of blood, which seems to be the fountain and source of all the heat that is in the body;—now this abounds so much in females, that they would be all on fire, unless relieved by frequent and sudden evacuations. Thirdly, from a usual practice of the sextons in burning the bodies of the dead, it is evident that females are hotter than males; for the beds-men are wont to put one female body with ten males upon the same pile, for that contains some inflammable and oily parts, and serves for fuel to the rest. Besides, if that that is soonest fit for generation is hottest, and a maid begins to be furious sooner than a boy, this is a strong proof of the hotness of the female sex. But a more convincing proof follows: women endure cold better than men, they are not so sensible of the sharpness of the weather, and are contented with a few clothes.

3. And Florus replied: Methinks, sir, from the same topics I could draw conclusions against your assertion. For, first, they endure cold better, because one similar quality doth not so readily act upon another; and then again, their seed is not active in generation, but passive matter and nourishment to that which the male injects. But more, women grow effete sooner than men; that they burn better than the males proceeds from their fat, which is the coldest part of the body; and young men, or such as use exercise, have but little fat. Their monthly purgations do not prove the abundance, but the corruption and badness, of their blood; for being the superfluous and undigested part, and having no convenient vessel in the body, it flows out, and appears languid and feculent, by reason of the weakness of its heat. And the shivering that seizes them at the time of their purgations sufficiently proves that which flows from them is cold and undigested. And who will believe their smoothness to be an effect of heat rather than cold, when every body knows that the hottest parts of a man’s body are the most hairy? For all such excrements are thrust out by the heat, which opens and makes passages through the skin; but smoothness is a consequent of that closeness of the superficies which proceeds from condensing cold. And that the flesh of women is closer than that of men, you may be informed by those that lie with women that have anointed themselves with oil or other perfumes; for though they do not touch the women, yet they find themselves perfumed, their bodies by reason of their heat and rarety drawing the odor to them. But I think we have disputed plausibly and sufficiently of this matter....

QUESTION V.

WHETHER WINE IS POTENTIALLY COLD.

ATHRYILATUS, PLUTARCH.

1. But now I would fain know upon what account you can imagine that wine is cold. Then, said I, do you believe this to be my opinion? Yes, said he, whose else? And I replied: I remember a good while ago I met with a discourse of Aristotle’s upon this very question. And Epicurus, in his Banquet, hath a long discourse, the sum of which is that wine of itself is not hot, but that it contains some atoms that cause heat, and others that cause cold; now, when it is taken into the body, it loses one sort of particles and takes the other out of the body itself, according to the person’s nature and constitution; so that some when they are drunk are very hot, and others very cold.

2. This way of talking, said Florus, leads us by Protagoras directly to Pyrrho; for it is evident that, suppose we were to discourse of oil, milk, honey, or the like, we shall avoid all enquiry into their particular natures, by saying that things are so and so by their mutual mixture with one another. But how do you prove that wine is cold? And I, being forced to speak extempore, replied: By two arguments. The first I draw from the practice of physicians, for when their patients’ stomachs grow very weak, they prescribe no hot things, and yet give them wine as an excellent remedy. Besides, they stop looseness and immoderate sweating by wine; and this shows that they think it more binding and constipating than snow itself. Now if it were potentially hot, I should think it as wise a thing to apply fire to snow as wine to the stomach.

Again, most teach that sleep proceeds from the coolness of the parts; and most of the narcotic medicines, as mandrake and opium, are coolers. Those indeed work violently, and forcibly condense, but wine cools by degrees; it gently stops the motion, according as it hath more or less of such narcotic qualities. Besides, heat is generative; for owing to heat the moisture flows easily, and the vital spirit gains intensity and a stimulating force. Now the great drinkers are very dull, inactive fellows, no women’s men at all; they eject nothing strong, vigorous, and fit for generation, but are weak and unperforming, by reason of the bad digestion and coldness of their seed. And it is farther observable that the effects of cold and drunkenness upon men’s bodies are the same,—trembling, heaviness, paleness, shivering, faltering of tongue, numbness, and cramps. In many, a debauch ends in a dead palsy, when the wine stupefies and extinguisheth all the heat. And the physicians use this method in curing the qualms and diseases gotten by debauch; at night they cover them well and keep them warm; and at day they anoint and bathe, and give them such food as shall not disturb, but by degrees recover the heat which the wine hath scattered and driven out of the body. Thus, I added, in these appearances we trace obscure qualities and powers; but as for drunkenness, it is easily discerned what it is. For, in my opinion, as I hinted before, those that are drunk are very much like old men; and therefore great drinkers grow old soonest, and they are commonly bald and gray before their time; and all these accidents certainly proceed from want of heat. But mere vinegar is of a vinous nature and strength, and nothing quenches fire so soon as that; its extreme coldness overcomes and kills the flame presently. And of all fruits physicians use the vinous as the greatest coolers, as pomegranates and apples. Besides, do they not make wine by mixing honey with rain-water or snow; for the cold, because those two qualities are near akin, if it prevails, changes the luscious into a poignant taste? And did not the ancients of all the creeping beasts consecrate the snake to Bacchus, and of all the plants the ivy, because they were of a cold and frozen nature? Now, lest any one should think this is an evidence of its heat, that if a man drinks juice of hemlock, a large dose of wine cures him, I shall on the contrary affirm that wine and hemlock juice mixed are an incurable poison, and kill him that drinks it presently. So that we can no more conclude it to be hot because it resists, than to be cold because it assists, the poison. For cold is the only quality by which hemlock juice works and kills.

QUESTION VI.

WHICH IS THE FITTEST TIME FOR A MAN TO KNOW HIS WIFE?

YOUTHS, ZOPYRUS, OLYMPICHUS, SOCLARUS.

1. Some young students, that had not gone far in the learning of the ancients, inveighed against Epicurus for bringing in, in his Symposium, an impertinent and unseemly discourse, about what time was best to lie with a woman; for (they said) for an old man at supper in the company of youths to talk of such a subject, and dispute whether after or before supper was the most convenient time, argued him to be a very loose and debauched man. To this some said that Xenophon, after his entertainment was ended, sent all his guests home on horseback, to lie with their wives. But Zopyrus the physician, a man very well read in Epicurus, said, that they had not duly weighed that piece; for he did not propose that question at first, and then discourse of that matter on purpose; but after supper he desired the young men to take a walk, and then discourse upon it, that he might induce them to continence, and persuade them to abate their desires and restrain their appetites; showing them that it was very dangerous at all times, but especially after they had been eating or making merry. But suppose he had proposed this as the chief topic for discourse, doth it never become a philosopher to enquire which is the convenient and proper time? Ought we not to time it well, and direct our embrace by reason? Or may such discourses be otherwise allowed, and must they be thought unseemly problems to be proposed at table? Indeed I am of another mind. It is true, I should blame a philosopher that in the middle of the day, in the schools, before all sorts of men, should discourse of such a subject; but over a glass of wine between friends and acquaintance, when it is necessary to propose something beside dull serious discourse, why should it be a fault to hear or speak any thing that may inform our judgments or direct our practice in such matters? And I protest I had rather that Zeno had inserted his loose topics in some merry discourses and agreeable table-talk, than in such a grave, serious piece as his politics.

2. The youth, startled at this free declaration, sat silent; and the rest of the company desired Zopyrus to deliver Epicurus’s sentiment. He said: The particulars I cannot remember; but I believe he feared the violent agitations of such exercises, because the bodies employed in them are so violently disturbed. For it is certain that wine is a very great disturber, and puts the body out of its usual temper; and therefore, when thus disquieted, if quiet and sleep do not compose it but other agitations seize it, it is likely that those parts which knit and join the members may be loosened, and the whole frame be as it were unsettled from its foundation and overthrown. For then likewise the seed cannot freely pass, but is confusedly and forcibly thrown out, because the liquor hath filled the vessels of the body, and stopped its way. Therefore, says Epicurus, we must use those sports when the body is at quiet, when the meat hath been thoroughly digested, carried about and applied to several parts of the body, but before we begin to want a fresh supply of food. To this of Epicurus we might join an argument taken from physic. At day time, while our digestion is performing, we are not so lusty nor eager to embrace; and presently after supper to endeavor it is dangerous, for the crudity of the stomach, the food being yet undigested, may be increased by a disorderly motion upon this crudity, and so the mischief be double.

3. Olympicus, continuing the discourse, said: I very much like what Clinias the Pythagorean delivers. For story goes that, being asked when a man should lie with a woman, he replied, when he hath a mind to receive the greatest mischief that he can. For Zopyrus’s discourse seems rational, and other times as well as those he mentions have their peculiar inconveniences. And therefore,—as Thales the philosopher, to free himself from the pressing solicitations of his mother who advised him to marry, said at first, ’tis not yet time; and when, now he was growing old, she repeated her admonition, replied, nor is it now time,—so it is best for every man to have the same mind in relation to those sports of Venus; when he goes to bed, let him say, ’tis not yet time; and when he rises, ’tis not now time.

4. What you say, Olympicus, said Soclarus interposing, befits wrestlers indeed; it smells, methinks, of their cottabus, and their meals of flesh and casks of wine, but is not suitable to the present company, for there are some young married men here.

Whose duty ’tis to follow Venus’ sports.

Nay, we ourselves seem to have some relation to Venus still, when in our hymns to the Gods we pray thus to her,

Fair Venus, keep off feeble age.

But waving this, let us enquire (if you think fit) whether Epicurus does well, when contrary to all right and equity he separates Venus and the Night, though Menander, a man well skilled in love matters, says that she likes her company better than that of any of the Gods. For, in my opinion, night is a very convenient veil, spread over those that give themselves to that kind of pleasure; for it is not fit that day should be the time, lest modesty should be banished from our eyes, effeminacy grow bold, and such vigorous impressions on our memories be left, as might still possess us with the same fancies and raise new inclinations. For the sight (according to Plato) receives a more vigorous impression than any other bodily organ, and joining with imagination, that lies near it, works presently upon the soul, and ever raises a new and fresh desire by those images of pleasure which it brings. But the night, hiding many and the most furious of the actions, quiets and lulls nature, and doth not suffer it to be carried to intemperance by the eye. But besides this, how absurd is it, that a man returning from an entertainment, merry perhaps and jocund, crowned and perfumed, should cover himself up, turn his back to his wife, and go to sleep; and then at day-time, in the midst of his business, send for her out of her apartment to come to him for such a matter; or in the morning, as a cock treads his hens. No, sir, the evening is the end of our labor, and the morning the beginning. Bacchus the Loosener and Terpsichore and Thalia preside over the former; and the latter raiseth us up betimes to attend on Minerva the Work-mistress, and Mercury the merchandiser. And therefore songs, dances, and epithalamiums, merry-meetings, with balls and feasts, and sounds of pipes and flutes, are the entertainment of the one; but in the other, nothing but the noise of hammers and anvils, the scratching of saws, the morning cries of noisy tax-gatherers, citations to court or to attend this or that prince and magistrate, are heard.

Then all the sports of pleasure disappear. Then Venus, then gay youth removes; No Thyrsus then which Bacchus loves; But all is clouded and o’erspread with care.

Besides, Homer makes not one of the heroes lie with his wife or mistress in the daytime, but only Paris, who, having shamefully fled from the battle, sneaked into the embraces of his wife; intimating that such lasciviousness by day did not befit the sober temper of a man, but the mad lust of an adulterer. But, moreover, the body will not (as Epicurus fancies) be injured more after supper than at any other time, unless a man be drunk or overcharged,—for in those cases, no doubt, it is very dangerous and hurtful. But if a man is only raised and cheered, not overpowered by liquor, if his body is pliable, his mind agreeing, if he interposes some reasonable time between, and then he sports, he need not fear any disturbance from the load he has within him; he need not fear catching cold, or too great a transportation of atoms, which Epicurus makes the cause of all the ensuing harm. For if he lies quiet he will quickly fill again, and new spirits will supply the vessels that are emptied. But this is especially to be taken care of, that, the body being then in a ferment and disturbed, no cares of the soul, no business about necessary affairs, no labor, should distract and seize it, lest they should corrupt and sour its humors, Nature not having time enough for settling what has been disturbed. For, sir, all men have not the command of that happy ease and tranquillity which Epicurus’s philosophy procured him; for many great incumbrances seize almost upon every one every day, or at least some disquiets; and it is not safe to trust the body with any of these, when it is in such a condition and disturbance, presently after the fury and heat of the embrace is over. Let, according to his opinion, the happy and immortal Deity sit at ease and never mind us; but if we regard the laws of our country, we must not dare to enter into the temple and offer sacrifice, if but a little before we have done any such thing. It is fit therefore to let night and sleep intervene, and after there is a sufficient space of time past between, to rise as it were pure and new, and (as Democritus was wont to say) “with new thoughts upon the new day.”

