Essays

BOOK VI.

Timotheus the son of Conon, Sossius Senecio, after a full enjoyment of luxurious campaign diet, being entertained by Plato in his Academy, at a neat, homely, and (as Ion says) no surfeiting feast (such an one as is constantly followed by sound sleep, and, by reason of the calm and pleasant state the body enjoys, rarely interrupted with dreams and apparitions), the next day, being sensible of the difference, said that those that supped with Plato were well treated, even the day after the feast. For such a temper of a body not over-charged, but expedite and fitted for the ready execution of all its enterprises, is without all doubt a great help for the more comfortable passing away of the day. But there is another benefit not inferior to the former, which does usually accrue to those that sup with Plato, namely, the recollection of those points that were debated at the table. For the remembrance of those pleasures which arise from meat and drink is ungenteel, and short-lived withal, and nothing but the remains of yesterday’s smell. But the subjects of philosophical queries and discourses, being always fresh after they are imparted, are equally relished by all, as well by those that were absent as by those that were present at them; insomuch that learned men even now are as much partakers of Socrates’s feasts as those who really supped with him. But if things pertaining to the body had afforded any pleasure, Xenophon and Plato should have left us an account not of the discourse, but of the great variety of dishes, sauces, and other costly compositions that were prepared in the houses of Callias and Agatho. Yet there is not the least mention made of any such things, though questionless they were as sumptuous as possible; but whatever things were treated of and learnedly discussed by their guests were left upon record and transmitted to posterity as precedents, not only for discoursing at table, but also for remembering the things that were handled at such meetings.

QUESTION I.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT THOSE THAT ARE FASTING ARE MORE THIRSTY THAN HUNGRY?

PLUTARCH AND OTHERS.

I present you with this Sixth Book of Table Discourses, wherein the first thing that cometh to be discussed is an enquiry into the reason why those that are fasting are more inclinable to drink than to eat. For the assertion carries in it a repugnancy to the standing rules of reason; forasmuch as the decayed stock of dry nourishment seems more naturally to call for its proper supplies. Whereupon I told the company, that of those things whereof our bodies are composed, heat only—or, however, above all the rest—stands in continual need of such accessions; for the truth of which this may be urged as a convincing argument: neither air, water, nor earth requires any matter to feed upon, or devours whatsoever lies next it; but fire alone doth. Hence it comes to pass that young men, by reason of their greater share of natural heat, have commonly greater stomachs than old men; whereas on the contrary, old men can endure fasting much better, for this only reason, because their natural heat is grown weaker and decayed. Just so we see it fares with bloodless animals, which by reason of the want of heat require very little nourishment. Besides, every one of us finds by experience, that bodily exercises, clamors, and whatever other actions by violent motion occasion heat, commonly sharpen our stomachs and get us a better appetite. Now, as I take it, the most natural and principal nourishment of heat is moisture, as it evidently appears from flames, which increase by the pouring in of oil, and from ashes, which are of the driest things in nature; for after the humidity is consumed by the fire, the terrene and grosser parts remain without any moisture at all. Add to these, that fire separates and dissolves bodies by extracting that moisture which should keep them close and compact. Therefore, when we are fasting, the heat first of all forces the moisture out of the relics of the nourishment that remain in the body, and then, pursuing the other humid parts, preys upon the natural moisture of the flesh itself. Hence the body like clay grows dry, wants drink more than meat; till the heat, receiving strength and vigor by our drinking, excites an appetite for more substantial food.

QUESTION II.

WHETHER WANT OF NOURISHMENT CAUSETH HUNGER AND THIRST, OR THE CHANGE IN THE FIGURE OF THE PORES OR PASSAGES OF THE BODY.

PHILO, PLUTARCH.

1. After these things were spoke, Philo the physician started the first question, asserting that thirst did not arise from the want of nourishment, but from the different transfiguration of certain passages. For, says he, this may be made evident, partly from what we see happens to those that thirst in the night, who, if sleep chance to steal upon them, though they did not drink before, are yet rid of their thirst; partly from persons in a fever, who, as soon as the disease abates or is removed, thirst no more. Nay, a great many men, after they have bathed or vomited, perceive presently that their thirst is gone; yet none of these add any thing to their former moisture, but only the transfiguration of the pores causeth a new order and disposition. And this is more evident in hunger; for many sick persons, at the same time when they have the greatest need of meat, have no stomach. Others, after they have filled their bellies, have the same stomachs, and their appetites are rather increased than abated. There are a great many besides who loathe all sorts of diet, yet by taking of a pickled olive or caper recover and confirm their lost appetites. This doth clearly evince, that hunger proceeds from some change in the pores, and not from any want of sustenance, forasmuch as such kind of food lessens the defect by adding food, but increases the hunger; and the pleasing relish and poignancy of such pickles, by binding and straitening the mouth of the ventricle, and again by opening and loosening of it, beget in it a convenient disposition to receive meat, which we call by the name of appetite.

2. I must confess this discourse seemed to carry in it some shadow of reason and probability; but in the main it is directly repugnant to the chief end of nature, to which appetite directs every animal. For that makes it desire a supply of what they stand in need of, and avoid a defect of their proper food. Now to deny that this very thing, which principally distinguishes an animate creature from an inanimate, conduces to the preservation and duration of such a creature, being that which craves and receives those things which the body needs to supply its wants, and, on the contrary, to suppose that such an appetite arises from the transfiguration or the greater or lesser size of the pores, is an absurdity worthy only of such as have no regard at all for Nature. Besides, it is absurd to think that a body through the want of natural heat should be chilled, and should not in like manner hunger and thirst through the want of natural moisture and nourishment. And yet this is more absurd, that Nature when overcharged should desire to disburden herself, and yet should not require to be filled on account of emptiness, but on account of some affection or other, I know not what. Moreover, these needs and supplies in relation to animals have some resemblance to those we see in husbandry. There are a great many like qualities and like provisions on both sides. For in a drought we water our grounds, and in case of excessive heat, we frequently make use of moderate coolers; and when our fruits are too cold, we endeavor to preserve and cherish them, by covering and making fences about them. And for such things as are out of the reach of human power, we implore the assistance of the Gods, that is, to send us softening dews, sunshines qualified with moderate winds; that so Nature, being always desirous of a due mixture, may have her wants supplied. And for this reason I presume it was that nourishment is called τροφή (from τηροῦν), because it watches and preserves Nature. Now Nature is preserved in plants, which are destitute of sense, by the favorable influence of the circumambient air (as Empedocles says), moistening them in such a measure as is most agreeable to their nature. But as for us men, our appetites prompt us on to the chase and pursuance of whatsoever is wanting to our natural temperament.

Now let us pass to the examination of the truth of the arguments that seem to favor the contrary opinion. And for the first, I suppose that those meats that are palatable and of a quick and sharp taste do not beget in us an appetite, but rather bite and fret those parts that receive the nourishment, as we find that scratching the skin causes itching. And supposing we should grant that this affection or disposition is the very thing which we call the appetite, it is probable that, by the operation of such kind of food as this, the nourishment may be made small, and so much of it as is convenient for Nature severed from the rest, so that the indigency proceeds not from the transmutation, but from the evacuation and purgation of the passages. For sharp, tart, and salt things grate the inward matter, and by dispersing of it cause digestion, so that by the concoctions of the old there may arise an appetite for new. Nor does the cessation of thirst after a bath spring from the different position of the passages, but from a new supply of moisture received into the flesh, and conveyed from thence to them also. And vomiting, by throwing off whatever is disagreeable to Nature, puts her in a capacity of enjoying what is most suitable for her. For thirst does not call for a superfluity of moisture, but only for so much as sufficeth Nature; and therefore, though a man had plenty of disagreeable and unnatural moisture, yet he wants still, for that stops the course of the natural, which Nature is desirous of, and hinders a due mixture and temperament, till it be cast out and the passages receive what is most proper and convenient for them. Moreover, a fever forces all the moisture downward; and the middle parts being in a flame, it all retires thither, and there is shut up and forcibly detained. And therefore it is usual with a great many to vomit, by reason of the density of the inward parts squeezing out the moisture, and likewise to thirst, by reason of the poor and dry state the rest of the body is in. But after the violence of the distemper is once abated, and the raging heat hath left the middle parts, the moisture begins to disperse itself again; and according to its natural motion, by a speedy conveyance into all the parts, it refreshes the entrails, softens and makes tender the dry and parched flesh. Very often also it causes sweat, and then the defect which occasioned thirst ceases; for the moisture leaving that part of the body wherein it was forcibly detained, and out of which it hardly made an escape, retires to the place where it is wanted. For as it fares with a garden wherein there is a large well,—if nobody draw thereof and water it, the herbs must needs wither and die,—so it fares with a body; if all the moisture be contracted into one part, it is no wonder if the rest be in want and dry, till it is diffused again over the other limbs. Just so it happens to persons in a fever, after the heat of the disease is over, and likewise to those who go to sleep thirsty. For in these, sleep draws the moisture out of the middle parts, and equally distributes it amongst the rest, satisfying them all. But, I pray, what kind of transfiguration of the passages is this which causes hunger and thirst? For my part, I know no other distinction of the passages but in respect of their number, or that some of them are shut, others open. As for those that are shut, they can neither receive meat nor drink; and as for those that are open, they make an empty space, which is nothing but a want of that which Nature requires. Thus, sir, when men dye cloth, the liquor in which they dip it hath very sharp and abstersive particles; which, consuming and scouring off all the matter that filled the pores, make the cloth more apt to receive the dye, because its pores are empty and want something to fill them up.

QUESTION III.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT HUNGER IS ALLAYED BY DRINKING, BUT THIRST INCREASED BY EATING?

THE HOST, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. After we had gone thus far, the master of the feast told the company that the former points were reasonably well discussed; and waiving at present the discourse concerning the evacuation and repletion of the pores, he requested us to fall upon another question, that is, how it comes to pass that hunger is staid by drinking, when, on the contrary, thirst is more violent after eating. Those who assign the reason to be in the pores seem with a great deal of ease and probability, though not with so much truth, to explain the thing. For seeing the pores in all bodies are of different sorts and sizes, the more capacious receive both dry and humid nourishment, the lesser take in drink, not meat; but the vacuity of the former causes hunger, of the latter thirst. Hence it is that men that thirst are never the better after they have eaten, the pores by reason of their straitness denying admittance to grosser nourishment, and the want of suitable supply still remaining. But after hungry men have drunk, the moisture enters the greater pores, fills the empty spaces, and in part assuages the violence of the hunger.

2. Of this effect, said I, I do not in the least doubt, but I do not approve of the reason they give for it. For if any one should admit these pores (which some are so unreasonably fond of) to be in the flesh, he must needs make it a very soft, loose, flabby substance; and that the same parts do not receive the meat and drink, but that they run through different canals and strainers in them, seems to me to be a very strange and unaccountable opinion.

For the moisture mixes with the dry food, and by the assistance of the natural heat and spirits cuts the nourishment far smaller than any cleaver or chopping-knife, to the end that every part of it may be exactly fitted to each part of the body, not applied, as they would have it, to little vessels and pores, but united and incorporated with the whole substance. And unless the thing were explained after this manner, the hardest knot in the question would still remain unsolved. For a man that has a thirst upon him, supposing he eats and doth not drink, is so far from quenching, that he does highly increase it. This point is yet untouched. But mark, said I, whether the positions on my side be clear and evident or not. In the first place, we take it for granted that moisture is wasted and destroyed by dryness, that the drier parts of the nourishment, qualified and softened by moisture, are diffused and fly away in vapors. Secondly, we must by no means suppose that all hunger is a total privation of dry, and thirst of humid nutriment, but only a moderate one, and such as is sufficient to cause the one or the other; for whoever are wholly deprived of either of these, they neither hunger nor thirst, but die instantly. These things being laid down as a foundation, it will be no hard matter to find out the cause. Thirst is increased by eating for this reason, because that meat by its natural siccity contracts and destroys all that small quantity of moisture which remained scattered here and there through the body; just as it happens in things obvious to our senses; we see the earth, dust, and the like presently suck in the moisture that is mixed with them. Now, on the contrary, drink must of necessity assuage hunger; for the moisture watering and diffusing itself through the dry and parched relics of the meat we ate last, by turning them into thin juices, conveys them through the whole body, and succors the indigent parts. And therefore with very good reason Erasistratus called moisture the vehicle of the meat; for as soon as this is mixed with things which by reason of their dryness, or some other quality, are slow and heavy, it raises them up and carries them aloft. Moreover, several men, when they have drunk nothing at all, but only washed themselves, all on a sudden are freed from a violent hunger, because the extrinsic moisture entering the pores makes the meat within more succulent and of a more nourishing nature, so that the heat and fury of the hunger declines and abates; and therefore a great many of those who have a mind to starve themselves to death live a long time only by drinking water; that is, as long as the siccity does not quite consume whatever may be united to and nourish the body.

QUESTION IV.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT A BUCKET OF WATER DRAWN OUT OF A WELL, IF IT STANDS ALL NIGHT IN THE AIR THAT IS IN THE WELL, IS MORE COLD IN THE MORNING THAN THE REST OF THE WATER?

A GUEST, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. One of the strangers at the table, who took wonderful great delight in drinking of cold water, had some brought to him by the servants, cooled after this manner; they had hung in the well a bucket full of the same water, so that it could not touch the sides of the well, and there let it remain all night: the next day, when it was brought to table, it was colder than the water that was new-drawn. Now this gentleman was an indifferent good scholar, and therefore told the company he had learned this from Aristotle, who gives the reason of it. The reason which he assigned was this. All water, when it hath been once hot, is afterwards more cold; as that which is prepared for kings, when it hath boiled a good while upon the fire, is afterwards put into a vessel set round with snow, and so made cooler; just as we find our bodies more cool after we have bathed, because the body, after a short relaxation from heat, is rarefied and more porous, and therefore so much the more fitted to receive a larger quantity of air, which causes the alteration. Therefore the water, when it is drawn out of the well, being first warmed in the air, grows presently cold.

2. Whereupon we began to commend the man very highly for his happy memory; but we called in question the pretended reason. For if the air wherein the vessel hangs be cold, how, I pray, does it heat the water? If hot, how does it afterwards make it cold? For it is absurd to say, that the same thing is affected by the same thing with contrary qualities, no difference at all intervening. While the gentleman held his peace, as not knowing what to say; there is no cause, said I, that we should raise any scruple concerning the nature of the air, forasmuch as we are ascertained by sense that it is cold, especially in the bottom of a well; and therefore we can never imagine that it should make the water hot. But I should rather judge this to be the reason: the cold air, though it cannot cool the great quantity of water which is in the well, yet can easily cool each part of it, separate from the whole.

QUESTION V.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT PEBBLE STONES AND LEADEN BULLETS THROWN INTO THE WATER MAKE IT MORE COLD?

A GUEST, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

I suppose you may remember what Aristotle says in his problems, of little stones and pieces of iron, how it hath been observed by some that being thrown into the water they temper and cool it. This is no more than barely asserted by him; but we will go farther and enquire into the reason of it, the discovery of which will be a matter of difficulty. Yes, says I, it will so, and it is much if we hit upon it; for do but consider, first of all, do not you suppose that the air which comes in from without cools the water? But now air has a great deal more power and force, when it beats against stones and pieces of iron. For they do not, like brazen and earthen vessels, suffer it to pass through; but, by reason of their solid bulk, beat it back and reflect it into the water, so that upon all parts the cold works very strongly. And hence it comes to pass that rivers in the winter are colder than the sea, because the cold air has a power over them, which by reason of its depth it has not over the sea, where it is scattered without any reflection. But it is probable that for another reason thinner waters may be made colder by the air than thicker, because they are not so strong to resist its force. Now whetstones and pebbles make the water thinner by drawing to them all the mud and other grosser substances that be mixed with it, that so by taking the strength from it it may the more easily be wrought upon by the cold. But besides, lead is naturally cold, as that which, being dissolved in vinegar, makes the coldest of all poisons, called white-lead; and stones, by reason of their density, raise cold in the bottom of the water. For every stone is nothing else but a congealed lump of frozen earth, though some more or less than others; and therefore it is no absurdity to say that stones and lead, by reflecting the air, increase the coldness of the water.

QUESTION VI.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT MEN PRESERVE SNOW BY COVERING IT WITH CHAFF AND CLOTHS?

A GUEST, PLUTARCH.

1. Then the stranger, after he had made a little pause, said: Men in love are ambitious to be in company with their sweethearts; when that is denied them, they desire at least to talk of them. This is my case in relation to snow; and, because I cannot have it at present, I am desirous to learn the reason why it is commonly preserved by the hottest things. For, when covered with chaff and cloth that has never been at the fuller’s, it is preserved a long time. Now it is strange that the coldest things should be preserved by the hottest.

2. Yes, said I, it is a very strange thing, if true. But it is not so; and we cozen ourselves by presently concluding a thing to be hot if it have a faculty of causing heat, when yet we see that the same garment causes heat in winter, and cold in summer. Thus the nurse in the tragedy,

In garments thin doth Niobe’s children fold, And sometimes heats and sometimes cools the babes.

The Germans indeed make use of clothes only against the cold, the Ethiopians only against the heat; but they are useful to us upon both accounts. Why therefore should we rather say the clothes are hot, because they cause heat, than cold, because they cause cold? Nay, if we must be tried by sense, it will be found that they are more cold than hot. For at the first putting on of a coat it is cold, and so is our bed when we lie down; but afterwards they grow hot with the heat of our bodies, because they both keep in the heat and keep out the cold. Indeed, feverish persons and others that have a violent heat upon them often change their clothes, because they perceive that fresh ones at the first putting on are much colder; but within a very little time their bodies make them as hot as the others. In like manner, as a garment heated makes us hot, so a covering cooled keeps snow cold. Now that which causes this cold is the continual emanations of a subtile spirit the snow has in it, which spirit, as long as it remains in the snow, keeps it compact and close; but, after once it is gone, the snow melts and dissolves into water, and instantly loses its whiteness, occasioned by a mixture of this spirit with a frothy moisture. Therefore at the same time, by the help of these clothes, the cold is kept in, and the external air is shut out, lest it should thaw the concrete body of the snow. The reason why they make use of cloth that has not yet been at the fuller’s is this, because that in such cloth the hair and coarse flocks keep it off from pressing too hard upon the snow, and bruising it. So chaff lying lightly upon it does not dissolve the body of the snow, besides the chaff lies close and shuts out the warm air, and keeps in the natural cold of the snow. Now that snow melts by the evaporating of this spirit, we are ascertained by sense; for when snow melts it raises a vapor.

QUESTION VII.

WHETHER WINE OUGHT TO BE STRAINED OR NOT.

NIGER, ARISTIO.

1. Niger, a citizen of ours, was lately come from school, after he had spent some time under the discipline of a renowned philosopher, but had learned nothing but those faults by which his master was offensive and odious to others, especially his habit of reproving and of carping at whatever upon any occasion chanced to be spoke in company. And therefore, when we were at supper one time at Aristio’s, not content to assume to himself a liberty to rail at all the rest of the preparations as too profuse and extravagant, he had a pique at the wine too, and said that it ought not to be brought to table strained, but that, observing Hesiod’s rule, we ought to drink it new out of the vessel, while it has its natural strength and force. Moreover, he added that this way of purging wine takes the strength from it, and robs it of its natural heat, which, when wine is poured out of one vessel into another, evaporates and dies. Besides he would needs persuade us that it showed too much of a vain curiosity, effeminacy, and luxury, to convert what is wholesome into that which is palatable. For as the riotous, not the temperate, use to cut cocks and geld pigs, to make their flesh tender and delicious, even against Nature; just so (if we may use a metaphor, says he) those that strain wine geld and emasculate it, whilst their squeamish stomachs will neither suffer them to drink pure wine, nor their intemperance to drink moderately. Therefore they make use of this expedient, to the end that it may render the desire they have of drinking plentifully more excusable. So they take all the strength from the wine, leaving the palatableness still; as we use to deal with those with whose constitution cold water does not agree, to boil it for them. For they certainly take off all the strength from the wine, by straining of it. And this is a great argument, that the wine deads, grows flat, and loses its virtue, when it is separated from the lees, as from its root and stock; for the ancients for very good reason called wine lees, as we use to signify a man by his head or soul, as the principal part of him. So in Greek, grape-gatherers are said τρυγᾶν, the word being derived from τρύξ, which signifies lees; and Homer in one place calls the fruit of the wine διατρύγιον, and the wine itself high-colored and red,—not pale and yellow, such as Aristio gives us to supper, after all goodness is purged out of it.

2. Then Aristio smiling presently replied: Sir, the wine I bring to table does not look so pale and lifeless as you would have it; but it appears at first sight to be mild and well qualified. But for your part, you would glut yourself with night wine, which raises melancholy vapors; and upon this account you cry out against purgation, which, by carrying off whatever might cause melancholy or load men’s stomachs, and make them drunk or sick, makes it mild and pleasant to those that drink it, such as heroes (as Homer tells us) were formerly wont to drink. And it was not dark-colored wine which he called αἶθοψ, but clear and transparent; for otherwise he would never have called brass αἶθοψ, after he had given it the epithets man-exalting and resplendent. Therefore as the wise Anacharsis, discommending some things that the Grecians enjoined, commended their coals, because they leave the smoke without doors, and bring the fire into the house; so you judicious men might blame me for some other reason than this. But what hurt, I pray, have I done to the wine, by taking from it a turbulent and noisome quality, and giving it a better taste, though a paler color? Nor have I brought you wine to the table which, like a sword, hath lost its edge and vigorous relish, but such as is only purged of its dregs and filth. But you will say that wine not strained hath a great deal more strength. Why so, my friend? One that is frantic and distracted has more strength than a man in his wits; but when, by the help of hellebore or some other fit diet, he is come to himself, that rage and frenzy leave him and quite vanish, and the true use of his reason and health of body presently comes into its place. In like manner, purging of wine takes from it all the strength that inflames and enrages the mind, and gives it instead thereof a mild and wholesome temper; and I think there is a great deal of difference between gaudiness and cleanliness. For women, while they paint, perfume, and adorn themselves with jewels and purple robes, are accounted gaudy and profuse; yet nobody will find fault with them for washing their faces, anointing themselves, or platting their hair. Homer very neatly expresses the difference of these two habits, where he brings in Juno dressing herself:—

With sweet ambrosia first she washed her skin, And after did anoint herself with oil.[91]

So much was allowable, being no more than a careful cleanliness. But when she comes to call for her golden buttons, her curiously wrought ear-rings, and last of all puts on her bewitching girdle, this appears to be an extravagant and idle curiosity, and betrays too much of wantonness, which by no means becomes a married woman. Just so they that sophisticate wine by mixing it with aloes, cinnamon, or saffron bring it to the table like a gorgeous-apparelled woman, and there prostitute it. But those that only take from it what is nasty and no way profitable do only purge it and improve it by their labor. Otherwise you may find fault with all things whatsoever as vain and extravagant, beginning at the house you live in. As first, you may say, why is it plastered? Why does it open especially on that side where it may have the best convenience for receiving the purest air, and the benefit of the evening sun? What is the reason that our cups are washed and made so clean that they shine and look bright? Now if a cup ought to have nothing that is nasty or loathsome in it, ought that which is drunk out of the cup to be full of dregs and filth? What need is there for mentioning any thing else? The making corn into bread is a continual cleansing; and yet what a great ado there is before it is effected! There is not only threshing, winnowing, sifting, and separating the bran, but there must be kneading the dough to soften all parts alike, and a continual cleansing and working of the mass till all the parts become edible alike. What absurdity is it then by straining to separate the lees, as it were the filth of the wine, especially since the cleansing is no chargeable or painful operation?

QUESTION VIII.

WHAT IS THE CAUSE OF BULIMY, OR THE GREEDY DISEASE?

PLUTARCH, SOCLARUS, CLEOMENES, AND OTHERS.

1. There is a certain sacrifice of very ancient institution, which the chief magistrate or archon performs always in the common-hall, and every private person in his own house. ’Tis called the driving out of bulimy; for they whip out of doors some one of their servants with a bunch of willow rods, repeating these words, Get out of doors, bulimy; and enter riches and health. Therefore in my year there was a great concourse of people present at the sacrifice; and, after all the rights and ceremonies of the sacrifice were over, when we had seated ourselves again at the table, there was an enquiry made first of all into the signification of the word bulimy, then into the meaning of the words which are repeated when the servant is turned out of doors. But the principal dispute was concerning the nature of it, and all its circumstances. First, as for the word bulimy, it was agreed upon by all to denote a great and public famine, especially among us who use the Aeolic dialect, putting π for β. For it was not called by the ancients βούλιμος but πούλιμος, that is, πολὺς λιμός, much hunger. We concluded that it was not the same with the disease called Bubrostis, by an argument fetched out of Metrodorus’s Ionics. For the said Metrodorus informs us that the Smyrnaeans, who were once Aeolians, sacrificed to Bubrostis a black bull cut into pieces with the skin on, and so burnt it. Now, forasmuch as every species of hunger resembles a disease, but more particularly bulimy, which is occasioned by an unnatural disposition of the body, these two differ as riches and poverty, health and sickness. But as the word nauseate (ναυτιᾶν) first took its name from men who were stomach-sick in a ship, and afterwards custom prevailed so far that the word was applied to all persons that were any way in like sort affected; so the word bulimy, rising at first from hence, was at last extended to a more large and comprehensive signification. What has been hitherto said was a general club of the opinions of all those who were at table.

2. But after we began to enquire after the cause of this disease, the first thing that puzzled us was to find out the reason why bulimy seizes upon those that travel in the snow. As Brutus, one time marching from Dyrrachium to Apollonia in a deep snow, was endangered of his life by bulimy, whilst none of those that carried the provisions for the army followed him; just when the man was ready to faint and die, some of his soldiers were forced to run to the walls of the enemies’ city, and beg a piece of bread of the sentinels, by the eating of which he was presently refreshed; for which cause, after Brutus had made himself master of the city, he treated all the inhabitants very mercifully. Asses and horses are frequently troubled with bulimy, especially when they are loaden with dry figs and apples; and, which is yet more strange, of all things that are eaten, bread chiefly refreshes not only men but beasts; so that, by taking a little quantity of bread, they regain their strength and go forward on their journey.

3. After all were silent, I (who had observed that dull fellows and those of a less piercing judgment were satisfied with and did acquiesce in the reasons the ancients gave for bulimy, but to men of ingenuity and industry they only pointed out the way to a more clear discovery of the truth of the business) mentioned Aristotle’s opinion, who says, that extreme cold without causes extreme heat and consumption within; which, if it fall into the legs, makes them lazy and heavy, but if it come to the fountain of motion and respiration, occasions faintings and weakness. When I had said that, some of the company opposed it, others held with me, as was natural.

4. At length says Soclarus: I like the beginning of this reason very well, for the bodies of travellers in a great snow must of necessity be surrounded and condensed with cold; but that from the heat within there should arise such a consumption as invades the principle of respiration, I can no way imagine. I rather think, says he, that abundance of heat penned up in the body consumes the nourishment, and that failing, the fire as it were goes out. Here it comes to pass, that men troubled with this bulimy, when they are ready to starve with hunger, if they eat never so little meat, are presently refreshed. The reason is, because meat digested is like fuel for the heat to feed upon.

5. But Cleomenes the physician would have the word λιμός (which signifies hunger) to be added to the making up of the word βούλιμος without any reason at all; as πίνειν, to drink, has crept into καταπίνειν, to swallow; and κύπτειν, to incline, into ἀνακύπτειν to raise the head. Nor is bulimy, as it seems, a kind of hunger, but a fault in the stomach, which concurring with heat causes a faintness. Therefore as things that have a good smell recall the spirits of those that are faint, so bread affects those that are almost overcome with a bulimy; not that they have any need of food (for the least piece of it restores them their strength), but the bread calls back their vigor and languishing spirits. Now that bulimy is not hunger but a faintness, is manifest from all laboring beasts, which are seized with it very often through the smell of dry figs and apples; for a smell does not cause any want of food, but rather a pain and agitation in the stomach.

6. These things seemed to be reasonably well urged; and yet we thought that much might be said in the defence of the contrary opinion, and that it was possible enough to maintain that bulimy ariseth not from condensation but rarefication of the stomach. For the spirit which flows from the snow is nothing but the sharp point and finest scale of the congealed substance, endued with a virtue of cutting and dividing not only the flesh, but also silver and brazen vessels; for we see that these are not able to keep in the snow, for it dissolves and evaporates, and glazes over the outmost superficies of the vessels with a thin dew, not unlike to ice, which this spirit leaves as it secretly passes through the pores. Therefore this piercing spirit, like a flame, seizing upon those that travel in the snow, seems to burn their outsides, and like fire to enter and penetrate the flesh. Hence it is that the flesh is more rarefied, and the heat is extinguished by the cold spirit that lies upon the superficies of the body; therefore the body evaporates a dewy thin sweat, which melts away and decays the strength. Now if a man should sit still at such a time, there would not much heat fly out of his body. But when the motion of the body doth quickly heat the nourishment, and that heat bursts through the thin skin, there must necessarily be a great loss of strength. Now we know by experience, that cold hath a virtue not only to condense but also to loosen bodies; for in extreme cold winters pieces of lead are found to sweat. And when we see that bulimy happens where there is no hunger, we may conclude that at that time the body is rather in a fluid than condensed state. The reason that bodies are rarefied in winter is because of the subtility of the spirit; especially when the moving and tiring of the body excites the heat, which, as soon as it is subtilized and agitated, flies apace and spreads itself through the whole body. Lastly, it is very possible that apples and dry figs exhale some such thing as this, which rarefies and attenuates the heat of the beasts; for different things have a natural tendency as well to weaken as to refresh different creatures.

QUESTION IX.

WHY DOES HOMER APPROPRIATE A CERTAIN PECULIAR EPITHET TO EACH PARTICULAR LIQUID, AND CALL OIL ALONE LIQUID?[92]

PLUTARCH AND OTHERS.

1. It was the subject once of a discourse, why, when there are several sorts of liquids, the poet should give every one of them a peculiar epithet, calling milk white, honey yellow, wine red, and yet for all this bestow no other upon oil but what it hath in common with all other liquids. To this it was answered that, as that is said to be most sweet which is perfectly sweet, and to be most white which is perfectly white (I mean here by perfectly that which hath nothing of a contrary quality mixed with it), so that ought to be called perfectly humid whereof never a part is dry; and this is proper to oil.

2. First of all, its smoothness shows the evenness of its parts; for touch it where you please, it is all alike. Besides, you may see your face in it as perfectly as in a mirror; for there is nothing rough in it to hinder the reflection, but by reason of its humidity it reflects to the eyes the least particle of light from every part of it. As, on the contrary, milk, of all other liquids, does not return our images, because it hath too many terrene and gross parts mixed with it; again, oil of all liquids makes the least noise when moved, for it is perfectly humid. When other liquids are moved or poured out, their hard and grosser parts fall and dash one against another, and so make a noise by reason of their roughness. Moreover, oil only is pure and unmixed; for it is of all other liquids most compact, nor has it any empty spaces and pores between the dry and earthy parts, to receive what chances to fall upon it. Besides, because of the similitude of parts, it is closely joined together, and unfit to be joined to any thing else. When oil froths, it does not let any wind in, by reason of the contiguity and subtility of its parts; and this is also the cause why fire is nourished by it. For fire feeds upon nothing but what is moist, for nothing is combustible but what is so; for when the fire is kindled, the air turns to smoke, and the terrene and grosser parts remain in the ashes. Fire preys only upon the moisture, which is its natural nourishment. Indeed water, wine, and other liquors, having abundance of earthy and heavy parts in them, by falling into fire part it, and by their roughness and weight smother and extinguish it. But oil, because purely liquid, by reason of its subtility, is overcome by the fire, and so changed into flame.

3. It is the greatest argument that can be of its humidity, that the least quantity of it spreads itself a great way; for so small a drop of honey, water, or any other liquid does not extend itself so far, but very often, by reason of the dry mixed parts, is presently wasted. Because oil is ductile and soft, men are wont to make use of it for anointing their bodies; for it runs along and spreads itself through all the parts, and sticks so firmly to them that it is not easily washed off. We find by experience, that a garment wet with water is presently dried again; but it is no easy matter to wash out the spots and stains of oil, for it enters deep, because of its most subtile and humid nature. Hence it is that Aristotle says, the drops of diluted wine are the hardest to be got out of clothes, because they are most subtile, and run farther into the pores of the cloth.

QUESTION X.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT FLESH OF SACRIFICED BEASTS, AFTER IT HAS HUNG A WHILE UPON A FIG-TREE, IS MORE TENDER THAN BEFORE?

ARISTIO, PLUTARCH, OTHERS.

At supper we were commending Aristio’s cook, who, amongst other dishes that he had dressed very curiously, brought a cock to table just killed as a sacrifice to Hercules, as tender as though it had been killed a day or two before. When Aristio told us that this was no wonder,—seeing such a thing might be very easily done, if the cock, as soon as he was killed, was hung upon a fig-tree,—we began to enquire into the reason of what he asserted. Indeed, I must confess, our eye assures us that a fig-tree sends out a fierce and strong spirit; which is yet more evident, from what we have heard said of bulls. That is, a bull, after he is tied to a fig-tree, though never so mad before, grows presently tame, and will suffer you to touch him, and on a sudden all his rage and fury cool and die. But the chiefest cause that works this change is the sharp acrimonious quality of the tree. For of all trees this is the fullest of sap, and so are its figs, wood, and bark; and hence it comes to pass, that the smoke of fig-wood is most offensive to the eyes; and when it is burned, its ashes make the best lye to scour withal. But all these effects proceed from heat. Now there are some that say, when the sap of this tree thrown into milk curds it, that this effect does not arise from the irregular figures of the parts of the milk, which the sap unites and (as it were) glues into one body, the smooth and globose parts being squeezed out, but that by its heat it loosens the unstable and watery parts of the liquid body. And we may use as an argument the unprofitableness of the sap of this tree, which, though it is very sweet, yet makes the worst liquor in the world. For it is not the inequality in the parts that affects the smooth part, but what is cold and raw is contracted by heat. And salt helps to produce the same effect; for it is hot, and works in opposition to the uniting of the parts just mentioned, causing rather a dissolution; for to it, above all other things, Nature has given a dissolving faculty. Therefore the fig-tree sends forth a hot and sharp spirit, which cuts and boils the flesh of the bird. The very same thing may be effected by placing the flesh upon a heap of corn, or near nitre; the heat will produce the same that the fig-tree did. Now it may be made manifest that wheat is naturally hot, in that wine, put into a hogshead and placed among wheat, is presently consumed.

BOOK VII.

The Romans, Sossius Senecio, remember a pretty saying of a pleasant man and good companion, who supping alone said that he had eaten to-day, but not supped; as if a supper always wanted company and agreement to make it palatable and pleasing. Evenus said that fire was the sweetest of all sauces in the world. And Homer calls salt θεῖον, divine; and most call it χάριτας, graces, because, mixed with most part of our food, it makes it palatable and agreeable to the taste. Now indeed the best and most divine sauce that can be at an entertainment or a supper is a familiar and pleasant friend; not because he eats and drinks with a man, but because he participates of and communicates discourse, especially if the talk be profitable, pertinent, and instructive. For commonly loose talk over a glass of wine raiseth passions and spoils company, and therefore it is fit that we should be as critical in examining what discourses as what friends are fit to be admitted to a supper; not following either the saying or opinion of the Spartans, who, when they entertained any young man or a stranger in their public halls, showed him the door, with these words, “No discourse goes out this way.” What we use to talk of may be freely disclosed to everybody, because we have nothing in our discourses that tends to looseness, debauchery, debasing of ourselves, or back-biting others. Judge by the examples, of which this seventh book contains ten.

QUESTION I.

AGAINST THOSE WHO FIND FAULT WITH PLATO FOR SAYING THAT DRINK PASSETH THROUGH THE LUNGS.

NICIAS, PLUTARCH, PROTOGENES, FLORUS.

1. At a summer entertainment, one of the company pronounced that common verse,

Now drench thy lungs with wine, the Dog appears.

And Nicias of Nicopolis, a physician, presently subjoined: It is no wonder that Alcaeus, a poet, should be ignorant of that of which Plato the philosopher was. Though Alcaeus may be defended; for it is probable that the lungs, lying near the stomach, may participate of the steam of the liquor, and be drenched with it. But the philosopher, expressly delivering that most part of our drink passeth through the lungs, hath precluded all ways of excuse to those that would be willing to defend him. For it is a very great and complicated ignorance; for first, it being necessary that our liquid and dry food should be mixed, it is very probable that the stomach is the vessel for them both, which throws out the dry food after it is grown soft and moist into the guts. Besides, the lungs being a dense and compacted body, how is it possible that, when we sup gruel or the like, the thicker parts should pass through them? And this was the objection which Erasistratus rationally made against Plato. Besides, when he considered for what end every part of the body was made, and what use Nature designed in their contrivance, it was easy to perceive that the epiglottis was framed on purpose that when we drink the wind-pipe should be shut, and nothing be suffered to fall upon the lungs. For if any thing by chance gets down that way, we are troubled with retching and coughing till it is thrown up again. And this epiglottis being framed so that it may fall on either side, whilst we speak it shuts the weasand, but when we eat or drink it falls upon the wind-pipe, and so secures the passage for our breath. Besides, we know that those who drink by little and little are looser than those who drink greedily and large draughts; for in the latter the very force drives it into their bladders, but in the former it stays, and by its stay is mixed with and moistens the meat thoroughly. Now this could not be, if in the very drinking the liquid was separated from the food; but the effect follows, because we mix and convey them both together, using (as Erasistratus phraseth it) the liquid as a vehicle for the dry.

2. Nicias having done, Protogenes the grammarian subjoined, that Homer was the first that observed the stomach was the vessel of the food, and the windpipe (which the ancients called ἀσφάραγον) of the breath, and upon the same account they called those who had loud voices ἐρισφαράγους. And when he describes how Achilles killed Hector, he says,

He pierced his weasand, where death enters soon,

and adds,

But not his windpipe, so that he could speak,[93]

taking the windpipe for the proper passage of the voice and breath....

3. Upon this, all being silent, Florus began thus: What, shall we tamely suffer Plato to be run down? By no means, said I, for if we desert him, Homer must be in the same condition, for he is so far from denying the windpipe to be the passage for our drink, that the dry food, in his opinion, goes the same way. For these are his words:

From his gullet (φάρυγος) flowed The clotted wine and undigested flesh.[94]

Unless perchance you will say that the Cyclops, as he had but one eye, so had but one passage for his food and voice; or would have φάρυγξ to signify weasand, not windpipe, as both all the ancients and moderns use it. I produce this because it is really his meaning, not because I want other testimonies, for Plato hath store of learned and sufficient men to join with him. For not to mention Eupolis, who in his play called the Flatterers says,

Protagoras bids us drink a lusty bowl, That when the Dog appears our lungs may still be moist;

or elegant Eratosthenes, who says,

And having drenched his lungs with purest wine;

even Euripides, somewhere expressly saying,

The wine passed through the hollows of the lungs,

shows that he saw better and clearer than Erasistratus. For he saw that the lungs have cavities and pores, through which the liquids pass. For the breath in expiration hath no need of pores, but that the liquids and those things which pass with them might go through, it is made like a strainer and full of pores. Besides, sir, as to the influence of gruel which you proposed, the lungs can discharge themselves of the thicker parts together with the thin, as well as the stomach. For our stomach is not, as some fancy, smooth and slippery, but full of asperities, in which it is probable that the thin and small particles are lodged, and so not taken quite down. But neither this nor the other can we positively affirm; for the curious contrivance of Nature in her operations is too hard to be explained; nor can we be particularly exact upon those instruments (I mean the spirit and the heat) which she makes use of in her works. But besides those we have mentioned to confirm Plato’s opinion, let us produce Philistion of Locri, a very ancient and famous physician, and Hippocrates too, with his pupil Dioxippus; for they thought of no other passage but that which Plato mentions. Dioxippus knew very well that precious talk of the epiglottis, but says, that when we feed, the moist parts are about that separated from the dry, and the first are carried down the windpipe, the other down the weasand; and that the windpipe receives no parts of the food, but the stomach, together with the dry parts, receives some portion of the liquids. And this is probable, for the epiglottis lies over the windpipe, as a fence and strainer, that the drink may get in by little and little, lest descending in a large full stream, it stop the breath and endanger the life. And therefore birds have no epiglottis, because they do not sup or lap when they drink, but take up a little in their beak, and let it run gently down their windpipe.

These testimonies I think are enough; and reason confirms Plato’s opinion by arguments drawn first from sense. For when the windpipe is wounded, no drink will go down; but as if the pipe were broken it runs out, though the weasand be whole and unhurt. And all know that in the inflammation of the lungs the patient is troubled with extreme thirst; the heat or dryness or some other cause, together with the inflammation, making the appetite intense. But a stronger evidence than all these follows. Those creatures that have very small lungs, or none at all, neither want nor desire drink, because to some parts there belongs a natural appetite to drink, and those that want those parts have no need to drink, nor any appetite to be supplied by it. But more, the bladder would seem unnecessary; for, if the weasand receives both meat and drink and conveys it to the belly, the superfluous parts of the liquids would not want a proper passage, one common one would suffice as a canal for both that were conveyed to the same vessel by the same passage. But now the bladder is distinct from the guts, because the drink goes from the lungs, and the meat from the stomach; they being separated as we take them down. And this is the reason that in our water nothing can be found that either in smell or color resembles dry food. But if the drink were mixed with the dry meat in the belly, it must be impregnant with its qualities, and not come forth so simple and untinged. Besides, a stone is never found in the stomach, though it is likely that the moisture should be coagulated there as well as in the bladder, if all the liquor were conveyed through the weasand into the belly. But it is probable that the weasand robs the windpipe of a sufficient quantity of liquor as it is going down, and useth it to soften and concoct the meat. And therefore its excrement is never purely liquid; and the lungs, disposing of the moisture, as of the breath, to all the parts that want it, deposit the superfluous portion in the bladder. And I am sure that this is a much more probable opinion than the other. But which is the truth cannot perhaps be discovered, and therefore it is not fit so peremptorily to find fault with the most acute and most famed philosopher, especially when the matter is so obscure, and the Platonists can produce such considerable reasons for their opinion.

QUESTION II.

WHAT HUMORED MAN IS HE THAT PLATO CALLS ΚΕΡΑΣΒΌΛΟΣ? AND WHY DO THOSE SEEDS THAT FALL ON THE OXEN’S HORNS BECOME ἈΤΕΡΆΜΟΝΑ?

PLUTARCH, PATROCLES, EUTHYDEMUS, FLORUS.

1. We had always some difficulty started about κερασβόλος and ἀτεράμων, not what humor those words signified (for it is certain that some, thinking that those seeds which fall on the oxen’s horns bear fruit which is very hard, did by a metaphor call a stiff untractable fellow by these names), but what was the cause that seeds falling on the oxen’s horns should bear hard fruit. I had often desired my friends to search no farther, most of all fearing the discourse of Theophrastus, in which he has collected many of those particulars whose causes we cannot discover. Such are the hen’s purifying herself with straw after she has laid, the seal’s swallowing her rennet when she is caught, the deer’s burying his cast horns, and the goat’s stopping the whole herd by holding a branch of sea-holly in his mouth; and among the rest he reckoned this is a thing of which we are certain, but whose cause it is very difficult to find. But once at supper at Delphi, some of my companions—as if we were not only better counsellors when our bellies are full (as one hath it), but wine would make us brisker in our enquiries and bolder in our resolutions—desired me to speak somewhat to that problem.

2. I refused, though I had some excellent men on my side, namely, Euthydemus my fellow-priest, and Patrocles my relation, who brought several the like instances, which they had gathered both from husbandry and hunting; for instance, that those officers that are appointed to watch the coming of the hail avert the storm by offering a mole’s blood or a woman’s rags; that a wild fig being bound to a garden fig-tree will keep the fruit from falling, and promote their ripening; that deer when they are taken shed salt tears, and boars sweet. But if you have a mind to such questions, Euthydemus will presently desire you to give an account of smallage and cummin; one of the which, if trodden down as it springs, will grow the better, and the other men curse and blaspheme whilst they sow it.

3. This last Florus thought to be an idle foolery; but he said, that we should not forbear to search into the causes of the other things as if they were incomprehensible. I have found, said I, your design to draw me on to this discourse, that you yourself may afterward give us a solution of the other proposed difficulties.

In my opinion it is cold that causes this hardness in corn and pulse, by contracting and constipating their parts till the substance becomes close and extremely rigid; while heat is a dissolving and softening quality. Therefore those that cite this verse against Homer,

The season, not the field, bears fruit,

do not justly reprehend him. For fields that are warm by nature, the air being likewise temperate, bear more mellow fruit than others. And therefore those seeds that fall immediately on the earth out of the sower’s hand, and are covered presently, and cherished by being covered, partake more of the moisture and heat that is in the earth. But those that strike against the oxen’s horns do not enjoy what Hesiod calls the best position, but seem to be scattered rather than sown; and therefore the cold either destroys them quite, or else, lighting upon them as they lie naked, condenseth their moisture, and makes them hard and woody. Thus stones that lie under ground and plant-animals have softer parts than those that lie above; and therefore stone-cutters bury the stones they would work, as if they designed to have them prepared and softened by the heat; but those that lie above ground are by the cold made hard, rigid, and very hurtful to the tools. And if corn lies long upon the floor, the grains become much harder than that which is presently carried away. And sometimes too a cold wind blowing whilst they winnow spoils the corn, as it hath happened at Philippi in Macedonia; and the chaff secures the grains whilst on the floor. For is it any wonder that husbandmen affirm, one ridge will bear soft and fruitful, and the very next to it hard and unfruitful corn? Or—which is stranger—that in the same bean-cod some beans are of this sort, some of the other, as more or less wind and moisture falls upon this or that?

QUESTION III.

WHY THE MIDDLE OF WINE, THE TOP OF OIL, AND THE BOTTOM OF HONEY IS BEST.

ALEXION, PLUTARCH, OTHERS.

1. My father-in-law Alexion laughed at Hesiod, for advising us to drink freely when the barrel is newly broached or almost out, but moderately when it is about the middle, since there is the best wine. For who, said he, doth not know, that the middle of wine, the top of oil, and the bottom of honey is the best? Yet he bids us spare the middle, and stay till worse wine runs, when the barrel is almost out. This said, the company minded Hesiod no more, but began to enquire into the cause of this difference.

2. We were not at all puzzled about the honey, everybody almost knowing that that which is lightest is so because it is rare, and that the heaviest parts are dense and compact, and by reason of their weight settle below the others. So, if you turn over the vessel, each in a little time will recover its proper place, the heavier subsiding, and the lighter rising above the rest. And as for the wine, probable solutions presently appeared; for its strength consisting in heat, it is reasonable that it should be contained chiefly in the middle, and there best preserved; for the lower parts the lees spoil, and the upper are impaired by the neighboring air. For that the air will impair wine no man doubts, and therefore we usually bury or cover our barrels, that as little air as can be might come near them. Besides (which is an evident sign) a barrel when full is not spoiled so soon as when it is half empty; because a great deal of air getting into the empty space troubles and disturbs the liquor, whereas the wine that is in the full cask is preserved and defended by itself, not admitting much of the external air, which is apt to injure and corrupt it.

3. But the oil puzzled us most. One of the company thought that the bottom of the oil was worst, because it was foul and troubled with the lees; and that the top was not really better than the rest, but only seemed so, because it was farthest removed from those corrupting particles. Others thought the thickness of the liquor to be the reason, which thickness keeps it from mixing with other humids, unless blended together and shaken violently; and therefore it will not mix with air, but keeps it off by its smoothness and close contexture, so that it hath no power to corrupt it. But Aristotle seems to be against this opinion, who hath observed that oil grows sweeter by being kept in vessels not exactly filled, and afterwards ascribes this melioration to the air; for more air, and therefore more powerful to produce the effect, flows into a vessel not well filled.

4. Well then! said I, the same quality in the air may spoil wine, and better oil. For long keeping improves wine, but spoils oil. Now the air keeps oil from growing old; for that which is cooled continues fresh and new, but that which is kept close up, having no way to exhale its corrupting parts, presently decays, and grows old. Therefore it is probable that the air coming upon the superficies of the oil keepeth it fresh and new. And this is the reason that the top of wine is worst, and of oil best; because age betters the one, and spoils the other.

QUESTION IV.

WHAT WAS THE REASON OF THAT CUSTOM OF THE ANCIENT ROMANS TO REMOVE THE TABLE BEFORE ALL THE MEAT WAS EATEN, AND NOT TO PUT OUT THE LAMP?

FLORUS, EUSTROPHUS, CAESERNIUS, LUCIUS.

1. Florus, who loved the ancient customs, would not let the table be removed quite empty, but always left some meat upon it; declaring likewise that his father and grandfather were not only curious in this matter, but would never suffer the lamp after supper to be put out,—a thing about which the ancient Romans were very precise,—while those of the present day extinguish it immediately after supper, that they may lose no oil. Eustrophus the Athenian being present said: What could they get by that, unless they knew the cunning trick of our Polycharmus, who, after long deliberation how to find out a way to prevent the servants’ stealing of the oil, at last with a great deal of difficulty happened upon this: As soon as you have put out the lamp, fill it up, and the next morning look carefully whether it remains full. Then Florus with a smile replied: Well, since we are agreed about that, let us enquire for what reason the ancients were so careful about their tables and their lamps.

2. First, about the lamps. And his son-in-law Caesernius was of opinion that the ancients abominated all extinction of fire, because of the relation it had to the sacred and eternal flame. Fire, like man, may be destroyed two ways, either when it is violently quenched, or when it naturally decays. The sacred fire was secured against both ways, being always watched and continually supplied; but the common fire they permitted to go out of itself, not forcing or violently extinguishing it, but not supplying it with nourishment, like a useless beast, that they might not feed it to no purpose.

3. Lucius, Florus’s son, subjoined, that all the rest of the discourse was very good, but that they did not reverence and take care of this holy fire because they thought it better or more venerable than other fire; but, as amongst the Egyptians some worship the whole species of dogs, wolves, or crocodiles, yet keep but one wolf, dog, or crocodile (for all could not be kept), so the particular care which the ancients took of the sacred fire was only a sign of the respect they had for all fires. For nothing bears such a resemblance to an animal as fire. It is moved and nourished by itself, and by its brightness, like the soul, discovers and makes every thing apparent; but in its quenching it principally shows some power that seems to proceed from our vital principle, for it makes a noise and resists, like an animal dying or violently slaughtered. And can you (looking upon me) offer any better reason?

4. I can find fault, replied I, with no part of the discourse, yet I would subjoin, that this custom is an instruction for kindness and good-will. For it is not lawful for any one that hath eaten sufficiently to destroy the remainder of the food; nor for him that hath supplied his necessities from the fountain to stop it up; nor for him that hath made use of any marks, either by sea or land, to ruin or deface them; but every one ought to leave those things that may be useful to those persons that afterwards may have need of them. Therefore it is not fit, out of a saving covetous humor, to put out a lamp as soon as we need it not; but we ought to preserve and let it burn for the use of those that perhaps want its light. Thus, it would be very generous to lend our ears and eyes, nay, if possible, our reason and fortitude, to others, whilst we are idle or asleep. Besides, consider whether to stir up men to gratitude these minute observances were practised. The ancients did not act absurdly when they highly reverenced an oak. The Athenians called one fig-tree sacred, and forbade any one to cut down an olive. For such observances do not (as some fancy) make men prone to superstition, but persuade us to be communicative and grateful to one another, by being accustomed to pay this respect to these senseless and inanimate creatures. Upon the same reason Hesiod, methinks, adviseth well, who would not have any meat or broth set on the table out of those pots out of which there had been no portion offered, but ordered the first-fruits to be given to the fire, as a reward for the service it did in preparing it. And the Romans, dealing well with the lamps, did not take away the nourishment they had once given, but permitted them to live and shine by it.

5. When I had said thus, Eustrophus subjoined: This gives us some light into that query about the table; for they thought that they ought to leave some portion of the supper for the servants and waiters, for those are not so well pleased with a supper provided for them apart, as with the relics of their master’s table. And upon this account, they say, the Persian king did not only send portions from his own table to his friends, captains, and gentlemen of his bed-chamber, but had always what was provided for his servants and his dogs served up to his own table; that as far as possible all those creatures whose service was useful might seem to be his guests and companions. For, by such feeding in common and participation, the wildest of beasts might be made tame and gentle.

6. Then I with a smile said: But, sir, that fish there, that according to the proverb is laid up, why do not we bring out into play together with Pythagoras’s choenix, which he forbids any man to sit upon, thereby teaching us that we ought to leave something of what we have before us for another time, and on the present day be mindful of the morrow? We Boeotians use to have that saying frequently in our mouths, “Leave something for the Medes,” ever since the Medes overran and spoiled Phocis and the marches of Boeotia; but still, and upon all occasions, we ought to have that ready, “Leave something for the guests that may come.” And therefore I must needs find fault with that always empty and starving table of Achilles; for, when Ajax and Ulysses came ambassadors to him, he had nothing ready, but was forced out of hand to dress a fresh supper. And when he would entertain Priam, he again bestirs himself, kills a white ewe, joints and dresses it, and in that work spent a great part of the night. But Eumaeus (a wise scholar of a wise master) had no trouble upon him when Telemachus came home, but presently desired him to sit down, and feasted him, setting before him dishes of boiled meat,

The cleanly reliques of the last night’s feast.

But if this seems trifling, and a small matter, I am sure it is no small matter to command and restrain appetite while there are dainties before you to satisfy and please it. For those that are used to abstain from what is present are not so eager for absent things as others are.

7. Lucius subjoining said, that he had heard his grandmother say, that the table was sacred, and nothing that is sacred ought to be empty. Besides, continued he, in my opinion, the table hath some resemblance of the earth; for, besides nourishing us, it is round and stable, and is fitly called by some Vesta (Ἑστία, from ἵστημι). Therefore as we desire that the earth should always have and bear something that is useful for us, so we think that we should not let the table be altogether empty and void of all provision.

QUESTION V.

THAT WE OUGHT CAREFULLY TO PRESERVE OURSELVES FROM PLEASURE ARISING FROM BAD MUSIC. AND HOW IT MAY BE DONE.

CALLISTRATUS, LAMPRIAS.

1. At the Pythian games Callistratus, procurator of the Amphictyons, forbade a piper, his citizen and friend, who did not give in his name in due time, to appear in the solemnity, which he did according to the law. But afterwards entertaining us, he brought him into the room with the chorus, finely dressed in his robes and with chaplets on his head, as if he was to contend for the prize. And at first indeed he played a very fine tune; but afterwards, having tickled and sounded the humor of the whole company, and found that most were inclined to pleasure and would suffer him to play what effeminate and lascivious tunes he pleased, throwing aside all modesty, he showed that music was more intoxicating than wine to those that wantonly and unskilfully use it. For they were not content to sit still and applaud and clap, but many at last leaped from their seats, danced lasciviously, and made such gentle steps as became such effeminate and mollifying tunes. But after they had done, and the company, as it were recovered of its madness, began to come to itself again, Lamprias would have spoken to and severely chide the young men; but as he feared he should be too harsh and give offence, Callistratus gave him a hint, and drew him on by this discourse:—

2. For my part, I absolve all lovers of shows and music from intemperance; yet I cannot altogether agree with Aristoxenus, who says that those pleasures alone deserve the approbation “fine.” For we call viands and ointments fine; and we say we have finely dined, when we have been splendidly entertained. Nor, in my opinion, doth Aristotle upon good reason free those complacencies we take in shows and songs from the charge of intemperance, saying, that those belong peculiarly to man, and of other pleasures beasts have a share. For I am certain that a great many irrational creatures are delighted with music, as deer with pipes; and to mares, whilst they are horsing, they play a tune called ἱππόθορος. And Pindar says, that his songs make him move,

As brisk as Dolphins, whom a charming tune Hath raised from th’ bottom of the quiet flood.

And certain fish are caught by means of dancing; for during the dance they lift up their heads above water, being much pleased and delighted with the sight, and twisting their backs this way and that way, in imitation of the dancers. Therefore I see nothing peculiar in those pleasures, that they should be accounted proper to the mind, and all others to belong to the body, so far as to end there. But music, rhythm, dancing, song, passing through the sense, fix a pleasure and titilation in the sportive part of the soul; and therefore none of these pleasures is enjoyed in secret, nor wants darkness nor walls about it, according to the women’s phrase; but circuses and theatres are built for them. And to frequent shows and music-meetings with company is both more delightful and more genteel; because we take a great many witnesses, not of a loose and intemperate, but of a pleasant and genteel, manner of passing away our time.

3. Upon this discourse of Callistratus, my father Lamprias, seeing the musicians grow bolder, said: That is not the reason, sir, and, in my opinion, the ancients were much out when they named Bacchus the son of Forgetfulness. They ought to have called him his father; for it seems he hath made you forget that some of those faults which are committed about pleasures proceed from a loose intemperate inclination, and others from heedlessness or ignorance. Where the ill effect is very plain, there intemperate inclination captivates reason, and forces men to sin; but where the just reward of intemperance is not directly and presently inflicted, there ignorance of the danger and heedlessness make men easily wrought on and secure. Therefore those that are vicious, either in eating, drinking, or venery, which diseases, wasting of estates, and evil reports usually attend, we call intemperate. For instance, Theodectes, who having sore eyes, when his mistress came to see him, said,

All hail, delightful light;

or Anaxarchus the Abderite,

A wretch who knew what mischiefs wait on sin, Yet love of pleasure forced him back again; Once almost free, he sank again to vice, That terror and disturber of the wise.

Now those that take all care possible to secure themselves from all those pleasures that assault them either at the smelling, touch, or taste, are often surprised by those that make their treacherous approaches either at the eye or ear. But such, though as much led away as the others, we do not in like manner call loose and intemperate, since they are debauched through ignorance and want of experience. For they imagine they are far from being slaves to pleasures, if they can stay all day in the theatre without meat or drink; as if a pot forsooth should be mighty proud that a man cannot take it up by the bottom or the belly and carry it away, though he can easily do it by the ears. Therefore Agesilaus said, it was all one whether a man were a cinaedus before or behind. We ought principally to dread those softening delights that please and tickle through the eyes and ears, and not think that city not taken which hath all its other gates secured by bars, portcullises, and chains, if the enemies are already entered through one and have taken possession; or fancy ourselves invincible against the assaults of pleasure, because stews will not provoke us, when the music-meeting or theatre prevails. For in one case as much as the other we resign up our souls to the impetuousness of pleasures, which pouring in those potions of songs, cadences, and tunes, more powerful and bewitching than the best mixtures of the skilful cook or perfumer, conquer and corrupt us; and in the mean time, by our own confession, as it were, the fault is chiefly ours. Now, as Pindar saith, nothing that the earth and sea hath provided for our tables can be justly blamed, nor doth it change; but neither our meat nor broth, nor this excellent wine which we drink, hath raised such a noisy tumultuous pleasure as those songs and tunes did, which not only filled the house with clapping and shouting, but perhaps the whole town. Therefore we ought principally to secure ourselves against such delights, because they are more powerful than others; as not being terminated in the body, like those which allure the touch, taste, or smelling, but affecting the very intellectual and judging faculties. Besides, from most other delights, though reason doth not free us, yet other passions very commonly divert us. Sparing niggardliness will keep a glutton from dainty fish, and covetousness will confine a lecher from a costly whore. As in one of Menander’s plays, where every one of the company was to be enticed by the bawd who brought out a surprising whore, each of them, though all boon companions,

Sat sullenly, and fed upon his cates.

For to pay interest for money is a severe punishment that follows intemperance, and to open our purses is no easy matter. But these pleasures that are called genteel, and solicit the ears or eyes of those that are frantic after shows and music, may be had without any charge at all, in every place almost, and upon every occasion; they may be enjoyed at the prizes, in the theatre, or at entertainments, at others’ cost. And therefore those that have not their reason to assist and guide them may be easily spoiled.

4. Silence following upon this, What application, said I, shall reason make, or how shall it assist? For I do not think it will apply those ear-covers of Xenocrates, or force us to rise from the table as soon as we hear a harp struck or a pipe blown. No indeed, replied Lamprias, but as soon as we meet with the foresaid intoxications, we ought to make our application to the Muses, and fly to the Helicon of the ancients. To him that loves a costly strumpet, we cannot bring a Panthea or Penelope for cure; but one that delights in mimics and buffoons, loose odes, or debauched songs, we can bring to Euripides, Pindar, and Menander, that he might wash (as Plato phraseth it) his salt hearing with fresh reason. As the exorcists command the possessed to read over and pronounce Ephesian letters, so we in those possessions, amid all the madness of music and dancing, when

We toss our hands with noise, and madly shout,

remembering those venerable and sacred writings, and comparing with them those odes, poems, and vain empty compositions, shall not be altogether cheated by them, or permit ourselves to be carried away sidelong, as by a smooth and undisturbed stream.

QUESTION VI.

CONCERNING THOSE GUESTS THAT ARE CALLED SHADOWS, AND WHETHER BEING INVITED BY SOME TO GO TO ANOTHER’S HOUSE, THEY OUGHT TO GO; AND WHEN, AND TO WHOM.

PLUTARCH, FLORUS, CAESERNIUS.

1. Homer makes Menelaus come uninvited to his brother Agamemnon’s treat, when he feasted the commanders;

For well he knew great cares his brother vexed.[95]

He did not take notice of the plain and evident omission of his brother, or show his resentments by not coming, as some surly testy persons usually do upon such oversights of their best friends; although they had rather be overlooked than particularly invited, that they may have some color for their pettish anger. But about the introduced guests (which we call shadows) who are not invited by the entertainer, but by some others of the guests, a question was started, from whom that custom began. Some thought from Socrates, who persuaded Aristodemus, who was not invited, to go along with him to Agatho’s, where there happened a pretty jest. For Socrates by accident staying somewhat behind, Aristodemus went in first; and this seemed very fitting, for, the sun shining on their backs, the shadow ought to go before the body. Afterwards it was thought necessary at all entertainments, especially of great men, when the inviter did not know their favorites and acquaintance, to desire the invited to bring his company, appointing such a set number, lest they should be put to the same shifts which he was put to who invited King Philip to his country-house. The king came with a numerous attendance, but the provision was not equal to the company. Therefore, seeing his entertainer much cast down, he sent some about to tell his friends privately, that they should keep one corner of their bellies for a great cake that was to come. And they, expecting this, fed sparingly on the meat that was set before them, so that the provision seemed sufficient for them all.

2. When I had talked thus waggishly to the company, Florus had a mind to talk gravely concerning these shadows, and have it discussed whether it was fit for those that were so invited to go, or no. His son-in-law Caesernius was positively against it. We should, says he, following Hesiod’s advice,

Invite a friend to feast,[96]

or at least we should have our acquaintance and familiars to participate of our entertainments, mirth, and discourse over a glass of wine; but now, as ferry-men permit their passengers to bring in what fardel they please, so we permit others to fill our entertainments with any persons, let them be good companions or not. And I should wonder that any man of breeding being so (that is, not at all) invited, should go; since, for the most part, he must be unacquainted with the entertainer, or if he was acquainted, was not thought worthy to be bidden. Nay, he should be more ashamed to go to such a one, if he considers that it will look like an upbraiding of his unkindness, and yet a rude intruding into his company against his will. Besides, to go before or after the guest that invites him must look unhandsomely, nor is it creditable to go and stand in need of witnesses to assure the guests that he doth not come as a principally invited person, but such a one’s shadow. Beside, to attend others bathing or anointing, to observe his hour, whether he goes early or late, is servile and gnathonical (for there never was such an excellent fellow as Gnatho to feed at another man’s table). Besides, if there is no more proper time and place to say,

Speak, tongue, if thou wilt utter jovial things,

than at a feast, and freedom and raillery is mixed with every thing that is either done or said over a glass of wine, how should he behave himself, who is not a true principally invited guest, but as it were a bastard and supposititious intruder? For whether he is free or not, he lies open to the exception of the company. Besides, the very meanness and vileness of the name is no small evil to those who do not resent but can quietly endure to be called and answer to the name of shadows. For, by enduring such base names, men are insensibly customed and drawn on to base actions. Therefore, when I make an invitation, since it is hard to break the custom of a place, I give my guests leave to bring shadows; but when I myself am invited as a shadow, I assure you I refuse to go.

3. A short silence followed this discourse; then Florus began thus: This last thing you mentioned, sir, is a greater difficulty than the other. For it is necessary when we invite our friends to give them liberty to choose their own shadows, as was before hinted; for to entertain them without their friends is not very obliging, nor is it very easy to know whom the person we invite would be most pleased with. Then said I to him: Consider therefore whether those that give their friends this license to invite do not at the same time give the invited license to accept the invitation and come to the entertainment. For it is not fit either to permit or to desire another to do that which is not decent to be done, or to urge and persuade to that which no man ought to be persuaded or to consent to do. When we entertain a great man or stranger, there we cannot invite or choose his company, but must receive those that come along with him. But when we treat a friend, it will be more acceptable if we ourselves invite all, as knowing his acquaintance and familiars; for it tickles him extremely to see that others take notice that he hath chiefly a respect for such and such, loves their company most, and is well pleased when they are honored and invited as well as he. Yet sometimes we must deal with our friend as petitioners do when they make addresses to a God; they offer vows to all that belong to the same altar and the same shrine, though they make no particular mention of their names. For no dainties, wine, or ointment can incline a man to merriment, as much as a pleasant agreeable companion. For as it is rude and ungenteel to enquire and ask what sort of meat, wine, or ointment the person whom we are to entertain loves best; so it is never disobliging or absurd to desire him who hath a great many acquaintance to bring those along with him whose company he likes most, and in whose conversation he can take the greatest pleasure. For it is not so irksome and tedious to sail in the same ship, to dwell in the same house, or be a judge upon the same bench, with a person whom we do not like, as to be at the same table with him; and the contrary is equally pleasant. An entertainment is a communion of serious or merry discourse or actions; and therefore, to make a merry company, we should not pick up any person at a venture, but take only such as are known to one another and sociable. Cooks, it is true, mix sour and sweet juices, rough and oily, to make their sauces; but there never was an agreeable table or pleasant entertainment where the guests were not all of a piece, and all of the same humor. Now, as the Peripatetics say, the first mover in nature moves only and is not moved, and the last moved is moved only but does not move, and between these there is that which moves and is moved by others; so there is the same analogy between those three sorts of persons that make up a company,—there is the simple inviter, the simple invited, the invited that invites another. We have spoken already concerning the inviter, and it will not be improper, in my opinion, to deliver my sentiments about the other two. He that is invited and invites others, should, in my opinion, be sparing in the number that he brings. He should not, as if he were to forage in an enemy’s country, carry all he can with him; or, like those who go to possess a new-found land, by the excessive number of his own friends, incommode or exclude the friends of the inviter, so that the inviter must be in the same case with those that set forth suppers to Hecate and the Gods who avert evil, of which neither they nor any of their family partake, except of the smoke and trouble. It is true they only speak in waggery that say,

He that at Delphi offers sacrifice Must after meat for his own dinner buy.

But the same thing really happens to him who entertains ill-bred guests or friends, who with a great many shadows, as it were harpies, tear and devour his provision. Besides, he should not take anybody that he may meet along with him to another’s entertainment, but chiefly the entertainer’s acquaintance, as it were contending with him and preventing him in the invitation. But if that cannot be effected, let him carry such of his own friends as the entertainer would choose himself; to a civil modest man, some of complaisant humor; to a learned man, ingenious persons; to a man that hath borne office, some of the same rank; and, in short, such whose acquaintance he hath formerly sought and would be now glad of. For it will be extremely pleasing and obliging to bring such into company together; but one who brings to a feast men who have no conformity at all with the feast-maker, but who are perfect aliens and strangers to him,—as hard drinkers to a sober man,—gluttons and sumptuous persons to a temperate thrifty entertainer,—or to a young, merry, boon companion, grave old philosophers solemnly talking through their beards,—will be very disobliging, and turn all the intended mirth into an unpleasant sourness. The entertained should be as obliging to the entertainer as the entertainer to the entertained; and then he will be most obliging, when not only he himself, but all those that come by his means, are pleasant and agreeable.