QUESTION VII.

WHY NEW WINE DOTH NOT INEBRIATE AS SOON AS OTHER.

PLUTARCH, HIS FATHER, HAGIAS, ARISTAENETUS, AND OTHER YOUTH.

1. At Athens on the eleventh day of February (thence called Πιθοίγια, (the barrel-opening), they began to taste their new wine; and in old times (as it appears), before they drank, they offered some to the Gods, and prayed that that cordial liquor might prove good and wholesome. By us Thebans the month is named Προστατήριος, and it is our custom upon the sixth day to sacrifice to our good Genius and taste our new wine, after the zephyr has done blowing; for that wind makes wine ferment more than any other. and the liquor that can bear this fermentation is of a strong body and will keep well. My father offered the usual sacrifice, and when after supper the young men, my fellow-students, commended the wine, he started this question: Why does not new wine inebriate as soon as other? This seemed a paradox and incredible to most of us; but Hagias said, that luscious things were cloying and would presently satiate, and therefore few could drink enough to make them drunk; for when once the thirst is allayed, the appetite would be quickly palled by that unpleasant liquor; for that a luscious is different from a sweet taste, even the poet intimates, when he says,

With luscious wine, and with sweet milk and cheese.[76]

Wine at first is sweet; afterward, as it grows old, it ferments and begins to be pricked a little; then it gets a sweet taste.

2. Aristaenetus the Nicaean said, that he remembered he had read somewhere that sweet things mixed with wine make it less heady, and that some physicians prescribe to one that hath drunk freely, before he goes to bed, a crust of bread dipped in honey. And therefore, if sweet mixtures weaken strong wine, it is reasonable that new wine should not be heady till it hath lost its sweetness.

3. We admired the acuteness of the young philosophers, and were well pleased to see them propose something out of the common road, and give us their own sentiments on this matter. Now the common and obvious reason is the heaviness of new wine,—which (as Aristotle says) violently presseth the stomach,—or the abundance of airy and watery parts that lie in it; the former of which, as soon as they are pressed, fly out; and the watery parts are naturally fit to weaken the spirituous liquor. Now, when it grows old, the juice is improved, and though by the separation of the watery parts it loses in quantity, it gets in strength.

QUESTION VIII.

WHY THOSE THAT ARE STARK DRUNK SEEM NOT SO MUCH DEBAUCHED AS THOSE THAT ARE BUT HALF FOXED.

PLUTARCH, HIS FATHER.

1. Well then, said my father, since we have fallen upon Aristotle, I will endeavor to propose something of my own concerning those that are half drunk; for, in my mind, though he was a very acute man, he is not accurate enough in such matters. They usually say, I think, that a sober man’s understanding apprehends things right and judges well; the sense of one quite drunk is weak and enfeebled; but of them that are half drunk the fancy is vigorous and the understanding weakened, and therefore, following their own fancies, they judge, but judge ill. But pray, sirs, what is your opinion in these matters?

2. This reason, I replied, would satisfy me upon a private disquisition; but if you will have my own sentiments, let us first consider, whether this difference doth not proceed from the different temper of the body. For of those that are only half drunk, the mind alone is disturbed, but the body not being quite overwhelmed is yet able to obey its motions; but when it is too much oppressed and the wine has overpowered it, it betrays and frustrates the motions of the mind, for men in such a condition never go so far as action. But those that are half drunk, having a body serviceable to the absurd motions of the mind, are rather to be thought to have greater ability to comply with those they have, than to have worse inclinations than the others. Now if, proceeding on another principle, we consider the strength of the wine itself, nothing hinders but that this may be different and changeable, according to the quantity that is drunk. As fire, when moderate, hardens a piece of clay, but if very strong, makes it brittle and crumble into pieces; and the heat of the spring fires our blood with fevers, but as the summer comes on, the disease usually abates; what hinders then but that the mind, being naturally raised by the power of the wine, when it is come to a pitch, should by pouring on more be weakened again, and its force abated? Thus hellebore, before it purges, disturbs the body; but if too small a dose be given, it disturbs only and purges not at all; and some taking too little of an opiate are more restless than before; and some taking too much sleep well. Besides, it is probable that this disturbance into which those that are half drunk are put, when it comes to a pitch, conduces to that decay. For a great quantity being taken inflames the body and consumes the frenzy of the mind; as a mournful song and melancholy music at a funeral raises grief at first and forces tears, but as it continues, by little and little it takes away all dismal apprehensions and consumes our sorrows. Thus wine, after it hath heated and disturbed, calms the mind again and quiets the frenzy; and when men are dead drunk, their passions are at rest.

QUESTION IX.[77]

WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THE SAYING: DRINK EITHER FIVE OR THREE, BUT NOT FOUR?

ARISTO, PLUTARCH, PLUTARCH’S FATHER.

1. When I had said this, Aristo cried out aloud, as his manner was, and said: I see well now that there is opened a return again of measures unto feasts and banquets; which measures, although they are most just and democratical, have for a long time (I wot not by what sober reason) been banished from thence, as by a tyrant. For, as they who profess a canonical harmony in sounding of the harp do hold and say, that the sesquialteral proportion produceth the symphony diapente (διὰ πέντε), the double proportion the diapason (διὰ πασῶν), and that the accord called diatessaron (διὰ τεσσάρων), which is of all most obscure and dull, consisteth in the epitrite proportion; even so they that make profession of skill in the harmonies of Bacchus have observed, that three symphonies or accords there are between wine and water, namely, diapente, diatrion (διὰ τριῶν), and diatessaron; and so they say and sing,—Drink either five or three, but not four. For the fifth has the sesquialteral proportion, three cups of water being mingled with two of wine; the third has the double proportion, two cups of water being put to one of wine; but the fourth answereth to the epitrite proportion of three parts of water poured into one of wine. Now this last proportion may be fit for some grave magistrates sitting in the council-hall, or for logicians who pull up their brows when they are busy in watching the unfolding of their arguments; for surely it is a mixture sober and weak enough. As for the other twain; that medley which carrieth the proportion of two for one bringeth in that turbulent tone of those who are half-drunk,

Which stirs the heart-strings never moved before;

for it suffereth a man neither to be fully sober, nor yet to drench himself so deep in wine as to be altogether witless and past his sense; but the other, standing upon the proportion of three to two, is of all the most musical accord, causing a man to sleep peaceably and forget all cares, and, like the corn-field which Hesiod speaks of,

Which doth from man all curses drive, And children cause to rest and thrive,

stilling and appeasing all proud and disordered passions within the heart, and inducing instead of them a peaceable calm and tranquillity.

2. These speeches of Aristo no one there would contradict, for it was well known that he spoke in jest. But I willed him to take a cup, and, as if it were a harp, to set and tune it to that accord and harmony which he so highly praised. Then came a boy close unto him, and offered him strong wine; but he refused it, saying with laughter, that his music consisted in theory, and not in practice of the instrument. Then my father added to what had been said, that the ancient poets gave two nurses to Jupiter, namely, Ite and Adrastea; one to Juno, Euboea; two, moreover, to Apollo, Alethea and Corythalea; while they gave many more to Bacchus. For, as it seemed to him, Bacchus was nursed and suckled by many Nymphs, because he had need of many measures of water (νύμφαι), to make him more tame, gentle, witty, and wise.

QUESTION X.

WHY FLESH STINKS SOONER WHEN EXPOSED TO THE MOON, THAN TO THE SUN.

EUTHYDEMUS, SATYRUS.

1. Euthydemus of Sunium gave us at an entertainment a very large boar. The guests wondering at the bigness of the beast, he said that he had one a great deal larger, but in the carriage the moon had made it stink; he could not imagine how this should happen, for it was probable that the sun, being much hotter than the moon, should make it stink sooner. But, said Satyrus, this is not so strange as the common practice of the hunters; for, when they send a boar or a doe to a city some miles distant, they drive a brazen nail into it to keep it from stinking.

2. After supper Euthydemus bringing the question into play again, Moschio the physician said, that putrefaction was a colliquation of the flesh, and that every thing that putrefied grew moister than before, and that all heat, if gentle, did stir the humors, though not force them out but if strong, dry the flesh; and that from these considerations an answer to the question might be easily deduced. For the moon gently warming makes the body moist; but the sun by his violent beams dries rather, and draws all moisture from them. Thus Archilochus spoke like a naturalist,

I hope hot Sirius’s beams will many drain.

And Homer more plainly concerning Hector, over whose body Apollo spread a thick cloud,

Lest the hot sun should scorch his naked limbs.[78]

Now the moon’s rays are weaker; for, as Ion says,

They do not ripen well the clustered grapes.

3. When he had done, I said: The rest of the discourse I like very well, but I cannot consent when you ascribe this effect to the strength and degree of heat, and chiefly in the hot seasons; for in winter every one knows that the sun warms little, yet in summer it putrefies most. Now the contrary should happen, if the gentleness of the heat were the cause of putrefaction. And besides, the hotter the season is, so much the sooner meat stinks; and therefore this effect is not to be ascribed to the want of heat in the moon, but to some particular proper quality in her beams. For heat is not different only by degrees; but in fires there are some proper qualities very much unlike one another, as a thousand obvious instances will prove. Goldsmiths heat their gold in chaff fires; physicians use fires of vine-twigs in their distillations; and tamarisk is the best fuel for a glass-house. Olive-boughs in a vapor-bath warm very well, but hurt other baths: they spoil the timbers, and weaken the foundation; and therefore the most skilful of the public officers forbid those that rent the baths to burn olive-tree wood, or throw darnel seed into the fire, because the fumes of it dizzy and bring the headache to those that bathe. Therefore it is no wonder that the moon differs in her qualities from the sun; and that the sun should shed some drying, and the moon some dissolving, influence upon flesh. And upon this account it is that nurses are very cautious of exposing their infants to the beams of the moon; for they being full of moisture, as green plants, are easily wrested and distorted. And everybody knows that those that sleep abroad under the beams of the moon are not easily waked, but seem stupid and senseless; for the moisture that the moon sheds upon them oppresses their faculty and disables their bodies. Besides, it is commonly said, that women brought to bed when the moon is a fortnight old, have easy labors; and for this reason I believe that Diana, which was the same with the moon, was called the goddess of childbirth. And Timotheus appositely says,

By the blue heaven that wheels the stars, And by the moon that eases women’s pains.

Even in inanimate bodies the power of the moon is very evident. Trees that are cut in the full of the moon carpenters refuse, as being soft, and, by reason of their moistness, subject to corruption; and in its wane farmers usually thresh their wheat, that being dry it may better endure the flail; for the corn in the full of the moon is moist, and commonly bruised in threshing. Besides, they say dough will be leavened sooner in the full, for then, though the leaven is scarce proportioned to the meal, yet it rarefies and leavens the whole lump. Now when flesh putrefies, the combining spirit is only changed into a moist consistence, and the parts of the body separate and dissolve. And this is evident in the very air itself, for when the moon is full, most dew falls; and this Alcman the Poet intimates, when he somewhere calls dew the air’s and moon’s daughter, saying,

See how the daughter of the Moon and Jove Does nourish all things.

Thus a thousand instances do prove that the light of the moon is moist, and carries with it a softening and corrupting quality. Now the brazen nail that is driven through the flesh, if, as they say, it keeps the flesh from putrefying, doth it by an astringent quality proper to the brass. The rust of brass physicians use in astringent medicines, and they say those that dig brass ore have been cured of a rheum in their eyes, and that the hair upon their eyelids hath grown again; for the dust rising from the ore, being insensibly applied to the eyes, stops the rheum and dries up the humor. Upon this account, perhaps, Homer calls brass εὐήνωρ and νῶροψ. Aristotle says, that wounds made by a brazen dart or a brazen sword are less painful and sooner cured than those that are made of iron weapons, because brass hath something medicinal in itself, which in the very instant is applied to the wound. Now it is manifest that astringents are contrary to putrefying, and healing to corrupting qualities. Some perhaps may say, that the nail driven through draws all the moisture to itself, for the humor still flows to the part that is hurt; and therefore it is said that by the nail there always appears some speck and tumor; and therefore it is rational that the other parts should remain sound, when all the corruption gathers about that.

BOOK IV.