The last of the three which remains to be spoken of is he that is invited by one man to another’s feast. Now he that disdains and is much offended at the name of a shadow will appear to be afraid of a mere shadow. But in this matter there is need of a great deal of caution, for it is not creditable readily to go along with every one and to everybody. But first you must consider who it is that invites; for if he is not a very familiar friend, but a rich or great man, such who, as if upon a stage, wants a large or splendid retinue, or such who thinks that he puts a great obligation upon you and does you a great deal of honor by this invitation, you must presently deny. But if he is your friend and particular acquaintance, you must not yield upon the first motion: but if there seems a necessity for some conversation which cannot be put off till another time, or if he is lately come from a journey or designs to go on one, and out of mere good-will and affection seems desirous of your company, and doth not desire to carry a great many strangers but only some few friends along with him; or, besides all this, if he designs to bring you thus invited acquainted with the principal inviter, who is very worthy of your acquaintance, then consent and go. For as to ill-humored persons, the more they seize and take hold of us like thorns, we should endeavor to free ourselves from them or leap over them the more. If he that invites is a civil and well-bred person, yet doth not design to carry you to one of the same temper, you must refuse, lest you should take poison in honey, that is, get the acquaintance of a bad man by an honest friend. It is absurd to go to one you do not know, and with whom you never had any familiarity, unless, as I said before, the person be an extraordinary man, and, by a civil waiting upon him at another man’s invitation, you design to begin an acquaintance with him. And those friends you should chiefly go to as shadows, who would come to you again in the same quality. To Philip the jester, indeed, he seemed more ridiculous that came to a feast of his own accord than he that was invited; but to well-bred and civil friends it is more obliging for men of the same temper to come at the nick of time with other friends, when uninvited and unexpected; at once pleasing both to those that invite and those that entertain. But chiefly you must avoid going to rulers, rich or great men, lest you incur the deserved censure of being impudent, saucy, rude, and unseasonably ambitious.

QUESTION VII.

WHETHER FLUTE-GIRLS ARE TO BE ADMITTED TO A FEAST?

DIOGENIANUS, A SOPHIST, PHILIP.

At Chaeronea, Diogenianus the Pergamenian being present, we had a long discourse at an entertainment about music; and we had a great deal of trouble to hold out against a great bearded sophister of the Stoic sect, who quoted Plato as blaming a company that admitted flute-girls and were not able to entertain one another with discourse. And Philip the Prusian, of the same sect, said: Those guests of Agatho, whose discourse was more sweet than the sound of any pipe in the world, were no good authority in this case; for it was no wonder that in their company the flute-girl was not regarded; but it is strange that, in the midst of the entertainment, the extreme pleasantness of the discourse had not made them forget their meat and drink. Yet Xenophon thought it not indecent to bring in to Socrates, Antisthenes, and the like the jester Philip; as Homer doth an onion to make the wine relish. And Plato brought in Aristophanes’s discourse of love, as a comedy, into his entertainment; and at the last, as it were drawing all the curtains, he shows a scene of the greatest variety imaginable,—Alcibiades drunk, frolicking, and crowned. Then follows that pleasant raillery between him and Socrates concerning Agatho, and the encomium of Socrates; and when such discourse was going on, good Gods! had it not been allowable, if Apollo himself had come in with his harp ready, to desire the God to forbear till the argument was out? These men, having such a pleasant way of discoursing, used these arts and insinuating methods, and graced their entertainments by facetious raillery. But shall we, being mixed with tradesmen and merchants, and some (as it now and then happens) ignorants and rustics, banish out of our entertainments this ravishing delight, or fly the musicians, as if they were Sirens, as soon as we see them coming? Clitomachus the wrestler, rising and getting away when any one talked of love, was much wondered at; and should not a philosopher that banisheth music from a feast, and is afraid of a musician, and bids his link-boy presently light his link and be gone, be laughed at, since he seems to abominate the most innocent pleasures, as beetles do ointment? For, if at any time, certainly over a glass of wine, music should be allowed, and then chiefly the harmonious God should have the direction of our souls; so that Euripides, though I like him very well in other things, shall never persuade me that music, as he would have it, should be applied to melancholy and grief. For there sober and serious reason, like a physician, should take care of the diseased men; but those pleasures should be mixed with Bacchus, and serve to increase our mirth and frolic. Therefore it was a pleasant saying of that Spartan at Athens, who, when some new tragedians were to contend for the prize, seeing the preparations of the masters of the dances, the hurry and busy diligence of the instructors, said, the city was certainly mad which sported with so much pains. He that designs to sport should sport, and not buy his ease and pleasure with great expense, or the loss of that time which might be useful to other things; but whilst he is feasting and free from business, those should be enjoyed. And it is advisable to try amidst our mirth, whether any profit is to be gotten from our delights.

QUESTION VIII.

WHAT SORT OF MUSIC IS FITTEST FOR AN ENTERTAINMENT?

DIOGENIANUS, A SOPHIST, PHILIP.

1. When Philip had ended, I hindered the sophister from returning an answer to the discourse, and said: Let us rather enquire, Diogenianus, since there are a great many sorts of music, which is fittest for an entertainment. And let us beg this learned man’s judgment in this case; for since he is not prejudiced or apt to be biassed by any sort, there is no danger that he should prefer that which is pleasantest before that which is best. Diogenianus joining with me in this request, he presently began. All other sorts I banish to the theatre and play-house, and can only allow that which hath been lately admitted into the entertainments at Rome, and with which everybody is not yet acquainted. You know, continued he, that some of Plato’s dialogues are purely narrative, and some dramatic. The easiest of this latter sort they teach their children to speak by heart; causing them to imitate the actions of those persons they represent, and to form their voice and affections to be agreeable to the words. This all the grave and well-bred men exceedingly approve; but soft and effeminate fellows, whose ears ignorance and ill-breeding hath corrupted, and who, as Aristoxenus phraseth it, are ready to vomit when they hear excellent harmony, reject it; and no wonder, when effeminacy prevails.

2. Philip, perceiving some of the company uneasy at this discourse, said: Pray spare us, sir, and be not so severe upon us; for we were the first that found fault with that custom when it first began to be countenanced in Rome, and reprehended those who thought Plato fit to entertain us whilst we were making merry, and who would hear his dialogues whilst they were eating cates and scattering perfumes. When Sappho’s songs or Anacreon’s verses are pronounced, I protest I then think it decent to set aside my cup. But should I proceed, perhaps you would think me much in earnest, and designing to oppose you, and therefore, together with this cup which I present my friend, I leave it to him to wash your salt ear with fresh discourse.

3. Then Diogenianus, taking the cup, said: Methinks this is very sober discourse, which makes me believe that the wine doth not please you, since I see no effect of it; so that I fear I ought to be corrected. Indeed many sorts of music are to be rejected; first, tragedy, as having nothing familiar enough for an entertainment, and being a representation of actions attended with grief and extremity of passion. I reject the sort of dancing which is called Pyladean from Pylades, because it is full of pomp, very pathetical, and requires a great many persons; but if we would admit any of those sorts that deserve those encomiums which Socrates mentions in his discourse about dancing, I like that sort called Bathyllean, which requires not so high a motion, but hath something of the nature of the Cordax, and resembles the motion of an Echo, a Pan, or a Satyr frolicking with love. Old comedy is not fit for men that are making merry, by reason of the irregularities that appear in it; for that vehemency which they use in the parabasis is loud and indecent, and the liberty they take to scoff and abuse is very surfeiting, too open, and full of filthy words and lewd expressions. Besides, as at great men’s tables every man hath a servant waiting at his elbow, so each of his guests would need a grammarian to sit by him, and explain who is Laespodias in Eupolis, Cinesias in Plato, and Lampo in Cratinus, and who is each person that is jeered in the play. Concerning new comedy there is no need of any long discourse. It is so fitted, so interwoven with entertainments, that it is easier to have a regular feast without wine, than without Menander. Its phrase is sweet and familiar, the humor innocent and easy, so that there is nothing for men whilst sober to despise, or when merry to be troubled at. The sentiments are so natural and unstudied, that midst wine, as it were in fire, they soften and bend the rigidest temper to be pliable and easy. And the mixture of gravity and jests seems to be contrived for nothing so aptly as for the pleasure and profit of those that are frolicking and making merry. The love-scenes in Menander are convenient for those who have already taken their cups, and who in a short time must retire home to their wives; for in all his plays there is no love of boys mentioned, and all rapes committed on virgins end decently in marriages at last. As for misses, if they are impudent and jilting, they are bobbed, the young gallants turning sober, and repenting of their lewd courses. But if they are kind and constant, either their true parents are discovered, or a time is determined for the intrigue, which brings them at last to obliging modesty and civil kindness. These things to men busied about other matters may seem scarce worth taking notice of; but whilst they are making merry, it is no wonder that the pleasantness and smoothness of the parts should work a neat conformity and elegance in the hearers, and make their manners like the pattern they have from those genteel characters.

4. Diogenianus, either designedly or for want of breath, ended thus. And when the sophister came upon him again, and contended that some of Aristophanes’s verses should be recited, Philip speaking to me said: Diogenianus hath had his wish in praising his beloved Menander, and seems not to care for any of the rest. There are a great many sorts which we have not at all considered, concerning which I should be very glad to have your opinion; and the prize for carvers we will set up to-morrow, when we are sober, if Diogenianus and this stranger think fit. Of representations, said I, some are mythical, and some are farces; neither of these are fit for an entertainment; the first by reason of their length and cost, and the latter being so full of filthy discourse and lewd actions, that they are not fit to be seen by the foot-boys that wait on civil masters. Yet the rabble, even with their wives and young sons, sit quietly to be spectators of such representations as are apt to disturb the soul more than the greatest debauch in drink. The harp ever since Homer’s time was well acquainted with feasts and entertainments, and therefore it is not fitting to dissolve such an ancient friendship and acquaintance; but we should only desire the harpers to forbear their sad notes and melancholy tunes, and play only those that are delighting, and fit for such as are making merry. The pipe, if we would, we cannot reject, for the libation in the beginning of the entertainment requires that as well as the garland. Then it insinuates and passeth through the ears, spreading even to the very soul a pleasant sound, which produceth serenity and calmness; so that, if the wine hath not quite dissolved or driven away all vexing solicitous anxiety, this, by the softness and delightful agreeableness of its sound, smooths and calms the spirits, if so be that it keeps within due bounds, and doth not elevate too much, and, by its numerous surprising divisions, raise an ecstasy in the soul which wine hath weakened and made easy to be perverted. For as brutes do not understand a rational discourse, yet lie down or rise up at the sound of a shell or whistle, or of a chirp or clap; so the brutish part of the soul, which is incapable either of understanding or obeying reason, men conquer by songs and tunes, and by music reduce it to tolerable order. But to speak freely what I think, no pipe nor harp simply played upon, and without a song with it, can be very fit for an entertainment. For we should still accustom ourselves to take our chiefest pleasure from discourse, and spend our leisure time in profitable talk, and use tunes and airs as a sauce for the discourse, and not singly by themselves, to please the unreasonable delicacy of our palate. For as nobody is against pleasure that ariseth from sauce or wine going in with our necessary food, but Socrates flouts and refuseth to admit that superfluous and vain pleasure which we take in perfumes and odors at a feast; thus the sound of a pipe or harp, when singly applied to our ears, we utterly reject, but if it accompanies words, and together with an ode feasts and delights our reason, we gladly introduce it. And we believe the famed Marsyas was punished by Apollo for pretending, when he had nothing but his single pipe, and his muzzle to secure his lips, to contend with the harp and song of the God. Let us only take care that, when we have such guests as are able to cheer one another with philosophy and good discourse, we do not introduce any thing that may rather prove an uneasy hindrance to the conversation than promote it. For not only are those fools, who, as Euripides says, having safety at home and in their own power, yet would hire some from abroad; but those too who, having pleasantness enough within, are eager after some external pastimes to comfort and delight them. That extraordinary piece of honor which the Persian king showed Antalcidas the Spartan seemed rude and uncivil, when he dipped a garland composed of crocus and roses in ointment, and sent it him to wear, by that dipping putting a slight upon and spoiling the natural sweetness and beauty of the flowers. He doth as bad, who having a Muse in his own breast, and all the pleasantness that would fit an entertainment, will have pipes and harps play, and by that external adventitious noise destroy all the sweetness that was proper and his own. But in short, all ear-delights are fittest then, when the company begins to be disturbed, fall out, and quarrel, for then they may prevent raillery and reproach, and stop the dispute that is running on to sophistical and unpleasant wrangling, and bridle all babbling declamatory altercations, so that the company may be freed of noise and quietly composed.

QUESTION IX.

THAT IT WAS THE CUSTOM OF THE GREEKS AS WELL AS PERSIANS TO DEBATE OF STATE AFFAIRS AT THEIR ENTERTAINMENTS.

NICOSTRATUS, GLAUCIAS.

At Nicostratus’s table we discoursed of those matters which the Athenians were to debate of in their next assembly. And one of the company saying, It is the Persian fashion, sir, to debate midst your cups; And why, said Glaucias rejoining, not the Grecian fashion? For it was a Greek that said,

After your belly’s full, your counsel’s best.

And they were Greeks who with Agamemnon besieged Troy, to whom, whilst they were eating and drinking,

Old Nestor first began a grave debate;[97]

and he himself advised the king before to call the commanders together for the same purpose:

For the commanders, sir, a feast prepare, And see who counsels best, and follow him.[98]

Therefore Greece, having a great many excellent institutions, and zealously following the customs of the ancients, hath laid the foundations of her polities in wine. For the assemblies in Crete called Andria, those in Sparta called Phiditia, were secret consultations and aristocratical assemblies; such, I suppose, as the Prytaneum and Thesmothesium here at Athens. And not different from these is that night-meeting, which Plato mentions, of the best and most politic men, to which the greatest, the most considerable and puzzling matters are assigned. And those

Who, when they do design to seek their rest, To Mercury their just libations pour,[99]

do they not join reason and wine together, since, when they are about to retire, they make their vows to the wisest God, as if he was present and particularly president over their actions? But the ancients indeed call Bacchus the good counsellor, as if he had no need of Mercury; and for his sake they named the night εὐφρόνη, as it were, well-minded.

QUESTION X.

WHETHER THEY DID WELL WHO DELIBERATED MIDST THEIR CUPS.

GLAUCIAS, NICOSTRATUS.

1. Whilst Glaucias was discoursing thus, the former tumultuous talk seemed to be pretty well lulled; and that it might be quite forgotten, Nicostratus started another question, saying, he never valued the matter before, whilst he thought it a Persian custom, but since it was discovered to be the Greek fashion too, it wanted (he thought) some reason to excuse or defend its seeming absurdity. For our reason (said he), like our eye, whilst it floats in too much moisture, is hard to be moved, and unable to perform its operations. And all sorts of troubles and discontents creeping forth, like insects to the sun, and being agitated by a glass of wine, make the mind irresolute and inconstant. Therefore as a bed is more convenient for a man whilst making merry than a chair, because it contains the whole body and keeps it from all disturbing motion, so it is best to have the soul perfectly at quiet; or, if that cannot be, we must give it, as to children that will be doing, not a sword or spear, but a rattle or ball,—in this following the example of the God himself, who puts into the hands of those that are making merry a ferula, the lightest and softest of all weapons, that, when they are most apt to strike, they may hurt least. Over a glass of wine men should make only ridiculous slips, and not such as may prove tragical, lamentable, or of any considerable concern. Besides, in serious debates, it is chiefly to be considered, that persons of mean understanding and unacquainted with business should be guided by the wise and experienced; but wine destroys this order. Insomuch that Plato says, wine is called οἶνος, because it makes those that drink it think that they have wit (οἴεσθαι νοῦν ἔχειν); for none over a glass of wine thinks himself so noble, beauteous, or rich (though he fancies himself all these), as wise; and therefore wine is babbling, full of talk, and of a dictating humor; so that we are rather for being heard than hearing, for leading than being led. But a thousand such objections may be raised, for they are very obvious. But let us hear which of the company, either old or young, can allege any thing for the contrary opinion.

2. Then said my brother cunningly: And do you imagine that any, upon a sudden, can produce any probable reasons? And Nicostratus replying, Yes, no doubt, there being so many learned men and good drinkers in company; he with a smile continued: Do you think, sir, you are fit to treat of these matters, when wine hath disabled you to discourse politics and state affairs? Or is not this all the same as to think that a man in his liquor doth not see very well nor understand those that talk and discourse with him, yet hears the music and the pipers very well? For as it is likely that useful and profitable things draw and affect the sense more than fine and gaudy; so likewise they do the mind. And I shall not wonder that the nice philosophical speculation should escape a man who hath drunk freely; but yet, I think, if he were called to political debates, his wisdom would become more strong and vigorous. Thus Philip at Chaeronea, being well heated, talked very foolishly, and was the sport of the whole company; but as soon as they began to discourse of a truce and peace, he composed his countenance, contracted his brows, and dismissing all vain, empty, and dissolute thoughts, gave an excellent, wise, and sober answer to the Athenians. To drink freely is different from being drunk, and those that drink till they grow foolish ought to retire to bed. But as for those that drink freely and are otherwise men of sense, why should we fear that they will fail in their understanding or lose their skill, when we see that musicians play as well at a feast as in a theatre? For when skill and art are in the soul, they make the body correct and proper in its operations, and obedient to the motions of the mind. Besides, wine inspirits some men, and raises a confidence and assurance in them, but not such as is haughty and odious, but pleasing and agreeable. Thus they say that Aeschylus wrote his tragedies over a bottle; and that all his plays (though Gorgias thought that one of them, the Seven against Thebes, was full of Mars) were Bacchus’s. For wine (according to Plato), heating the soul together with the body, makes the body pliable, quick, and active, and opens the passages; while the fancies draw in discourse with boldness and daring.

For some have a good natural invention, yet whilst they are sober are too diffident and too close, but midst their wine, like frankincense, exhale and open at the heat. Besides, wine expels all fear, which is the greatest hindrance to all consultations, and quencheth many other degenerate and lazy passions; it opens the rancor and malice, as it were, the two-leaved doors of the soul, and displays the whole disposition and qualities of any person in his discourse. Freedom of speech, and, through that, truth it principally produceth; which once wanting, neither quickness of wit nor experience availeth any thing; and many proposing that which comes next rather hit the matter, than if they warily and designedly conceal their present sentiments. Therefore there is no reason to fear that wine will stir up our affections; for it never stirs up the bad, unless in the worst men, whose judgment is never sober. But as Theophrastus used to call the barbers’ shops wine-less entertainments; so there is a kind of an uncouth wine-less drunkenness always excited either by anger, malice, emulation, or clownishness in the souls of the unlearned. Now wine, blunting rather than sharpening many of these passions, doth not make them sots and foolish, but simple and guileless; not negligent of what is profitable, but desirous of what is good and honest. Now those that think craft to be cunning, and vanity or closeness to be wisdom, have reason to think those that over a glass of wine plainly and ingenuously deliver their opinions to be fools. But on the contrary, the ancients called the God the Freer and Loosener, and thought him considerable in divination; not, as Euripides says, because he makes men raging mad, but because he looseth and frees the soul from all base distrustful fear, and puts them in a condition to speak truth fully and freely to one another.

BOOK VIII.

Those, my Sossius Senecio, who throw philosophy out of entertainments do worse than those who take away a light. For the candle being removed, the temperate and sober guests will not become worse than they were before, being more concerned to reverence than to see one another. But if dulness and disregard to good learning wait upon the wine, Minerva’s golden lamp itself could not make the entertainment pleasing and agreeable. For a company to sit silent and only cram themselves is, in good truth, swinish and almost impossible. But he that permits men to talk, yet doth not allow set and profitable discourses, is much more ridiculous than he who thinks that his guests should eat and drink, yet gives them foul wine, unsavory and nastily prepared meat. For no meat nor drink which is not prepared as it ought to be is so hurtful and unpleasant as discourse which is carried round in company insignificantly and out of season. The philosophers, when they would give drunkenness a vile name, call it doting by wine. Now doting is to use vain and trifling discourse; and when such babbling is accompanied by wine, it usually ends in most disagreeable and rude contumely and reproach. It is a good custom therefore of our women, who in their feasts called Agrionia seek after Bacchus as if he were run away, but in a little time give over the search, and cry that he is fled to the Muses and lurks with them; and some time after, when supper is done, put riddles and hard questions to one another. For this mystery teaches us, that midst our entertainments we should use learned and philosophical discourse, and such as hath a Muse in it; and that such discourse being applied to drunkenness, every thing that is brutish and outrageous in it is concealed, being pleasingly restrained by the Muses.

This book, being the eighth of my Symposiacs, begins that discourse in which about a year ago, on Plato’s birthday, I was concerned.

QUESTION I.

CONCERNING THOSE DAYS IN WHICH SOME FAMOUS MEN WERE BORN; AND ALSO CONCERNING THE GENERATION OF THE GODS.

DIOGENIANUS, PLUTARCH, FLORUS, TYNDARES.

1. On the sixth day of May we celebrated Socrates’s birthday, and on the seventh Plato’s; and that first prompted us to such discourse as was suitable to the meeting, which Diogenianus the Pergamenian began thus: Ion, said he, was happy in his expression, when he said that Fortune, though much unlike Wisdom, yet did many things very much like her; and that she seemed to have some order and design, not only in placing the nativities of these two philosophers so near together, but in setting first the birthday of the most famous of the two, who was also the teacher of the other. I had a great deal to say to the company concerning some notable things that fell out on the same day, as concerning the time of Euripides’s birth and death; for he was born the same day that the Greeks beat Xerxes by sea at Salamis, and died the same day that Dionysius the elder, the Sicilian tyrant, was born,—Fortune (as Timaeus hath it) at the same time taking out of the world a representer, and bringing into it a real actor, of tragedies. Besides, we remembered that Alexander the king and Diogenes the Cynic died upon the same day. And all agreed that Attalus the king died on his own birthday. And some said, that Pompey the great was killed in Egypt on his birthday, or, as others will have it, a day before. We remember Pindar also, who, being born at the time of the Pythian games, made afterwards a great many excellent hymns in honor of Apollo.

2. To this Florus subjoined: Now we are celebrating Plato’s nativity, why should we not mention Carneades, the most famous of the whole Academy, since both of them were born on Apollo’s feast; Plato, whilst they were celebrating the Thargelia at Athens, Carneades, whilst the Cyrenians kept their Carnea; and both these feasts are upon the same day. Nay, the God himself (he continued) you, his priests and prophets, call Hebdomagenes, as if he were born on the seventh day. And therefore those who make Apollo Plato’s father[100] do not, in my opinion, dishonor the God; since by Socrates’s as by another Chiron’s instructions he is become a physician for the greater diseases of the mind. And together with this, he mentioned that vision and voice which forbade Aristo, Plato’s father, to come near or lie with his wife for ten months.

3. To this Tyndares the Spartan subjoined: It is very fit we should apply that to Plato,

He seemed not sprung from mortal man, but God.[101]

But, for my part, I am afraid to beget, as well as to be begotten, is repugnant to the incorruptibility of the Deity. For that implies a change and passion; as Alexander imagined, when he said that he knew himself to be mortal as often as he lay with a woman or slept. For sleep is a relaxation of the body, occasioned by the weakness of our nature; and all generation is a corruptive parting with some of our own substance. But yet I take heart again, when I hear Plato call the eternal and unbegotten Deity the father and maker of the world and all other begotten things; not as if he parted with any seed, but as if by his power he implanted a generative principle in matter, which acts upon, forms, and fashions it. Winds passing through a hen will sometimes impregnate her; and it seems no incredible thing, that the Deity, though not after the fashion of a man, but by some other certain communication, fills a mortal creature with some divine conception. Nor is this my sense; but the Egyptians say Apis was conceived by the influence of the moon, and make no question but that an immortal God may have communication with a mortal woman. But on the contrary, they think that no mortal can beget any thing on a goddess, because they believe the goddesses are made of thin air, and subtle heat and moisture.

QUESTION II.

WHAT IS PLATO’S MEANING, WHEN HE SAYS THAT GOD ALWAYS PLAYS THE GEOMETER?

DIOGENIANUS, TYNDARES, FLORUS, AUTOBULUS.

1. Silence following this discourse, Diogenianus began and said: Since our discourse is about the Gods, shall we, especially on his own birthday, admit Plato to the conference, and enquire upon what account he says (supposing it to be his sentence) that God always plays the geometer? I said that this sentence was not plainly set down in any of his books; yet there are good arguments that it is his, and it is very much like his expression. Tyndares presently subjoining said: Perhaps, Diogenianus, you imagine that this sentence intimates some curious and difficult speculation, and not that which he hath so often mentioned, when he praiseth geometry as a science that takes off men from sensible objects, and makes them apply themselves to the intelligible and eternal Nature, the contemplation of which is the end of philosophy, as a view of the mysteries of initiation into holy rites. For the nail of pain and pleasure, that fastens the soul to the body, seems to do us the greatest mischief, by making sensible things more powerful over us than intelligible, and by forcing the understanding to determine rather according to passion than reason. For the understanding, being accustomed by the vehemency of pain or pleasure to be intent on the mutable and uncertain body, as if it really and truly were, grows blind as to that which really is, and loses that instrument and light of the soul, which is worth a thousand bodies, and by which alone the Deity can be discovered. Now in all sciences, as in plain and smooth mirrors, some marks and images of the truth of intelligible objects appear, but in geometry chiefly; which, according to Philo, is the chief and principal of all, and doth bring back and turn the understanding, as it were, purged and gently loosened from sense. And therefore Plato himself dislikes Eudoxus, Archytas, and Menaechmus for endeavoring to bring down the doubling the cube to mechanical operations; for by this means all that was good in geometry would be lost and corrupted, it falling back again to sensible things, and not rising upward and considering immaterial and immortal images, in which God being versed is always God.

2. After Tyndares, Florus, a companion of his, who always jocosely pretended to be his admirer, said thus: Sir, we are obliged to you for making your discourse not proper to yourself, but common to us all; for you have made it possible to refute it by demonstrating that geometry is not necessary to the Gods, but to us. Now the Deity doth not stand in need of science, as an instrument to withdraw his intellect from things engendered and to turn it to the real things; for these are all in him, with him, and about him. But pray consider whether Plato, though you do not apprehend it, doth not intimate something that is proper and peculiar to you, mixing Lycurgus with Socrates, as much as Dicaearchus thought he did Pythagoras. For Lycurgus, I suppose you know, banished out of Sparta all arithmetical proportion, as being democratical and favoring the crowd; but introduced the geometrical, as agreeable to an oligarchy and kingly government that rules by law; for the former gives an equal share to every one according to number, but the other gives according to the proportion of the deserts. It doth not huddle all things together, but in it there is a fair discretion of good and bad, every one having what is fit for him, not by lot or weight, but according as he is virtuous or vicious. The same proportion, my dear Tyndares, God introduceth, which is called δίκη and νέμεσις, and which teacheth us to account that which is just equal, and not that which is equal just. For that equality which many affect, being often the greatest injustice, God, as much as possible, takes away; and useth that proportion which respects every man’s deserts, geometrically defining it according to law and reason.

3. This exposition we applauded; and Tyndares, saying he envied him, desired Autobulus to engage Florus and confute his discourse. That he refused to do, but produced another opinion of his own. Geometry, said he, considers nothing else but the accidents and properties of the extremities or limits of bodies; neither did God make the world any other way than by terminating matter, which was infinite before. Not that matter was really infinite as to either magnitude or multitude; but the ancients used to call that infinite which by reason of its confusion and disorder is undetermined and unconfined. Now the terms of every thing that is formed or figured are the form and figure of that thing, without which the thing would be formless and unfigured. Now numbers and proportions being applied to matter, it is circumscribed and as it were bound up by lines, and through lines by surfaces and profundities; and so were settled the first species and differences of bodies, as foundations from which to raise the four elements, fire, air, water, and earth. For it was impossible that, out of an unsteady and confused matter, the equality of the sides, the likeness of the angles, and the exact proportion of octahedrons, icosahedrons, pyramids, and cubes should be deduced, unless by some power that terminated and shaped every particle of matter. Therefore, terms being fixed to that which was undetermined or infinite before, the whole became and still continues agreeable in all parts, and excellently terminated and mixed; the matter indeed always affecting an indeterminate state, and flying all geometrical confinement, but proportion terminating and circumscribing it, and dividing it into several differences and forms, out of which all things that arise are generated and subsist.

4. When he had said this, he desired me to contribute something to the discourse; and I applauded their conceits as their own devices, and very probable. But lest you despise yourselves (I continued) and altogether look for some external explication, attend to an exposition upon this sentence, which your masters very much approve. Amongst the most geometrical theorems, or rather problems, this is one: Two figures being given, to construct a third, which shall be equal to one and similar to the other. And it is reported that Pythagoras, upon the discovery of this problem, offered a sacrifice to the Gods; for this is a much more exquisite theorem than that which lays down, that the square of the hypothenuse in a right-angled triangle is equal to the squares of the two sides. Right, said Diogenianus, but what is this to the present question? You will easily understand, I replied, if you call to mind how Timaeus divides that which gave the world its beginning into three parts. One of which is justly called God, the other matter, and the third form. That which is called matter is the most confused subject, the form the most beautiful pattern, and God the best of causes. Now this cause, as far as possible, would leave nothing infinite and indeterminate, but adorn Nature with number, measure and proportion, making one thing of all the subjects together, equal to the matter, and similar to the form. Therefore proposing to himself this problem, he made and still makes a third, and always preserves it equal to the matter, and like the form; and that is the world. And this world, being in continual changes and alterations because of the natural necessity of body, is helped and preserved by the father and maker of all things, who by proportion terminates the substance according to the pattern. Wherefore in its measure and circuit this universal world is more beautiful than that which is merely similar to it....

QUESTION III.

WHY NOISES ARE BETTER HEARD IN THE NIGHT THAN THE DAY.

AMMONIUS, BOETHUS, PLUTARCH, THRASYLLUS, ARISTODEMUS.

1. When we supped with Ammonius at Athens, who was then the third time captain of the city-bands, there was a great noise about the house, some without doors calling, Captain! Captain! After he had sent his officers to quiet the tumult, and had dispersed the crowd, we began to enquire what was the reason that those that are within doors hear those that are without, but those that are without cannot hear those that are within as well. And Ammonius said, that Aristotle had given a reason for that already; for the sound of those within, being carried without into a large tract of air, grows weaker presently and is lost; but that which comes in from without is not subject to the like casualty, but is kept close, and is therefore more easy to be heard. But that seemed a more difficult question, Why sounds seem greater in the night than in the day, and yet altogether as clear. For my own part (continued he) I think Providence hath very wisely contrived that our hearing should be quickest when our sight can do us very little or no service; for the air of the “blind and solitary Night,” as Empedocles calls it, being dark, supplies in the ears that defect of sense which it makes in the eyes. But since of natural effects we should endeavor to find the causes, and to discover what are the material and mechanical principles of things is the proper task of a natural philosopher, who shall first assist us with a rational account hereof?

2. Boethus began, and said: When I was a novice in letters, I then made use of geometrical postulates, and assumed as undoubted truths some undemonstrated suppositions; and now I shall make use of some propositions which Epicurus hath demonstrated already. Bodies move in a vacuum, and there are a great many spaces interspersed among the atoms of the air. Now when the air being rarefied is more extended, so as to fill the empty space, there are but few vacuities scattered and interspersed among the particles of matter; but when the atoms of air are condensed and laid close together, they leave a vast empty space, convenient and sufficient for other bodies to pass through. Now the coldness of the night makes such a constipation. Heat opens and separates the parts of condensed bodies. Therefore bodies that boil, grow soft, or melt, require a greater space than before; but on the contrary, the parts of the body that are condensed or freeze are contracted closer to one another, and leave those vessels and places from which they retired partly empty. Now the voice, meeting and striking against a great many bodies in its way, is either altogether lost or scattered, and very much and very frequently hindered in its passage; but when it hath a plain and smooth way through an empty space, and comes to the ear uninterrupted, the passage is so sudden, that it preserves its articulate distinctness, as well as the words it carries. You may observe that empty vessels, when knocked, answer presently, send out a noise to a great distance, and oftentimes the sound whirled round in the hollow breaks out with a considerable force; whilst a vessel that is filled either with a liquid or a solid body will not answer to a stroke, because the sound hath no room or passage to come through. And among solid bodies themselves, gold and stone, because they want pores, can hardly be made to sound; and when a noise is made by a stroke upon them, it is very flat, and presently lost. But brass is sounding, it being a porous, rare, and light metal, not consisting of parts closely compacted, but being mixed with a yielding and uncompacted substance, which gives free passage to other motions, and kindly receiving the sound sends it forward; till some touching the instrument do, as it were, seize on it in the way, and stop the hollow; for then, by reason of the hindering force, it stops and goes no farther. And this, in my opinion, is the reason why the night is more sonorous, and the day less; since in the day, the heat rarefying the air makes the empty spaces between the particles to be very little. But, pray, let none argue against the suppositions I first assumed.

3. And I (Ammonius bidding me oppose him) said: Sir, your suppositions which require a vacuum to be granted I shall admit; but you err in supposing that a vacuum is conducive either to the preservation or conveyance of sound. For that which cannot be touched, acted upon, or struck is peculiarly favorable to silence. But sound is a stroke of a sounding body; and a sounding body is that which is homogeneous and uniform, easy to be moved, light, smooth, and, by reason of its tenseness and continuity, obedient to the stroke; and such is the air. Water, earth, and fire, are of themselves soundless; but each of them makes a noise when air falls upon or gets into it. And brass hath in it no vacuum; but being mixed with a smooth and gentle air it answers to a stroke, and is sounding. If the eye may be judge, iron must be reckoned to have a great many vacuities, and to be porous like a honey-comb, yet it is the dullest, and sounds worse than any other metal.