Polybius, my Sossius Senecio, advised Scipio Africanus never to return from the Forum, where he was conversant about the affairs of the city, before he had gained one new friend. Where I suppose the word friend is not to be taken too nicely, to signify a lasting and unchangeable acquaintance; but, as it vulgarly means, a well-wisher, and as Dicearchus takes it, when he says that we should endeavor to make all men well-wishers, but only good men friends. For friendship is to be acquired by time and virtue; but good-will is produced by a familiar intercourse, or by mirth and trifling amongst civil and genteel men, especially if opportunity assists their natural inclinations to good-nature. But consider whether this advice may not be accommodated to an entertainment as well as the Forum; so that we should not break up the meeting before we had gained one of the company to be a well-wisher and a friend. Other occasions draw men into the Forum, but men of sense come to an entertainment as well to get new friends as to make their old ones merry; indeed to carry away any thing else is sordid and uncivil, but to depart with one friend more than we had is pleasing and commendable. And so, on the contrary, he that doth not aim at this renders the meeting useless and unpleasant to himself, and departs at last, having been a partaker of an entertainment with his belly but not with his mind. For he that makes one at a feast doth not come only to enjoy the meat and drink, but likewise the discourse, mirth, and genteel humor which ends at last in friendship and good-will. The wrestlers, that they may hold fast and lock better, use dust; and so wine mixed with discourse is of extraordinary use to make us hold fast of, and fasten upon, a friend. For wine tempered with discourse carries gentle and kind affections out of the body into the mind; otherwise, it is scattered through the limbs, and serves only to swell and disturb. Thus as a marble, by cooling red-hot iron, takes away its softness and makes it hard, fit to be wrought and receive impression; thus discourse at an entertainment doth not permit the men that are engaged to become altogether liquid by the wine, but confines and makes their jocund and obliging tempers very fit to receive an impression from the seal of friendship if dexterously applied.

QUESTION I.

WHETHER DIFFERENT SORTS OF FOOD, OR ONE SINGLE DISH FED UPON AT ONCE, IS MORE EASILY DIGESTED.

PHILO, PLUTARCH, MARCION.

1. The first question of my fourth decade of Table Discourses shall be concerning different sorts of food eaten at one meal. When we came to Hyampolis at the feast called Elaphebolia, Philo the physician gave us a very sumptuous entertainment; and seeing some boys who came with Philinus feeding upon dry bread and calling for nothing else, he cried out, O Hercules, well I see the proverb is verified,

They fought midst stones, but could not take up one;

and presently went out to fetch them some agreeable food. He staid some time, and at last brought them dried figs and cheese; upon which I said: It is usually seen that those that provide costly and superfluous dainties neglect, or are not well furnished with, useful and necessary things. I protest, said Philo, I did not mind that Philinus designs to breed us a young Sosastrus, who (they say) never all his lifetime drank or ate any thing beside milk, although it is probable that it was some change in his constitution that made him use this sort of diet; but our Chiron here,—quite contrary to the old one that bred Achilles from his very birth,—feeding his son with unbloody food, gives people reason to suspect that like a grasshopper he keeps him on dew and air. Indeed, said Philinus, I did not know that we were to meet with a supper of a hundred beasts, such as Aristomenes made for his friends; otherwise I had come with some poor and wholesome food about me, as a specific against such costly and unwholesome entertainments. For I have often heard that simple diet is not only more easily provided, but likewise more easily digested, than such variety. At this Marcion said to Philo: Philinus hath spoiled your whole provision by deterring the guests from eating; but, if you desire it, I will be surety for you, that such variety is more easily digested than simple food, so that without fear or distrust they may feed heartily. Philo desired him to do so.

2. When after supper we begged Philinus to discover what he had to urge against variety of food, he thus began: I am not the author of this opinion, but our friend Philo here is ever now and then telling us, first, that wild beasts, feeding on one sort only and simple diet, are much more healthy than men are; and that those which are kept in pens are much more subject to diseases and crudities, by reason of the prepared variety we usually give them. Secondly, no physician is so daring, so venturous at new experiments, as to give a feverish patient different sorts of food at once. No, simple food, and without sauce, as more easy to be digested, is the only diet they allow. Now food must be wrought on and altered by our natural powers; in dyeing, cloth of the most simple color takes the tincture soonest; the most inodorous oil is soonest by perfumes changed into an essence; and simple diet is soonest changed, and soonest yields to the digesting power. For many and different qualities, having some contrariety, when they meet disagree and corrupt one another; as in a city, a mixed rout are not easily reduced into one body, nor brought to follow the same concerns; for each works according to its own nature, and is very hardly brought to side with another’s quality. Now this is evident in wine; mixed wine inebriates very soon, and drunkenness is much like a crudity rising from undigested wine; and therefore the drinkers hate mixed liquors, and those that do mix them do it privately, as afraid to have their design upon the company discovered. Every change is disturbing and injurious, and therefore musicians are very careful how they strike many strings at once; though the mixture and variety of the notes would be the only harm that would follow. This I dare say, that belief and assent can be sooner procured by disagreeing arguments, than concoction by various and different qualities. But lest I should seem jocose, waving this, I will return to Philo’s observations again. We have often heard him declare that it is the quality that makes meat hard to be digested; that to mix many things together is hurtful, and begets unnatural qualities; and that every man should take that which by experience he finds most agreeable to his temper.

Now if nothing is by its own nature hard to be digested, but it is the quantity that disturbs and corrupts, I think we have still greater reason to forbear that variety with which Philo’s cook, as it were in opposition to his master’s practice, would draw us on to surfeits and diseases. For, by the different sorts of food and new ways of dressing, he still keeps up the unwearied appetite, and leads it from one dish to another, till tasting of every thing we take more than is sufficient and enough; as Hypsipyle’s foster-child,

Who, in a garden placed, plucked up the flowers, One after one, and spent delightful hours; But still his greedy appetite goes on, And still he plucked till all the flowers were gone.[79]

But more, methinks, Socrates is here to be remembered who adviseth us to forbear those junkets which provoke those that are not hungry to eat; as if by this he cautioned us to fly variety of meats. For it is variety that in every thing draws us on to use more than bare necessity requires. This is manifest in all sorts of pleasures, either of the eye, ear, or touch; for it still proposeth new provocatives; but in simple pleasures, and such as are confined to one sort, the temptation never carries us beyond nature’s wants. In short, in my opinion, we should more patiently endure to hear a musician praise a disagreeing variety of notes, or a perfumer mixed ointments, than a physician commend the variety of dishes; for certainly such changes and turnings as must necessarily ensue will force us out of the right way of health.

3. Philinus having ended his discourse, Marcion said: In my opinion, not only those that separate profit from honesty are obnoxious to Socrates’s curse, but those also that separate pleasure from health, as if it were its enemy and opposite, and not its great friend and promoter. Pain we use but seldom and unwillingly, as the most violent instrument. But from all things else, none, though he would willingly, can remove pleasure. It still attends when we eat, sleep, bathe, or anoint, and takes care of and nurses the diseased; dissipating all that is hurtful and disagreeable, by applying that which is proper, pleasing, and natural. For what pain, what want, what poison so quickly and so easily cures a disease as seasonable bathing? A glass of wine, when a man wants it, or a dish of palatable meat, presently frees us from all disturbing particles, and settles nature in its proper state, there being as it were a calm and serenity spread over the troubled humors. But those remedies that are painful do hardly and only by little and little promote the cure, every difficulty pushing on and forcing Nature. And therefore let not Philinus blame us, if we do not make all the sail we can to fly from pleasure, but more diligently endeavor to make pleasure and health, than other philosophers do to make pleasure and honesty, agree. Now, in my opinion, Philinus, you seem to be out in your first argument, where you suppose the beasts use more simple food and are more healthy than men; neither of which is true. The first the goats in Eupolis confute, for they extol their pasture as full of variety and all sorts of herbs, in this manner,

We feed almost on every kind of trees, Young firs, the ilex, and the oak we crop. Sweet trefoil, fragrant juniper, and yew, Wild olives, thyme,—all freely yield their store.

These that I have mentioned are very different in taste, smell, and other qualities, and he reckons more sorts which I have omitted. The second Homer skilfully refutes, when he tells us that the plague first began amongst the beasts. Besides, the shortness of their lives proves that they are very subject to diseases; for there is scarce any irrational creature long lived, besides the crow and the chough; and those two every one knows do not confine themselves to simple food, but eat any thing. Besides, you take no good rule to judge what is easy and what is hard of digestion from the diet of those that are sick; for labor and exercise, and even to chew our meat well, contribute very much to digestion, neither of which can agree with a man in a fever. Again, that the variety of meats, by reason of the different qualities of the particulars, should disagree and spoil one another, you have no reason to fear. For if Nature chooses from dissimilar bodies what is fit and agreeable, the diverse nourishment transmits many and sundry qualities into the mass and bulk of the body, applying to every part that which is meet and fit; so that, as Empedocles words it,

The sweet runs to the sweet, the sour combines With sour, the sharp with sharp, the hot with hot;

and after the mixture is spread through the mass by the heat which is in the spirit, the proper parts are separated and applied to the proper members. Indeed, it is very probable that such bodies as ours, consisting of parts of different natures, should be nourished and built up rather of various than of simple matter. But if by concoction there is an alteration made in the food, this will be more easily performed when there are different sorts of meat, than when there is only one, in the stomach; for similars cannot work upon similars, and the very contrariety in the mixture considerably promotes the alteration of the enfeebled qualities. But if, Philinus, you are against all mixture, do not chide Philo only for the variety of his dishes and sauces, but also for using mixture in his sovereign antidotes, which Erasistratus calls the Gods’ hands. Convince him of absurdity and vanity, when he mixes things vegetable, mineral, and animal, and things from sea and land, in one potion; and advise him to let these alone, and to confine all physic to barley-broth, gourds, and oil mixed with water. But you urge farther, that variety enticeth the appetite that hath no command over itself. That is, good sir, cleanly, wholesome, sweet, palatable, pleasing diet makes us eat and drink more than ordinary. Why then, instead of fine flour, do not we thicken our broth with coarse bran? And instead of asparagus, why do we not dress nettle-tops and thistles; and leaving this fragrant and pleasant wine, drink sour harsh liquor that gnats have been buzzing about along while? Because, perhaps you may reply, wholesome feeding doth not consist in a perfect avoiding of all that is pleasing, but in moderating the appetite in that respect, and making it prefer profit before pleasure. But, sir, as a mariner has a thousand ways to avoid a stiff gale of wind, but when it is clear down and a perfect calm, cannot raise it again; thus to correct and restrain our extravagant appetite is no hard matter, but when it grows weak and faint, when it fails as to its proper objects, then to raise it and make it vigorous and active again is, sir, a very difficult and hard task. And therefore variety of viands is as much better than simple food, which is apt to satisfy by being but of one sort, as it is easier to stop Nature when she makes too much speed, than to force her on when languishing and faint. Beside, what some say, that fulness is more to be avoided than emptiness, is not true; but, on the contrary, fulness then only hurts when it ends in a surfeit or disease; but emptiness, though it doth no other mischief, is of itself unnatural. And let this suffice as an answer to what you proposed. But you who stick to salt and cummin have forgot, that variety is sweeter and more desired by the appetite, unless too sweet. For, the sight preparing the way, it is soon assimilated to the eager receiving body; but that which is not desirable Nature either throws off again, or keeps it in for mere want. But pray observe this, that I do not plead for variety in tarts, cakes, or sauces;—those are vain, insignificant, and superfluous things;—but even Plato allowed variety to those fine citizens of his, setting before them onions, olives, leeks, cheese, and all sorts of meat and fish, and besides these, allowed them some dried fruits.

QUESTION II.

WHY MUSHROOMS ARE THOUGHT TO BE PRODUCED BY THUNDER, AND WHY IT IS BELIEVED THAT MEN ASLEEP ARE NEVER THUNDERSTRUCK.

AGEMACHUS, PLUTARCH, DOROTHEUS.

1. At a supper in Elis, Agemachus set before us very large mushrooms. And when all admired at them, one with a smile said, These are worthy the late thunder, as it were deriding those who imagine mushrooms are produced by thunder. Some said that thunder did split the earth, using the air as a wedge for that purpose, and that by those chinks those that sought after mushrooms were directed where to find them; and thence it grew a common opinion, that thunder engenders mushrooms, and not only makes them a passage to appear; as if one should imagine that a shower of rain breeds snails, and not rather makes them creep forth and be seen abroad. Agemachus stood up stiffly for the received opinion, and told us, we should not disbelieve it only because it was strange, for there are a thousand other effects of thunder and lightning and a thousand omens deduced from them, whose causes it is very hard, if not impossible, to discover; for this laughed-at, this proverbial mushroom doth not escape the thunder because it is so little, but because it hath some antipathetical qualities that preserve it from blasting; as likewise a fig-tree, the skin of a sea-calf (as they say), and that of the hyena, with which sailors cover the ends of their sails. And husbandmen call thunder-showers fertilizing, and think them to be so. Indeed, it is absurd to wonder at these things, when we see the most incredible things imaginable in thunder, as flame rising out of moist vapors, and from soft clouds such astonishing noises. Thus, he continued, I prattle, exhorting you to enquire after the cause; and I shall accept this as your club for these mushrooms.

2. Then I began: Agemachus himself helps us exceedingly toward this discovery; for nothing at the present seems more probable than that, together with the thunder, oftentimes generative waters fall, which receive that quality from the heat mixed with them. For the piercing pure parts of the fire break away in lightning; but the grosser flatulent part, being wrapped up in the cloud, changes its nature, taking away the coldness and rendering the moisture mild and gentle, and altering and being altered with it, warms it so that it is made fit to enter the pores of plants, and is easily assimilated to them. Besides, such rain gives those things which it waters a peculiar temperature and difference of juice. Thus dew makes the grass sweeter to the sheep, and the clouds from which a rainbow is reflected make those trees on which they fall fragrant. And our priests, distinguishing it by this, call the wood of those trees rainbow-struck, imagining that Iris, or the rainbow, hath rested on them. Now it is probable that when these thunder and lightning showers with a great deal of warmth and spirit descend forcibly into the caverns of the earth, the ground is moved thereby, and knobs and tumors are formed like those produced by heat and noxious humors in our bodies, which we call wens or kernels. For a mushroom is not like a plant, neither is it produced without rain; it hath no root nor sprouts, it depends on nothing, but is a being by itself, having the consistence only of the earth, which hath been a little changed and altered. If this discourse seems frivolous, I assure you that such are most of the effects of thunder and lightning which we see; and upon that account men think them to be immediately directed by Heaven, and not depending on natural causes.

3. Dorotheus the rhetorician, one of our company, said: You speak right, sir, for not only the vulgar and illiterate, but even some of the philosophers, have been of that opinion. I remember here in this town lightning broke into a house, and did a great many strange things. It let the wine out of a vessel, though the earthen vessel remained whole; and falling upon a man asleep, it neither hurt him nor blasted his clothes, but melted certain pieces of money that he had in his pocket, defaced them quite, and made them run into a lump. Upon this he went to a philosopher, a Pythagorean, that sojourned in the town, and asked the reason; the philosopher directed him to some expiating rites, and advised him to consider seriously with himself, and go to prayers. And I have been told, that lightning falling upon a sentinel at Rome, as he stood to guard the temple, burned the latchet of his shoe, and did no other harm; and several silver candlesticks lying in wooden boxes, the silver was melted while the boxes lay untouched. These stories you may believe or not as you please. But that which is most wonderful, and which everybody knows, is this,—the bodies of those that are killed by lightning never putrefy. For many neither burn nor bury such bodies, but let them lie above ground with a fence about them, so that every one may see they remain uncorrupted, confuting by this Euripides’s Clymene, who says thus of Phaëton,

My best beloved, but now he lies And putrefies in some dark vale.

And I believe brimstone is called θεῖον (divine), because its smell is like that fiery offensive scent which rises from bodies that are thunderstruck. And I suppose that, because of this scent, dogs and birds will not prey on such carcasses. Thus far have I gone; let him proceed, since he hath been applauded for his discourse of mushrooms, lest the same jest might be put upon us that was upon Androcydes the painter. For when in his landscape of Scylla he painted fish the best and most to the life of any thing in the whole draught, he was said to use his appetite more than his art, for he naturally loved fish. So some may say that we philosophize about mushrooms, the cause of whose production is confessedly doubtful, for the pleasure we take in eating them....

4. And when I put in my advice, saying that it was as seasonable to discourse of thunder and lightning amidst our cups as it would be in a comedy to bring in engines to throw out lightning, the company agreed to set aside all other questions relating to the subject, and desired me only to proceed on this head, Why are men asleep never blasted with lightning? And I, though I knew I should get no great credit by proposing a cause whose reason was common to other things, said thus: Lightning is wonderfully piercing and subtile, partly because it rises from a very pure substance, and partly because by the swiftness of its motion it purges itself and throws off all gross earthy particles that are mixed with it. Nothing, says Democritus, is blasted with lightning, that cannot resist and stop the motion of the pure flame. Thus the close bodies, as brass, silver, and the like, which stop it, feel its force and are melted, because they resist; whilst rare, thin bodies, and such as are full of pores, are passed through and not hurted, as clothes or dry wood. It blasts green wood or grass, the moisture within them being seized and kindled by the flame. Now, if it is true that men asleep are never killed by lightning, from what we have proposed, and not from any thing else, we must endeavor to draw the cause. Now the bodies of those that are awake are stiffer and more apt to resist, all the parts being full of spirits; which as it were in a harp, distending and screwing up the organs of sense, makes the body of the animal firm, close, and compacted. But when men are asleep, the organs are let down, and the body becomes rare, lax, and loose; and the spirits failing, it hath abundance of pores, through which small sounds and smells do flow insensibly. For in that case, there is nothing that can resist, and by this resistance receive any sensible impression from any objects that are presented, much less from such as are so subtile and move so swiftly as lightning. Things that are weak Nature shields from harm, fencing them about with some hard thick covering; but those things that cannot be resisted do less harm to the bodies that yield than to those that oppose their force. Besides, those that are asleep are not startled at the thunder; they have no consternation upon them, which kills a great many that are no otherwise hurt, and we know that thousands die with the very fear of being killed. Even shepherds teach their sheep to run together into a flock when it thunders, for whilst they lie scattered they die with fear; and we see thousands fall, which have no marks of any stroke or fire about them, their souls (as it seems), like birds, flying out of their bodies at the fright. For many, as Euripides says,

A clap hath killed, yet ne’er drew drop of blood.

For certainly the hearing is a sense that is soonest and most vigorously wrought upon, and the fear that is caused by any astonishing noise raiseth the greatest commotion and disturbance in the body; from all which men asleep, because insensible, are secure. But those that are awake are oftentimes killed with fear before they are touched; and fear contracts and condenses the body, so that the stroke must be strong, because there is so considerable a resistance.

QUESTION III.

WHY MEN USUALLY INVITE MANY GUESTS TO A WEDDING SUPPER.

SOSSIUS SENECIO, PLUTARCH, THEO.

1. At my son Autobulus’s marriage, Sossius Senecio from Chaeronea and a great many other noble persons were present at the same feast; which gave occasion to this question (Senecio proposed it), why to a marriage feast more guests are usually invited than to any other. Nay even those law-givers that chiefly opposed luxury and profuseness have particularly confined marriage feasts to a set number. Indeed, in my opinion, he continued, Hecataeus the Abderite, one of the old philosophers, hath said nothing to the purpose in this matter, when he tells us that those that marry wives invite a great many to the entertainment, that many may see and be witnesses that they being free born take to themselves wives of the same condition. For, on the contrary, the comedians reflect on those who revel at their marriages, who make a great ado and are pompous in their feasts, as such who are marrying with no great confidence and courage. Thus, in Menander, one replies to a bridegroom that bade him beset the house with dishes,...

Your words are great, but what’s this to your bride?

2. But lest I should seem to find fault with those reasons others give, only because I have none of my own to produce, continued he, I begin by declaring that there is no such evident or public notice given of any feast as there is of one at a marriage. For when we sacrifice to the Gods, when we take leave of or receive a friend, a great many of our acquaintance need not know it. But a marriage dinner is proclaimed by the loud sound of the wedding song, by the torches and the music, which as Homer expresseth it,

The women stand before the doors to see and hear.[80]

And therefore when everybody knows it, the persons are ashamed to omit the formality of an invitation, and therefore entertain their friends and kindred, and every one that they are any way acquainted with.

3. This being generally approved, Well, said Theo, speaking next, let it be so, for it looks like truth; but let this be added, if you please, that such entertainments are not only friendly, but also kindredly, the persons beginning to have a new relation to another family. But there is something more considerable, and that is this; since by this marriage two families join in one, the man thinks it his duty to be civil and obliging to the woman’s friends, and the woman’s friends think themselves obliged to return the same to him and his; and upon this account the company is doubled. And besides, since most of the little ceremonies belonging to the wedding are performed by women, it is necessary that, where they are entertained, their husbands should be likewise invited.

QUESTION IV.

WHETHER THE SEA OR LAND AFFORDS BETTER FOOD.

CALLISTRATUS, SYMMACHUS, POLYCRATES.

1. Aedepsus in Euboea, where the baths are, is a place by nature every way fitted for free and gentle pleasures, and withal so beautified with stately edifices and dining rooms, that one would take it for no other than the common place of repast for all Greece. Here, though the earth and air yield plenty of creatures for the service of men, the sea no less furnisheth the table with variety of dishes, nourishing a store of delicious fish in its deep and clear waters. This place is especially frequented in the spring; for hither at this time of year abundance of people resort, solacing themselves in the mutual enjoyment of all those pleasures the place affords, and at spare hours pass away the time in many useful and edifying discourses. When Callistratus the sophist lived here, it was a hard matter to dine at any place besides his house; for he was so extremely courteous and obliging, that no man whom he invited to dinner could have the face to say him nay. One of his best humors was to pick up all the pleasant fellows he could meet with, and put them in the same room. Sometimes he did, as Cimon one of the ancients used to do, and satisfactorily treated men of all sorts and fashions. But he always (so to speak) followed Celeus, who was the first man, it is said, that daily assembled a number of honorable persons of good mark, and called the place where they met the Prytaneum.

2. Several times at these public meetings divers agreeable discourses were raised; and it fell out that once a very splendid treat, adorned with variety of dainties, gave occasion for enquiries concerning food, whether the land or sea yielded better. Here when a great part of the company were highly commending the land, as abounding with many choice, nay, an infinite variety of all sorts of creatures, Polycrates calling to Symmachus, said to him: But you, sir, being an animal bred between two seas, and brought up among so many which surround your sacred Nicopolis, will not you stand up for Neptune? Yes, I will, replied Symmachus, and therefore command you to stand by me, who enjoy the most pleasant part of all the Achaean Sea. Well, says Polycrates, the beginning of my discourse shall be grounded upon custom; for as of a great number of poets we usually give one, who far excels the rest, the famous name of poet; so though there be many sorts of dainties, yet custom has so prevailed, that the fish alone, or above all the rest, is called ὄψον, because it is more excellent than all others. For we do not call those gluttonous and great eaters who love beef, as Hercules, who after flesh used to eat green figs; nor those that love figs, as Plato; nor lastly, those that are for grapes, as Arcesilaus; but those who frequent the fish-market, and soonest hear the market-bell. Thus when Demosthenes told Philocrates that the gold he got by treachery was spent upon whores and fish, he upbraids him as a gluttonous and lascivious fellow. And Ctesiphon said pat enough, when a certain glutton cried aloud in the Senate that he should burst asunder: No, by no means let us be baits for your fish! And what was his meaning, do you think, who made this verse,

You capers gnaw, when you may sturgeon eat?

And what, for God’s sake, do those men mean who, inviting one another to sumptuous collations, usually say: To-day we will dine upon the shore? Is it not that they suppose what is certainly true, that a dinner upon the shore is of all others most delicious? Not by reason of the waves and stones in that place,—for who upon the sea-coast would be content to feed upon a pulse or a caper?—but because their table is furnished with plenty of fresh fish. Add to this, that sea-food is dearer than any other. Wherefore Cato, inveighing against the luxury of the city, did not exceed the bounds of truth, when he said that at Rome a fish was sold for more than an ox. For they sell a small pot of fish for a price which a hecatomb of sheep with an ox would hardly bring. Besides, as the physician is the best judge of physic, and the musician of songs; so he is able to give the best account of the goodness of meat who is the greatest lover of it. For I will not make Pythagoras and Xenocrates arbitrators in this case; but Antagoras the poet, and Philoxenus the son of Eryxis, and Androcydes the painter, of whom it was reported that, when he drew a landscape of Scylla, he drew fish in a lively manner swimming round her, because he was a great lover of them. So Antigonus the king, surprising Antagoras the poet in the habit of a cook, broiling congers in his tent, said to him: Dost thou think that Homer was dressing congers when he writ Agamemnon’s famous exploits? And he as smartly replied: Do you think that Agamemnon did so many famous exploits when he was enquiring who dressed congers in the camp? These arguments, says Polycrates, I have urged in behalf of fishmongers, drawing them from testimony and custom.