Therefore there is no need to trouble the night to contract and condense its air, that in other parts we may leave vacuities and wide spaces; as if the air would hinder and corrupt the substance of the sounds, whose very substance, form, and power itself is. Besides, if your reason held, misty and extreme cold nights would be more sonorous than those which are temperate and clear, because then the atoms in our atmosphere are constipated, and the spaces which they left remain empty; and, what is more obvious, a cold day should be more sonorous than a warm summer’s night; neither of which is true. Therefore, laying aside that explication, I produce Anaxagoras, who teacheth that the sun makes a tremulous motion in the air, as is evident from those little motes which are seen tossed up and down and flying in the sunbeams. These (says he), being in the day-time whisked about by the heat, and making a humming noise, lessen or drown other sounds; but at night their motion, and consequently their noise, ceaseth.

4. When I had thus said, Ammonius began: Perhaps it will look like a ridiculous attempt in us, to endeavor to confute Democritus and correct Anaxagoras. Yet we must not allow that humming noise to Anaxagoras’s little motes, for it is neither probable nor necessary. But their tremulous and whirling motion in the sunbeams is oftentimes sufficient to disturb and break a sound. For the air (as hath been already said), being itself the body and substance of sound, if it be quiet and undisturbed, gives a straight, easy, and continuous way to the particles or the motions which make the sound. Thus sounds are best heard in calm still weather; and the contrary is seen in tempestuous weather, as Simonides hath it:—

No tearing tempests rattled through the skies, Which hinder sweet discourse from mortal ears.

For often the disturbed air hinders the articulateness of a discourse from coming to the ears, though it may convey something of the loudness and length of it. Now the night, simply considered in itself, hath nothing that may disturb the air; though the day hath,—namely the sun, according to the opinion of Anaxagoras.

5. To this Thrasyllus, Ammonius’s son, subjoining said: What is the matter, for God’s sake, that we endeavor to solve this difficulty by the unintelligible fancied motion of the air, and never consider the tossing and divulsion thereof, which are sensible and evident? For Jupiter, the great ruler above, doth not covertly and silently move the little particles of air; but as soon as he appears, he stirs up and moves every thing.

He sends forth lucky signs, And stirs up nations to their proper work

and they obey; and (as Democritus saith) with new thoughts for each new day, as if newly born again, they fall to their worldly concerns with noisy and effectual contrivances. And upon this account, Ibycus appositely calls the dawning κλυτόν (from κλύειν, to hear), because then men first begin to hear and speak. Now at night, all things being at rest, the air being quiet and undisturbed must therefore probably transmit the voice better, and convey it whole and unbroken to our ears.

6. Aristodemus the Cyprian, being then in company, said: But consider, sir, whether battles or the marches of great armies by night do not confute your reason; for the noise they make seems as loud as otherwise, though then the air is broken and very much disturbed. But the reason is partly in ourselves; for our voice at night is usually vehement, we either commanding others to do something or asking short questions with heat and concern. For that, at the same time when Nature requires rest, we should stir to do or speak any thing, there must be some great and urgent necessity for it; and thence our voices become more vehement and loud.

QUESTION IV.

Why, when in the Sacred Games one sort of Garland was given in one, and another in another, the Palm was common to all. And why they call the great Dates Νικόλαοι.

SOSPIS, HERODES, PROTOGENES, PRAXITELES, CAPHISUS.

1. The Isthmian games being celebrated, when Sospis was the second time director of the solemnity, we avoided other entertainments,—he treating a great many strangers, and often all his fellow-citizens,—but once, when he entertained his nearest and most learned friends at his own house, I was one of the company. After the first course, one coming to Herodes the rhetorician brought a palm and a wreathed crown, which one of his acquaintance, who had won the prize for an encomiastic exercise, sent him. This Herodes received very kindly, and sent it back again, but added that he could not tell the reason why, since each of the games gave a particular garland, yet all of them bestowed the palm. For those do not satisfy me (said he) who say that the equality of the leaves is the reason, which growing out one against another seem to resemble some striving for the prize, and that victory is called νίκη, from μὴ εἴκειν, not to yield. For a great many other trees, which almost by measure and weight divide the nourishment to their leaves growing opposite to one another, show a decent order and wonderful equality. They seem to speak more probably who say the ancients were pleased with the beauty and figure of the tree. Thus Homer compares Nausicaa to a palm-branch. For you all know very well, that some threw roses at the victors, and some pomegranates and apples, to honor and reward them. But now the palm hath nothing evidently more taking than many other things, since here in Greece it bears no fruit that is good to eat, it not ripening and growing mature enough. But if, as in Syria and Egypt, it bore a fruit that is the most pleasant to the eyes of any thing in the world, and the sweetest to the taste, then I must confess nothing could compare with it. And the Persian monarch (as the story goes), being extremely taken with Nicolaus the Peripatetic philosopher, who was a very sweet-humored man, tall and slender, and of a ruddy complexion, called the greatest and fairest dates Nicolai.

2. This discourse of Herodes seemed to give occasion for a query about Nicolaus, which would be as pleasant as the former. Therefore, said Sospis, let every one carefully give his sentiments of the matter in hand. I begin, and think that, as far as possible, the honor of the victor should remain fresh and immortal. Now a palm-tree is the longest lived of any, as this line of Orpheus testifies:

They lived like branches of a leafy palm.

And this almost alone enjoys the privilege (though it is said to belong to many beside) of having always fresh and the same leaves. For neither the laurel nor the olive nor the myrtle, nor any other of those trees called evergreen, is always seen with the very same leaves; but as the old fall, new ones grow. So cities continue the same, where new parts succeed those that decay. But the palm, never shedding a leaf, is continually adorned with the same green. And this power of the tree, I believe, men think agreeable to, and fit to represent, the strength of victory.

3. When Sospis had done, Protogenes the grammarian, calling Praxiteles the commentator by his name, said: What then, shall we suffer those rhetoricians to be thought to have hit the mark, when they bring arguments only from probabilities and conjectures? And can we produce nothing from history to club to this discourse? Lately, I remember, reading in the Attic annals, I found that Theseus first instituted games in Delos, and tore off a branch from the sacred palm-tree, which was called spadix (from σπάω, to tear.)

4. And Praxiteles said: This is uncertain; but perhaps some will demand of Theseus himself, upon what account, when he instituted the game, he broke off a branch of palm rather than of laurel or of olive. But consider whether this be not a prize proper to the Pythian games, as belonging to Amphictyon. For there they first, in honor of the God, crowned the victors with laurel and palm, as consecrating to the God, not the laurel or olive, but the palm. So Nicias did, who defrayed the charges of the solemnity in the name of the Athenians at Delos; the Athenians themselves at Delphi; and before these, Cypselus the Corinthian. For this God is a lover of games, and delights in contending for the prize at harping, singing, and throwing the bar, and, as some say, at cuffing; and assists men when contending, as Homer witnesseth, by making Achilles speak thus,

Let two come forth in cuffing stout, and try To which Apollo gives the victory.[102]

And amongst the archers, he that made his address to Apollo made the best shot, and he that forgot to pray to him missed the mark. And beside, it is not likely that the Athenians would rashly, and upon no grounds, dedicate their place of exercise to Apollo. But they thought that the God which bestows health gives likewise a vigorous constitution, and strength for the encounter. And since some of the encounters are light and easy, others laborious and difficult, the Delphians offered sacrifices to Apollo the cuffer; the Cretans and Spartans to Apollo the racer; and the dedication of spoils taken in the wars and trophies to Apollo Pythias show that he is of great power to give victory in war.

5. Whilst he was speaking, Caphisus, Theon’s son, interrupted him, and said: This discourse smells neither of history nor comment, but is taken out of the common topics of the Peripatetics, and endeavors to persuade; besides, you should, like the tragedians, raise your machine, and fright all that contradict you with the God. But the God, as indeed it is requisite he should be, is equally benevolent to all. Now let us, following Sospis (for he fairly leads the way), keep close to our subject, the palm-tree, which affords us sufficient scope for our discourse. The Babylonians celebrate this tree, as being useful to them three hundred and sixty several ways. But to us Greeks it is of very little use, but its want of fruit makes it proper for contenders in the games. For being the fairest, greatest, and best proportioned of all sorts of trees, it bears no fruit amongst us; but by reason of its strong constitution it spends all its nourishment (like an athlete) upon its body, and so has very little, and that very bad, remaining for seed. Beside all this, it hath something peculiar, which cannot be attributed to any other tree. The branch of a palm, if you put a weight upon it, doth not yield and bend downwards, but turns the contrary way, as if it resisted the pressing force. The like is to be observed in these exercises. For those who, through weakness or cowardice, yield to them, their adversaries oppress; but those who stoutly endure the encounter have not only their bodies, but their minds too, strengthened and increased.

QUESTION V.

WHY THOSE THAT SAIL UPON THE NILE TAKE UP THE WATER THEY ARE TO USE BEFORE DAY.

One demanded a reason why the sailors take up the water for their occasions out of the river Nile by night, and not by day. Some thought they feared the sun, which heating the water would make it more liable to putrefaction. For every thing that is heated or warmed becomes more easy to be changed, having already suffered when its proper quality was remitted. And cold constipating the parts seems to preserve every thing in its natural state, and water especially. For that the cold of water is naturally constringent is evident from snow, which keeps flesh from corrupting a long time. And heat, as it destroys the proper quality of other things, so of honey, for it being boiled is itself corrupted, though when raw it preserves other bodies from corruption. And that this is the cause, I have a very considerable evidence from standing pools; for in winter they are as wholesome as other water, but in summer they grow bad and noxious. Therefore the night seeming in some measure to resemble the winter, and the day the summer, they think the water that is taken up at night is less subject to be vitiated and changed.

To these seemingly probable reasons another was added, which confirmed the ingenuity of the sailors by a very natural proof. For some said that they took up their water by night because then it was clear and undisturbed; but at daytime, when a great many fetched water together, and many boats were sailing and many beasts swimming upon the Nile, it grew thick and muddy, and in that condition it was more subject to corruption. For mixed bodies are more easily corrupted than simple and unmixed; for from mixture proceeds disagreement of the parts, from that disagreement a change, and corruption is nothing else but a certain change; and therefore painters call the mixing of their colors φθοράς, corrupting; and Homer expresseth dyeing by μιῆναι (to stain or contaminate). Commonly we call any thing that is simple and unmixed incorruptible and immortal. Now earth being mixed with water soonest corrupts its proper qualities, and makes it unfit for drinking; and therefore standing water stinks soonest, being continually filled with particles of earth, whilst running waters preserve themselves by either leaving behind or throwing off the earth that falls into them. And Hesiod justly commends

The water of a pure and constant spring.[103]

For that water is wholesome which is not corrupted, and that is not corrupted which is pure and unmixed. And this opinion is very much confirmed from the difference of earths; for those springs that run through a mountainous, rocky ground are stronger than those which are cut through plains or marshes, because they do not take off much earth. Now the Nile running through a soft country, like the blood mingled with the flesh, is filled with sweet juices that are strong and very nourishing; yet it is thick and muddy, and becomes more so if disturbed. For motion mixeth the earthly particles with the liquid, which, because they are heavier, fall to the bottom as soon as the water is still and undisturbed. Therefore the sailors take up the water they are to use at night, by that means likewise preventing the sun, which always exhales and consumes the subtler and lighter particles of the liquid.

QUESTION VI.

Concerning those who come Late to an Entertainment; and from whence these Words, ἀκράτισμα, ἄριστον, and δεῖπνον, are Derived.

PLUTARCH’S SONS, THEON’S SONS, THEON, PLUTARCH, SOCLARUS.

1. My younger sons staying too long at the plays, and coming in too late to supper, Theon’s sons waggishly and jocosely called them supper-hinderers, night-suppers, and the like; and they in reply called them runners-to-supper. And one of the old men in the company said τρεχέδειπνος signified one that was too late for supper; because, when he found himself tardy, he mended his pace, and made more than common haste. And he told us a jest of Battus, Caesar’s jester, who called those that came late supper-lovers, because out of their love to entertainments, though they had business, they would not desire to be excused.

2. And I said, that Polycharmus, a leading orator at Athens, in his apology for his way of living before the assembly, said: Besides a great many things which I could mention, fellow-citizens, when I was invited to supper, I never came the last man. For this is more democratical; and on the contrary, those that are forced to stay for others that come late are offended at them as uncivil and of an oligarchical temper.

3. But Soclarus, in defence of my sons, said: Alcaeus (as the story goes) did not call Pittacus a night-supper for supping late, but for delighting in base and scandalous company. Heretofore to eat early was accounted scandalous, and such a meal was called ἀκράτισμα, from ἀκρασία, intemperance.

4. Then Theon interrupting him said: By no means, if we must trust those who have delivered down to us the ancients’ way of living. For they say that those being used to work, and very temperate in a morning, ate a bit of bread dipped in wine, and nothing else, and that they called that meal ἀκράτισμα, from the ἄκρατον (wine). Their supper they called ὄψον, because returning from their business they took it ὀψέ (late). Upon this we began to enquire whence those meals δεῖπνον and ἄριστον took their names. In Homer ἄριστον and ἀκράτισμα seem to be the same meal. For he says that Eumaeus provided ἄριστον by the break of day; and it is probable that ἄριστον was so called from αὔριον, because provided in the morning; and δεῖπνον was so named from διαναπαύειν τῶν πόνων, easing men from their labor. For men used to take their δεῖπνον after they had finished their business, or whilst they were about it. And this may be gathered from Homer, when he says,

Then when the woodman doth his supper dress.[104]

But some perhaps will derive ἄριστον from ῥᾷστον, easiest provided, because that meal is usually made upon what is ready and at hand; and δεῖπνον from διαπεπονημένον, labored, because of the pains used in dressing it.

5. My brother Lamprias, being of a scoffing, jeering nature, said: Since we are in a trifling humor, I can show that the Latin names of these meals are a thousand times more proper than the Greek; δεῖπνον, supper, they call coena (κοῖνα διὰ τὴν κοινωνίαν), from community; because they took their ἄριστον by themselves, but their coena with their friends. Ἄριστον, dinner, they call prandium, from the time of the day; for ἔνδιον signifies noon-tide, and to rest after dinner is expressed by ἐνδιάζειν; or else by prandium they denote a bit taken in the morning, πρὶν ἐνδεεῖς γενέσθαι, before they have need of any. And not to mention stragula from στρώματα, vinum from οἶνος, oleum from ἔλαιον, mel from μέλι, gustare from γεύσασθαι, propinare from προπίνειν, and a great many more words which they have plainly borrowed from the Greeks,—who can deny but that they have taken their comessatio, banqueting, from our κῶμος, and miscere, to mingle, from the Greeks too? Thus in Homer,

She in a bowl herself mixt (ἔμισγε) generous wine.[105]

They call a table mensam, from τῆς ἐν μέσω θέσεως, placing it in the middle; bread, panem, from satisfying πεῖναν, hunger; a garland, coronam, from κάρηνον, the head;—and Homer somewhat likens κράνος, a head-piece, to a garland;—caedere to beat, from δέρειν; and dentes, teeth, from ὀδόντας; lips they call labra, from λαμβάνειν τῆν βόραν δι’ αὐτῶν, taking our victuals with them. Therefore we must either hear such fooleries as these without laughing, or not give them so ready access by means of words....

QUESTION VII.

CONCERNING PYTHAGORAS’S SYMBOLS, IN WHICH HE FORBIDS US TO RECEIVE A SWALLOW INTO OUR HOUSE, AND BIDS US AS SOON AS WE ARE RISEN TO RUFFLE THE BEDCLOTHES.

SYLLA, LUCIUS, PLUTARCH, PHILINUS.

1. Sylla the Carthaginian, upon my return to Rome after a long absence, gave me a welcoming supper, as the Romans call it, and invited some few other friends, and among the rest, one Lucius an Etrurian, the scholar of Moderatus the Pythagorean. He seeing my friend Philinus ate no flesh, began (as the opportunity was fair) to talk of Pythagoras; and affirmed that he was a Tuscan, not because his father, as others have said, was one, but because he himself was born, bred, and taught in Tuscany. To confirm this, he brought considerable arguments from such symbols as these:—As soon as you are risen, ruffle the bedclothes; leave not the print of the pot in the ashes; receive not a swallow into your house; never step over a besom; nor keep in your house creatures that have hooked claws. For these precepts of the Pythagoreans the Tuscans only, as he said, carefully observe.

2. Lucius having thus said, that precept about the swallow seemed to be most unaccountable, it being a harmless and kind animal; and therefore it seemed strange that that should be forbid the house, as well as the hooked-clawed animals, which are ravenous, wild, and bloody. Nor did Lucius himself approve that only interpretation of the ancients, who say, this symbol aims directly at backbiters and tale-bearing whisperers. For the swallow whispers not at all; it chatters indeed, and is noisy, but not more than a pie, a partridge, or a hen. What then, said Sylla, is it upon the old fabulous account of killing her son, that they deny the swallow entertainment, by that means showing their dislike to those passions which (as the story goes) made Tereus and Procne and Philomel act and suffer such wicked and abominable things? And even to this day they call the birds Daulides. And Gorgias the sophister, when a swallow muted upon him, looked upon her and said, Philomel, this was not well done. Or perhaps this is all groundless; for the nightingale, though concerned in the same tragedy, we willingly receive.

3. Perhaps, sir, said I, what you have alleged may be some reason; but pray consider whether first they do not hate the swallow upon the same account that they abhor hook-clawed animals. For the swallow feeds on flesh; and grasshoppers, which are sacred and musical, they chiefly devour and prey upon. And, as Aristotle observes, they fly near the surface of the earth to pick up the little animals. Besides, that alone of all house-animals makes no return for her entertainment. The stork, though she is neither covered, fed, nor defended by us, yet pays for the place where she builds, going about and killing the efts, snakes, and other venomous creatures. But the swallow though she receives all those several kindnesses from us, yet, as soon as her young are fledged, flies away faithless and ungrateful; and (which is the worst of all) of all house-animals, the fly and the swallow only never grow tame, suffer a man to touch them, keep company with or learn of him. And the fly is so shy because often hurted and driven away; but the swallow naturally hates man, suspects, and dares not trust any that would tame her. And therefore,—if we must not look on the outside of these things, but opening them view the representations of some things in others,—Pythagoras, setting the swallow for an example of a wandering, unthankful man, adviseth us not to take those who come to us for their own need and upon occasion into our familiarity, and let them partake of the most sacred things, our house and fire.

4. This discourse of mine gave the company encouragement to proceed, so they attempted other symbols, and gave moral interpretations of them. Philinus said, that the precept of blotting out the print of the pot instructed us not to leave any plain mark of anger, but, as soon as ever the passion hath done boiling, to lay aside all thoughts of malice and revenge. That symbol which adviseth us to ruffle the bedclothes seemed to some to have no secret meaning, but to be in itself very evident; for it is not decent that the impression and (as it were) stamped image should be left to be seen by others, in the place where a man hath lain with his wife. But Sylla thought the symbol was rather intended to prevent men’s sleeping in the daytime, all the conveniences for sleeping being taken away in the morning as soon as we are up. For night is the time for sleep, and in the day we should rise and follow our affairs, and not suffer so much as the print of our body in the bed, since a man asleep is of no more use than one dead. And this interpretation seems to be confirmed by that other precept, in which the Pythagoreans advise their followers not to take off any man’s burthen from him, but to lay on more, as not countenancing sloth and laziness in any.

QUESTION VIII.

WHY THE PYTHAGOREANS COMMAND FISH NOT TO BE EATEN, MORE STRICTLY THAN OTHER ANIMALS.

EMPEDOCLES, SYLLA, LUCIUS, TYNDARES, NESTOR.

1. Our former discourse Lucius neither reprehended nor approved, but, sitting silent and musing, gave us the hearing. Then Empedocles addressing his discourse to Sylla, said: If our friend Lucius is displeased with the discourse, it is time for us to leave off; but if these are some of their mysteries which ought to be concealed, yet I think this may be lawfully divulged, that they more cautiously abstain from fish than from other animals. For this is said of the ancient Pythagoreans; and even now I have met with Alexicrates’s scholars, who will eat and kill and even sacrifice some of the other animals, but will never taste fish. Tyndares the Spartan said, they spared fish because they had so great a regard for silence, and they called fish ἔλλοπας, because they had their voice shut up (ἰλλομένην); and my namesake Empedocles advised one who left the school of Pythagoras to shut up his mind, ... and they thought silence to be divine, since the Gods without any voice discover their meaning to the wise by their works.

2. Then Lucius gravely and composedly saying, that perhaps the true reason was obscure and not to be divulged, yet they had liberty to venture upon probable conjectures, Theon the grammarian began thus: To demonstrate that Pythagoras was a Tuscan is a great and no easy task. But it is confessed that he conversed a long time with the wise men of Egypt, and imitated a great many of the rites and institutions of the priests, for instance, that about beans. For Herodotus delivers, that the Egyptians neither set nor eat beans, nay, cannot endure to see them; and we all know, that even now the priests eat no fish; and the stricter sort eat no salt, and refuse all meat that is seasoned with it. Various reasons are given for this; but the only true reason is hatred to the sea, as being a disagreeable, or rather naturally a destructive element to man. For they do not imagine that the Gods, as the Stoics did that the stars, were nourished by it. But, on the contrary, they think that the father and preserver of their country, whom they call the deflux of Osiris, is lost in it; and when they bewail him as born on the left hand, and destroyed in the right-hand parts, they intimate to us the ending and corruption of their Nile by the sea. Therefore they do not believe that its water is wholesome, or that any creature produced or nourished in it can be clean or wholesome food for man, since it breathes not the common air, and feeds not on the same food with him. And the air that nourisheth and preserves all other things is destructive to them, as if their production and life were unnecessary and against Nature; nor should we wonder that they think animals bred in the sea to be disagreeable to their bodies, and not fit to mix with their blood and spirits, since when they meet a pilot they will not speak to him, because he gets his living by the sea.

3. Sylla commended this discourse, and added concerning the Pythagoreans, that they then chiefly tasted flesh when they sacrificed to the Gods. Now no fish is ever offered in sacrifice. I, after they had done, said that many, both philosophers and unlearned, considering with how many good things it furnisheth and makes our life more comfortable, take the sea’s part against the Egyptians. But that the Pythagoreans should abstain from fish because they are not of the same kind, is ridiculous and absurd; nay, to butcher and feed on other animals, because they bear a nearer relation to us, would be a most inhuman and Cyclopean return. And they say that Pythagoras bought a draught of fishes, and presently commanded the fishers to let them all out of the net; and this shows that he did not hate or not mind fishes, as things of another kind and destructive to man, but that they were his dearly beloved creatures, since he paid a ransom for their freedom.

Therefore the tenderness and humanity of those philosophers suggest a quite contrary reason, and I am apt to believe that they spare fishes to instruct men, or to accustom themselves to acts of justice; for other creatures generally give men cause to afflict them, but fishes neither do nor are capable of doing us harm. And it is easy to show, both from the writings and religion of the ancients, that they thought it a great sin not only to eat but to kill an animal that did them no harm. But afterwards, being necessitated by the spreading multitude of men, and commanded (as they say) by the Delphic oracle to prevent the total decay of corn and fruit, they began to sacrifice, yet they were so disturbed and concerned at the action, that they called it ἔρδειν and ῥέζειν (to do), as if they did some strange thing in killing an animal; and they are very careful not to kill the beast before the wine has been thrown upon his head and he nods in token of consent. So very cautious are they of injustice. And not to mention other considerations, were no chickens (for instance) or hares killed, in a short time they would so increase that there could be no living. And now it would be a very hard matter to put down the eating of flesh, which necessity first introduced, since pleasure and luxury hath espoused it. But the water-animals neither consuming any part of our air or water, or devouring the fruit, but as it were encompassed by another world, and having their own proper bounds, which it is death for them to pass, they afford our belly no pretence at all for their destruction; and therefore to catch or be greedy after fish is plain deliciousness and luxury, which upon no just reason disturb the sea and dive into the deep. For we cannot call the mullet corn-destroying, the trout grape-eating, nor the barbel or sea-pike seed-gathering, as we do some land-animals, signifying their hurtfulness by these epithets. Nay, those little mischiefs which we complain of in these house-creatures, a weasel or fly, none can justly lay upon the greatest fish. Therefore the Pythagoreans, confining themselves not only by the law which forbids them to injure men, but also by Nature, which commands them to do violence to nothing, fed on fish very little, or rather not at all. But suppose there were no injustice in this case, yet to delight in fish would argue daintiness and luxury; because they are such costly and unnecessary diet. Therefore Homer doth not only make the Greeks eat no fish whilst encamped near the Hellespont, but he mentions not any sea-provision that the dissolute Phaeacians or luxurious wooers had, though both islanders. And Ulysses’s mates, though they sailed over so much sea, as long as they had any provision left, never let down a hook or net.

But when the victuals of their ship was spent,[106]

a little before they fell upon the oxen of the Sun, they caught fish, not to please their wanton appetite, but to satisfy their hunger,—

With crooked hooks, for cruel hunger gnawed.

The same necessity therefore made them catch fish and devour the oxen of the Sun. Therefore not only among the Egyptians and Syrians, but Greeks too, to abstain from fish was a piece of sanctity, they avoiding (as I think) a superfluous curiosity in diet, as well as being just.

4. To this Nestor subjoining said: But, sir, of my citizens, as of the Megarians in the proverb, you make no account; although you have often heard me say that our priests of Neptune (whom we call Hieromnemons) never eat fish. For Neptune himself is called the Generator. And the race of Hellen sacrificed to Neptune as the first father, imagining, as likewise the Syrians did, that man rose from a liquid substance. And therefore they worship a fish as of the same production and breeding with themselves, in this matter being more happy in their philosophy than Anaximander; for he says that fish and men were not produced in the same substances, but that men were first produced in fishes, and, when they were grown up and able to help themselves, were thrown out, and so lived upon the land. Therefore, as the fire devours its parents, that is, the matter out of which it was first kindled, so Anaximander, asserting that fish were our common parents, condemneth our feeding on them.

QUESTION IX.

WHETHER THERE CAN BE NEW DISEASES, AND HOW CAUSED.

PHILO, DIOGENIANUS, PLUTARCH.

1. Philo the physician stoutly affirmed that the elephantiasis was a disease but lately known; since none of the ancient physicians speak one word of it, though they oftentimes enlarge upon little, frivolous, and obscure trifles. And I, to confirm it, cited Athenodorus the philosopher, who in his first book of Epidemical Diseases says, that not only that disease, but also the hydrophobia or water-dread (occasioned by the biting of a mad dog), were first discovered in the time of Asclepiades. At this the whole company were amazed, thinking it very strange that such diseases should begin then, and yet as strange that they should not be taken notice of in so long a time; yet most of them leaned to this last opinion, as being most agreeable to man, not in the least daring to imagine that Nature affected novelties, or would in the body of man, as in a city, create new disturbances and tumults.

2. And Diogenianus added, that even the passions and diseases of the mind go on in the same old road that formerly they did; and yet the viciousness of our inclination is exceedingly prone to variety, and our mind is mistress of itself, and can, if it please, easily change and alter. Yet all her inordinate motions have some sort of order, and the soul hath bounds to her passions, as the sea to her overflowings. And there is no sort of vice now among us which was not practised by the ancients. There are a thousand differences of appetites and various motions of fear; the schemes of grief and pleasure are innumerable;

Yet are not they of late or now produced, And none can tell from whence they first arose.[107]

How then should the body be subject to new diseases, since it hath not, like the soul, the principle of its own alteration in itself, but by common causes is joined to Nature, and receives a temperature whose infinite variety of alterations is confined to certain bounds, like a ship rolling and tossing in a circle about its anchor. Now there can be no disease without some cause, it being against the laws of Nature that any thing should be without a cause. Now it will be very hard to find a new cause, unless we fancy some strange air, water, or food never tasted by the ancients, should descend to us out of other worlds or intermundane spaces. For we contract diseases from those very things which preserve our life; since there are no peculiar seeds of diseases, but the disagreement of their juices to our bodies, or our excess in using them, disturbs nature. These disturbances have still the very same differences, though now and then called by new names. For names depend on custom, but the passions on Nature; and these being constant and those variable, this mistake has arisen. As, in the parts of a speech and the syntax of the words, it is possible for some new sort of barbarism or solecism suddenly to arise; so the temperature of the body hath certain deviations and corruptions into which it may fall, those things which are against and hurtful to Nature being in some sort contained in Nature herself. The mythographers are in this particular very ingenious, for they say that monstrous uncouth animals were produced in the time of the Giants’ war, the moon being out of its course, and not rising where it used to do. And those who think Nature produces new diseases like monsters, and yet give neither likely nor unlikely reasons of the change, err, as I imagine, my dear Philo, in taking a less or a greater degree of the same disease to be a different disease. The intension or increase of a thing makes it more or greater, but does not make the subject of another kind. Thus the elephantiasis, being an intense scabbiness, is not a new kind; nor is the water-dread distinguished from other melancholic and stomachical affections but by the degree. And I wonder we did not observe that Homer was acquainted with this disease, for it is evident that he calls a dog rabid from the very same rage with which when men are possessed they are said to be mad.

3. Against this discourse of Diogenianus Philo himself made some objections, and desired me to be the old physicians’ patron; who must be branded with inadvertency and ignorance, unless it appears that those diseases began since their time. First then Diogenianus, methinks, very precariously desires us to think that the intenseness or remissness of degrees is not a real difference, and does not alter the kind. For, were this true, then we should hold that downright vinegar is not different from pricked wine, nor a bitter from a rough taste, darnel from wheat, nor garden-mint from wild mint. For it is evident that these differences are only the degrees of the same qualities, in some being more intense, in some more remiss. So we should not venture to affirm that flame is different from a white spirit, daylight from flame, hoar-frost from dew, or hail from rain; but that the former have only more intense qualities than the latter. Besides, we should say that blindness is of the same kind with short-sightedness, violent vomiting (or cholera) with weakness of the stomach, and that they differ only in degree. Though what they say is nothing to the purpose; for if they admit the increase in intensity and vehemency, but declare that this came but now of late,—the novelty appearing in the quantity rather than the quality,—the same difficulties which they urged against the other opinion oppress them. Sophocles says very well concerning those things which are not believed to be now, because they were not heretofore,—

Once at the first all things their being had.

And it is probable that not all diseases, as in a race, the barrier being let down, started together; but that one rising after another, at some certain time, had its beginning and showed itself. It is rational to conclude (continued I) that all diseases that rise from want, heat, or cold bear the same date with our bodies; but afterwards over-eating, luxury, and surfeiting, encouraged by ease and plenty, raised bad and superfluous juices, and those brought various new diseases, and their perpetual complications and mixtures still create more new. Whatever is natural is determined and in order; for Nature is order, or the work of order. Disorder, like Pindar’s sand, cannot be comprised by number, and that which is beside Nature is straight called indeterminate and infinite. Thus truth is simple, and but one; but falsities innumerable. The exactness of motions and harmony are definite, but the errors either in playing upon the harp, singing, or dancing, who can comprehend? Indeed Phrynichus the tragedian says of himself,

As many figures dancing doth propose As waves roll on the sea when tempests toss.

And Chrysippus says that the various complications of ten single axioms amount to 1,000,000. But Hipparchus hath confuted that account, showing that the affirmative contains 101,049 complicated propositions, and the negative 310,952. And Xenocrates says, the number of syllables which the letters will make is 100,200,000. How then is it strange that the body, having so many different powers in itself, and getting new qualities every day from its meat and drink, and using those motions and alterations which are not always in the same time nor in the same order, should upon the various complications of all these be affected with new diseases? Such was the plague at Athens described by Thucydides, who conjectures that it was new because that birds and beasts of prey would not touch the dead carcasses. Those that fell sick about the Red Sea, if we believe Agatharcides, besides other strange and unheard diseases, had little serpents in their legs and arms, which did eat their way out, but when touched shrunk in again, and raised intolerable inflammations in the muscles; and yet this kind of plague, as likewise many others, never afflicted any beside, either before or since. One, after a long stoppage of urine, voided a knotty barley straw. And we know that Ephebus, with whom we lodged at Athens, threw out, together with a great deal of seed, a little hairy, many-footed, nimble animal. And Aristotle tells us, that Timon’s nurse in Cilicia every year for two months lay in a cave, without any vital operation besides breathing. And in the Menonian books it is delivered as a symptom of a diseased liver carefully to observe and hunt after mice and rats, which we see now nowhere practised.

Therefore let us not wonder if something happens which never was before, or if something doth not appear among us with which the ancients were acquainted; for the cause of those accidents is the nature of our body, whose temperature is subject to be changed. Therefore, if Diogenianus will not introduce a new kind of water or air, we, having no need of it, are very well content. Yet we know some of Democritus’s scholars affirm that, other worlds being dissolved, some strange effluvia fall into ours, and are the principle of new plagues and uncommon diseases. But let us not now take notice of the corruption of some parts of this world by earthquake, droughts, and floods, by which both the vapors and fountains rising out of the earth must be necessarily corrupted. Yet we must not pass by that change which must be wrought in the body by our meat, drink, and other exercises in our course of life. For many things which the ancients did not feed on are now accounted dainties; for instance mead and swine’s paunch. Heretofore too, as I have heard, they hated the brain of animals so much, that they abominated the very name of it; as when Homer says, “I value him at a brain’s[108] worth.” And even now we know some old men, that will not taste cucumber, melon, orange, or pepper. Now by these meats and drinks it is probable that the juices of our bodies are much altered, and their temperature changed, new qualities arising from this new sort of diet. And the change of order in our feeding having a great influence on the alteration of our bodies, the cold courses, as they were called formerly, consisting of oysters, sea-urchins, salads, and the like, being (in Plato’s phrase) transferred “from tail to mouth,” now make the first course, whereas they were formerly the last. Besides, the glass which we usually take before supper is very considerable in this case; for the ancients never drank so much as water before they ate, but now we drink freely before we sit down, and fall to our meat with a full and heated body, using sharp sauces and pickles to provoke appetite, and then we fall greedily on the other meat. But nothing conduceth more to alterations and new diseases in the body than our various baths; for here the flesh, like iron in the fire, grows soft and loose, and is presently constipated and hardened by the cold. For, in my opinion, if any of the last age had looked into our baths, he might have justly said,

There burning Phlegethon meets Acheron.

For they used such mild gentle baths, that Alexander the Great being feverish slept in one. And the Gauls’ wives carry their pots of pulse to eat with their children whilst they are in the bath. But our baths now inflame, vellicate, and distress; and the air which we draw is a mixture of air and water, disturbs the whole body, tosses and displaces every atom, till we quench the fiery particles and allay their heat. Therefore, Diogenianus, you see that this account requires no new strange causes, no intermundane spaces; but the single alteration of our diet is enough to raise new diseases and abolish old.

QUESTION X.

WHY WE GIVE LEAST CREDIT TO DREAMS IN AUTUMN.

FLORUS, PLUTARCH, PLUTARCH’S SONS, FAVORINUS.

1. Florus reading Aristotle’s physical problems, which were brought to him to Thermopylae, was himself (as philosophical wits used to be) filled with a great many doubts, and communicated them to others; thereby confirming Aristotle’s saying, that much learning raises many doubts. Other topics made our walks every day very pleasant, but the common saying concerning dreams,—that those in autumn are the vainest,—I know not how, whilst Favorinus was engaged in other matters, was started after supper. Your friends and my sons thought Aristotle had given sufficient satisfaction in this point, and that no other cause was to be sought after or allowed but that which he mentions, the fruit. For the fruit, being new and flatulent, raises many disturbing vapors in the body; for it is not likely that only wine ferments, or new oil only makes a noise in the lamp, the heat agitating its vapor; but new corn and all sorts of fruit are plump and distended, till the unconcocted flatulent vapor is broke away. And that some sorts of food disturb dreams, they said, was evident from beans and the polypus’s head, from which those who would divine by their dreams are commanded to abstain.

2. But Favorinus himself, though in all other things he admires Aristotle exceedingly and thinks the Peripatetic philosophy to be most probable, yet in this case resolved to scour up an old musty opinion of Democritus. He first laid down that known principle of his, that images pass through the pores into the inmost parts of the body, and being carried upward cause dreams; and that these images fly from every thing, vessels, garments, plants, but especially from animals, because of their heat and the motion of their spirits; and that these images not only carry the outward shape and likeness of the bodies (as Epicurus thinks, following Democritus so far and no farther), but the very designs, motions, and passions of the soul; and with those entering into the bodies, as if they were living things, discover to those that receive them the thoughts and inclinations of the persons from whom they come, if so be that they preserve their frame and order entire. And that is especially preserved when the air is calm and clear, their passage then being quick and undisturbed. Now the autumnal air, when trees shed their leaves, being very uneven and disturbed, ruffles and disorders the images, and, hindering them in their passage, makes them weak and ineffectual; when, on the contrary, if they rise from warm and vigorous subjects, and are presently applied, the notices which they give and the impressions they make are clear and evident.

3. Then with a smile looking upon Autobulus, he continued: But, sir, I perceive you design to have an airy skirmish with these images, and try the goodness of this old opinion, as you would a picture, by your touch. And Autobulus replied: Pray, sir, do not endeavor to cheat us any longer; for we know very well that you, designing to make Aristotle’s opinion appear the better, have used this of Democritus only as its shade. Therefore I shall pass by that, and impugn Aristotle’s opinion, which unjustly lays the blame on the new fruit. For both the summer and the early autumn bear testimony in its favor, when, as Antimachus says, the fruit is most fresh and juicy; for then, though we eat the new fruit, yet our dreams are less vain than at other times. And the months when the leaves fall, being next to winter, so concoct the corn and remaining fruit, that they grow shrivelled and less, and lose all their brisk agitating spirit. As for new wine, those that drink it soonest forbear till February, which is after winter; and the day on which we begin we call the day of the Good Genius, and the Athenians the day of cask-opening. For whilst wine is working, we see that even common laborers will not venture on it. Therefore no more accusing the gifts of the Gods, let us seek after another cause of vain dreams, to which the name of the season will direct us. For it is called leaf-shedding, because the leaves then fall on account of their dryness and coldness; except the leaves of hot and oily trees, as of the olive, the laurel, or the palm; or of the moist, as of the myrtle and the ivy. But the temperature of these preserves them, though not others; because in others the vicious humor that holds the leaves is constipated by the cold, or being weak and little is dried up. Now moisture and heat are necessary for the growth and preservation of plants, but especially of animals; and on the contrary, coldness and dryness are very noxious to both. And therefore Homer elegantly calls men moist and juicy; to rejoice he calls to be warmed; and any thing that is grievous and frightful he calls cold and icy. Besides, the words ἀλίβας and σκελετός are applied to the dead, those names intimating their extreme dryness. But more, our blood, the principal thing in our whole body, is moist and hot. And old age hath neither of those two qualities. Now the autumn seems to be as it were the old age of the decaying year; for the moisture doth not yet fall, and the heat decays. And its inclining the body to diseases is an evident sign of its cold and dryness. Now it is necessary that the souls should be indisposed with the bodies and that, the subtile spirit being condensed, the divining faculty of the soul, like a mirror that is breathed upon, should be sullied; and therefore it cannot represent any thing plain, distinct, and clear, as long as it remains thick, dark, and condensed.

BOOK IX.

This ninth book, Sossius Senecio, contains the discourses we held at Athens at the Muses’ feast, for this number nine is agreeable to the number of the Muses. Nor must you wonder when you find more than ten questions (which number I have observed in my other books) in it; for we ought to give the Muses all that belongs to them, and be as careful of robbing them as of a temple, since we owe them much more and much better things than these.

QUESTION I.

CONCERNING VERSES SEASONABLY AND UNSEASONABLY APPLIED.

AMMONIUS, PLUTARCH, ERATO, CERTAIN SCHOOLMASTERS, AND FRIENDS OF AMMONIUS.

1. Ammonius, captain of the militia at Athens, would show Diogenianus the proficiency of those youths that learned grammar, geometry, rhetoric, and music; and invited the chief masters of the town to supper. There were a great many scholars at the feast, and almost all his acquaintance. Achilles invited only the single combatants to his feast, intending (as the story goes) that, if in the heat of the encounter they had conceived any anger or ill-will against one another, they might then lay it aside, being made partakers of one common entertainment. But the contrary happened to Ammonius, for the contentions of the masters increased and grew more sharp midst their cups and merriment; and all was disorder and confused babbling.

2. Therefore Ammonius commanded Erato to sing to his harp, and he sang some part of Hesiod’s Works beginning thus,

Contention to one sort is not confined;[109]

and I commended him for choosing so apposite a song. Then he began to discourse about the seasonable use of verse, that it was not only pleasant but profitable. And straight every one’s mouth was full of that poet who began Ptolemy’s epithalamium (when he married his sister, a wicked and abominable match) thus,

Jove Juno called his sister and his wife;[110]

and another, who was unwilling to sing after supper to Demetrius the king, but when he sent him his young son Philip to be educated sang thus,

Breed thou the boy as doth become Both Hercules’s race and us;

and Anaxarchus who, being pelted with apples by Alexander at supper, rose up and said,

Some God shall wounded be by mortal hand.[111]

But that Corinthian captive boy excelled all, who, when the city was destroyed, and Mummius, taking a survey of all the free-born children that understood letters, commanded each to write a verse, wrote thus:

Thrice, four times blest, the happy Greeks that fell.[112]

For they say that Mummius was affected with it, wept, and gave all the free-born children that were allied to the boy their liberty. And some mentioned the wife of Theodorus the tragedian, who refused his embraces a little before he contended for the prize; but, when he was conqueror and came in unto her, clasped him and said,

Now, Agamemnon’s son, you freely may.[113]

3. After this a great many sayings were mentioned as unseasonably spoken, it being fit that we should know such and avoid them;—as that to Pompey the Great, to whom, upon his return from a dangerous war, the schoolmaster brought his little daughter, and, to show him what a proficient she was, called for a book, and bade her begin at this line,

Returned from war; but hadst thou there been slain, My wish had been complete;[114]

and that to Cassius Longinus, to whom a flying report of his son’s dying abroad being brought, and he no ways appearing either to know the certain truth or to clear the doubt, an old senator came and said: Longinus, will you not despise the flying uncertain rumor, as if you neither knew nor had read this line,

For no report is wholly false?[115]

And he that at Rhodes, to a grammarian demanding a line upon which he might show his skill in the theatre, proposed this,

Fly from the island, worst of all mankind,[116]

either slyly put a trick upon him, or unwittingly blundered. And this discourse quieted the tumult.

QUESTIONS II. & III.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT ALPHA IS PLACED FIRST IN THE ALPHABET, AND WHAT IS THE PROPORTION BETWEEN THE NUMBER OF VOWELS AND SEMI-VOWELS?

AMMONIUS, HERMEAS, PROTOGENES, PLUTARCH, ZOPYRION.

1. It being the custom of the Muses’ feast to draw lots, and those that were matched to propose curious questions to one another, Ammonius, fearing that two of the same profession might be matched together, ordered, without drawing lots, a geometrician to propose questions to a grammarian, and a master of music to a rhetorician.

2. First therefore, Hermeas the geometrician demanded of Protogenes the grammarian a reason why Alpha was the first letter of the alphabet. And he returned the common answer of the schools, that it was fit the vowels should be set before the mutes and semi-vowels. And of the vowels, some being long, some short, some both long and short, it is just that the latter should be most esteemed. And of these that are long and short, that is to be set first which is usually placed before the other two, but never after either; and that is Alpha. For that put either after Iota or Upsilon will not be pronounced, will not make one syllable with them, but as it were resenting the affront and angry at the position, seeks the first as its proper place. But if you place Alpha before either of those, they are obedient, and quietly join in one syllable, as in these words, αὔριον, αὐλεῖν, Αἴαντος, αἰδεῖσθαι, and a thousand others. In these three respects therefore, as the conquerors in all the five exercises, it claims the precedence,—that of most other letters by being a vowel, that of other vowels by being double-timed, and lastly, that of these double-timed vowels themselves because it is its natural place to be set before and never after them.

3. Protogenes making a pause, Ammonius, speaking to me, said: What! have you, being a Boeotian, nothing to say for Cadmus, who (as the story goes) placed Alpha the first in order, because a cow is called Alpha by the Phoenicians, and they account it not the second or third (as Hesiod doth) but the first of their necessary things? Nothing at all, I replied, for it is just that, to the best of my power, I should rather assist my own than Bacchus’s grandfather. For Lamprias my grandfather said, that the first articulate sound that is made is Alpha; for the air in the mouth is formed and fashioned by the motion of the lips; now as soon as those are opened, that sound breaks forth, being very plain and simple, not requiring or depending upon the motion of the tongue, but gently breathed forth whilst that lies still. Therefore that is the first sound that children make. Thus ἀίειν, to hear, ᾄδειν, to sing, αὐλεῖν, to pipe, ἀλαλάζειν, to hollow, begin with the letter Alpha; and I think that αἴρειν, to lift up, and ἀνοίγειν, to open, were fitly taken from that opening and lifting up of the lips when his voice is uttered. Thus all the names of the mutes besides one have an Alpha, as it were a light to assist their blindness; for Pi alone wants it, and Phi and Chi are only Pi and Kappa with an aspirate.

* * * * *

1. Hermeas saying that he approved both reasons, why then (continued I) do not you explain the proportion, if there be any, of the number of the letters; for, in my opinion, there is; and I think so, because the number of mutes and semi-vowels, compared between themselves or with the vowels, doth not seem casual and undesigned, but to be according to the first proportion which you call arithmetical. For their number being nine, eight, and seven, the middle exceeds the last as much as it wants of the first. And the first number being compared with the last, hath the same proportion that the Muses have to Apollo; for nine is appropriated to them, and seven to him. And these two numbers tied together double the middle; and not without reason, since the semi-vowels partake the power of both.

2. And Hermeas replied: It is said that Mercury was the first God that discovered letters in Egypt; and therefore the Egyptians make the figure of an Ibis, a bird dedicated to Mercury, for the first letter. But it is not fit, in my opinion, to place an animal that makes no noise at the head of the letters. Amongst all the numbers, the fourth is peculiarly dedicated to Mercury, because, as some say, the God was born on the fourth day of the month. The first letters called Phoenician from Cadmus are four times four, or sixteen; and of those that were afterward added, Palamedes found four, and Simonides four more. Now amongst numbers, three is the first perfect, as consisting of a first, a middle, and a last; and after that six, as being equal the sum of its own divisors (1 + 2 + 3). Of these, six multiplied by four makes twenty-four; and also the first perfect number, three, multiplied by the first cube, eight.

3. Whilst he was discoursing thus, Zopyrion the grammarian sneered and muttered something between his teeth; and, as soon as he had done, cried out that he most egregiously trifled; for it was mere chance, and not design, that gave such a number and order to the letters, as it was mere chance that the first and last verses of Homer’s Iliads have just as many syllables as the first and last of his Odysseys.

QUESTION IV.

WHICH OF VENUS’S HANDS DIOMEDES WOUNDED.

HERMEAS, ZOPYRION, MAXIMUS.

1. Hermeas would have replied to Zopyrion, but we desired him to hold; and Maximus the rhetorician proposed to him this far-fetched question out of Homer, Which of Venus’s hands Diomedes wounded. And Zopyrion presently asking him again, Of which leg was Philip lame?—Maximus replied, It is a different case, for Demosthenes hath left us no foundation upon which we may build our conjecture. But if you confess your ignorance in this matter, others will show how the poet sufficiently intimates to an understanding man which hand it was. Zopyrion being at a stand, we all, since he made no reply, desired Maximus to tell us.

2. And he began: The verses running thus,

Then Diomedes raised his mighty spear, And leaping towards her just did graze her hand;[117]

it is evident that, if he designed to wound her left hand there had been no need of leaping, since her left hand was opposite to his right. Besides, it is probable that he would endeavor to wound the strongest hand, and that with which she drew away Aeneas; which being wounded, it was likely she would let him go. But more, after she returned to Heaven, Minerva jeeringly said,

No doubt fair Venus won a Grecian dame, To follow her beloved Trojan youths, And as she gently stroked her with her hand, Her golden buckler scratched this petty wound.[118]

And I suppose, sir, when you stroke any of your scholars, you use your right hand, and not your left; and it is likely that Venus, the most dexterous of all the goddesses, soothed the heroines after the same manner.

QUESTION V.

WHY PLATO SAYS THAT AJAX’S SOUL CAME TO DRAW HER LOT IN THE TWENTIETH PLACE IN HELL.

HYLAS, SOSPIS, AMMONIUS, LAMPRIAS.

1. These discourses made all the other company merry; but Sospis the rhetorician, seeing Hylas the grammarian sit silent and discomposed (for he had not been very happy in his exercises), cried out,

But Ajax’s soul stood far apart;

and raising his voice repeated the rest to him,

But sit, draw near, and patiently attend, Hear what I say, and tame your violent rage.

To this Hylas, unable to contain, returned a scurvy answer, saying that Ajax’s soul, taking her lot in the twentieth place in hell, changed her nature, according to Plato, for a lion’s; but, for his part, he could not but often think upon the saying of the old comedian,

’Tis better far to be an ass, than see Unworthie men in greater honor shine.

At this Sospis, laughing heartily, said: But in the mean time, before we have the pack-saddles on, if you have any regard for Plato, tell us why he makes Ajax’s soul, after the lots drawn, to have the twentieth choice. Hylas, with great indignation, refused, thinking that this was a jeering reflection on his former miscarriage. Therefore my brother began thus: What, was not Ajax counted the second for beauty, strength, and courage, and the next to Achilles in the Grecian army? And twenty is the second ten, and ten is the chiefest of numbers, as Achilles of the Greeks. We laughing at this, Ammonius said: Well, Lamprias, let this suffice for a joke upon Hylas; but since you have voluntarily taken upon you to give an account of this matter, leave off jesting, and seriously proceed.

2. This startled Lamprias a little, but, after a short pause, he continued thus: Plato often tells merry stories under borrowed names, but when he puts any fable into a discourse concerning the soul, he hath some considerable meaning in it. The intelligent nature of the heavens he calls a flying chariot, intimating the harmonious whirl of the world. And here he introduceth one Er, the son of Harmonius, a Pamphylian, to tell what he had seen in hell; intimating that our souls are begotten according to harmony, and are agreeably united to our bodies, and that, when they are separated, they are from all parts carried together into the air, and from thence return to second generations. And what hinders but that twentieth (εἰχοστόν) should intimate that this was not a true story, but only probable and fictitious (εἰχός), and that the lot fell casually (εἰχῆ). For Plato always toucheth upon three causes, he being the first and chiefest philosopher that knew how fate agrees with fortune, and how our free-will is mixed and complicated with both. And now he hath admirably discovered what influence each hath upon our affairs. The choice of our life he hath left to our free-will, for virtue and vice are free. But that those who have made a good choice should live religiously, and those who have made an ill choice should lead a contrary life, he leaves to the necessity of fate. But the chances of lots thrown at a venture introduce fortune into the several conditions of life in which we are brought up, which pre-occupates and perverts our own choice. Now consider whether it is not irrational to enquire after a cause of those things that are done by chance. For if the lot seems to be disposed of by design, it ceaseth to be chance and fortune, and becomes fate and providence.

3. Whilst Lamprias was speaking, Marcus the grammarian seemed to be counting to himself, and when he had done, he began thus: Amongst the souls which Homer mentions in his Νεχυία, Elpenor’s is not to be reckoned as mixed with those in hell, but, his body being not buried, as wandering about the banks of the river Styx. Nor is it fit that we should reckon Tiresias’s soul amongst the rest,—

On whom alone, when deep in hell beneath, Wisdom Proserpina conferred,

to discourse and converse with the living even before he drank the sacrifice’s blood. Therefore, Lamprias, if you subtract these two, you will find that Ajax was the twentieth that Ulysses saw, and Plato merrily alludes to that place in Homer’s Νεχυία.[119]

QUESTION VI.

WHAT IS MEANT BY THE FABLE ABOUT THE DEFEAT OF NEPTUNE? AND ALSO, WHY DO THE ATHENIANS TAKE OUT THE SECOND DAY OF THE MONTH BOEDROMION?

MENEPHYLUS, HYLAS, LAMPRIAS.

Now when the whole company were grown to a certain uproar, Menephylus, a Peripatetic philosopher, called to Hylas by name and said: You see that this question was not propounded by way of mockery and flouting; but leave now that obstinate Ajax, whose very name (according to Sophocles) is ill-omened, and betake yourself to Neptune. For you are wont to recount unto us how he has been oftentimes overcome,—here by Minerva, in Delphi by Apollo, in Argos by Juno, in Aegina by Jupiter, in Naxos by Bacchus,—and yet has borne himself always mild and gentle in all his repulses. In proof whereof, there is even in this city a temple common to him and Minerva, in which there is also an altar dedicated to Oblivion. Then Hylas, who seemed by this time to be more pleasantly disposed, replied: You have forgotten, Menephylus, that we have abolished the second day of September, not in regard of the moon, but because it was thought to be the day on which Neptune and Minerva contended for the seigniory of Attica. By all means, quoth Lamprias, by as much as Neptune was every way more civil than Thrasybulus, since not being like him a winner, but the loser,...

(The rest of this book to Question XIII is lost; with the exception of the titles that follow, and the fragment of Question XII.)

QUESTION VII.

WHY THE ACCORDS IN MUSIC ARE DIVIDED INTO THREE.

QUESTION VIII.

WHEREIN THE INTERVALS OR SPACES MELODIOUS DIFFER FROM THOSE THAT ARE ACCORDANT.

QUESTION IX.

WHAT CAUSE PRODUCETH ACCORD? AND ALSO, WHY, WHEN TWO ACCORDANT STRING ARE TOUCHED TOGETHER, IS THE MELODY ASCRIBED TO THE BASE?

QUESTION X.

WHY, WHEN THE ECLIPTIC PERIODS OF THE SUN AND THE MOON ARE EQUAL IN NUMBER, THERE ARE MORE ECLIPSES OF THE MOON THAN OF THE SUN.

QUESTION XI.

THAT WE CONTINUE NOT ALWAYS ONE AND THE SAME, IN REGARD OF THE DAILY DEFLUX OF OUR SUBSTANCE.

QUESTION XII.

WHETHER OF THE TWAIN IS MORE PROBABLE, THAT THE NUMBER OF THE STARS IS EVEN OR ODD?

... but men are to be deceived with oaths. And Glaucias said: I have heard that this speech was used against Polycrates the tyrant, and it may be that it was spoken also to others. But why do you demand this of me? Because verily, quoth Sospis, I see that children play at odd and even with cockal bones, but Academics with words. For it seems to me that such stomachs differ in nothing from them who hold out their clutched fists and ask whether they hold odd or even. Then Protogenes arose and called me by name, saying: What ail we, that we suffer these rhetoricians thus to brave it out and to mock others, being demanded nothing in the mean time, nor put to it to contribute their scot to the conference?—unless peradventure they will come in with the plea that they have no part of this table-talk over the wine, being followers of Demosthenes, who in all his life never drank wine. That is not the reason, said I; but we have put them no questions. And now, unless you have any thing better to ask, methinks I can be even with these fellows, and put them a puzzling question out of Homer, as to a case of repugnance in contrary laws.

QUESTION XIII.

A MOOT-POINT OUT OF THE THIRD BOOK OF HOMER’S ILIADS.

PLUTARCH, PROTOGENES, GLAUCIAS, SOSPIS.

1. What question will you put them, said Protogenes? I will tell you, continued I, and let them carefully attend. Paris makes his challenge in these express words:

Let me and valiant Menelaus fight For Helen, and for all the goods she brought; And he that shall o’ercome, let him enjoy The goods and woman; let them be his own.

And Hector afterwards publicly proclaiming this challenge in these express words:

He bids the Trojans and the valiant Greeks To fix their arms upon the fruitful ground; Let Menelaus and stout Paris fight For all the goods; and he that beats have all.

Menelaus accepted the challenge, and the conditions were sworn to, Agamemnon dictating thus:

If Paris valiant Menelaus kills, Let him have Helen, and the goods possess; If youthful Menelaus Paris kills, The woman and the goods shall all be his.[120]

Now since Menelaus only overcame but did not kill Paris, each party hath somewhat to say for itself, and against the other. The one may demand restitution, because Paris was overcome; the other deny it, because he was not killed. Now how to determine this case and clear the seeming repugnances doth not belong to philosophers or grammarians, but to rhetoricians, that are well skilled both in grammar and philosophy.

2. Then Sospis said: The challenger’s word is decisive; for the challenger proposed the conditions, and when they were accepted, the other party had no power to make additions. Now the condition proposed in this challenge was not killing, but overcoming; and there was reason that it should be so, for Helen ought to be the wife of the bravest. Now the bravest is he that overcomes; for it often happens that an excellent soldier might be killed by a coward, as is evident in what happened afterward, when Achilles was shot by Paris. For I do not believe that you will affirm, that Achilles was not so brave a man as Paris because he was killed by him, and that it should be called the victory, and not rather the unjust good fortune, of him that shot him. But Hector was overcome before he was killed by Achilles, because he would not stand, but trembled and fled at his approach. For he that refuseth the combat or flies cannot palliate his defeat, and plainly grants that his adversary is the better man. And therefore Iris tells Helen beforehand,

In single combat they shall fight for you, And you shall be the glorious victor’s wife.[121]

And Jupiter afterwards adjudges the victory to Menelaus in these words:

The conquest leans to Menelaus’s side.[122]

For it would be ridiculous to call Menelaus a conqueror when he shot Podes, a man at a great distance, before he thought of or could provide against his danger, and yet not allow him the reward of victory over him whom he made fly and sneak into the embraces of his wife, and whom he spoiled of his arms whilst he was yet alive, and who had himself given the challenge, by the terms of which Menelaus now appeared to be the conqueror.

3. Glaucias subjoined: In all laws, decrees, contracts, and promises, those latest made are always accounted more valid than the former. Now the later contract was Agamemnon’s, the condition of which was killing, and not only overcoming. Besides the former was mere words, the latter confirmed by oath; and, by the consent of all, those were cursed that broke them; so that this latter was properly the contract, and the other a bare challenge. And this Priam at his going away, after he had sworn to the conditions, confirms by these words:

But Jove and other Gods alone do know, Which is designed to see the shades below;[123]

for he understood that to be the condition of the contract. And therefore a little after Hector says,

But Jove hath undetermined left our oaths,[124]

for the combat had not its designed and indisputable determination, since neither of them fell. Therefore this question doth not seem to me to contain any contrariety of law, since the former contract is comprised and overruled by the latter; for he that kills certainly overcomes, but he that overcomes doth not always kill. But, in short, Agamemnon did not annul, but only explain the challenge proposed by Hector. He did not change any thing, but only added the most principal part, placing victory in killing; for that is a complete conquest, but all others may be evaded or disputed, as this of Menelaus, who neither wounded nor pursued his adversary. Now as, where there are laws really contrary, the judges take that side which is plain and indisputable, and mind not that which is obscure; so in this case, let us admit that contract to be most valid which contained killing, as a known and undeniable evidence of victory. But (which is the greatest argument) he that seems to have had the victory, not being quiet, but running up and down the army, and searching all about,

To find neat Paris in the busy throng,[125]

sufficiently testifies that he himself did not imagine that the conquest was perfect and complete when Paris had escaped. For he did not forget his own words:

And which of us black fate and death design, Let him be lost; the others cease from war.[126]

Therefore it was necessary for him to seek after Paris, that he might kill him and complete the combat; but since he neither killed nor took him, he had no right to the prize. For he did not conquer him, if we may guess by what he said when he expostulated with Jove and bewailed his unsuccessful attempt:

Jove, Heaven holds no more spiteful God than thou. Now would I punish Paris for his crimes; But oh! my sword is broke, my mighty spear, Stretched out in vain, flies idly from my hand![127]

For in these words he confessed that it was to no purpose to pierce the shield or take the head-piece of his adversary, unless he likewise wounded or killed him.

QUESTION XIV.

SOME OBSERVATIONS ABOUT THE NUMBER OF THE MUSES, NOT COMMONLY KNOWN.

HERODES, AMMONIUS, LAMPRIAS, TRYPHON, DIONYSIUS, MENEPHYLUS, PLUTARCH.

1. This discourse ended, we poured out our offerings to the Muses, and together with a hymn in honor of Apollo, the patron of the Muses, we sung with Erato, who played upon the harp, the generation of the Muses out of Hesiod. After the song was done, Herod the rhetorician said: Pray, sirs, hearken. Those that will not admit Calliope to be ours say that she keeps company with kings, not such, I suppose, as are busied in resolving syllogisms or disputing, but such who do those things that belong to rhetoricians and statesmen. But of the rest of the Muses, Clio abets encomiums, for praises are called κλέα; and Polymnia history, for her name signifies the remembrance of many things; and it is said that all the Muses were somewhere called Remembrances. And for my part, I think Euterpe hath some relation to us too, if (as Chrysippus says) her lot be agreeableness in discourse and pleasantness in conversation. For it belongs to an orator to converse, as well as plead or give advice; since it is his part to gain the favor of his auditors, and to defend or excuse his client. To praise or dispraise is the commonest theme; and if we manage this artfully, it will turn to considerable account; if unskilfully, we are lost. For that saying,

Gods! how he is honored and beloved by all,[128]

chiefly, in my opinion, belongs to those men who have a pleasing and persuasive faculty in discourse.

2. Then said Ammonius to Herod: We have no reason to be angry with you for grasping all the Muses, since the goods that friends have are common, and Jove hath begotten a great many Muses, that every man may be plentifully supplied; for we do not all need skill in hunting, military arts, navigation, or any mechanical trades; but learning and instruction is necessary for every one that

Eats the fruits of the spacious earth.[129]

And therefore Jove made but one Minerva, one Diana, one Vulcan, but many Muses. But why there should be nine, and no more nor less, pray acquaint us; for you, so great a lover of, and so well acquainted with, the Muses, must certainly have considered this matter. What difficulty is there in that? replied Herod. The number nine is in every body’s mouth, as being the first square of the first odd number; and as doubly odd, since it may be divided into three equal odd numbers. Ammonius with a smile subjoined: Boldly said; and pray add, that this number is composed of the first two cubes, one and eight, and according to another composition of two triangles, three and six, each of which is itself perfect. But why should this belong to the Muses more than any other of the Gods? For we have nine Muses, but not nine Cereses, nine Minervas or Dianas. For I do not believe you take it for a good argument, that the Muses must be so many, because their mother’s name (Mnemosyne) consists of just so many letters. Herod smiling, and every body being silent, Ammonius desired our opinions.

3. My brother said, that the ancients celebrated but three Muses, and that to bring proofs for this assertion would be pedantic and uncivil in such a company. The reason of this number was (not as some say) the three different sorts of music, the diatonic, the chromatic, and harmonic, nor those stops that make the intervals nete, mese, and hypate; though the Delphians gave the Muses this name erroneously, in my opinion, appropriating it to one science, or rather to a part of one single science, the harmoniac part of music. But, as I think, the ancients, reducing all arts and sciences which are practised and performed by reason or discourse to three heads, philosophy, rhetoric, and mathematics, accounted them the gifts of three Gods, and named them the Muses. Afterwards, about Hesiod’s time, the sciences being better and more thoroughly looked into, men subdividing them found that each science contained three different parts. In mathematics are comprehended music, arithmetic, and geometry; in philosophy are logic, ethics, and physics. In rhetoric, they say the first part was demonstrative or encomiastic, the second deliberative, the third judicial. None of all which they believed to be without a God or a Muse or some superior power for its patron, and did not, it is probable, make the Muses equal in number to these divisions, but found them to be so. Now, as you may divide nine into threes, and each three into as many units; so there is but one rectitude of reason, which is employed about the supreme truth, and which belongs to the whole in common, while each of the three kinds of science has three Muses assigned to it, and each of these has her separate faculty assigned to her, which she disposes and orders. And I do not think the poets and astrologers will find fault with us for passing over their professions in silence, since they know, as well as we, that astrology is comprehended in geometry, and poetry in music.

4. As soon as he had said this, Trypho the physician subjoined: How hath our art offended you, that you have shut the Museum against us? And Dionysius of Melite added: Sir, you have a great many that will side with you in the accusation; for we farmers think Thalia to be ours, assigning her the care of springing and budding seeds and plants. But I interposing said: Your accusation is not just; for you have bountiful Ceres, and Bacchus who (as Pindar phraseth it) increaseth the trees, the chaste beauty of the fruits; and we know that Aesculapius is the patron of the physicians, and they make their address to Apollo as Paean, but never as the Muses’ chief. All men (as Homer says) stand in need of the Gods, but all stand not in need of all. But I wonder Lamprias did not mind what the Delphians say in this matter; for they affirm that the Muses amongst them were not named so either from the strings or sounds in music; but the universe being divided into three parts, the first portion was of the fixed stars, the second of the planets, the third of those things that are under the concave of the moon; and all these are ordered according to harmonical proportions, and of each portion a Muse takes care; Hypate of the first, Nete of the last, and Mese in the middle, combining as much as possible, and turning about mortal things with the Gods, and earthly with heavenly. And Plato intimates the same thing under the names of the Fates, calling one Atropos, the other Lachesis, and the other Clotho. For he committed the revolutions of the eight spheres to so many Sirens, and not Muses.

5. Then Menephylus the Peripatetic subjoined: The Delphians’ opinion hath indeed somewhat of probability in it; but Plato is absurd in committing the eternal and divine revolutions not to the Muses but to the Sirens, Daemons that neither love nor are benevolent to mankind, wholly passing by the Muses, or calling them by the names of the Fates, the daughters of Necessity. For Necessity is averse to the Muses; but Persuasion being more agreeable and better acquainted with them, in my opinion, than the grace of Empedocles,

Intolerable Necessity abhors

6. No doubt, said Ammonius, as it is in us a violent and involuntary cause; but in the Gods Necessity is not intolerable, uncontrollable, or violent, unless it be to the wicked; as the law in a commonwealth to the best men is its best good, not to be violated or transgressed, not because they have no power, but because they have no will, to change it. And Homer’s Sirens give us no just reason to be afraid; for he in that fable rightly intimates the power of their music not to be hurtful to man, but delightfully charming, and detaining the souls which pass from hence thither and wander after death; working in them a love for divine and heavenly things, and a forgetfulness of every thing on earth; and they extremely pleased follow and attend them. And from thence some imperfect sound, and as it were echo of that music, coming to us by the means of reason and good precepts, rouseth our souls, and restores the notice of those things to our minds, the greatest part of which lie encumbered with and entangled in disturbances of the flesh and distracting passions. But the generous soul hears and remembers, and her affection for those pleasures riseth up to the most ardent passion, whilst she eagerly desires but is not able to free herself from the body.

It is true, I do not approve what he says; but Plato seems to me, as he hath strangely and unaccountably called the axes spindles and distaffs, and the stars whirls, so to have named the Muses Sirens, as delivering divine things to the ghosts below, as Ulysses in Sophocles says of the Sirens,

I next to Phorcus’s daughters came, Who fix the sullen laws below

Eight of the Muses take care of the spheres, and one of all about the earth. The eight who govern the motions of the spheres maintain the harmony of the planets with the fixed stars and one another. But that one who looks after the place betwixt the earth and moon and takes care of mortal things, by means of speech and song introduceth persuasion, assisting our natural consent to community and agreement, and giveth men as much harmony, grace, and order as is possible for them to receive; introducing this persuasion to smooth and quiet our disturbances, and as it were to recall our wandering desires out of the wrong way, and to set us in the right path. But, as Pindar says,

Whom Jove abhors, he starts to hear The Muses sounding in his ear.[130]

7. To this discourse Ammonius, as he used to do, subjoined that verse of Xenophanes,

This fine discourse seems near allied to truth,

and desired every one to deliver his opinion. And I, after a short silence, said: As Plato thinks by the name, as it were by tracks, to discover the powers of the Gods, so let us place in heaven and over heavenly things one of the Muses, Urania. And it is likely that those require no distracting variety of cares to govern them, since they have the same single nature for the cause of all their motions. But where are a great many irregularities and disorders, there we must place the eight Muses, that we may have one to correct each particular irregularity and miscarriage. There are two parts in a man’s life, the serious and the merry; and each must be regulated and methodized. The serious part, which instructs us in the knowledge and contemplation of the Gods, Calliope, Clio, and Thalia seem chiefly to look after and direct. The other Muses govern our weak part, which changes presently into wantonness and folly; they do not neglect our brutish and violent passions and let them run their own course, but by apposite dancing, music, song, and orderly motion mixed with reason, bring them down to a moderate temper and condition. For my part, since Plato admits two principles of every action, the natural desire after pleasure, and acquired opinion which covets and wishes for the best, and calls one reason and the other passion, and since each of these is manifold, I think that each requires a considerable and, to speak the truth, a divine direction. For instance, one faculty of our reason is said to be political or imperial, over which Hesiod says Calliope presides; Clio’s province is the noble and aspiring; and Polymnia’s that faculty of the soul which inclines to attain and keep knowledge (and therefore the Sicyonians call one of their three Muses Polymathia); to Euterpe everybody allows the searches into nature and physical speculations, there being no greater, no sincerer pleasure belonging to any other sort of speculation in the world. The natural desire to meat and drink Thalia reduceth from brutish and uncivil to be sociable and friendly; and therefore we say θαλιάζειν of those that are friendly, merry, and sociable over their cups, and not of those that are quarrelsome and mad. Erato, together with Persuasion, that brings along with it reason and opportunity, presides over marriages; she takes away and extinguisheth all the violent fury of pleasure, and makes it tend to friendship, mutual confidence, and endearment, and not to effeminacy, lust, or discontent. The delight which the eye or ear receives is a sort of pleasure, either appropriate to reason or to passion, or common to them both. This the two other Muses, Terpsichore and Melpomene, so moderate, that the one may only cheer and not charm, the other only please and not bewitch.