3. But, says Symmachus, I will go more seriously to work, and more like a logician. For if that may truly be said to be a dainty which gives meat the best relish, it will evidently follow, that that is the best sort of dainty which gets men the best stomach to their meat. Therefore, as those philosophers who were called Elpistics (from the Greek word signifying hope, which above all others they cried up) averred that there was nothing in the world which concurred more to the preservation of life than hope, without whose gracious influence life would be a burden and altogether intolerable; in the like manner that of all things may be said to get us a stomach to our meat, without which all meat would be unpalatable and nauseous. And among all those things the earth yields, we find no such things as salt, which we can have only from the sea. First of all, there would be nothing eatable without salt, which mixed with flour seasons bread also. Hence it was that Neptune and Ceres had both the same temple. Besides, salt is the most pleasant of all relishes. For those heroes who, like champions, used themselves to a spare diet, banishing from their tables all vain and superfluous delicacies, to such a degree that when they encamped by the Hellespont they abstained from fish, yet for all this could not eat flesh without salt; which is a sufficient evidence that salt is the most desirable of all relishes. For as colors need light, so tastes need salt, that they may affect the sense, unless you would have them very nauseous and unpleasant. For, as Heraclitus used to say, a carcass is more abominable than dung. Now all flesh is dead, and part of a lifeless carcass; but the virtue of salt, being added to it, like a soul, gives it a pleasing relish and poignancy. Hence it comes to pass that before meat men use to take sharp things, and such as have much salt in them; for these beguile us into an appetite. And whoever has his stomach sharpened with these sets cheerfully and freshly upon all other sorts of meat. But if he begin with any other kind of food, all on a sudden his stomach grows dull and languid. And therefore salt doth not only make meat but drink palatable. For Homer’s onion, which, he tells us, they were used to eat before they drank, was fitter for seamen and boatmen than kings. Things moderately salt, by being agreeable to the mouth, make all sorts of wine mild and palatable, and water itself of a pleasing taste. Besides, salt creates none of those troubles which an onion does, but digests all other kinds of meat, making them tender and fitter for concoction; so that at the same time it is sauce to the palate and physic to the body. But all other sea-food, besides this pleasantness, is also very innocent; for though it be fleshly, yet it does not load the stomach as all other flesh does, but is easily concocted and digested. This Zeno will avouch for me, and Crato too, who confine sick persons to a fish diet, as of all others the lightest sort of meat. And it stands with reason, that the sea should produce the most nourishing and wholesome food, seeing it yields us the most refined, the purest, and therefore the most agreeable air.

4. You say right, says Lamprias, but let us think of something else to confirm what you have spoken. I remember my old grandfather was used to say in derision of the Jews, that they abstained from most lawful flesh; but we will say that that is most lawful meat which comes from the sea. For we can claim no great right over land creatures, which are nourished with the same food, draw the same air, wash in and drink the same water, that we do ourselves; and when they are slaughtered, they make us ashamed of what we are doing, with their hideous cries; and then again, by living amongst us, they arrive at some degree of familiarity and intimacy with us. But sea creatures are altogether strangers to us, and are born and brought up as it were in another world; neither does their voice, look, or any service they have done us plead for their life. For this kind of creatures are of no use at all to us, nor is there any necessity that we should love them. But that place which we inhabit is hell to them, and as soon as ever they enter upon it they die.

QUESTION V.

WHETHER THE JEWS ABSTAINED FROM SWINE’S FLESH BECAUSE THEY WORSHIPPED THAT CREATURE, OR BECAUSE THEY HAD AN ANTIPATHY AGAINST IT.

CALLISTRATUS, POLYCRATES, LAMPRIAS.

1. After these things were spoken, and some in the company were minded to say something in defence of the contrary opinion, Callistratus interrupted their discourse and said: Sirs, what do you think of that which was spoken against the Jews, that they abstain from the most lawful flesh? Very well said, quoth Polycrates, for that is a thing I very much question, whether it was that the Jews abstained from swine’s flesh because they conferred divine honor upon that creature, or because they had a natural aversion to it. For whatever we find in their own writings seems to be altogether fabulous, except they have some more solid reasons which they have no mind to discover.

2. Hence it is, says Callistratus, that I am of an opinion that this nation has that creature in some veneration; and though it be granted that the hog is an ugly and filthy creature, yet it is not quite so vile nor naturally stupid as a beetle, griffin, crocodile, or cat, most of which are worshipped as the most sacred things by some priests amongst the Egyptians. But the reason why the hog is had in so much honor and veneration amongst them is, because, as the report goes, that creature breaking up the earth with its snout showed the way to tillage, and taught them how to use the ploughshare, which instrument for that very reason, as some say, was called hynis from ὑς, a swine. Now the Egyptians inhabiting a country situated low, and whose soil is naturally soft, have no need of the plough; but after the river Nile hath retired from the grounds it overflowed, they presently let all their hogs into the fields. and they with their feet and snouts break up the ground, and cover the sown seed. Nor ought this to seem strange to any one, that there are in the world those who abstain from swine’s flesh upon such an account as this; when it is evident that among barbarous nations there are other animals had in greater honor and veneration for lesser, if not altogether ridiculous, reasons. For the field-mouse only for its blindness was worshipped as a God among the Egyptians, because they were of an opinion that darkness was before light, and that the latter had its birth from mice about the fifth generation at the new moon; and moreover that the liver of this creature diminishes in the wane of the moon. But they consecrate the lion to the sun, because the lioness alone, of all clawed quadrupeds, brings forth her young with their eyesight; for they sleep a moment, and when they are asleep their eyes sparkle. Besides, they place gaping lions’ heads for the spouts of their fountains, because Nilus overflows the Egyptian fields when the sign is Leo: they give it out that their bird ibis, as soon as hatched, weighs two drachms, which are of the same weight with the heart of a new-born infant; and that its legs being spread with the bill make an exact equilateral triangle. And yet who can find fault with the Egyptians for these trifles, when it is left upon record that the Pythagoreans worshipped a white cock, and of sea creatures abstained especially from the mullet and urtic. The Magi that descended from Zoroaster adored the land hedgehog above other creatures, but had a deadly spite against water-rats, and thought that man was dear in the eyes of the Gods who destroyed most of them. But I should think that if the Jews had such an antipathy against a hog, they would kill it as the magicians do mice; when, on the contrary, they are by their religion as much prohibited to kill as to eat it. And perhaps there may be some reason given for this; for as the ass is worshipped by them as the first discoverer of fountains, so perhaps the hog may be had in like veneration, which first taught them to sow and plough. Nay, some say that the Jews also abstain from hares, as abominable and unclean.

3. They have reason for that, said Lamprias, because a hare is so like an ass which they detest;[81] for in its color, ears, and the sparkling of its eyes, it is so like an ass, that I do not know any little creature that represents a great one so much as a hare doth an ass; unless in this likewise they imitate the Egyptians, and suppose that there is something of divinity in the swiftness of this creature, as also in its quickness of sense; for the eyes of hares are so unwearied that they sleep with them open. Besides they seem to excel all other creatures in quickness of hearing; whence it was that the Egyptians painted the ear of a hare amongst their other hieroglyphics, as an emblem of hearing. But the Jews do hate swine’s flesh, because all the barbarians are naturally fearful of a scab and leprosy, which they presume comes by eating such kind of flesh. For we may observe that all pigs under the belly are overspread with a leprosy and scab; which may be supposed to proceed from an ill disposition of body and corruption within, which breaks out through the skin. Besides, swine’s feeding is commonly so nasty and filthy, that it must of necessity cause corruptions and vicious humors; for, setting aside those creatures that are bred from and live upon dung, there is no other creature that takes so much delight to wallow in the mire, and in other unclean and stinking places. Hogs’ eyes are said to be so flattened and fixed upon the ground, that they see nothing above them, nor ever look up to the sky, except when forced upon their back they turn their eyes to the sun against nature. Therefore this creature, at other times most clamorous, when laid upon his back, is still, as astonished at the unusual sight of the heavens; while the greatness of the fear he is in (as it is supposed) is the cause of his silence. And if it be lawful to intermix our discourse with fables, it is said that Adonis was slain by a boar. Now Adonis is supposed to be the same with Bacchus; and there are a great many rites in both their sacrifices which confirm this opinion. Others will have Adonis to be Bacchus’s paramour; and Phanocles an amorous love-poet writes thus,

Bacchus on hills the fair Adonis saw, And ravished him, and reaped a wondrous joy.

QUESTION VI.

WHAT GOD IS WORSHIPPED BY THE JEWS.

SYMMACHUS, LAMPRIAS, MOERAGENES.

1. Here Symmachus, greatly wondering at what was spoken, says: What, Lamprias, will you permit our tutelar God, called Evius, the inciter of women, famous for the honors he has conferred upon him by madmen, to be inscribed and enrolled in the mysteries of the Jews? Or is there any solid reason that can be given to prove Adonis to be the same with Bacchus? Here Moeragenes interposing, said: Do not be so fierce upon him, for I who am an Athenian answer you, and tell you, in short, that these two are the very same. And no man is able or fit to hear the chief confirmation of this truth, but those amongst us who are initiated and skilled in the triennial παντέλεια, or great mysteries of the God. But what no religion forbids to speak of among friends, especially over wine, the gift of Bacchus, I am ready at the command of these gentlemen to disclose.

2. When all the company requested and earnestly begged it of him; first of all (says he), the time and manner of the greatest and most holy solemnity of the Jews is exactly agreeable to the holy rites of Bacchus; for that which they call the Fast they celebrate in the midst of the vintage, furnishing their tables with all sorts of fruits, while they sit under tabernacles made of vines and ivy; and the day which immediately goes before this they call the day of Tabernacles. Within a few days after they celebrate another feast, not darkly but openly, dedicated to Bacchus, for they have a feast amongst them called Kradephoria, from carrying palm-trees, and Thyrsophoria, when they enter into the temple carrying thyrsi. What they do within I know not; but it is very probable that they perform the rites of Bacchus. First they have little trumpets, such as the Grecians used to have at their Bacchanalia to call upon their Gods withal. Others go before them playing upon harps, which they call Levites, whether so named from Lusius or Evius,—either word agrees with Bacchus. And I suppose that their Sabbaths have some relation to Bacchus; for even at this day many call the Bacchi by the name of Sabbi, and they make use of that word at the celebration of Bacchus’s orgies. And this may be made appear out of Demosthenes and Menander. Nor would it be absurd, were any one to say that the name Sabbath was imposed upon this feast from the agitation and excitement (σόβησις) which the priests of Bacchus indulged in. The Jews themselves testify no less; for when they keep the Sabbath, they invite one another to drink till they are drunk; or if they chance to be hindered by some more weighty business, it is the fashion at least to taste the wine. Some perhaps may surmise that these are mere conjectures. But there are other arguments which will clearly evince the truth of what I assert. The first may be drawn from their High-priest, who on holidays enters their temple with his mitre on, arrayed in a skin of a hind embroidered with gold, wearing buskins, and a coat hanging down to his ankles; besides, he has a great many little bells hanging at his garment which make a noise as he walks the streets. So in the nightly ceremonies of Bacchus (as the fashion is amongst us), they make use of musical instruments, and call the God’s nurses χαλκοδρυσταί. High up on the wall of their temple is a representation of the thyrsus and timbrels, which surely can belong to no other God than Bacchus. Moreover they are forbidden the use of honey in their sacrifices, because they suppose that a mixture of honey corrupts and deads the wine. And honey was used for sacrificing in former days, and with it the ancients were wont to make themselves drunk, before the vine was known. And at this day barbarous people who want wine drink metheglin, allaying the sweetness of the honey by bitter roots, much of the taste of our wine. The Greeks offered to their Gods these sober offerings or honey-offerings, as they called them, because that honey was of a nature quite contrary to wine. But this is no inconsiderable argument that Bacchus was worshipped by the Jews, in that, amongst other kinds of punishment, that was most remarkably odious by which malefactors were forbid the use of wine for so long a time as the judge was pleased to prescribe. Those thus punished....

(The remainder of the Fourth Book is wanting.)

QUESTION VII.

WHY THE DAYS WHICH BEAR THE NAMES OF THE PLANETS ARE NOT DISPOSED ACCORDING TO THE ORDER OF THE PLANETS, BUT THE CONTRARY. THERE IS ADDED A DISCOURSE TOUCHING THE POSITION OF THE SUN.

QUESTION VIII.

WHY SIGNET-RINGS ARE WORN ESPECIALLY ON THE FOURTH FINGER.

QUESTION IX.

WHETHER WE OUGHT TO CARRY IN OUR SEAL-RINGS THE IMAGES OF GODS, OR RATHER THOSE OF WISE PERSONAGES.

QUESTION X.

WHY WOMEN NEVER EAT THE MIDDLE PART OF A LETTUCE.

BOOK V.