QUESTION XV.

THAT THERE ARE THREE PARTS IN DANCING: φορά, MOTION, σχῆμα, GESTURE, AND δεῖξις, REPRESENTATION. WHAT EACH OF THOSE IS, AND WHAT IS COMMON POETRY AND DANCING.

AMMONIUS AND THRASYBULUS.

1. After this, a match of dancing was proposed, and a cake was the prize. The judges were Meniscus the dancing-master, and my brother Lamprias; for he danced the Pyrrhic very well, and in the Palaestra none could match him for the graceful motion of his hands and arms in dancing. Now a great many dancing with more heat than art, some desired two of the company who seemed to be best skilled and took most care to observe their steps, to dance in the style called φορὰν παρὰ φοράν. Upon this Thrasybulus, the son of Ammonius, demanded what φορά signified, and gave Ammonius occasion to run over most of the parts of dancing.

2. He said they were three,—φορά, σχῆμα, and δεῖξις. For dancing is made up of motion and manner (σχέσις), as a song of sounds and stops; stops are the ends of motion. Now the motions they call φοραί, and the gestures and likeness to which the motions tend, and in which they end, they call σχήματα: as, for instance, when by their own motions they represent the figure of Apollo, Pan, or any of the raging Bacchae. The third, δεῖξις, is not an imitation, but a plain downright indication of the things represented. For the poets, when they would speak of Achilles, Ulysses, the earth, or heaven, use their proper names, and such as the vulgar usually understand. But for the more lively representation, they use words which by their very sound express some eminent quality in the thing, or metaphors; as when they say that streams do “babble and flash;” that arrows fly “desirous the flesh to wound;” or when they describe an equal battle by saying “the fight had equal heads.” They have likewise a great many significative compositions in their verses. Thus Euripides of Perseus,

He that Medusa slew, and flies in air;

and Pindar of a horse,

When by the smooth Alpheus’ banks He ran the race, and never felt the spur;

and Homer of a race,

The chariots, overlaid with tin and brass, By fiery horses drawn ran swiftly on.[131]

So in dancing, the σχῆμα represents the shape and figure, the φορά shows some action, passion, or power; but by the δεῖξις are properly and significatively shown the things themselves, for instance, the heaven, earth, or the company. Which, being done in a certain order and method, resembles the proper names used in poetry, decently clothed and attended with suitable epithets. As in these lines,

Themis the venerable and admired, And Venus beauteous with her bending brows, Dione fair, and Juno crowned with gold.[132]

And in these,

From Hellen kings renowned for giving laws, Great Dorus and the mighty Xuthus, sprang, And Aeolus, whose chief delight was horse.[133]

For if poets did not take this liberty, how mean, how grovelling and flat, would be their verse! As suppose they wrote thus,

From this came Hercules, from the other Iphitus. Her father, husband, and her son were kings,

Her brother and forefathers were the same; And she in Greece was called Olympias.

The same faults may be committed in that sort of dancing called δεῖξις, unless the representation be lifelike and graceful, decent and unaffected. And, in short, we may aptly transfer what Simonides said of painting to dancing, and call dancing mute poetry, and poetry speaking dancing; for poesy doth not properly belong to painting, nor painting to poesy, neither do they any way make use of one another. But poesy and dancing have much in common, especially in that sort of song called Hyporchema, in which is the most lively representation imaginable, dancing doing it by gesture, and poesy by words. So that poesy may bear some resemblance to the colors in painting, while dancing is like the lines which mark out the features of the face. And therefore he who was the most famous writer of Hyporchemes, who here even outdid himself,[134] sufficiently evidenceth that these two arts stand in need of one another. For, whilst he sings these songs,

* * * * *

he shows what tendency poetry hath to dancing; whilst the sound excites the hands and feet, or rather as it were by some cords distends and raiseth every member of the whole body; so that, whilst such songs are pronounced or sung, they cannot be quiet. But now-a-days no sort of exercise hath such bad depraved music applied to it as dancing; and so it suffers that which Ibycus as to his own concerns was fearful of, as appears by these lines,

I fear lest, losing fame amongst the Gods, I shall receive respect from men alone.

For having associated to itself a mean paltry sort of music, and falling from that divine sort of poetry with which it was formerly acquainted, it rules now and domineers amongst foolish and inconsiderate spectators, like a tyrant; it hath subjected nearly the whole of music, but hath lost all its honor with excellent and wise men.

These, my Sossius Senecio, were almost the last discourses which we had at Ammonius’s house during the festival of the Muses.

OF MORAL VIRTUE.

1. My design in this essay is to treat of that virtue which is called and accounted moral, and is chiefly distinguished from the contemplative, in its having for the matter thereof the passions of the mind, and for its form, right reason; and herein to consider the nature of it and how it subsists, and whether that part of the soul wherein it resides be endowed with reason of its own, inherent in itself, or whether it participates of that which is foreign; and if the latter, whether it does this after the manner of those things which are mingled with what is better than themselves, or whether, as being distinct itself but yet under the dominion and superintendency of another, it may be said to partake of the power of the predominant faculty. For that it is possible for virtue to exist and continue altogether independent of matter, and free from all mixture, I take to be most manifest. But in the first place I conceive it may be very useful briefly to run over the opinions of other philosophers, not so much for the vanity of giving an historical account thereof, as that, they being premised, ours may thence receive the greater light and be more firmly established.

2. To begin then with Menedemus of Eretria, he took away both the number and the differences of virtue, by asserting it to be but one, although distinguished by several names; holding that, in the same manner as a mortal and a man are all one, so what we call temperance, fortitude, and justice are but one and the same thing. As for Ariston of Chios, he likewise made virtue to be but one in substance, and called it sanity, which, as it had respect to this or that, was to be variously multiplied and distinguished; just after the same manner as if any one should call our sight, when applied to any white object, by the name of white-look; when to one that is black, by the name of black-look; and so in other matters. For according to him, virtue, when it considers such things as we ought to do or not to do, is called prudence; when it moderates our desires, and prescribes the measure and season for our pleasures, temperance; and when it governs the commerce and mutual contracts of mankind, justice;—in the same manner, for instance, as a knife is one and the same knife still, notwithstanding sometimes it cuts one thing, sometimes another, and just as fire does operate upon different matter, and yet retain the very same nature. Unto which opinion it seems also as if Zeno the Citian did in some measure incline; he defining prudence, while it distributes to every man his own, to be justice; when it teaches what we are to choose and what to reject or avoid, temperance; and with respect to what is to be borne or suffered, fortitude. But it is to be observed, that they who take upon them the defence of Zeno’s notions do suppose him to mean science by what he calls prudence. But then Chrysippus, whilst he imagined from every distinct quality a several and peculiar virtue to be formed, before he was aware, raised (as Plato hath it) a whole swarm of virtues never before known or used among the philosophers. For as from brave he derived bravery; from mild, mildness; and from just, justice; so from pleasant he fetched pleasantness; from good, goodness; from grand, grandeur; and from honest, honesty; placing these and all kind of dexterous application of discourse, all kind of facetiousness of conversation, and all witty turns of expression in the number of virtues, thereby over-running philosophy, which requires nothing less, with a multitude of uncouth, absurd, and barbarous terms.

3. However, all these do commonly agree in this one thing, in supposing virtue to be a certain disposition and faculty of the governing and directive part of the soul, of which reason is the cause; or rather to be reason itself, when it consents to what it ought, and is firm and immutable. And they do likewise think, that that part of the soul which is the seat of the passions, and is called brutal or irrational, is not at all distinct by any physical difference from that which is rational; but that this part of the soul (which they call rational and directive), being wholly turned about and changed by its affections and by those several alterations which are wrought in it with respect either to habit or disposition, becometh either vice or virtue, without having any thing in itself that is really brutal or irrational, but is then called brutal or irrational, when by the over-ruling and prevailing violence of our appetites it is hurried on to something absurd and vicious, against the judgment of reason. For passion, according to them, is nothing else but depraved and intemperate reason, that through a perverse and vicious judgment is grown over-vehement and headstrong.

Now, it seems to me, all these philosophers were perfect strangers to the clearness and truth of this point, that we every one of us are in reality twofold and compound. For, discerning only that composition in us which of the two is most evident, namely that of the soul and body, of the other they knew nothing at all. And yet that in the soul itself also there is a certain composition of two dissimilar and distinct natures, the brutal part whereof, as another body, is necessarily and physically compounded with and conjoined to reason, was, it should seem, no secret to Pythagoras himself,—as some have guessed from his having introduced the study of music amongst his scholars, for the more easy calming and assuaging the mind, as well knowing that it is not in every part of it obedient and subject to precepts and discipline, nor indeed by reason only to be recovered and retrieved from vice, but requires some other kind of persuasives to co-operate with it, to dispose it to such a temper and gentleness as that it may not be utterly intractable and obstinate to the precepts of philosophy. And Plato very strongly and plainly, without the least hesitation, maintained that the soul of the universe is neither simple, uniform, nor uncompounded; but that being mixed, as it were, and made up of that which is always the same and of that which is otherwise, in some places it is continually governed and carried about after a uniform manner in one and the same powerful and predominant order, and in other places is divided into motions and circles, one contrary to the other, unsettled and fortuitous,—whence are derived the beginnings and generation of differences in things. And so, in like manner, the soul of man, being a part or portion of that of the universe, and framed upon reasons and proportions answerable to it, cannot be simple and all of the same nature; but must have one part that is intelligent and rational, which naturally ought to have dominion over a man, and another which, being subject to passion, irrational, extravagant, and unbounded, stands in need of direction and restraint. And this last is again subdivided into two other parts; one whereof, being called corporeal, is called concupiscible, and the other, which sometimes takes part with this and sometimes with reason, and gives respectively to either of them strength and vigor, is called irascible. And that which chiefly discovers the difference between the one and the other is the frequent conflict of the intellect and reason with concupiscence and anger, it being the nature of things that are different amongst themselves to be oftentimes repugnant and disobedient to what is best of all.

These principles at first Aristotle seems most to have relied upon, as plainly enough appears from what he has written. Though afterwards he confounded the irascible and concupiscible together, by joining the one to the other, as if anger were nothing but a thirst and desire of revenge. However, to the last he constantly maintained that the sensual and irrational was wholly distinct from the intellectual and rational part of the soul. Not that it is so absolutely devoid of reason as those faculties of the soul which are sensitive, nutritive, and vegetative, and are common to us with brute beasts and plants; for these are always deaf to the voice of reason and incapable of it, and may in some sort be said to derive themselves from flesh and blood, and to be inseparably attached to the body and devoted to the service thereof; but the other sensual part, subject to the sudden efforts of the passions and destitute of any reason of its own, is yet nevertheless naturally adapted to hear and obey the intellect and judgment, to have regard to it, and to submit itself to be regulated and ordered according the rules and precepts thereof, unless it happen to be utterly corrupted and vitiated by pleasure, which is deaf to all instruction, and by a luxurious way of living.

4. As for those who wonder how it should come to pass, that that which is irrational in itself should yet become obsequious to the dictates of right reason, they seem to me not to have duly considered the force and power of reason, how great and extensive it is, and how far it is able to carry and extend its authority and command, not so much by harsh and arbitrary methods, as by soft and gentle means, which persuade more and gain obedience sooner than all the severities and violences in the world. For even the spirits, the nerves, bones, and other parts of the body are destitute of reason; but yet no sooner do they feel the least motion of the will, reason shaking (as it were), though never so gently, the reins, but all of them observe their proper order, agree together, and pay a ready obedience. As, for instance, the feet, if the impulse of the mind be to run, immediately betake themselves to their office; or if the motion of the will be for the throwing or lifting up of any thing, the hands in a moment fall to their business. And this sympathy or consent of the brutal faculties to right reason, and the ready conformity of them thereto, Homer has most admirably expressed in these verses:

In tears dissolved she mourns her consort’s fate, So great her sorrows, scarce her charms more great. Her tears compassion in Ulysses move, And fill his breast with pity and with love; Yet artful he his passion secret keeps, It rages in his heart; and there he inward weeps. Like steel or ivory, his fixed eyeballs stand, Placed by some statuary’s skilful hand; And when a gentle tear would force its way, He hides it falling, or commands its stay.[135]

Under such perfect subjection to his reason and judgment had he even his spirits, his blood, and his tears. A most evident proof of this matter we have also from hence, that our natural desires and motions are as soon repressed and quieted as we know we are either by reason or law forbidden to approach the fair ones we at the first view had so great a passion for; a thing which most commonly happens to those who are apt to fall in love at sight with beautiful women, without knowing or examining who they are; for no sooner do they afterwards find their error, by discovering the person with whose charms they were before captivated to be a sister or a daughter, but their flame is presently extinguished by the interposition of reason. And flesh and blood are immediately brought into order, and become obedient to the judgment. It often falls out likewise that, after we have eaten some kinds of meat or fish finely dressed, and by that means artificially disguised, with great pleasure and a very good stomach, at the first moment we understand they were either unclean, or unlawful and forbidden, our judgment being thereby shocked, we feel not only remorse and trouble in our mind, but the conceit reaches farther, and our whole frame is disordered by the nauseous qualms and vomitings thereby occasioned. I fear I should be thought on purpose to hunt after too far-fetched and youthful instances to insert in this discourse, if I should take notice of the lute, the harp, the pipe and flute, and such like musical instruments invented by art, and adapted to the raising or allaying of human passions; which, though they are void of life and sense, do yet most readily accommodate themselves to the judgment, to our passions and our manners, either indulging our melancholy, increasing our mirth, or feeding our wantonness, as we happen at that time to be disposed. And therefore it is reported of Zeno himself, that, going one day to the theatre to hear Amoebeus sing to the lute, he called to his scholars, Come, says he, let us go and learn what harmony and music the guts and sinews of beasts, nay even wood and bones are capable of, by the help of numbers, proportion, and order.

But to let these things pass, I would gladly know of them, whether, when they see domestic animals (as dogs, horses, or birds) by use, feeding, and teaching brought to so high a degree of perfection as that they shall utter articulately some senseful words, and by their motions, gestures, and all their actions, shall approve themselves governable, and become useful to us; and when also they find Achilles in Homer encouraging horses, as well as men, to battle;—whether, I say, after all this, they can yet make any wonder or doubt, whether those faculties of the mind to which we owe our anger, our desires, our joys, and our sorrows, be of such a nature that they are capable of being obedient to reason, and so affected by it as to consent and become entirely subject to it; considering especially that these faculties are not seated without us, or separated from us, or formed by any thing which is not in us, or hammered out by force and violence, but, as they have by nature their entire dependence upon the soul, so they are ever conversant and bred up with it, and also receive their final complement and perfection from use, custom, and practice. For this reason the Greeks very properly call manners ἦθος, custom; for they are nothing else, in short, but certain qualities of the irrational and brutal part of the mind, and hence by them are so named, in that this brutal and irrational part of the mind being formed and moulded by right reason, by long custom and use (which they call ἔθος), has these qualities or differences stamped upon it. Not that reason so much as attempts to eradicate our passions and affections, which is neither possible nor expedient, but only to keep them within due bounds, reduce them into good order, and so direct them to a good end; and thus to generate moral virtue, consisting not in a kind of insensibility, or total freedom from passions, but in the well-ordering our passions and keeping them within measure, which she effects by wisdom and prudence, bringing the faculties of that part of the soul where our affections and appetite are seated to a good habit. For these three things are commonly held to be in the soul, namely, a faculty or aptitude, passion, and habit. This aptitude or faculty then is the principle or very matter of passions; as for example, the power or aptitude to be angry, to be ashamed, to be confident and bold, or the like; passion is the actual exercise of that aptitude or faculty, as anger, shame, confidence, or boldness; and habit is the strength, firmness, and establishment of the disposition or faculty in the irrational part of the soul, gotten by continual use and custom, and which, according as the passions are well or ill governed by reason, becomes either virtue or vice.

5. But, forasmuch as philosophers do not make all virtue to consist in a mediocrity nor call it moral, to show the difference more clearly, it will be necessary to take our rise a little farther off. For of all things then in the universe, some do exist absolutely, simply, and for themselves only; others again relatively, for and with regard to us. Among those things which have an absolute and simple existence are the earth, the heavens, the stars, and the sea; and of such things as have their being relatively, with respect to us, are good and evil, things desirable and to be avoided, and things pleasant and hurtful. And seeing that both are the proper objects of reason,—while it considers the former, which are absolutely and for themselves, it is scientifical and contemplative; and when the other, which have reference to us, it is deliberative and practical. And as the proper virtue in the latter case is prudence, in the former it is science. And between the one and the other, namely, between prudence and science, there is this difference. Prudence consists in a certain application and relation of the contemplative faculties of the soul to those which are practical, for the government of the sensual and irrational part, according to reason. To which purpose prudence has often need of Fortune; whereas neither of that nor of deliberation has science any occasion or want to attain its ends, forasmuch as it has nothing to consider but such things as remain always the same. For as a geometrician never deliberates about a triangle, whether all its three angles be equal to two right angles, because of that he has a clear and distinct knowledge (and men use to deliberate about such things only as are sometimes in one state or condition and sometimes in another, and not of those which are always firm and immutable), so the mind, when merely contemplative, exercising itself about first principles and things permanent, such as retaining the same nature are incapable of mutation, has no room or occasion for deliberation. Whereas prudence, descending to actions full of error and confusion, is very often under the necessity of encountering with fortuitous accidents, and, in doubtful cases, of making use of deliberation, and, to reduce those deliberations into practice, of calling also to its assistance even the irrational faculties, which are (as it were) forcibly dragged to go along with it, and by that means to give a certain vigor or impetus to its determinations. For its determinations do indeed want something which may enliven and give them such an impetus. And moral virtue it is which gives an impetus or vigor to the passions; but at the same time reason, which accompanies that impetus, and of which it stands in great need, does so set bounds thereunto, that nothing but what is moderate appears, and that it neither outruns the proper seasons of action, nor yet falls short of them.

For the sensual faculties, where passions are seated, are subject to motions, some over-vehement, sudden, and quick, and others again too remiss, and more slow and heavy than is convenient. So that, though every thing we do can be good but in one manner, yet it may be evil in several; as there is but one single way of hitting the mark, but to miss it a great many, either by shooting over, or under, or on one side. The business therefore of practical reason, governing our actions according to the order of Nature, is to correct the excesses as well as the defects of the passions, by reducing them to a true mediocrity. For as, when through infirmity of the mind, effeminacy, fear, or laziness, the vehemence and keenness of the appetites are so abated that they are ready to sink and fall short of the good at which they are aimed and directed, there is then this practical reason at hand, exciting and rousing and pushing them onward; so, on the other hand, when it lashes out too far and is hurried beyond all measure, there also is the same reason ready to bring it again within compass and put a stop to its career. And thus, prescribing bounds and giving law to the motions of the passions, it produces in the irrational part of the soul these moral virtues (of which we now treat), which are nothing else but the mean between excess and defect. For it cannot be said that all virtue consists in mediocrity; since wisdom or prudence (one of the intellectual virtues), standing in no need of the irrational faculties,—as being seated in that part of the soul which is pure and unmixed and free from all passions,—is of itself absolutely perfect, the utmost extremity and power of reason, whereby we attain to that perfection of knowledge which is itself most divine and renders us most happy. Whereas moral virtue, which because of the body is so necessary to us, and, to put things in practice, stands in need of the instrumental ministry of the passions (as being so far from promoting the destruction and abolition of irrational powers, as to be altogether employed in the due regulation thereof), is, with respect to its power or quality, the very top and extremity of perfection; but, in respect of the proportion and quantity which it determines, it is mediocrity, in that it takes away all excess on the one hand, and cures all defects on the other.

6. Now mean and mediocrity may be differently understood. For there is one mean which is compounded and made up of the two simple extremes, as in colors, gray, of white and black; and another, where that which contains and is contained is the medium between the containing and the contained, as, for instance, the number eight, between twelve and four. And a third sort there is also, which participates of neither extreme, as for example, all those things which, as being neither good nor evil in themselves, we call adiaphorous, or indifferent. But in none of these ways can virtue be said to be a mean, or mediocrity. For neither is it a mixture of vices, nor, comprehending that which is defective and short, is it comprehended by that which runs out into excess; nor yet is it exempt from the impetuosity and sudden efforts of the passions, in which excess and defect do properly take place. But moral virtue properly doth consist in a mean or mediocrity (and so it is commonly taken), most like to that which there is in our Greek music and harmony. For, whereas there are the highest and lowest musical notes in the extremities of the scale called nete and hypate; so likewise is there in the middle thereof, between these two, another musical note, and that the sweetest of all, called mese (or mean), which does as perfectly avoid the extreme sharpness of the one as it doth the over-flatness of the other. And so also virtue, being a motion and power which is exercised about the brutal and irrational part of the soul, takes away the remission and intention—in a word, the excess and defect—of the appetites, reducing thereby every one of the passions to a due mediocrity and perfect state of rectitude.

For example, fortitude is said to be the mean between cowardice and rashness, whereof the one is a defect, as the other is an excess of the irascible faculty; liberality, between sordid parsimony on the one hand, and extravagant prodigality on the other; clemency between insensibility of injuries and its opposite, revengeful cruelty; and so of justice and temperance; the former being the mean between giving and distributing more or less than is due in all contracts, affairs, and business between man and man, and the latter a just mediocrity between a stupid apathy, touched with no sense or relish of pleasure, and dissolute softness, abandoned to all manner of sensualities.

And from this instance of temperance it is, that we are most clearly given to understand the difference between the irrational and the rational faculties of the soul, and that it so plainly appears to us that the passions and affections of the mind are quite a distinct thing from reason. For otherwise never should we be able to distinguish continence from temperance, nor incontinence from intemperance, in lust and pleasures, if it were one and the same faculty of the soul wherewith we reason and judge, and whereby we desire and covet. Now temperance is that whereby reason governs and manages that part of the soul which is subject to the passions (as it were some wild creature brought up by hand, and made quite tame and gentle), having gained an absolute victory over all its appetites, and brought them entirely under the dominion of it. Whereas we call it continence, when reason has indeed gained the mastery over the appetites and prevailed against them, though not without great pains and trouble, they being perverse and continuing to struggle, as not having wholly submitted themselves; so that it is not without great difficulty able to preserve its government over them, being forced to retain and hold them in, and keep them within compass, as it were, with stripes, with the bit and bridle, while the mind all the time is full of nothing but agony, contentions, and confusion. All which Plato endeavors to illustrate by a similitude of the chariot-horses of the soul, the one whereof, being more unruly, not only kicks and flings at him that is more gentle and tractable, but also thereby so troubles and disorders the driver himself, that he is forced sometimes to hold him hard in, and sometimes again to give him his head,

Lest from his hands the purple reins should slip,

as Simonides speaks.

And from hence we may see why continence is not thought worthy to be placed in the number of perfect virtues, but is taken to be a degree under virtue. For there is not therein produced a mediocrity arising from a symphony of the worst with the better, nor are the excesses of the passions retrenched; nor yet doth the appetite become obedient and subservient to the reasonable faculties, but it both makes and feels disorder and disturbance, being repressed by violence and constraint, and (as it were) by necessity; as in a sedition or faction in a city or state, the contending parties, breathing nothing but war and destruction and ruin to one another, do yet cohabit together (it may be) within the compass of the same walls; insomuch that the soul of the incontinent person, with respect to the conflicts and incongruities therein, may very properly be compared to the city,

Where all the streets are filled with incense smoke, And songs of triumph mixed with groans resound.[136]

And upon the same grounds it is, that incontinence is held to be something less than vice also, but intemperance to be a complete and perfect vice, for therein not the appetite only but reason likewise is debauched and corrupted; and as the former incites and pushes forward the desires and affections to that which is evil, so this, by making an ill judgment, is easily led to consent and agree to the soft whispers and tempting allurements of corrupt lusts and passions, and soon loseth all sense of sin and evil. Whereas incontinence preserves the judgment, by the help of reason, right and sound; but yet, by irresistible force and violence of the passions, is even against judgment drawn away. Moreover, in these respects following it differeth also from intemperance:—inasmuch as reason in that is overpowered by passion, but in this it never so much as struggleth; the incontinent person, after a noble resistance, is at last forced to submit to the tyranny of his lusts, and follow their guidance, while the intemperate approves them, and gladly goes along with and submits to them; one feels remorse for the evil he commits, while the other prides in lewdness and vice. Again, the one wilfully and of his own accord runs into sin; while the other, even against his will, is forced to abandon that which is good.

And this difference between them is not to be collected only from their actions, but may as plainly also be discovered by their words. For at this rate do intemperate persons use to talk:

What mirth in life, what pleasure, what delight, Without content in sports of Venus bright? Were those joys past, and I for them unmeet, Ring out my knell, bring forth my winding-sheet.[137]

And thus says another:

To eat, to drink, to wench are principal, All pleasures else I accessories call;

as if from his very soul he were wholly abandoned and given up to pleasures and voluptuousness, and even overwhelmed therein. And much of the same mind was he, and his judgment was as totally depraved by his passions, who said,

Let me, ye dull and formal fops, alone, I am resolved, ’tis best to be undone.

But quite another spirit do we find running through the sayings of the incontinent:

Blame Nature only for it, blame not me, Would she permit, I then should virtuous be,[138]

says one of them. And again,

Ah! ’tis decreed by Fate. We know, ’tis true, We know those virtues, which we ne’er pursue.{B}

And another,

What will my swelling passions’ force assuage? No more can I sustain this tempest’s rage, Than anchor’s fluke, dropt on loose ground, a storm,

where not improperly he compares the fluke of an anchor dropped in loose ground to that ill-grounded, feeble, and irresolute reason, which by the vanity, weakness, and luxury of the mind is easily brought to forsake the judgment. And the like metaphor has the poet made use of happily enough in these verses.

To us, in ships moored near the shore who lie, Though strong the cables, when the winds rise high Cables will prove but small security;

where by the cables the poet means the judgment opposing itself against all that is evil or dishonest, which is, however, oftentimes disturbed and broken by violent and sudden gusts of the passions. For, indeed, the intemperate are borne away directly and with full sail to their pleasures; to them they deliver up themselves entirely, and thither it is they bend their whole course. While the incontinent, indirectly only, as endeavoring to sustain and repel the assaults of the passions and withstand their temptations, either is allured and as it were slides into evil, or else is plunged violently into it whether he will or no. As Timon, in his bitter way of raillery, reproaches Anaxarchus,

When first the dogged Anaxarchus strove The power of virtue o’er his mind to prove, Firm though he seemed, and obstinately good, In vain th’ impulse of temper he withstood. Nature recoiled, whatever he could do; He saw those ills, which yet he did pursue; In this not single, other sophists too Felt the same force, which they could ne’er subdue.

And neither is a wise man continent, but temperate; nor a fool incontinent, but intemperate; the one taking true pleasure and delight in good, the other having no displeasure against evil. And therefore incontinence is said to be found only in a mind which is sophistical (or which barely makes a show of being governed and directed by prudence), and which has indeed the use of reason, but in so weak and faint a manner, that it is not able to persevere in that which it knows to be right.

7. Thus we have seen the diversity between incontinence and intemperance. And as for continence and temperance, their differences are analogous, and bear proportion to those of the other, but in contrary respects. For remorse, grief, and indignation do always accompany continence; whereas in the mind of a temperate person there is all over such an evenness, calmness, and firmness, that, seeing with what wonderful easiness and tranquillity the irrational faculties go along with reason and submit to its directions, one cannot but call to mind that of the poet:

Swift the command ran through the raging deep; Th’ obedient waves compose themselves to sleep;[139]

reason having quite deadened and repressed the vehement raging and furious motions of the passions and affections. But those whose assistance Nature necessarily requires are by reason rendered so agreeable and consenting, so submissive, friendly, and co-operative in the execution of all good designs and purposes, that they neither outrun it, nor recede from it, nor behave themselves disorderly, nor ever show the least disobedience; but every appetite willingly and cheerfully pursues its dictates,

As sucking foal runs by his mother mare.

Which very much confirms what was said by Xenocrates of those who are true philosophers, namely, that they alone do that voluntarily which all others do against their wills for fear of the laws; being diverted and restrained from the pursuit of their pleasures, as a dog is frightened by a whipping or a cat scared by a noise, having regard to nothing else in the matter but their own danger.

It is manifest then from what has been discoursed, that the soul does perceive within itself something that is firm and immovable, totally distinct from its passions and appetites, these being what it does always oppose and is ever contending with. But some there are, nevertheless, who affirm that reason and passion do not materially differ from one another, and that there is not in the soul any faction, sedition, or dissension of two several and contending faculties, but only a shifting, conversion, or alteration of the same reason or rational faculty from one side to the other, backward and forward, which, by reason of the suddenness and swiftness of the change, is not perceptible by us; and therefore, that we do not consider that the same faculty of the soul is by nature so adapted as to be capable of both concupiscence and repentance, of anger and of fear, of being drawn to the commission of any lewdness or evil by the allurements of pleasure, and afterwards of being again retrieved from it. And as for lust, anger, fear, and such like passions, they will have them to be nothing but perverse opinions and false judgments, not arising or formed in any inferior part of the soul, peculiarly belonging to them, but being the advances and returns, or the motions forward and backward, the good likenings and more vehement efforts, and (in a word) such operations and energies of the whole rational and directive faculty as are ready to be turned this way or that with the greatest ease imaginable; like the sudden motions and irruptions in children, the violence and impetuosity whereof, by reason of their imbecility and weakness, are very fleeting and inconstant.

But these opinions are against common sense and experience; for no man ever felt such a sudden change in himself, as that whenever he chose any thing he immediately judged it fit to be chosen, or that, on the other hand, whenever he judged any thing fit to be chosen he immediately made choice of it. Neither does the lover who is convinced by reason that his amour is fit to be broken off, and that he ought to strive against his passion, therefore immediately cease to love; nor on the other side doth he desist reasoning, and cease from being able to give a right judgment of things, even then, when, being softened and overcome by luxury, he delivers himself up a captive to his lusts. But as, while by the assistance of reason he makes opposition to the efforts of his passions, they yet continue to solicit, and at last overcome him; so likewise, when he is overcome and forced to submit to them, by the light of reason does he plainly discern and know that he has done amiss; so that neither by the passions is reason effaced and destroyed, nor yet by reason is he rescued and delivered from them; but, being tossed to and fro between the one and the other, he is a kind of neuter, and participates in common of them both. And those, methinks, who imagine that one while the directive and rational part of the soul is changed into concupiscence and lust, and that by and by reason opposes itself against them, and they are changed into that, are not much unlike them who make the sportsman and his game not to be two, but one body, which, by a nimble and dexterous mutation of itself, one while appears in the shape of the huntsman, and at another turn puts on the form of a wild beast. For as these in a plain evident matter seem to be stark blind, so they in the other case belie even their own senses, seeing they must needs feel in themselves not merely a change or mutation of one and the same thing, but a downright struggle and quarrel between two several and distinct faculties.

But is not, say they, the deliberative power or faculty of a man often divided in itself, and distracted among several opinions contrary to one another, about that which is expedient; and yet is but one, simple, uniform thing? All this we grant to be true; but it does not reach the case we are speaking of. For that part of the soul where reason and judgment are seated is not at variance with itself, but by one and the same faculty is conversant about different reasonings; or rather, there is but one simple power of reasoning, which employs itself on several arguments, as so many different subject-matters. And therefore it is, that no disturbance or uneasiness accompanies those reasonings or deliberations, where the passions do not at all interpose. Nor are we at any time forced, as it were, to choose any thing contrary to the dictates of our own reason, but when, as in a balance, some lurking hidden passions lay something in the scale against reason to weigh it down. And this often falls out to be the case, where it is not reasoning that is opposed to reasoning, but either ambition, or emulation, or favor, or jealousy, or fear, making a show as if there were a variance or contest between two differing reasons, according to that of Homer,

Shame in denial, in acceptance fear;[140]

and of another poet,

Hard fate to fall, but yet a glorious fate; ’Tis cowardly to live, but yet ’tis sweet.