What is your opinion at present, Sossius Senecio, of the pleasures of mind and body, is not evident to me;

Because us two a thousand things divide, Vast shady hills, and the rough ocean’s tide.[82]

But formerly, I am sure, you did not lean to nor like their opinion, who will not allow the soul to have any proper agreeable pleasure, which without respect to the body she desires for herself; but define that she lives as a form assistant to the body, is directed by the passions of it, and, as that is affected, is either pleased or grieved, or, like a looking-glass, only receives the images of those sensible impressions made upon the body. This sordid and debasing opinion is especially in this way confuted; for at a feast, the genteel well-bred men after supper fall upon some topic or another as second course, and cheer one another by their pleasant talk. Now the body hath very little or no share in this; which evidently proves that this is a particular banquet for the soul, and that those pleasures are peculiar to her, and different from those which pass to her through the body and are vitiated thereby. Now, as nurses, when they feed children, taste a little of their pap, and have but small pleasure therefrom, but when the infants are satisfied, leave crying, and go to sleep, then being at their own disposal, they take such meat and drink as is agreeable to their own bodies; thus the soul partakes of the pleasures that arise from eating and drinking, like a nurse, being subservient to the appetites of the body, kindly yielding to its necessities and wants, and calming its desires; but when that is satisfied and at rest, then being free from her business and servile employment, she seeks her own proper pleasures, revels on discourse, problems, stories, curious questions, or subtle resolutions. Nay, what shall a man say, when he sees the dull unlearned fellows after supper minding such pleasures as have not the least relation to the body? They tell tales, propose riddles, or set one another a guessing at names, comprised and hid under such and such numbers. Thus mimics, drolls, Menander and his actors were admitted into banquets, not because they can free the eye from any pain, or raise any tickling motion in the flesh; but because the soul, being naturally philosophical and a lover of instruction, covets its own proper pleasure and satisfaction, when it is free from the trouble of looking after the body.

QUESTION I.

WHY TAKE WE DELIGHT IN HEARING THOSE THAT REPRESENT THE PASSIONS OF MEN ANGRY OR SORROWFUL, AND YET CANNOT WITHOUT CONCERN BEHOLD THOSE WHO ARE REALLY SO AFFECTED?

PLUTARCH, BOETHUS.

1. Of this we discoursed in your company at Athens, when Strato the comedian (for he was a man of great credit) flourished. For being entertained at supper by Boethus the Epicurean, with a great many more of the sect, as it usually happens when learned and inquisitive men meet together, the remembrance of the comedy led us to this enquiry,—Why we are disturbed at the real voices of men, either angry, pensive, or afraid, and yet are delighted to hear others represent them, and imitate their gestures, speeches, and exclamations. Every one in the company gave almost the same reason. For they said, he that only represents excels him that really feels, inasmuch as he doth not suffer the misfortunes; which we knowing are pleased and delighted on that account.

2. But I, though it was not properly my talent, said that we, being by nature rational and lovers of ingenuity, are delighted with and admire every thing that is artificially and ingeniously contrived. For as a bee, naturally loving sweet things, seeks after and flies to any thing that has any mixture of honey in it; so man, naturally loving ingenuity and elegancy, is very much inclined to embrace and highly approve every word or action that is seasoned with wit and judgment. Thus, if any one offers a child a piece of bread, and at the same time a little dog or ox made in paste, we shall see the boy run eagerly to the latter; so likewise if any one offers him silver in the lump, and another a beast or a cup of the same metal, he will rather choose that in which he sees a mixture of art and reason. Upon the same account it is that children are much in love with riddles, and such fooleries as are difficult and intricate; for whatever is curious and subtle doth attract and allure human nature, as antecedently to all instruction agreeable and proper to it. And therefore, because he that is really affected with grief or anger presents us with nothing but the common bare passion, but in the imitation some dexterity and persuasiveness appears, we are naturally inclined to be disturbed at the former, whilst the latter delights us. It is unpleasant to see a sick man, or one that is at his last gasp; yet with content we can look upon the picture of Philoctetes, or the statue of Jocasta, in whose face it is commonly said that the workmen mixed silver, so that the brass might represent the face and color of one ready to faint and yield up the ghost. And this, said I, the Cyrenaics may use as a strong argument against you Epicureans, that all the sense of pleasure which arises from the working of any object on the ear or eye is not in those organs, but in the intellect itself. Thus the continual cackling of a hen or cawing of a crow is very ungrateful and disturbing; yet he that imitates those noises well pleases the hearers. Thus to behold a consumptive man is no delightful spectacle; yet with pleasure we can view the pictures and statues of such persons, because the very imitating hath something in it very agreeable to the mind, which allures and captivates its faculties. For upon what account, for God’s sake, from what external impression upon our organ, should men be moved to admire Parmeno’s sow so much as to pass it into a proverb? Yet it is reported, that Parmeno being very famous for imitating the grunting of a pig, some endeavored to rival and outdo him. And when the hearers, being prejudiced, cried out, Very well indeed, but nothing comparable to Parmeno’s sow; one took a pig under his arm and came upon the stage. And when, though they heard the very pig, they still continued, This is nothing comparable to Parmeno’s sow; he threw his pig amongst them, to show that they judged according to opinion and not truth. And hence it is very evident, that like motions of the sense do not always raise like affections in the mind, when there is not an opinion that the thing done was not neatly and ingeniously performed.

QUESTION II.

THAT THE PRIZE FOR POETS AT THE GAMES WAS ANCIENT.

At the solemnity of the Pythian Games, there was a consult about taking away all such sports as had lately crept in and were not of ancient institution. For after they had taken in the tragedian in addition to the three ancient, which were as old as the solemnity itself, the Pythian piper, the harper, and the singer to the harp, as if a large gate were opened, they could not keep out an infinite crowd of plays and musical entertainments of all sorts that rushed in after him. Which indeed made no unpleasant variety, and increased the company, but yet impaired the gravity and neatness of the solemnity. Besides it must create a great deal of trouble to the umpires, and considerable dissatisfaction to very many, since but few could obtain the prize. It was chiefly agreed upon, that the orators and poets should be removed; and this determination did not proceed from any hatred to learning, but forasmuch as such contenders are the most noted and worthiest men of all, therefore they reverenced them, and were troubled that, when they must judge every one deserving, they could not bestow the prize equally upon all. I, being present at this consult, dissuaded those who were for removing things from their present settled order, and who thought this variety as unsuitable to the solemnity as many strings and many notes to an instrument. And when at supper, Petraeus the president and director of the sports entertaining us, the same subject was discoursed on, I defended music, and maintained that poetry was no upstart intruder, but that it was time out of mind admitted into the sacred games, and crowns were given to the best performer. Some straight imagined that I intended to produce some old musty stories, like the funeral solemnities of Oeolycus the Thessalian or of Amphidamas the Chalcidean, in which they say Homer and Hesiod contended for the prize. But passing by these instances as the common theme of every grammarian, as likewise their criticisms who, in the description of Patroclus’s obsequies in Homer, read ῥήμονες, orators, and not ῥ’[**unclear] ἥμονες, darters,[83] as if Achilles had proposed a prize for the best speaker,—omitting all these, I said that Acastus at his father Pelias’s funeral set a prize for contending poets, and Sibylla won it. At this, a great many demanding some authority for this unlikely and incredible relation, I happily recollecting myself produced Acesander, who in his description of Africa hath this relation; but I must confess this is no common book. But Polemo the Athenian’s Commentary of the Treasures of the City Delphi I suppose most of you have diligently perused, he being a very learned man, and diligent in the Greek antiquities. In him you shall find that in the Sicyonian treasure there was a golden book dedicated to the God, with this inscription: Aristomache, the poetess of Erythraea, dedicated this after she had got the prize at the Isthmian games. Nor is there any reason, I continued, why we should so admire and reverence the Olympic games, as if, like Fate, they were unalterable, and never admitted any change since the first institution. For the Pythian, it is true, hath had three or four musical prizes added; but all the exercises of the body were for the most part the same from the beginning. But in the Olympian all beside racing are late additions. They instituted some, and abolished them again; such were the races of mules, either rode or in a chariot, as likewise the crown appointed for boys that were victorious in the five contests. And, in short, a thousand things in those games are mere novelties. And I fear to tell you how at Pisa they had a single combat, where he that yielded or was overcome was killed upon the place, lest again you may require an author for my story, and I may appear ridiculous if amidst my cups I should forget the name.

QUESTION III.

WHY WAS THE PINE COUNTED SACRED TO NEPTUNE AND BACCHUS? AND WHY AT FIRST WAS THE CONQUEROR IN THE ISTHMIAN GAMES CROWNED WITH A GARLAND OF PINE, AFTERWARDS WITH PARSLEY, AND NOW AGAIN WITH PINE?

LUCANIUS, PRAXITELES.

1. This question was started, why the Isthmian garland was made of pine. We were then at supper in Corinth, in the time of the Isthmian games, with Lucanius the chief priest. Praxiteles the commentator brought this fable for a reason; it is said that the body of Melicertes was found fixed to a pine-tree by the sea; and not far from Megara, there is a place called the Race of a Fair Lady, through which the Megarians say that Ino, with her son Melicertes in her arms, ran to the sea. And when many advanced the common opinion, that the pine-tree garland peculiarly belongs to Neptune, and Lucanius added that it is sacred to Bacchus too, but yet, for all that, it might also be appropriated to the honor of Melicertes, this began the question, why the ancients dedicated the pine to Neptune and Bacchus. As for my part, it did not seem incongruous to me, for both the Gods seem to preside over the moist and generative principle; and almost all the Greeks sacrifice to Neptune the nourisher of plants, and to Bacchus the preserver of trees. Beside, it may be said that the pine peculiarly agrees to Neptune, not, as Apollodorus thinks, because it grows by the sea-side, or because it loves a bleak place (for some give this reason), but because it is used in building ships; for the pine together with the like trees, as fir and cypress, affords the best and the lightest timber, and likewise pitch and rosin, without which the compacted planks would be altogether unserviceable at sea. To Bacchus they dedicate the pine, because it gives a pleasant seasoning to wine, for amongst pines they say the sweetest and most delicious grapes grow. The cause of this Theophrastus thinks to be the heat of the soil; for pines grow most in chalky grounds. Now chalk is hot, and therefore must very much conduce to the concoction of the wine; as a chalky spring affords the lightest and sweetest water; and if chalk is mixed with corn, by its heat it makes the grains swell, and considerably increases the heap. Besides, it is probable that the vine itself is bettered by the pine, for that contains several things which are good to preserve wine. All cover the insides of wine-casks with pitch, and many mix rosin with wine, as the Euboeans in Greece, and in Italy those that live about the river Po. From the parts of Gaul about Vienna there is a sort of pitched wine brought, which the Romans value very much; for such things mixed with it do not only give it a good flavor, but make the wine generous, taking away by their gentle heat all the crude, watery, and undigested particles.

2. When I had said thus much, a rhetorician in the company, a man well read in all sorts of polite learning, cried out: Good Gods! was it not but the other day that the Isthmian garland began to be made of pine? And was not the crown anciently of twined parsley? I am sure in a certain comedy a covetous man is brought in speaking thus.

The Isthmian garland I will sell as cheap As common wreaths of parsley may be sold.

And Timaeus the historian says that, when the Corinthians were marching to fight the Carthaginians in the defence of Sicily, some persons carrying parsley met them, and when several looked upon this as a bad omen,—because parsley is accounted unlucky, and those that are dangerously sick we usually say have need of parsley,—Timoleon encouraged them by putting them in mind of the Isthmian parsley garland with which the Corinthians used to crown the conquerors. And besides, the admiral-ship of Antigonus’s navy, having by chance some parsley growing on its poop, was called Isthmia. Besides, a certain obscure epigram upon an earthen vessel stopped with parsley intimates the same thing. It runs thus:

The Grecian earth, now hardened by the flame, Holds in its hollow belly Bacchus’ blood; And hath its mouth with Isthmian branches stopped.

Sure, he continued, they never read these authors, who cry up the pine as anciently wreathed in the Isthmian garlands, and would not have it some upstart intruder. The young men yielded presently to him, as being a man of various reading and very learned.

3. But Lucanius, with a smile looking upon me, cried out: Good God! here’s a deal of learning. But others have taken advantage of our ignorance and unacquaintedness with such matters, and, on the contrary, persuaded us that the pine was the first garland, and that afterwards in honor of Hercules the parsley was received from the Nemean games, which in a little time prevailing, thrust out the pine, as if it were its right to be the wreath; but a little while after the pine recovered its ancient honor, and now flourishes in its glory. I was satisfied, and upon consideration found that I had met with a great many authorities for it. Thus Euphorion writes of Melicertes,

They mourned the youth, and him on pine boughs laid Of which the Isthmian victors’ crowns are made. Fate had not yet seized beauteous Mene’s son By smooth Asopus; since whose fall the crown Of parsley wreathed did grace the victor’s brow.

And Callimachus is plainer and more express, when he makes Hercules speak thus of parsley,

This at Isthmian games To Neptune’s glory now shall be the crown; The pine shall be disused, which heretofore In Corinth’s plains successful victors wore.

And beside, if I am not mistaken, in Procles’s history of the Isthmian games I met with this passage; at first a pine garland crowned the conqueror, but when this game began to be reckoned amongst the sacred, then from the Nemean solemnity the parsley was received. And this Procles was one of Xenocrates’s fellow-students at the Academy.

QUESTION IV.

CONCERNING THAT EXPRESSION IN HOMER, ζωρότερον δὲ κέραιε.[84]

NICERATUS, SOSICLES, ANTIPATER, PLUTARCH.

1. Some at the table were of opinion that Achilles talked nonsense when he bade Patroclus “mix the wine stronger,” subjoining this reason,

For now I entertain my dearest friends.

But Niceratus a Macedonian, my particular acquaintance, maintained that ζωρόν did not signify pure but hot wine; as if it were derived from ζωτικός and ζέσις (life-giving and boiling), and it were requisite at the coming of his friends to temper a fresh bowl, as every one of us in his offering at the altar pours out fresh wine. But Socicles the poet, remembering a saying of Empedocles, that in the great universal change those things which before were ἄκρατα, unmixed, should then be ζωρά, affirmed that ζωρόν there signified εὔκρατον, well tempered, and that Achilles might with a great deal of reason bid Patroclus provide well-tempered wine for the entertainment of his friends; and it was not absurd (he said) to use ζωρότερον for ζωρόν, any more than δεξιτερόν for δεξιόν, or θηλύτερον for θῆλυ, for the comparatives are very properly put for the positives. My friend Antipater said that years were anciently called ὧροι, and that the particle ζα in composition signified greatness; and therefore old wine, that had been kept for many years, was called by Achilles ζωρόν.

2. I put them in mind that some imagine that θερμόν, hot, is signified by ζωρότερον, and that hotter means simply faster, as when we command servants to bestir themselves more hotly or in hotter haste. But I must confess, your dispute is frivolous, since it is raised upon this supposition, that if ζωρότερον signifies more pure wine, Achilles’s command would be absurd, as Zoilus of Amphipolis imagined. For first he did not consider that Achilles saw Phoenix and Ulysses to be old men, who are not pleased with diluted wine, and upon that account forbade any mixture. Besides, having been Chiron’s scholar, and from him having learned the rules of diet, he considered that weaker and more diluted liquors were fittest for those bodies that lay at ease, and were not employed in their customary exercise or labor. Thus with the other provender he gave his horses smallage, and this upon very good reason; for horses that lie still grow sore in their feet, and smallage is the best remedy in the world against that. And you will not find smallage or any thing of the same nature given to any other horses in the whole Iliad. Thus Achilles, being skilled in physic, provided suitable provender for his horses, and used the lightest diet himself, as the fittest whilst he lay at ease. But those that had been wearied all day in fight he did not think convenient to treat like those that had lain at ease, but commanded more pure and stronger wine to be prepared. Besides, Achilles doth not appear to be naturally addicted to drinking, but he was of a haughty inexorable temper.

No pleasant humor, no soft mind he bore, But was all fire and rage.[85]

And in another place very plainly Homer says, that

Many a sleepless night he knew.[86]

Now little sleep cannot content those that drink strong liquors; and in his railing at Agamemnon, the first ill name he gives him is drunkard, proposing his great drinking as the chiefest of his faults. And for these reasons it is likely that, when they came, he thought his usual mixture too weak and not convenient for them.

QUESTION V.

CONCERNING THOSE THAT INVITE MANY TO A SUPPER.

PLUTARCH, ONESICRATES, LAMPRIAS THE ELDER.

1. At my return from Alexandria all my friends by turns treated me, inviting all such too as were any way acquainted, so that our meetings were usually tumultuous and suddenly dissolved; which disorders gave occasion to discourses concerning the inconveniences that attend such crowded entertainments. But when Onesicrates the physician in his turn invited only the most familiar acquaintance, and men of the most agreeable temper, I thought that what Plato says concerning the increase of cities might be applied to entertainments. For there is a certain number which an entertainment may receive, and still be an entertainment; but if it exceeds that, so that by reason of the number there cannot be a mutual conversation amongst all, if they cannot know one another nor partake of the same jollity, it ceaseth to be such. For we should not need messengers there, as in a camp, or boatswains, as in a galley; but we ourselves should immediately converse with one another. As in a dance, so in an entertainment, the last man should be placed within hearing of the first.

2. As I was speaking, my grandfather Lamprias cried out: Then it seems there is need of temperance not only in our feasts, but also in our invitations. For methinks there is even an excess in kindness, when we pass by none of our friends, but draw them all in, as to see a sight or hear a play. And I think, it is not so great a disgrace for the entertainer not to have bread or wine enough for his guests, as not to have room enough, with which he ought always to be provided, not only for invited guests, but strangers and chance visitants. For suppose he hath not wine and bread enough, it may be imputed either to the carelessness or dishonesty of his servants; but the want of room must be imputed to the imprudence of the inviter. Hesiod is very much admired for beginning thus,

A vast chaos first was made.[87]

For it was necessary that there should be first a place and room provided for the beings that were afterward to be produced; and not what was seen yesterday at my son’s entertainment, when, as Anaxagoras said,

All lay jumbled together.

But suppose a man hath room and provision enough, yet a multitude itself is to be avoided for its own sake, as hindering all familiarity and conversation; and it is more tolerable to let the company have no wine, than to exclude all converse from a feast. And therefore Theophrastus jocularly called the barbers’ shops feasts without wine; because those that sit there usually prattle and discourse. But those that invite a crowd at once deprive all of free communication of discourse, or rather make them divide into cabals, so that two or three privately talk together, and neither know nor look on those that sit, as it were, half a mile distant.

Some took this way to valiant Ajax’ tent, And some the other to Achilles’ went.[88]

And therefore some rich men are foolishly profuse, who build rooms big enough for thirty tables or more at once; for such a preparation certainly is for unsociable and unfriendly entertainments, and such as are fit for a panegyriarch rather than a symposiarch to preside over. But this may be pardoned in those; for wealth would not be wealth, it would be really blind and imprisoned, unless it had witnesses, as tragedies would be without spectators. Let us entertain few and often, and make that a remedy against having a crowd at once. For those that invite but seldom are forced to have all their friends, and all that upon any account they are acquainted with together; but those that invite frequently, and but three or four, render their entertainments like little barks, light and nimble. Besides, the very reason why we invite teaches us to select some out of the number of our many friends. For as when we are in want we do not call all together, but only those that can best afford help in that particular case,—when we would be advised, the wiser part; and when we are to have a trial the best pleaders; and when we are to go a journey, those that can live pleasantly and are at leisure,—thus to our entertainments we should call only those that are at the present agreeable. Agreeable, for instance, to a prince’s entertainment will be the magistrates, if they are his friends, or chiefest of the city; to marriage or birth-day feasts, all their kindred, and such as are under the protection of the same Jupiter the guardian of consanguinity; and to such feasts and merry-makings as this those are to be invited whose tempers are most suitable to the occasion. When we offer sacrifice to one God, we do not worship all the others that belong to the same temple and altar at the same time; but suppose we have three bowls, out of the first we pour oblations to some, out of the second to others, and out of the third to the rest, and none of the Gods take distaste. And in this a company of friends may be likened to the company of Gods; none takes distaste at the order of the invitation, if it be prudently managed and every one allowed a turn.

QUESTION VI.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT THE SAME ROOM WHICH AT THE BEGINNING OF A SUPPER SEEMS TOO NARROW FOR THE GUESTS APPEARS WIDE ENOUGH AFTERWARDS?

After this it was presently asked, why the room which at the beginning of supper seems too narrow for the guests is afterwards wide enough; when the contrary is most likely, after they are filled with the supper. Some said, the posture of our sitting was the cause; for they sit, when they eat, with their full breadth to the table, that they may command it with their right hand; but after they have supped, they sit more sideways, and make an acute figure with their bodies, and do not touch the place according to the superficies, if I may so say, but the line. Now as cockal bones do not take up as much room when they fall upon one end as when they fall flat, so every one of us at the beginning sitting broadwise, and with a full face to the table, afterwards changes the figure, and turns his depth, not his breadth, to the board. Some attribute it to the beds whereon we sat, for those when pressed stretch; as strait shoes after a little wearing have their pores widened, and grow fit for—sometimes too big for—the foot. An old man in the company merrily said, that the same feast had two very different presidents and directors; in the beginning, Hunger, that is not the least skilled in ordering and disposing, but afterward Bacchus, whom all acknowledge to be the best orderer of an army in the world. As therefore Epaminondas, when the unskilful captains had led their forces into narrow disadvantageous straits, relieved the phalanx that was fallen foul on itself and all in disorder, and brought it into good rank and file again; thus we in the beginning being like greedy hounds confused and disordered by hunger, the God (hence named the looser and the dance-arranger) settles us in a friendly and agreeable order.

QUESTION VII.

CONCERNING THOSE THAT ARE SAID TO BEWITCH.

METRIUS FLORUS, PLUTARCH, SOCLARUS, PATROCLES, CAIUS.

1. A discourse happening at supper concerning those that are said to bewitch or have a bewitching eye, most of the company looked upon it as a whim, and laughed at it. But Metrius Florus, who then gave us a supper, said that the strange events wonderfully confirmed the report; and because we cannot give a reason for the thing, therefore to disbelieve the relation was absurd, since there are a thousand things which evidently are, the reasons of which we cannot readily assign. And, in short, he that requires every thing should be probable destroys all wonder and admiration; and where the cause is not obvious, there we begin to doubt, that is, to philosophize. So that they who disbelieve all wonderful relations do in some measure take away philosophy. The cause why any thing is so, reason must find out; but that a thing is so, testimony is a sufficient evidence; and we have a thousand instances of this sort attested. We know that some men by looking upon young children hurt them very much, their weak and soft temperature being wrought upon and perverted, whilst those that are strong and firm are not so liable to be wrought upon. And Phylarchus tells us that the Thibians, the old inhabitants about Pontus, were destructive not only to little children, but to some also of riper years; for those upon whom they looked or breathed, or to whom they spake, would languish and grow sick. And this, likely, those of other countries perceived who bought slaves there. But perhaps this is not so much to be wondered at, for in touching and handling there is some apparent principle and cause of the effect. And as when you mix other birds’ wings with the eagles’, the plumes waste and suddenly consume; so there is no reason to the contrary, but that one man’s touch may be good and advantageous, and another’s hurtful and destructive. But that some, by being barely looked upon, are extremely prejudiced is certain; though the stories are disbelieved, because the reason is hard to be given.

2. True, said I, but methinks there is some small track to the cause of this effect, if you come to the effluvia of bodies. For smell, voice, breath, and the like, are effluvia from animal bodies, and material parts that move the senses, which are wrought upon by their impulse. Now it is very likely that such effluvia must continually part from animals, by reason of their heat and motion; for by that the spirits are agitated, and the body, being struck by those, must continually send forth effluvia. And it is probable that these pass chiefly through the eye. For the sight, being very vigorous and active, together with the spirit upon which it depends, sends forth a strange fiery power; so that by it men act and suffer very much, and are always proportionably pleased or displeased, according as the visible objects are agreeable or not. Love, that greatest and most violent passion of the soul, takes its beginning from the eye; so that a lover, when he looks upon the fair, flows out, as it were, and seems to mix with them. And therefore why should any one, that believes men can be affected and prejudiced by the sight, imagine that they cannot act and hurt as well? For the mutual looks of mature beauties, and that which comes from the eye, whether light or a stream of spirits, melt and dissolve the lovers with a pleasing pain, which they call the bitter-sweet of love. For neither by touching or hearing the voice of their beloved are they so much wounded and wrought upon, as by looking and being looked upon again. There is such a communication, such a flame raised by one glance, that those must be altogether unacquainted with love that wonder at the Median naphtha, that takes fire at a distance from the flame. For the glances of a fair one, though at a great distance, quickly kindle a fire in the lover’s breast. Besides everybody knows the remedy for the jaundice; if they look upon the bird called charadrios, they are cured. For that animal seems to be of that temperature and nature as to receive and draw away the disease, that like a stream flows out through the eyes; so that the charadrios will not look on one that hath the jaundice; he cannot endure it, but turns away his head and shuts his eyes, not envying (as some imagine) the cure he performs, but being really hurted by the effluvia of the patient. And of all diseases, soreness of the eyes is the most infectious; so strong and vigorous is the sight, and so easily does it cause infirmities in another.