And in determining of controversies about contracts between man and man, it is by the interposition of the passions that so many disputes and delays are created. So likewise in the consultations and counsels of kings, they who design to make their court incline not to one side of the question or debate rather than the other, but only accommodate themselves to their own passions, without any regard to the interest of the public. Which is the reason that in aristocratical governments the magistrates will not suffer orators in their pleadings, by declaiming and haranguing, to raise the passions and move the affections. For reason, not being disturbed or diverted by passion, tends directly to that which is honorable and just; but if the passions are once raised, there immediately follows a mighty controversy and struggle between pleasure and grief on the one hand, and reason and judgment on the other. For otherwise how comes it to pass, that in philosophical disputes and disquisitions we so often and with so little trouble are by others drawn off from our own opinions and wrought upon to change them?—and that Aristotle himself, Democritus, and Chrysippus have without any concern or regret of mind, nay even with great satisfaction to themselves, retracted some of those points which they formerly so much approved of, and were wont so stiffly to maintain? For no passions residing in the contemplative and scientifical part of the soul make any tumult or disturbance therein, and the irrational and brutal faculties remain quiet and calm, without busying themselves to intermeddle in matters of that kind. By which means it falls out, that reason no sooner comes within view of truth, but rejecting that which is false it readily embraces it; forasmuch as there is in the former what is not to be found in the other, namely, a willingness to assent and disagree as there is occasion; whereas in all deliberations had, judgments made, and resolutions taken about such things as are to be reduced into practice, and are mixed and interwoven with the passions and affections, reason meets with much opposition, and is put under great difficulties, by being stopped and interrupted in its course by the brutal faculties of the mind, throwing in its way either pleasure or fear or grief or lust, or some such like temptation or discouragement. And then the decision of these disputes belongs to sense, which is equally affected with both the one and the other; and whichsoever of them gets the mastery, the other is not thereby destroyed, but (though struggling and resisting all the while) is forced only to comply and go along with the conqueror. As an amorous person, for example, finding himself engaged in an amour he cannot approve of, has immediately recourse to his reason, to oppose the force of that against his passion, as having them both together actually subsisting in his soul, plainly discerning them to be several and distinct, and feeling a sensible conflict between the two, while he endeavors (as it were) with his hand to repress and keep down the part which is inflamed and rages so violently within him. But, on the contrary, in those deliberations and disquisitions where the passions have nothing to do, such I mean as belong properly to the contemplative part of the soul, if the reasons are equally balanced, not inclining more to one side than another, then is there no determinate judgment formed, but there remains a doubting, as if there were a rest or suspense of the understanding between two contrary opinions. But if there happen to be any inclination or determination towards one side, that prevailing must needs get the better of the other, but without any regret or obstinate opposition from it against the opinion which is received. In short, whenever the contest seems to be of reason against reason, in that case we have no manner of sense of two distinct powers, but of one simple, uniform faculty only, under different apprehensions or imaginations; but when the dispute is between the irrational part and reason, where nature has so ordered it that neither the victory nor the defeat can be had without anxiety and regret, there immediately the two contending powers divide the soul in the quarrel, and thereby make the difference and distinction between them to be most plain and evident.

8. And not only from their contests, but no less also from the consequences that follow thereupon, may one clearly enough discern the source and original of the passions to be different from that of reason. For since a man may set his affection upon an ingenuous and virtuously disposed child, and no less also upon one that is naughty and dissolute, and since also one may have unreasonable and indecent transports of anger against his children or his parents, and on the contrary, may justly and unblamably be angry in their defence against their enemies and tyrants; as in the one case there is perceived a struggle and dispute of the passions against reason, so in the other may be seen a ready submission and agreement of them, running to its assistance, and lending as it were their helping hand. To illustrate this with a familiar example,—after a good man has in obedience to the laws married a convenient wife, he then in the first place comes to a resolution of conversing and cohabiting with her wisely and honestly, and of making at least a civil husband; but in process of time, custom and constant familiarity having bred within him a true passion for her, he sensibly finds that upon principles of reason his affection and love for her are every day more and more improved and grow upon him. So in like manner, young men having met with kind and gentle masters, to guide and inform their minds in the study of philosophy and sciences, make use of them at first for instruction only and information, but afterwards come to have such an affection for them, that from familiar companions and scholars they become their lovers and admirers, and are so accounted. And the same happens also to most men, with respect to good magistrates in the commonwealth, to their neighbors, and to their kindred; for, beginning an acquaintance upon necessity and interest, for the exchange of the common offices of intercourse and commerce with one another, they do afterwards by degrees, ere they are aware, grow to have a love and friendship for them; reason in such and the like cases having over-persuaded and even compelled the passions to take delight in and pursue what it before had approved of and consented to. As for the poet who said,

Of modesty two kinds there be; The one we cannot blame, The other troubleth many a house, And doth decay the same;[141]

doth he not plainly hereby intimate, that he had oftentimes found by experience that this affection of the mind, by a sheepish, shamefaced backwardness, and by foolishly bashful delays against all reason, had lost him the opportunities and seasons of making his fortune, and hindered and disappointed many brave actions and noble enterprises?

9. But these men, though by the force of these arguments sufficiently convinced, do yet seek for evasions, by calling shame by the name of modesty, pleasures by that of joy, and fear by that of caution. No man would go about to blame them for giving things the softest names they can invent, if they would be so just as to bestow these good words upon those passions and affections only which have put themselves under the conduct and direction of reason, and leave those which oppose reason and offer violence to it to be called by their own proper and odious names. But, when fully convinced by the tears they shed, by the trembling of their joints, and by their sudden changing of color back and forward, if instead of plainly calling the passions whereof these are the effects grief and fear, they make use of the fantastic terms of compunctions and conturbations, and to varnish over and disguise the lusts and affections, give them the name only of so many forwardnesses of mind, and I know not what else, they seem not to act like philosophers, but, relying upon little shifts and sophistical artifices, under an amusement of strange words, they vainly hope to cover and conceal the nature of things.

And yet even these men themselves sometimes make use of very proper terms to express these matters; as, for instance, when they call. those joys, volitions, and cautions of theirs, not by the name of apathies, as if they were devoid of all manner of passions, but of eupathies. For then is there said to be an eupathy, or good disposition of the affections, when reason hath not utterly destroyed, but composed and adjusted them in the minds of discreet and temperate persons. But what then becomes of vicious and dissolute persons? Why, if they should judge it reasonable to love their parents, instead of a mistress or a gallant, are they unable to perform this; but should they judge it fitting to set their hearts upon a strumpet or a parasite, the judgment is no sooner made, but they are most desperately in love? Now were the passions and judgment one, it could not be but that the passions of love and hatred would immediately follow upon judgments made what to love and hate. But we see the contrary often happen; for the passions, as they submit to some resolutions and judgments, so others again they oppose themselves to, and refuse to comply with. Whence it is that, compelled thereto by truth and the evidence of things, they do not affirm every judgment and determination of reason to be passion, but that only which excites too violent and inordinate an appetite; acknowledging thereby that the faculty we have in us of judging is quite another thing than that which is susceptible of the passions, as is that also which moveth from that which is moved. Nay, even Chrysippus himself, in many places defining patience and continence to be habits of submitting to and pursuing the choice and direction of right reason, doth thereby make it apparent that by the force of truth he was driven to confess that it is one thing in us which is obedient and submissive, but another and quite a different thing which it obeys when it submits, but resists when it does not submit.

10. Now, as for those who make all sins and faults to be equal, to examine whether in other matters they have not also departed from the truth is not at this time and in this place seasonable; since they seem not herein only, but in most things else, to advance unreasonable paradoxes against common sense and experience. For according to them, all our passions and affections are so many faults, and whosoever grieves, fears, or desires, commits sin. But, with their leave, nothing is more visible and apparent than the mighty difference in those and all other passions, according as we are more or less affected with them. For will any man say that the fear of Dolon was no more than that of Ajax, who, being forced to give way before the enemy,

BOOK IX. (part 2)

Sometimes retreated back, then faced about, And step by step retired at once, and fought?[142]

Or compare the grief of Plato for the death of Socrates to the sorrow and anguish of mind which Alexander felt, when, for having murdered Clitus, he attempted to lay violent hands upon himself. For our grief is commonly increased and augmented above measure by sudden and unexpected accidents. And that which surprises us on the sudden, contrary to our hope and expectation, is much more uneasy and grievous than that which is either foreseen, or not very unlikely to happen; as must needs fall out in the case of those who, expecting nothing more than to see the happiness, advancement, and glory of a friend or a kinsman, should hear of his being put to the most exquisite tortures, as Parmenio did of his son Philotas. And who will ever say that the anger of Magas against Philemon can bear any proportion to the rage of Nicocreon against Anaxarchus? The occasion given was in both cases the same, each of them having severally been bitterly reproached and reviled by the other. For whereas Nicocreon caused Anaxarchus to be broken to pieces and brayed in a mortar with iron pestles, Magas only commanded the executioner to lay the edge of the naked sword upon the neck of Philemon, and so dismissed him. And therefore Plato called anger the nerves of the mind; because, as it may swell and be made more intense by sourness and ill-nature, so may it be slackened and remitted by gentleness and good-nature.

But to elude these and such like objections, they will not allow these intense and vehement efforts of the passions to be according to judgment, or so to proceed from it as if that were therein faulty; but they call them cessations, contractions, and extensions or diffusions, which by the irrational part are capable of being increased or diminished. But that there are also differences of judgment is most plain and evident; for some there are who take poverty to be no evil at all, others who look upon it as a great evil, and others again who esteem it to be the greatest evil and worst thing in the world, insomuch that rather than endure it they would dash themselves in pieces against the rocks, or cast themselves headlong into the sea. And among those who reckon death to be an evil, some are of that opinion, in regard only that it deprives us of the enjoyment of the good things of the world, as others are with respect to the eternal torments and horrible punishments under ground in hell. As for bodily health, some love it no otherwise than as it is agreeable to Nature, and very convenient and useful; while others value it as the most sovereign good, in comparison whereof they make no reckoning of riches or children, no, nor of sceptres and crowns,

Which make men equal to the Gods above.

Nor will they, in fine, allow even virtue itself to signify any thing or be of any use, without good health. So that hence it sufficiently appears that, in the judgments men make of things, they may be mistaken and very faulty with respect to both the extremes of too much and too little; but I shall pursue this argument no farther in this place.

Thus much may, however, fairly be assumed from what has already been said on this head, that even they themselves do allow a plain difference between the judgment and the irrational faculties, by means whereof, they say, the passions become greater and more violent; and so, while they cavil and contend about names and words, they give up the very cause to those who maintain the irrational part of the soul, which is the seat of the passions, to be several and distinct from that faculty by which we reason and make a judgment of things. And indeed Chrysippus, in those books which he wrote of Anomology,—after he has told us that anger is blind, not discerning oftentimes those things which are plain and conspicuous, and as frequently casting a mist upon such things as were before clear and evident,—proceeds a little farther in this manner: For, says he, the passions, being once raised, not only reject and drive away reason and those things which appear otherwise than they would have them, but violently push men forward to actions that are contrary to reason. And then he makes use of the testimony of Menander, saying,

What have I done? Where has my soul been strayed? Would she not stay to see herself obeyed, But let me act what I abhorred but now?

And again the same Chrysippus a little after says: Every rational creature is by Nature so disposed as to use reason in all things, and to be governed by it; but yet oftentimes it falls out that we dispose and reject it, being carried away by another more violent and over-ruling motion. In these words he plainly enough acknowledges what uses in such a case to happen on account of the difference and contest between the passions and reason. And upon any other ground it would be ridiculous (as Plato says) to suppose a man to be sometimes better than himself, and sometimes again worse; one while to be his own master, and another while his own slave.

11. For how could it possibly be, that a man should be better and worse than himself, and at once both his own master and slave, if every one were not in some sort naturally double or twofold, having in himself at the same time a better part and a worse? For so may he be reckoned to have a power over himself and to be better than himself, who has his worse and inferior faculties in obedience and subjection to the superior and more excellent; whereas he who suffers his nobler powers to fall under the government and direction of the intemperate and irrational part of the soul is less and worse than himself, and has wholly lost the command over himself, and is in a state which is contrary to Nature. For by the order of Nature, reason, which is divine, ought to have the sovereignty and dominion over the irrational and brutal faculties, which, deriving their original from the body, and being incorporated, as it were, and thoroughly mixed therewith, bear a very near resemblance to it, are replenished with, and do participate in common of the qualities, properties, and passions thereof; as is plain from our more vehement motions and efforts towards corporeal objects, which always increase or diminish in vigor according to the several changes and alterations which happen in the body. From whence it is that young men are in their lusts and appetites, because of the abundance and warmth of their blood, so quick, forward, hot, and furious; whereas in old men all natural fire being almost extinguished, and the first principles and source of the affections and passions, seated about the liver, being much lessened and debilitated, reason becomes more vigorous and predominant, while the appetites languish and decay together with the body. And after this manner it is that the nature of beasts is framed and disposed to divers passions. For it is not from any strength or weakness of thought, or from any opinions right or wrong which they form to themselves, that some of them are so bold and venturous, and dare encounter any thing, and others of them are fearful and cowardly, shrinking at every danger; but from the force and power of the blood, the spirits, and the body does this diversity of passions in them arise; for that part where the passions are seated, being derived from the body, as from its root, retains all the qualities and propensions of that from whence it is extracted.

Now that in man there is a sympathy and an agreeable and correspondent motion of the body with the passions and appetites, is proved by the paleness and blushings of the face, by the tremblings of the joints, and by the palpitation of the heart; and, on the contrary, by the diffusion or dilatation which we feel upon the hope and expectation of pleasures. But when the mind or intellect doth move of itself alone, without any passion to disorder and ruffle it, then is the body at repose and rests quiet, having nothing at all to do with those acts and operations of the mind; as, when it takes into consideration a proposition in mathematics or some such scientifical thing, it calls not for the aid or assistance of the irrational or brutal faculties. From whence also it is very apparent that there are in us two distinct parts, differing in their powers and faculties from one another.

12. In fine, throughout the whole world, all things (as they themselves are forced to confess, and is evident in itself) are governed and directed, some by a certain habit, some by Nature, others by a brutal or irrational soul, and some again by that which has reason and understanding. Of all which things man does in some measure participate, and is concerned in all the above-mentioned differences. For he is contained by habit, and nourished by Nature; he makes use of reason and understanding; he wants not his share of the irrational soul; he has also in him a native source and inbred principle of the passions, not as adventitious, but necessary to him, which ought not therefore to be utterly rooted out, but only pruned and cultivated. For it is not the method and custom of reason—in imitation either of the manner of the Thracians or of what Lycurgus ordered to be done to the vines—to destroy and tear up all the passions and affections indifferently, good and bad, useful and hurtful together; but rather—like some kind and careful Deity who has a tender regard to the growth and improvement of fruit-trees and plants—to cut away and clip off that which grows wild and rank, and to dress and manage the rest that it may serve for use and profit. For as they who are afraid of being drunk pour not their wine upon the ground, but dilute it with water; so neither do they who fear any violent commotion of their passions go about utterly to destroy and eradicate, but rather wisely to temper and moderate them. And as they who use to break horses and oxen do not go about to take away their goings, or to render them unfit for labor and service, but only strive to cure them of their unluckiness and flinging up their heels, and to bring them to be patient of the bit and yoke, so as to become useful; after the same manner reason makes very good use of the passions, after they are well subdued and made gentle, without either tearing in pieces or over-much weakening that part of the soul which was made to be obedient to her. In Pindar we find it said:

As ’tis the horse’s pride to win the race, And to plough up the fruitful soil Is the laborious ox’s toil, So the fierce dog we take the foaming boar to chase.

But much more useful than these in their several kinds are the whole brood of passions, when they become attendants to reason, and when, being assistant and obedient to virtue, they give life and vigor to it.

Thus, moderate anger is of admirable use to courage or fortitude; hatred and aversion for ill men promotes the execution of justice; and a just indignation against those who are prosperous beyond what they deserve is then both convenient and even necessary, when with pride and insolence their minds are so swollen and elated, that they need to be repressed and taken down. Neither by any means can a man, though he never so much desire it, be able to separate from friendship a natural propension to affection; from humanity and good nature, tenderness and commiseration; nor from true benevolence, a mutual participation of joy and grief. And if they run into an error who would take away all love that they may destroy mad and wanton passions, neither can those be in the right who, for the sake of covetousness, condemn all other appetites and desires. Which is full as ridiculous as if one should always refuse to run, because one time or other he may chance to catch a fall; or to shoot, because he may sometimes happen to miss the mark; or should forbear all singing, because a discord or a jar is offensive to the ear. For, as in sounds the music and harmony thereof takes away neither the sharpest nor the deepest notes, and in our bodies physic procureth health, not by the destruction of heat and cold, but by a due and proportionable temperature and mixture of them both together; so in the same manner it happeneth in the soul of man, when reason becomes victorious and triumphant by reducing the faculties of the mind which belong to the passions, and all their motions, to a due moderation and mediocrity. And excessive and unmeasurable joy or grief or fear in the soul (not, however, either joy, grief, or fear, simply in itself) may very properly be resembled to a great swelling or inflammation in the body. And therefore Homer, where he says,

A valiant man doth never color change; Excessive fear to him is very strange,[143]

does not take away all fear (but that only which is extreme and unmanly), that bravery and courage may not be thought to be fool-hardiness, nor boldness and resolution pass for temerity and rashness. And therefore he that in pleasures and delights can prescribe bounds to his lusts and desires, and in punishing offences can moderate his rage and hatred to the offenders, shall in one case get the reputation not of an insensible, but temperate person, and in the other be accounted a man of justice without cruelty or bitterness. Whereas, if all the passions, if that were possible, were clean rooted out, reason in most men would grow sensibly more dull and inactive than the pilot of a ship in a calm.

And to these things (as it should seem) prudent lawgivers having regard have wisely taken care to excite and encourage in commonwealths and cities the ambition and emulation of their people amongst one another, and with trumpets, drums, and flutes to whet their anger and courage against their enemies. For not only in poetry (as Plato very well observes), he that is inspired by the Muses, and as it were possessed by a poetical fury, will make him that is otherwise a master of his trade and an exact critic in poetry appear ridiculous; but also in fighting, those who are elevated and inspired with a noble rage, and a resolution and courage about the common pitch, become invincible, and are not to be withstood. And this is that warlike fury which the Gods, as Homer will have it, infuse into men of honor:

He spoke, and every word new strength inspired;

and again:

This more than human rage is from the Gods;[144]

as if to reason the Gods had joined some or other of passions, as an incitement or, if I may so say, a vehicle to push and carry it forward.

Nay we often see these very men against whom I now dispute exciting and encouraging young persons with praises, and as often checking and rebuking them with severe reprimands; whereupon in the one case there must follow pleasure and satisfaction as necessarily as grief and trouble are produced in the other. For reprehension and admonition certainly strike us with repentance and shame, whereof this is comprehended under fear, as the other is under grief. And these are the things they chiefly make use of for correction and amendment. Which seems to be the reason why Diogenes, to some who had magnified Plato, made this reply: What can there be in him, said he, so much to be valued, who, having been so long a philosopher, has never yet been known so much as to excite the single passion of grief in the mind of any one? And certainly the mathematics cannot so properly be called (to use the words of Xenocrates) the handles of philosophy, as these passions are of young men, namely, bashfulness, desire, repentance, pleasure, pain, ambition; whereon right reason and the law discreetly laying their salutary hands do thereby effectually and speedily reduce a young man into the right way. Agreeably hereunto the Lacedaemonian instructor of youth was in the right, when he professed that he would bring it to pass that youths under his care should take a pleasure and satisfaction in good and have an abhorrence for evil, than which there cannot be a greater or nobler end of the liberal education of youth proposed or assigned.

PLUTARCH’S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

I.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT SEA-WATER NOURISHES NOT TREES?

Is it not for the same reason that it nourishes not earthly animals? For Plato, Anaxagoras, and Democritus think plants are earthly animals. Nor, though sea-water be aliment to marine plants, as it is to fishes, will it therefore nourish earthly plants, since it can neither penetrate the roots, because of its grossness, nor ascend, by reason of its weight; for this, among many other things, shows sea-water to be heavy and terrene, because it more easily bears up ships and swimmers. Or is it because drought is a great enemy to trees? For sea-water is of a drying faculty; upon which account salt resists putrefaction, and the bodies of such as wash in the sea are presently dry and rough. Or is it because oil is destructive to earthly plants, and kills things anointed with it? But sea-water participates of much fatness; for it burns together with it. Wherefore, when men would quench fire, we forbid them to throw on sea-water. Or is it because sea-water is not fit to drink and bitter (as Aristotle says) through a mixture of burnt earth? For a lye is made by the falling of ashes into sweet water, and the dissolution ejects and corrupts what was good and potable, as in us men fevers convert the humors into bile. As for what woods and plants men talk of growing in the Red Sea, they bear no fruit, but are nourished by rivers casting up much mud; therefore they grow not at any great distance from land, but very near to it.

II.

WHY DO TREES AND SEEDS THRIVE BETTER WITH RAIN THAN WITH WATERING?

Whether is it because (as Laitus thinks) showers, parting the earth by the violence of their fall, make passages, whereby the water may more easily penetrate to the root? Or cannot this be true; and did Laitus never consider that marsh-plants (as cat’s-tail, pond-weeds, and rushes) neither thrive nor sprout when the rains fall not in their season; but it is true, as Aristotle said, rain-water is new and fresh, that of lakes old and stale? And what if this be rather probable than true? For the waters of fountains and rivers are ever fresh, new always arriving; therefore Heraclitus said well, that no man could go twice into the same river. And yet these very waters nourish worse than rain-water. But water from the heavens is light and aerial, and, being mixed with spirit, is the quicker passed and elevated into the plant, by reason of its tenuity. And for this very reason it makes bubbles when mixed with the air. Or does that nourish most which is soonest altered and overcome by the thing nourished?—for this very thing is concoction. On the contrary, inconcoction is when the aliment is too strong to be affected by the thing nourished. Now thin, simple, and insipid things are the most easily altered, of which number is rain-water, which is bred in the air and wind, and falls pure and sincere. But fountain-water, being assimilated to the earth and places through which it passes, is filled with many qualities which render it less nutritive and slower in alteration to the thing nourished. Moreover, that rain-water is easily alterable is an argument, because it sooner putrefies than either spring or river-water. For concoction seems to be putrefaction as Empedocles says,—

When in vine wood the water putrefies, It turns to wine, while under bark it lies.

Or, which may most readily be assigned for a reason, is it because rain is sweet and mild, when it is presently sent by the wind? For this reason cattle drink it most greedily, and frogs in expectation of it raise their voice, as if they were calling for rain to sweeten the marsh and to be sauce to the water in the pools. For Aratus makes this a sign of approaching rain,

When father frogs, to watery snakes sweet food, Do croak and sing in mud, a wretched brood.

III.

WHY DO HERDSMEN SET SALT BEFORE CATTLE?

Whether (as many think) to nourish them the more, and fatten them the better? For salt by its acrimony sharpens the appetite, and by opening the passages brings meat more easily to digestion. Therefore Apollonius, Herophilus’s scholar, would not have lean persons, and such as did not thrive, be fed with sweet things and gruel, but ordered them to use pickles and salt things for their food, whose tenuity, serving instead of frication or sifting, might apply the aliment through the passages of the body. Or is it for health’s sake that men give sheep salt to lick, to cut off the redundance of nutriment? For when they are over fat, they grow sick; but salt wastes and melts the fat. And this they observe so well, that they can more easily flay them; for the fat, which agglutinates and fastens the skin, is made thin and weak by the acrimony. The blood also of things that lick salt is attenuated; nor do things within the body stick together when salts are mixed with them. Moreover, consider this, whether the cattle grow more fruitful and more inclined to coition; for bitches do sooner conceive when they are fed with salt victuals, and ships which carry salt are more pestered with mice, by reason of their frequent coition.

IV.

WHY IS THE WATER OF SHOWERS WHICH FALLS IN THUNDER AND LIGHTNING FITTER TO WATER SEEDS? AND THEY ARE THEREFORE CALLED THUNDER-SHOWERS.

Is it because they contain much spirit, by reason of their confusion and mixture with the air? And the spirit moving the humor sends it more upwards. Or is it because heat fighting against cold causes thunder and lightning? Whence it is that it thunders very little in winter, but in spring and autumn very much, because of the inequality of temper; and the heat, concocting the humor, renders it friendly and commodious for plants. Or does it thunder and lighten most in the spring for the aforesaid cause, and do the seeds have greater occasion for the vernal rains before summer? Therefore that country which is best watered with rain in spring, as Sicily is, produces abundance of good fruit.

V.

HOW COMES IT TO PASS, THAT SINCE THERE BE EIGHT KINDS OF TASTES, WE FIND THE SALT IN NO FRUIT WHATEVER?

Indeed, at first the olive is bitter, and the grape acid; one whereof afterward turns fat, and the other vinous. But the harshness in dates and the austere in pomegranates turn sweet. Some pomegranates and apples have only a simple acid taste. The pungent taste is frequent in roots and seeds.

Is it because a salt taste is never natural, but arises when the rest are corrupt? Therefore such plants and seeds as are nourished receive no nourishment from salt; it serves indeed some instead of sauce, by preventing a surfeit of other nourishment. Or, as men take away saltness and bitingness from the sea-water by distilling, is saltness so abolished in hot things by heat? Or indeed does the taste (as Plato says) arise from water percolated through a plant, and does even sea-water percolated lose its saltness, being terrene and of gross parts? Therefore people that dig near the sea happen upon wells fit to drink. Several also that draw the sea-water into waxen buckets receive it sweet and potable, the salt and earthy matter being strained out. And straining through clay renders sea-water potable, since the clay retains the earthy parts and does not let them pass through. And since things are so, it is very probable either that plants receive no saltness extrinsically, or, if they do, they put it not forth into fruit; for things terrene and consisting of gross parts cannot pass, by reason of the straitness of the passages. Or may saltness be reckoned a sort of bitterness? For so Homer says:

Out of his mouth the bitter brine did flow, And down his body from his head did go.[145]

Plato also says that both these tastes have an abstersive and colliquative faculty; but the salt does it less, nor is it rough. And the bitter seems to differ from the salt in abundance of heat, since the salt has also a drying quality.

VI.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT, IF A MAN FREQUENTLY PASS ALONG DEWY TREES, THOSE LIMBS THAT TOUCH THE WOOD ARE SEIZED WITH A LEPROSY?

Whether (as Laitus said) that by the tenuity of the dew the moisture of the skin is fretted away? Or, as smut and mildew fall upon moistened seeds, so, when the green and tender parts on the superficies are fretted and dissolved by the dew, is a certain noxious taint carried and imparted to the most bloodless parts of the body, as the legs and feet, which there eats and frets the superficies? For that by Nature there is a corrosive faculty in dew sufficiently appears, in that it makes fat people lean; and gross women gather it, either with wool or on their clothes, to take down their flesh.

VII.

WHY IN WINTER DO SHIPS SAIL SLOWER IN RIVERS, BUT DO NOT SO IN THE SEA?

Whether, because the river-air, which is at all times heavy and slow, being in winter more condensed by the cold, does more resist sailing? Or is it long of the water rather than the air? For the piercing cold makes the water heavy and thick, as one may perceive in a water-clock; for the water passes more slowly in winter than in summer. Theophrastus talks of a well about Pangaeum in Thrace, how that a vessel filled with the water of it weighs twice as much in winter as it does in summer. Besides, hence it is apparent that the grossness of the water makes ships sail slower, because in winter river-vessels carry greater burthens. For the water, being made more dense and heavy, makes the more renitency; but the heat hinders the sea from being condensed or frozen.

VIII.

WHY, SINCE ALL OTHER LIQUORS UPON MOVING AND STIRRING ABOUT GROW COLD, DOES THE SEA BY BEING TOSSED IN WAVES GROW HOT?

Whether that motion expels and dissipates the heat of other liquors as a thing adscititious, and the winds do rather excite and increase the innate heat of the sea? Its transparentness is an argument of heat; and so is its not being frozen, though it is terrene and heavy.

IX.

WHY IN WINTER IS THE SEA LEAST SALT AND BITTER TO THE TASTE? FOR THEY SAY THAT DIONYSIUS THE HYDRAGOGUE REPORTED THIS.

Is it that the bitterness of the sea is not devoid of all sweetness, as receiving so many rivers into it; but, since the sun exhales the sweet and potable water thereof, arising to the top by reason of its levity, and since this is done in summer more than in winter, when it affects the sea more weakly by reason of the debility of its heat, that so in winter a great deal of sweetness is left, which tempers and mitigates its excessive poisonous bitterness? And the same thing befalls potable waters; for in summer they are worse, the sun wasting the lightest and sweetest part of them. And a fresh sweetness returns in winter, of which the sea must needs participate, since it moves, and is carried with the rivers into the sea.

X.

WHY DO MEN POUR SEA-WATER UPON WINE, AND SAY THE FISHER MEN HAD AN ORACLE GIVEN THEM, WHEREBY THEY WERE BID TO DIP BACCHUS INTO THE SEA? AND WHY DO THEY THAT LIVE FAR FROM THE SEA CAST IN SOME ZACYNTHIAN EARTH TOASTED?

Whether that heat is good against cold? Or that it quenches heat, by diluting the wine and destroying its strength? Or that the aqueous and aerial part of wine (which is therefore prone to mutation) is stayed by the throwing in of terrene parts, whose nature it is to constipate and condense? Moreover, salts with the sea-water, attenuating and colliquating whatever is foreign and superfluous, suffer no fetidness or putrefaction to breed. Besides, the gross and terrene parts, being entangled with the heavy and sinking together, make a sediment or lees, and so make the wine fine.

XI.

WHY ARE THEY SICKER THAT SAIL ON THE SEA THAN THEY THAT SAIL IN FRESH RIVERS, EVEN IN CALM WEATHER?

Of all the senses, smelling causes nauseousness the most, and of all the passions of the mind, fear. For men tremble and shake and bewray themselves upon apprehension of great danger. They that sail in a river are troubled with neither of these. And the smell of sweet and potable water is familiar to all, and the voyage is without danger. On the sea an unusual smell is troublesome; and men are afraid, not knowing what the issue may be. Therefore tranquillity abroad avails not, while an estuating and disturbed mind disorders the body.

XII.

WHY DOES POURING OIL ON THE SEA MAKE IT CLEAR AND CALM?

Is it for that the winds, slipping the smooth oil, have no force, nor cause any waves? This may be probably said in respect of things external; but they say that divers take oil in their mouths, and when they spout it out they have light at the bottom, and it makes the water transparent; so that the slipping of the winds will not hold good here for an argument. Therefore it is to be considered, whether the sea, which is terrene and uneven, is not compacted and made smooth by the dense oil; and so the sea, being compact in itself, leaves passes, and a pellucidity penetrable by the sight. Or whether that the air, which is naturally mixed with the sea, is lucid, but by being troubled grows unequal and shady; and so by the oil’s density, smoothing its inequality, the sea recovers its evenness and pellucidity.

XIII.

WHY DO FISHERMEN’S NETS ROT MORE IN WINTER THAN IN SUMMER, SINCE OTHER THINGS ROT MORE IN SUMMER?

Is not that the cause which Theophrastus assigns,—that heat (to wit) shuns the cold, and is constrained by it on every side? Hence the waters are hottest in the bottom of the sea. And so it is on land; for springs are hotter in winter, and then lakes and rivers send up most vapors, because the heat is compelled to the bottom by the prevailing cold. Or it may be, nets do not rot at that time more than at another; but being frozen and dried in the cold, since they are therefore the more easily broken by the waves, they are liable to something like putrefaction and rottenness. And they suffer most in the cold (as strained cords are aptest to break in such a season), because then there be most frequent storms at sea. Therefore fishermen guard their nets with certain tinctures, for fear they should break. Otherwise a net, neither tinged nor daubed with any thing, might more easily deceive the fish; since line is of an air color, and is not easily discerned in the sea.

XIV.

WHY DO THE DORIANS PRAY FOR BAD MAKING OF THEIR HAY?

Is it because hay rained upon is never well made? For the grass is cut down green and not dry, wherefore it putrefies when wet with rain water. But when before harvest it rains upon corn, this is a help to it against the hot south winds; which otherwise would not let the grain fill in the ear, but by their heat would hinder and destroy all coalition, unless by watering the earth there came a moisture to cool and moisten the ear.

XV.

WHY IS A FAT AND DEEP SOIL FRUITFUL OF WHEAT, AND A LEAN SOIL OF BARLEY?

Is it because a stronger grain needs more nourishment, and a weaker a light and thin one? Now barley is weaker and laxer than wheat, therefore it affords but little nourishment. And, as a farther testimony to this reason, wheat, that is ripe in three months, grows in dryer ground; because it is juiceless, and stands in need of less nourishment, and therefore is more easily brought to perfection.

XVI.

WHY DO MEN SAY, SOW WHEAT IN CLAY AND BARLEY IN DUST?

Is the reason (as we said) because wheat takes up more nourishment; and barley cannot bear so much, but is choked with it? Or does wheat, because it is hard and ligneous, thrive better when it is softened and loosened in a moist soil; and barley at the first in a dry soil, because of its rarity? Or is the one temperament congruous and harmless to wheat, because it is hot; and the other to barley, because it is cold? Or are men afraid to sow wheat in a dry soil, because of the ants, which presently lie in wait for it; but they cannot so easily deal with barley nor carry it away, because it is a larger grain?

XVII.

WHY DO MEN USE THE HAIR OF HORSES RATHER THAN OF MARES FOR FISHING-LINES?

Is it that the males are stronger in those parts, as well as in others, than the females? Or is it that the females spoil the hair of their tails by their staling?

XVIII.

WHY IS THE SIGHT OF A CUTTLE-FISH A SIGN OF A GREAT STORM?

Is it because all fishes of the soft kind cannot endure cold, by reason of their nakedness and tenderness? For they are covered neither with shell, skin, or scale, though within they have hard and bony parts. Hence the Greeks call them soft fish. Therefore they easily perceive a storm coming, since they are so soon affected by the cold. When the polypus gets to shore and embraces the rocks, it is a sign the wind is rising; but the cuttle-fish jumps up, to shun the cold and the trouble of the bottom of the sea; for, of all soft fishes, she is the tenderest and soonest hurt.

XIX.

WHY DOES THE POLYPUS CHANGE COLOR?