3. Very right, said Patrocles, and you reason well as to changes wrought upon the body; but as to the soul, which in some measure exerts the power of witchcraft, how can this give any disturbance by the eye? Sir, I replied, do not you consider, that the soul, when affected, works upon the body? Thoughts of love excite lust, and rage often blinds dogs as they fight with wild beasts. Sorrow, covetousness, or jealousy makes us change color, and destroys the habit of the body; and envy more than any passion, when fixed in the soul, fills the body full of ill humors, and makes it pale and ugly; which deformities good painters in their pictures of envy endeavor to represent. Now, when men thus perverted by envy fix their eyes upon another, and these, being nearest to the soul, easily draw the venom from it, and send out as it were poisoned darts, it is no wonder, in my mind, if he that is looked upon is hurt. Thus the biting of a dog when mad is most dangerous; and then the seed of a man is most prolific, when he embraces one that he loves; and in general the affections of the mind strengthen and invigorate the powers of the body. And therefore people imagine that those amulets that are preservative against witchcraft are likewise good and efficacious against envy; the sight by the strangeness of the spectacle being diverted, so that it cannot make so strong an impression upon the patient. This, Florus, is what I can say; and pray, sir, accept it as my club for this entertainment.

4. Well, said Soclarus, but let us try whether the money be all good or no; for, in my mind, some of it seems brass. For if we admit the general report about these matters to be true, you know very well that it is commonly supposed that some have friends, acquaintance, and even fathers, that have such evil eyes; so that the mothers will not show their children to them, nor for a long time suffer them to be looked upon by such; and how can the effects wrought by these proceed from envy? But what, for God’s sake, wilt thou say to those that are reported to bewitch themselves?—-for I am sure you have heard of such, or at least read these lines:

Curls once on Eutel’s head in order stood; But when he viewed his figure in a flood, He overlooked himself, and now disease....

For they say that this Eutelidas, appearing very delicate and beauteous to himself, was affected with that sight and grew sick upon it, and lost his beauty and his health. Now, pray sir, what reason can you find for these wonderful effects?

5. At any other time, I replied, I question not but I shall give you full satisfaction. But now, sir, after such a large pot as you have seen me take, I boldly affirm, that all passions which have been fixed in the soul a long time raise ill humors in the body, which by continuance growing strong enough to be, as it were, a new nature, being excited by any intervening accident, force men, though unwilling, to their accustomed passions. Consider the timorous, they are afraid even of those things that preserve them. Consider the pettish, they are angry with their best and dearest friends. Consider the amorous and lascivious, in the height of their fury they dare violate a Vestal. For custom is very powerful to draw the temper of the body to any thing that is suitable to it; and he that is apt to fall will stumble at every thing that lies in his way. So that we need not wonder at those that have raised in themselves an envious and bewitching habit, if according to the peculiarity of their passion they are carried on to suitable effects; for when they are once moved, they do that which the nature of the thing, not which their will, leads them to. For as a sphere must necessarily move spherically, and a cylinder cylindrically according to the difference of their figures; thus his disposition makes an envious man move enviously to all things; and it is likely they should chiefly hurt their most familiar acquaintance and best beloved. And that fine fellow Eutelidas you mentioned, and the rest that are said to overlook themselves, may be easily and upon good rational grounds accounted for; for, according to Hippocrates, a good habit of body, when at height, is easily perverted, and bodies come to their full maturity do not stand at a stay there, but fall and waste down to the contrary extreme. And therefore when they are in very good plight, and see themselves look much better than they expected, they gaze and wonder; but then their body being nigh to change, and their habit declining into a worse condition, they overlook themselves. And this is done when the effluvia are stopped and reflected by the water rather than by any other specular body; for this breathes upon them whilst they look upon it, so that the very same particles which would hurt others must hurt themselves. And this perchance often happens to young children, and the cause of their diseases is falsely attributed to those that look upon them.

6. When I had done, Gaius, Florus’s son-in-law, said: Then it seems you make no more reckoning or account of Democritus’s images, than of those of Aegium or Megara; for he delivers that the envious send out images which are not altogether void of sense or force, but full of the disturbing and poisonous qualities of those from whom they come. Now these being mixed with such qualities, and remaining with and abiding in those persons that are overlooked, disturb and injure them both in mind and body; for this, I think, is the meaning of that philosopher, a man in his opinions and expressions admirable and divine. Very true, said I, and I wonder that you did not observe that I took nothing from those effluvia and images but life and will; lest you should imagine that, now it is almost midnight, I brought in spectres and wise and understanding images to terrify and fright you; but in the morning, if you please, we will talk of those things.

QUESTION VIII.

WHY HOMER CALLS THE APPLE-TREE ἀγλαόκαρπον, AND EMPEDOCLES CALLS APPLES ὑπέρφλοια.

PLUTARCH, TRYPHO, CERTAIN GRAMMARIANS, LAMPRIAS THE ELDER.

1. As we were at supper in Chaeronea, and had all sorts of fruit at the table, one of the company chanced to speak these verses,

The fig-trees sweet, the apple-trees that bear Fair fruit, and olives green through all the year.[89]

Upon this there arose a question, why the poet calls apple-trees particularly ἀγλαόκαρποι, bearing fair fruit. Trypho the physician said, that this epithet was given comparatively in respect of the tree, because, being small and no goodly tree to look upon, it bears fair and large fruit. Somebody else said, that the particular excellencies that are scattered amongst all other fruits are united in this alone. As to the touch, it is smooth and clean, so that it makes the hand that toucheth it odorous without defiling it; it is sweet to the taste, and to the smell and sight very pleasing; and therefore there is reason that it should be duly praised, as being that which congregates and allures all the senses together.

2. This discourse we liked indifferently well. But whereas Empedocles has thus written,

Why pomegranates so late do grow. And apples bear a lovely show (ὑπέρφλοια);

I understand well (said I) the epithet given to pomegranates, because that at the end of autumn, and when the heats begin to decrease, they ripen the fruit; for the sun will not suffer the weak and thin moisture to thicken into a consistence until the air begins to wax colder; therefore, says Theophrastus, this only tree ripens its fruit best and soonest in the shade. But in what sense the philosopher gives the epithet ὑπέρφλοια to apples, I much question, since it is not his custom to strive to adorn his verses with varieties of epithets, as with gay and florid colors. But in every verse he gives some dilucidation of the substance and virtue of the subject upon which he treats; as when he calls the body encircling the soul the mortal-encompassing earth; as also when he calls the air cloud-gathering, and the liver full of blood.

3. When now I had said these things myself, certain grammarians affirmed, that those apples were called ὑπέρφλοια by reason of their vigor and florid manner of growing; for to blossom and flourish after an extraordinary manner is by the poets expressed by the word ψλοίειν. In this sense, Antimachus calls the city of Cadmeans flourishing with fruit; and Aratus, speaking of the dog-star Sirius, says that he

To some gave strength, but others did consume, Their bloom and verdure parching;

calling the greenness of the trees and the blossoming of the fruit by the name of φλόος. Nay, there are some of the Greeks also who sacrifice to Bacchus surnamed Φλοῖος. And therefore, seeing the verdure and floridness chiefly recommend this fruit, philosophers call it ὑπέρφλοιον. But Lamprias our grandfather said that the word ὑπέρ did not only denote excess and vehemency, but external and supernal; thus we call the lintel of a door ὑπέρθυρον, and the upper part of the house ὑπέρῷον; and the poet calls the outward parts of the victim the upper-flesh, as he calls the entrails the inner-flesh. Let us see therefore, says he, whether Empedocles did not make use of this epithet in this sense, seeing that other fruits are encompassed with an outward rind and with certain skins and membranes, but the only husk that the apple has is a glutinous and smooth tunic (or core) containing the seed, so that the part which is fit to be eaten, and lies without, was properly called ὑπέρφλοιον, that is over or outside of the husk.

QUESTION IX.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT THE FIG-TREE, BEING ITSELF OF A VERY SHARP AND BITTER TASTE, BEARS SO SWEET FRUIT?

LAMPRIAS THE ELDER, AND OTHERS.

This discourse ended, the next question was about fig-trees, how so luscious and sweet fruit should come from so bitter a tree. For the leaf from its roughness is called θρίον. The wood of it is full of sap, and as it burns sends forth a very biting smoke; and the ashes of it thoroughly burnt are so acrimonious, that they make a lye extremely detersive. And, which is very strange, all other trees that bud and bear fruit put forth blossoms too; but the fig-tree never blossoms. And if (as some say) it is never thunderstruck, that likewise may be attributed to the sharp juices and bad temper of the stock; for such things are as secure from thunder as the skin of a sea calf or hyena. Then said the old man: It is no wonder that when all the sweetness is separated and employed in making the fruit, that which is left should be bitter and unsavory. For as the liver, all the gall being gathered in its proper place, is itself very sweet; so the fig-tree having parted with its oil and sweet particles to the fruit, reserves no portions for itself. For that this tree hath some good juice, I gather from what they say of rue, which growing under a fig-tree is sweeter than usual, and hath a sweeter and more palatable juice, as if it drew some sweet particles from the tree which mollified its offensive and corroding qualities; unless perhaps, on the contrary, the fig-tree robbing it of its nourishment draws likewise some of its sharpness and bitterness away.

QUESTION X.

WHAT ARE THOSE THAT ARE SAID TO BE περὶ ἅλα καὶ κύμινον, AND WHY DOES HOMER CALL SALT DIVINE?

FLORUS, APOLLOPHANES, PLUTARCH, PHILINUS.

1. Florus, when we were entertained at his house, put this question, What are those in the proverb who are said to be about the salt and cummin? Apollophanes the grammarian presently satisfied him, saying, by that proverb were meant intimate acquaintance, who could sup together on salt and cummin. Thence we proceeded to enquire how salt should come to be so much honored as it is; for Homer plainly says,

And after that he strewed his salt divine,[90]

and Plato delivers that by man’s laws salt is to be accounted most sacred. And this difficulty was increased by the customs of the Egyptian priests, who professing chastity eat no salt, no, not so much as in their bread. For if it be divine and holy, why should they avoid it?

2. Florus bade us not mind the Egyptians, but speak according to the Grecian custom on the present subject. But I replied: The Egyptians are not contrary to the Greeks in this matter; for the profession of purity and chastity forbids getting children, laughter, wine, and many other very commendable and lawful things; and perhaps such votaries avoid salt, as being, according to some men’s opinions, by its heat provocative and apt to raise lust. Or they refuse it as the most pleasant of all sauces, for indeed salt may be called the sauce of all sauces; and therefore some call salt χάριτας; because it makes food, which is necessary for life, to be relishing and pleasant.

3. What then, said Florus, shall we say that salt is termed divine for that reason? Indeed that is very considerable, for men for the most part deify those common things that are exceeding useful to their necessities and wants, as water, light, the seasons of the year; and the earth they do not only think to be divine, but a very God. Now salt is as useful as either of these, being a sort of protector to the food as it comes into the body, and making it palatable and agreeable to the appetite. But consider farther, whether its power of preserving dead bodies from rotting a long time be not a divine property, and opposite to death; since it preserves part, and will not suffer that which is mortal wholly to be destroyed. But as the soul, which is our diviner part, connects the limbs of animals, and keeps the composure from dissolution; thus salt applied to dead bodies, and imitating the work of the soul, stops those parts that were falling to corruption, binds and confines them, and so makes them keep their union and agreement with one another. And therefore some of the Stoics say, that swine’s flesh then deserves the name of a body, when the soul like salt spreads through it and keeps the parts from dissolution. Besides, you know that we account lightning to be sacred and divine, because the bodies that are thunder-struck do not rot for a long time; what wonder is it then, that the ancients called salt as well as lightning divine, since it hath the same property and power?

4. I making no reply, Philinus subjoined: Do you not think that that which is generative is to be esteemed divine, seeing God is the principle of all things? And I assenting, he continued: Salt, in the opinion of some men, for instance the Egyptians you mentioned, is very operative that way; and those that breed dogs, when they find their bitches not apt to be hot, give them salt and seasoned flesh, to stir up and awaken their sleeping lechery and vigor. Besides, the ships that carry salt breed abundance of mice; the females, as some imagine, conceiving without the help of the males, only by licking the salt. But it is most probable that the salt raiseth an itching in animals, and so makes them salacious and eager to couple. And perhaps for the same reason they call a surprising and bewitching beauty, such as is apt to move and entice, ἁλμυρὸν καὶ δριμύ, saltish. And I think the poets had a respect to this generative power of salt in their fable of Venus springing from the sea. And it may be farther observed, that they make all the sea Gods very fruitful, and give them large families. And beside, there are no land animals so fruitful as the sea animals; agreeable to which observation is that verse of Empedocles,

Leading the foolish race of fruitful fish.