Whether, as Theophrastus writes, because it is an animal by nature timorous; and therefore, being disturbed, it changes color with its spirit, as some men do, of whom it is said, an ill man ever changes color? But though this may serve as a reason for changing its color, it will not for the imitation of colors. For the polypus does so change its color, that it is of the color of every stone it comes nigh. Hence that of Pindar, Mind the color of the marine beast, and so converse cunningly in all cities; and that of Theognis:

Put on a mind like th’ polyp fish,— And learn so to dissemble,— Which of the rock whereto it sticks The color doth resemble.[146]

And they say, that such as are excellent at craftiness and juggling have this in their eye,—that they may the better cheat them they have to deal withal,—ever to imitate the polypus. Some think the polypus can use her skin as a garment, and can put it on or off at pleasure. But if fear occasions this change in the polypus, is not something else more properly the cause? Let us consider what Empedocles says, that effluvia proceed from all things whatever. For not only animals, plants, the earth and sea, but stones, and even brass and iron, do continually send out many effluvia. For all things corrupt and smell, because there runneth always something from them, and they wear continually; insomuch that it is thought that by these effluvia come all attractions and insultations, some supposing embraces, others blows, some impulses, others circuitions. But especially about the sea rocks, when they are wet and cool by the waves (as is most likely), constantly some small particles are washed off, which do not incorporate with other bodies, but either pass by the smaller passages, or pass through the larger. Now the flesh of the polypus, as one may judge by the eye, is hollow, full of pores, and capable of effluvia. When therefore she is afraid, as her spirit changes she changes herself, and by straitening and contracting her body, she encloses the neighboring effluvia. And, as a good token of this argument, the polypus cannot imitate the color of every thing he comes near, nor the chameleon of any thing that is white; but each of these creatures is assimilated only to those things to whose effluvia it has pores proportionable.

XX.

WHAT IS THE REASON, THAT THE TEARS OF WILD BOARS ARE SWEET, AND THE TEARS OF THE HART SALT AND HURTFUL?

The reason seems to be the heat and cold of these animals. For the hart is cold, and the boar is very hot and fiery; therefore the one flies from, the other defends himself against, his pursuers. Now when great store of heat comes to the eyes (as Homer says, with horrid bristles, and eyes darting fire), tears are sweet. Some are of Empedocles’s opinion, who thought that tears proceed from the disturbance of the blood, as whey does from the churning of milk; since therefore boar’s blood is harsh and black, and hart’s blood thin and watery, it is consentaneous that the tears, which the one sheds when excited to anger, and the other when dejected with fear, should be of the same nature.

XXI.

WHY DO TAME SOWS FARROW OFTEN, SOME AT ONE TIME AND OTHERS AT ANOTHER; AND THE WILD BUT ONCE A YEAR, AND ALL OF THEM ABOUT THE SAME TIME AT THE BEGINNING OF SUMMER, WHENCE IT IS SAID,—

The wild sow farrowing, that night falls no rain?

Is it because of plentiful feeding, as in very truth fulness doth produce wantonness? For abundance of nourishment breeds abundance of seed both in animals and plants. Now wild sows live by their own toil, and that with fear; the tame have always food enough, either by nature or given them. Or may it not be ascribed to their rest and exercise? For the tame do rest and go not far from their keepers; the wild get to the mountains, and run about, by which means they waste the nutriment, and consume it upon the whole body. Therefore either through continual converse, or abundance of seed, or because the females feed in herds with the males, the tame sows call to mind coition and stir up lust, as Empedocles talks of men. But in wild sows, which feed apart, desire is cold and dull for want of love and conversation. Or is it true, what Aristotle says, that Homer called the wild boar χλούνης, because he had but one stone? For most boars spoil their stones (he says) by rubbing them against stumps of trees.

XXII.

WHY ARE THE PAWS OF BEARS THE SWEETEST AND PLEASANTEST FOOD?

Because the flesh of those parts of the body which concoct aliment the best is sweetest; and that concocts best which transpires most by motion and exercise. But the bear uses the fore-feet most in going and running, and in managing of things, as it were with hands.

XXIII.

WHY ARE THE STEPS OF WILD BEASTS MOST DIFFICULTLY TRACED IN SPRING-TIME?

Whether the dogs, as Empedocles says, “with noses find the steps of all wild beasts,” and draw in those effluvia which the beasts leave in the ground; but the various smells of plants and flowers lying over the footsteps do in spring-time obscure and confound them, and put the dogs to a loss at winding them? Therefore about Etna in Sicily no man keeps any hunting dogs, because abundance of wild marjoram flourishes and grows there the year round, and the perpetual fragrancy of the place destroys the scent of the wild beasts. There is also a tale, how Proserpine, as she was gathering flowers thereabout, was ravished by Pluto; therefore people, revering that place as an asylum, do not catch any creature that feeds thereabout.

XXIV.

WHY ARE THE TRACKS OR WILD BEASTS WORST SCENTED ABOUT THE FULL MOON?

Whether for the foresaid cause? For the full moons bring down the dews; and therefore Alcman calls dew the daughter of Jove and Luna in a verse of his,

Fed by the dew, bred by the Moon and Jove.

For dew is a weak and languid rain, and there is but little heat in the moon; which draws water from the earth, as the sun does; but because it cannot raise it on high, it soon lets it fall.

XXV.

WHY DOES FROST MAKE HUNTING DIFFICULT?

Whether is it because the wild beasts leave off going far abroad by reason of the cold, and so leave but few signs of themselves? Therefore some say, beasts spare the neighboring places, that they may not be sore put to it by going far abroad in winter, but may always have food ready at hand. Or is it because that for hunting the track alone is not sufficient, but there must be scent also? And things gently dissolved and loosened by heat afford a smell, but too violent cold binds up the scent, and will not let it reach the sense. Therefore they say that unguents and wine smell least in winter and cold weather; for the then concrete air keeps the scent in, and suffers it not to disperse.

XXVI.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT BRUTES, WHEN THEY AIL ANY THING, SEEK AND PURSUE REMEDIES, AND ARE OFTEN CURED BY THE USE OF THEM?

Dogs eat grass, to make them vomit bile. Swine seek craw-fish, because the eating of them cures the headache. The tortoise, when he has eaten a viper, feeds on wild marjoram. They say, when a bear has surfeited himself and his stomach grows nauseous, he licks up ants, and by devouring them is cured. These creatures know such things neither by experience nor by chance.

Whether, as wax draws the bee, and carcasses the vulture afar off by the scent, do craw-fish so draw swine, wild marjoram the tortoise, and ants the bear, by smells and effluvia accommodated to their nature, they being prompted altogether by sense, without any assistance from reason? Or do not the temperaments of the body create appetites in animals, while diseases create these, producing divers acrimonies, sweetnesses, and other unusual and absurd qualities, the humors being altered; as is plain in women with child, who eat stones and earth? Therefore skilful physicians take their prognostic of recovery or death from the appetites of the sick. For Mnesitheus the physician says that, in the beginning of a disease of the lungs, he that craves onions recovers, and he that craves figs dies; because appetites follow the temperament, and the temperament follows diseases. It is therefore probable that beasts, if they fall not into mortal diseases, have such a disposition and temper, that by following their temper they light on their remedies.

XXVII.

WHY DOES MUST, IF THE VESSEL STAND IN THE COLD, CONTINUE LONG SWEET?

Is it because the changing of the sweet must into wine is concoction, but cold hinders concoction, because this is caused by heat? Or, on the contrary, is the proper taste of the grape sweet, and is it then said to be ripe, when the sweetness is equally diffused all over it; but does cold, not suffering the heat of the grape to exhale, and keeping it in, conserve the sweetness of the grape? And this is the reason that, in a rainy vintage, must ferments but little; for fermentation proceeds from heat, which the cold does check.

XXVIII.

WHY, OF ALL WILD BEASTS, DOES NOT THE BOAR BITE THE TOIL, ALTHOUGH BOTH WOLVES AND FOXES DO THIS?

Is it because his teeth stand so far within his head, that he cannot well come at the thread? For his lips, by reason of their thickness and largeness, meet close before. Or does he rather rely on his paws and mouth, and with those rend the toil, and with this defend himself against the hunters? His chief refuge is rolling and wallowing; therefore, rather than stand gnawing the toil, he rolls often about, and so clears himself, having no occasion for his teeth.

XXIX.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT WE ADMIRE HOT WATERS (i. e. BATHS) AND NOT COLD; SINCE IT IS PLAIN THAT COLD IS AS MUCH THE CAUSE OF ONE SORT AS HEAT IS OF THE OTHER?

It is not (as some are of opinion) that heat is a quality, and cold only a privation of that quality, and so that an entity is even less a cause than a non-entity. But we do it because Nature has attributed admiration to what is rare, and she puts men upon enquiry how any thing comes to pass that seldom happens. As Euripides saith,

Behold the boundless Heaven on high, Bearing the earth in his moist arms,—

what wonders he brings out by night, and what beauty he shows forth by day!... The rainbow and the varied beauty of the clouds by day, and the lights which burst forth by night....

XXX.

WHY ARE VINES WHICH ARE RANK OF LEAVES, BUT OTHERWISE FRUITLESS, SAID τραγᾶν?

Is it because very fat goats (τράγοι) are less able to procreate, nay, scarce able to use coition, by reason of their fatness? Seed is the superfluity of the aliment which is allotted to the body: now, when either an animal or a plant is of a very strong constitution and grows fat, it is a sign that all the nourishment is spent within, and that there is little and base excrement, or none at all.

XXXI.

WHY DOES THE VINE IRRIGATED WITH WINE DIE, ESPECIALLY THE VERY WINE MADE FROM ITS OWN GRAPES?

Is it as baldness happens to great wine-bibbers, the heat of the wine evaporating the moisture? Or, as Empedocles saith, “the putrefied water in the wood becomes wine beneath the bark,” ... thus, when the vine is outwardly irrigated with wine, it is as fire to the vine, and destroys the nutritive faculty. Or, because wine is obstructive, it gets into the roots, stops the passages, and so hinders any moisture from coming to the plant to make it grow and thrive. Or, it may seem contrary to Nature that that should return into the vine which came out of it; for whatsoever moisture comes from plants can neither nourish nor be again a part of the plant.

XXXII.[147]

WHY DOTH THE PALM ALONE OF ALL TREES BEND UPWARD WHEN A WEIGHT IS LAID THEREUPON?

Is it that the fiery and spiritual power which it hath, being once provoked and (as it were) angered, putteth forth itself so much the more, and mounteth upward? Or is it because the weight, forcing the boughs suddenly, oppresseth and keepeth down the airy substance which they have, and driveth all of it inward; but the same afterwards, having resumed strength again, maketh head afresh, and more eagerly withstandeth the weight? Or, lastly, is it that the softer and more tender branches, not able to sustain the violence at first, so soon as the burden resteth quiet, by little and little lift up themselves, and make a show as if they rose up against it?

XXXIII.

WHAT IS THE REASON THAT PIT-WATER IS LESS NUTRITIVE THAN EITHER THAT WHICH ARISETH OUT OF SPRINGS OR THAT WHICH FALLETH DOWN FROM HEAVEN?

Is it because it is more cold, and withal hath less air in it? Or because it containeth much salt from the earth mingled therewith?—now it is well known that salt above all other things causeth leanness. Or because standing still, and not exercised with running and stirring, it getteth a certain malignant quality, which is hurtful to both plants and animals, and is the cause that it is neither well concocted nor able to feed and nourish any thing? Hence it is that all dead waters of pools are unwholesome, for that they cannot digest and despatch those harmful qualities which they borrow of the evil property of the air or of the earth.

XXXIV.

WHY IS THE WEST WIND HELD COMMONLY TO BE THE SWIFTEST ACCORDING TO THIS VERSE OF HOMER:

Let us likewise bestir our feet, As fast as Western winds do fleet.[148]

Is it not because this wind is wont to blow when the sky is very well cleansed, and the air is exceeding clear and without all clouds?—for the thickness and impurity of the air doth not a little impeach and interrupt the course of the winds. Or is it rather because the sun, striking through a cold wind with his beams, is the cause that it passeth the faster away?—for whatsoever of cold is drawn in by the force of the winds, when the same is overcome by heat, as it were its enemy, we must think, is driven and set forward further and with greater celerity.

XXXV.

WHY CANNOT BEES ABIDE SMOKE?

Whether is it because the passages of their viStal spirits are exceeding strait, and, if it chance that smoke be gotten into them and there kept in and intercepted, it is enough to stop the poor bees’ breath,—yea, and to strangle them quite? Or is not the acrimony and bitterness (think you) of the smoke in cause?—for bees are delighted with sweet things, and in very truth they have no other nourishment; and therefore no marvel if they detest and abhor smoke, as a thing for the bitterness most adverse and contrary unto them. Therefore honey-masters, when they make a smoke for to drive away bees, are wont to burn bitter herbs, as hemlock, centaury, &c.

XXXVI.

WHY WILL BEES SOONER STING THOSE WHO NEWLY BEFORE HAVE COMMITTED WHOREDOM?

Is it not because it is a creature that wonderfully delighteth in purity, cleanliness, and elegancy, and withal hath a marvellous quick sense of smelling? Because therefore such unclean dealings between man and woman are wont to leave behind much filthiness and impurity, the bees both sooner find them out and also conceive the greater hatred against them. Hereupon it is that in Theocritus the shepherd pleasantly sendeth Venus away unto Anchises to be well stung with bees for her adultery

Now to mount Ida, to Anchises go, Where mighty oaks and cypresses do grow; Where hives and trees with honey sweet abound, And both with humming noise of bees resound.[149]

And Pindar saith: “Thou little creature, who honey-combs dost frame, and with thy sting hast pricked false impure Rhoecus for his lewd villanies.”

XXXVII.

WHY DO DOGS FOLLOW AFTER A STONE THAT IS THROWN AT THEM AND BITE IT, LETTING THE MAN ALONE WHO FLUNG IT?

Is it because he can comprehend nothing by imagination nor call a thing to mind, which are gifts and virtues proper to man alone; and therefore, seeing he cannot discern the party that offered him injury, he supposeth that to be his enemy which seemeth in his eye to threaten him, and of it he goes about to be revenged? Or is it that he thinks the stone, while it runs along the ground, to be some wild beast, and according to his nature he intendeth to catch it first; but afterwards, when he seeth himself deceived and put besides his reckoning, he setteth upon the man? Or rather, doth he not hate the man and the stone both alike, but pursueth that only which is next unto him?

XXXVIII.

WHY AT A CERTAIN TIME OF THE YEAR DO ALL SHE-WOLVES WHELP WITHIN THE COMPASS OF TWELVE DAYS?

Antipater in his History of Animals affirms, that she-wolves exclude forth their young ones about the time that mast trees shed their blossoms, for upon the taste thereof their wombs open; but if there be none of such blooms to be had, then their young die within the body and never come to light. Moreover, he saith, those countries which bring not forth oaks and mast are never troubled nor spoiled with wolves. Some attribute all this to a tale that goes of Latona; who being with child, and finding no abiding place of rest and safety by reason of Juno for the space of twelve days, went to Delos, and, being transmuted by Jupiter into a wolf, obtained at his hands that all wolves for ever after might within that time be delivered of their young.

XXXIX.

HOW COMETH IT THAT WATER, SEEMING WHITE ALOFT, SHOWETH TO BE BLACK IN THE BOTTOM?

Is it because depth is the mother of darkness, so that it doth dim and mar the sunbeams before they can descend so low as it? As for the uppermost superficies of the water, because it is immediately affected by the sun, it must needs receive the white brightness of the light; the which Empedocles verily approveth in these verses.

A river in the bottom seems By shade of color black; The like is seen in caves and holes, By depth, where light they lack.

Or, since the bottom of the sea and of great rivers is often full of mud, doth it by reflection of the sunbeams represent the like color that the said mud hath? Or is it more probable that the water toward the bottom is not pure and sincere, but corrupted with an earthy quality,—as continually carrying with it somewhat of that by which it runneth and wherewith it is stirred,—and the same settling once to the bottom causeth it to be more troubled and less transparent?

FOOTNOTES:

[1] From Euripides, Frag. 897.

[2] Sophocles, Frag. 779.

[3] From Pindar.

[4] Odyss. XI. 219.

[5] See Aristoph. Knights, 437, 455; Thesm. 455; Acharn. 1109, 1124.

[6] Eurip. Phoeniss. 388 and 389.

[7] This translation is taken from Burges’s Greek Anthology, p. 470. It is there signed J.H.M. (G.)

[8] Plato, Timaeus, p. 90 A.

[9] Euripides, Frag. 935.

[10] Eurip. Iph. Taur. 258.

[11] From the Niobe of Aeschylus, Frag. 153 and 154.

[12] Odyss. VI. 204.

[13] Il. XIV. 230; XXIV. 544; IX. 668; II. 625.

[14] II. XXI. 59.

[15] Eurip. Phoeniss. 388.

[16] Eurip. Phoeniss. 396.

[17] Ibid., 430 and 344.

[18] From the Phryxus of Euripides, Frag. 816.

[19] Odyss. XVI. 117.

[20] Euripides, Frag. 1071.

[21] Eurip. Phoeniss. 504 and 536.

[22] See Sophocles, Antig. 905-912.

[23] Odyss. XIII. 331.

[24] Il X 122.

[25] Soph. Antig. 742.

[26] Eurip. Phoeniss. 68.

[27] Il. VI. 227.

[28] Il. VIII. 272.

[29] Hesiod, Works and Days, 707.

[30] Odyss. VII. 107.

[31] Odyss. III. 1.

[32] See Thucydides, I. 118. V. 16.

[33] Θεοῦ θέλοντος, κἀν ἐπὶ ῥιπὸς πλέοις.

[34] Pindar, Isthm. I. 67.

[35] Odyss. II. 190.

[36] Il. XIV. 246.

[37] From Aratus.

[38] Elsewhere quoted in a long passage from the Sisyphus of Critias. See Nauck, p. 598. (G.)

[39] Hesiod, Theogony, 134.

[40] According to Bentley, “Panchaean Jove.” See Diodorus, VI. Frag. 2; and Bentley’s note to Callimachus, Frag. 86. (G.)

[41] Il. III. 179.

[42] We should probably here read “Pythagoras.” (G.)

[43] Il. XVII. 547.

[44] Eurip. Orestes, 255.

[45] From Menander.

[46] Odyss. XVI. 278.

[47] Odyss. IV. 242.

[48] Il. II. 554.

[49] It was said that all the people in the island Myconus were bald; hence the proverb μία Μύκονος, all of a piece. (G.)

[50] Il. XII. 311.

[51] Odyss. VII. 170.

[52] Il. XX. 15.

[53] Il. XXIV. 100.

[54] Hesiod, Works and Days, 26.

[55] It seems absolutely necessary to read τρίτῃ for πρώτῃ here, to make the description intelligible, and to avoid inconsistency. See Becker’s Gallus, III, p. 209. (G.)

[56] From Eurip. Stheneboea, Frag. 666.

[57] Soph. Oed. Tyr. 4.

[58] Il. XI. 846.

[59] See Odyss. VI. 137, 218, 226.

[60] Eurip. Antiope, Frag. 183.

[61] Il. X. 544.

[62] Odyss. IX. 12.

[63] Soph. Oed. Colon. 510.

[64] Eurip. Andromeda, Frag. 131.

[65] Odyss. III. 247.

[66] Soph. Oed. Tyr. 385.

[67] The whole line, from some unknown tragic poet, is Κακῶν γὰρ ἄρχεις τήνδε Μοῦσαν εἰσάγων. See Athenaeus, XIV. p. 616 C. (G.)

[68] Referring to the saying ἐν Καρὶ κινδυνεύειν, experimentum facere in corpore vili. (G.)

[69] Il. XXIII. 620 and 634.

[70] Odyss. VIII. 206 and 246.

[71] Il. III. 375.

[72] Eurip. Phoeniss. 536.

[73] Odyss. XIV. 464.

[74] Odyss. XXI. 35.

[75] From Sappho, Frag. 68.

[76] Odyss. XX. 69.

[77] In the old translation, Question IX. is entirely omitted, and Question X. is numbered IX. (G.)

[78] Il. XXIII. 190.

[79] From the Hypsipyle of Euripides, Frag. 754.

[80] Il. XVIII. 495.

[81] The Greek text here is badly mutilated. (G.)

[82] Il. I. 156.

[83] Il. XXIII. 886.

[84] Il. IX. 208.

[85] Il. XX. 467.

[86] Il. IX. 325.

[87] Hesiod, Theog. 116.

[88] Il. XI. 7.

[89] Odyss. VII. 115.

[90] Il. IX. 214.

[91] Il. XIV. 170.

[92] See Odyss. VI. 79 and 215.

[93] Il. XXII. 325-329.

[94] Odyss. IX. 373.

[95] Il. II. 409.

[96] Works and Days, 342.

[97] Il. VII. 324.

[98] Il. IX. 70 and 74.

[99] Odyss. VII. 138.

[100] For an account of the belief that Plato was the son of Apollo, not of Aristo, and the vision of Apollo said to have appeared to Aristo, see Diogenes Laertius, III. 1, 1. (G.)

[101] Il. XXIV. 258.

[102] Il. XXIII. 659.

[103] Works and Days, 595.

[104] Il. XI. 86.

[105] Odyss. X. 356.

[106] Odyss. XII. 329-332.

[107] Soph. Antigone, 456.

[108] Plutarch seems to give this meaning to the Homeric phrase ἐν καρὸς αἴσῃ (Il. IX. 378) usually interpreted at a hair’s worth, or like unto death (as Aristarchus understood it, taking καρός for κηρός). See the Scholia on the passage of the Iliad. (G.)

[109] Works and Days, 11.

[110] Il. XVIII. 356.

[111] Eurip. Orest. 271.

[112] Odyss. V. 306.

[113] Soph. Electra, 2.

[114] Il. III. 428.

[115] Hesiod, Works and Days, 763.

[116] Odyss. X. 72.

[117] Il. V. 335. It is evident from what follows that Plutarch interprets μετάλμενος in this passage having leaped to one side. (G.)

[118] Il. V. 422.

[119] What follows, to the beginning of Question XIII., is omitted in the old editions of this translation. (G.)

[120] See Il. III. 68, 88, 255, and 281.

[121] Il. III. 137.

[122] Il. IV. 13.

[123] Il. III. 308.

[124] Il. VII. 69.

[125] Il. III. 450.

[126] Il. III. 101.

[127] Il. III. 365.

[128] Odyss. X. 38.

[129] From Simonides.

[130] Pindar, Pyth. I. 25.

[131] Euripides, Frag. 975; Pindar, Olymp. I. 31; Il. XXIII. 503.

[132] Hesiod, Theog. 16.

[133] These verses are quoted by Tzetzes with three others as belonging to Hesiod’s Heroic Genealogy. If they are genuine, they contain the earliest reference to Hellen and his three sons. See Fragment XXXII. in Göttling’s Hesiod. (G.)

[134] The fragments of Simonides may be found in Bergk, Poet. Lyr. Gr. pp. 879, 880 (Nos. 29, 30, 31). They are too mutilated to be translated. (G.)

[135] Odyss. XIX. 208.

[136] Soph. Oed. Tyr. 4.

[137] From Mimnermus.

[138] From the Chrysippus of Euripides, Frag. 837 and 838.

[139] Odyss. XII. 168.

[140] Il. VII. 98.

[141] Eurip. Hippol. 384.

[142] Il. XI. 547.

[143] Il. XIII. 284.

[144] Il. XV. 262; V. 185.

[145] Odyss. V. 322.

[146] Theognis, vs. 215.

[147] The Questions which follow (XXXII-XXXIX) are not found in the Greek, but are restored from the Latin translation, said to have been made in the 16th century from a Greek manuscript now lost. The version here given is based upon that of Holland. (G.)

[148] Il. XIX. 415.

[149] Theoc. I. 105.

END OF VOL. III.

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.

BOOK IX. (part 3)

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 #79588

Transcriber’s notes:

Italic text is marked thus. Spaced gesperrt text is marked ~thus~.

The spelling, punctuation and accentuation are as the original, except for apparent typographical errors which have been corrected.

Hyphenation has been standardised.

[Illustration: Sappho.

From the painting by Sir L. Alma-Tadema.]

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 Four

[Illustration: HONOS ET VIRTUS]

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 FOURTH.

WITH THE TRANSLATORS’ NAMES.

WHY THE ORACLES CEASE TO GIVE ANSWERS.

BY ROBERT MIDGLEY, M.D., AND COLL. MED. LOND. CAND.

Two men, Demetrius of Tarsus, from England, and Cleombrotus the Lacedaemonian, from Egypt, meet at Delphi, 3. Their conversation about what Cleombrotus had seen and heard in Egypt, 4. He had visited the oracle of Jupiter Ammon, 4. A remarkable lamp there, which was never extinguished, though its supply of oil was lessened continually, 4-6. The conversation turns on oracles: why have most of the oracles, even in Greece, become silent? 7. Formerly these oracles gave responses, 8. What responses were given, 8. Are responses now withheld, because of the great wickedness of the time? 10. The gods are not inconstant or malevolent, 11. One cause may be found in the diminished population of Greece, 12. When there were more men, there were more responses, 12. God himself has not abolished divination, 13. God is not concerned in all human affairs, 14. There are beings, called Daemons, intermediate between Gods and men, 14. These Daemons were originally human beings, 14. They are not immortal, though very long-lived, 15. A mathematical computation of the possible length of a Daemon’s life, 15-17. A Daemon resembles an isosceles triangle, 17. A Daemon compared to the moon, 17, 18. Daemons are employed by the gods as their agents and ministers in human affairs, particularly in matters of worship and religious ceremony, 18. Human sacrifices and cruel rites are required by malignant Daemons, 19. Combat between Apollo and the Dragon Python for the possession of the oracle at Delphi, 20. Daemons are appointed to have the care of oracles; when the Daemons depart, the oracles must of course fail, 21. That Daemons may be mortal, proved by a story related by one of the company: “The great god Pan is dead,” 23. Another story, about the death in Britain of a Daemon, and the terrible storm that followed, 24. Opinions of the Stoics concerning Daemons, 24. Epicureans reject the idea of Daemons, and with it the Divine Providence, 25. Story of a stranger encountered by Cleombrotus in his travels, and what he said about Daemons and oracles, 26-28. The wars of the Titans were battles of Daemons with Daemons, 27. Daemons, though not gods, like to be called gods and honored as such, 28. How many worlds are there? one hundred and eighty-three, ranged in the form of a triangle, 29. Homer says there are five worlds, 30. Plato makes but one world, 28, 31. Probably there are several worlds, 31. Reasons for this opinion, 32. There is one supreme God, but many inferior gods, 31, 33. A plurality of worlds further discussed, 34, 35. A plurality of worlds does not involve the existence of a plurality of Jupiters, 36. An infinite number of worlds is a chimera: but a certain definite number is quite probable; and Jupiter may pass from one world to another, as occasion requires, to regulate its affairs, 36-38. As there are five regular forms of solid bodies, there are probably five worlds, 38, 39. Objections to this opinion, 40. The opinion defended, 41, 42. One, or unity; two, or duality,—are the supreme principles of all things, 42. One and two make three, an odd number; three and two make five; we reckon by fives, or by twice five; all other numbers are produced from these; we have five senses, and five fingers; the earth has five zones; the heaven has five circles; for these and similar reasons it is inferred that there are five worlds and no more, 42-47. The silence of the oracles is due to the fact that the Daemons who presided over them have departed, 47. But how did the Daemons exert their power over the oracles? 47. If the Daemons, being human spirits disembodied, may foresee and foretell future events, why may not human spirits, embodied, possess a similar power? 48, 49. Our souls certainly are endued by nature with this power, 50. This power exists in certain states or dispositions of the body, assisted and enforced by certain exhalations from the earth, 51, 52. Such an exhalation issues from the earth at Delphi and other places, 53. But these exhalations are subject to changes, caused by earthquakes, &c., 53, 54. From such causes the oracle may fail, 54. A story about an oracle in Cilicia, 55. Objections to the views now expressed, 56, 57. If the prophetic faculty be a natural endowment, why do we offer sacrifice to the gods, in order to obtain a response? 57. Because all good comes from the gods; although our natural wit and reason may help in obtaining it, 58-60. Divination is from God; it is also from wit and reason; it is promoted by enthusiastic exhalations from the earth, 59. When all these things concur, the oracle gives responses; when any are wanting, the oracle is silent, 60-64.

OF ISIS AND OSIRIS, OR OF THE ANCIENT RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY OF EGYPT.

BY WILLIAM BAXTER, PHILALETHES.

The knowledge of truth man’s greatest blessing; to be sought of the gods, 65. Isis the goddess of wisdom and knowledge, 66. What makes a true priest of Isis? 67. Why do the priests of Isis shave their heads and wear linen garments? 67. Why are those priests scrupulous about their food? 68. Why is the bull Apis not watered from the Nile? 68. Why do the priests of the Sun abstain from wine, or drink it sparingly? 69. Why do the priests abstain from fish and from onions? 70. They do not sacrifice the swine, 71. They conceal their wisdom in enigmas, 72. Hence the enigmas of Pythagoras, 72. Some of the Egyptian enigmas stated, 73. The tales related of the Egyptian gods not to be taken literally, 73. A story about the birth of Osiris, 74. Another about the birth of Isis and other deities, 75. The great actions of Osiris, 75. The manner of his death, 76. His wife Isis, her lamentations, 76-78. Her search for her husband, 77. Finds the body of Osiris, 78, 79. About Maneros, the foster-son of Isis, 79. The body of Osiris torn in pieces by Typhon, his murderer, and the members scattered about, 80. The members found and interred in many places, 80. War between Typhon and Horus, the son of Osiris, 80, 81. These stories not to be literally understood, 82. These gods were not kings and mighty men, 83. Semiramis, Sesostris, Cyrus, Alexander, were human beings, not deities, 85. Isis, Osiris, and Typhon, were not divine beings, nor human, but Daemons, an intermediate genus, 86. Such also were Saturn, the giants and Titans of the Greeks, 86. This notion is sanctioned by Homer, Hesiod, Plato, Xenocrates, and Empedocles, 86, 87. Typhon was a malignant Daemon, 88. Isis and Osiris were good Daemons, afterwards changed into gods, 88. Isis is the same as Proserpine; Serapis is Pluto, 88. Osiris is identical with Serapis and with Bacchus, 89. Osiris is also identical with the bull Apis, 90. The Egyptians offer disrespect to Typhon, 91. They maltreat the ass and animals and men having red hair, because his hair was red, 91. According to some, Osiris is the Nile, and Typhon the sea; explanation, 92. The most learned hold Osiris to be the cause of generation, 94. Proofs that Osiris is the same as Bacchus, 95, 96. The Phallic rites, and how they originated, 96, 97. The Nile, and every thing humid, is the efflux of Osiris, and he is thus the cause of all things, 96, 97. The country bordering on the Nile is the body of Isis, 98. The conspiracy of Typhon explained, 99. The mourning of Isis, and her recovery of the body of Osiris explained, 100. Another explanation of Typhon, Osiris and Isis, the heavenly bodies, 101. The eclipse of the moon is the death of Osiris, 104. Worship of the dog Anubis, 77, 104. Typhon stands for the principle or cause of evil, distress, and destruction, 105. The Magian or Persian doctrine of two original independent forces or powers; one the source of light or good, the other of darkness and evil, 106. These maintain an incessant struggle, 107. The final issue will be happy, 108. The same ideas are found among the Chaldeans and the Greeks, 108. These ideas are found also among the Pythagoreans and in Plato, 109. Throughout nature we find the two discordant principles, which are represented by the names Osiris and Typhon, 109, 110. The hieroglyphics and religious rites which refer to these principles, 110-112. Isis is the feminine and productive property of Nature, 113. Horus, son of Isis, represents the world of mind, 114. He has a struggle with Typhon, 114, 115. The three constituents of the divine nature, 115. Illustrated by a triangle, 115. What Plato says of the production of love, 116, 117. Fables are doctrinal only in part, 117. The fable of Typhon further explained, 118. Supposed etymology of the words Isis, Osiris, Anubis, and others, 119-121. The sistrum, or timbrel, used at the feasts of Isis, 121. Isis and Osiris produce whatever is orderly and beneficial; Typhon is the cause of disorder and mischief, 122. These deities are not peculiar to Egypt; all mankind have them, 123. We are not to rest in the letter of the accounts given of these gods, 124. Sun, moon, earth, fire, wind, water, are not gods, but elements wielded by the gods, and by which the gods exhibit and manifest themselves, 124. We are to rise above the symbol to the thing symbolized, 125. We should not confound the true idea of God with the appearances and changes of external nature, 126, 127. The statues of the gods are not the gods, 128. The assumption of the forms of brute animals by the gods is not to be believed, 129. Yet the idolatrous worship of the Egyptians had no better foundation than this belief, 129, 130. Some reasons assigned for brute worship, 131, 132. God is to be worshiped in Nature, not Nature instead of God, 134. The sacred vestments of Isis and Osiris; their nature and use, 135. Purpose for which incense and perfumes are burnt, 136-139.

CONCERNING SUCH WHOM GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH.

BY JOHN PHILIPS, GENT.

“Concerning those whom God is slow to punish.” This subject is discussed between Plutarch and several of his relatives, Plutarch being the principal speaker. Epicurus had just left the company uttering invectives against the justice of the Deity in the government of the world, 140. It is admitted that the delay of divine justice gives rise to perplexing thoughts, 141. Some of the objections are,—(1) Such delay seems to proceed from indifference on the part of the Deity to the desert of crime; (2) Punishment long delayed fails to restrain the commission of crime, as a speedy retribution would do; (3) It is often entirely useless as a reparation to those who have suffered from injustice; (4) It emboldens the transgressor, 141; (5) It diminishes in many minds the belief of Divine Providence; (6) Punishment long delayed fails of any good effect on the offender himself, 143. To what good purpose, then, do the millstones of the gods grind, when they grind so slowly? 143. To these objections it is answered as follows: It becomes us to enter on such inquiries with great caution and self-distrust, because our knowledge of God and of his ways is extremely narrow and imperfect, 144. We are very incompetent judges of what it is fit for God to do, 144. God only knows when, and in what manner, and how much to punish, 144. Those who are ignorant of music or of military affairs are not competent judges of those matters, 144. No one who is not properly trained can wisely administer human law, 145. The remissness of which complaint is made is true only in part, and is only apparent. So far as it is real, it may be vindicated by the following considerations: (1) The Deity, by being slow to punish, teaches us to moderate our anger, and never to punish in a passion, 146; He would lead us to imitate his own gentleness and forbearance, 147; (2) The wicked, in consequence of delay, have opportunity to repent, and are therefore spared from a desire of their reformation, 148; The summary justice, to which the passions of men incite them, excludes all regard to this object, and degenerates into the mere gratification of malice and revenge, 148; The wisdom of the divine policy, so different from this, is fully justified by the results, since history records many instances where men who, in early life, were profligate, have afterwards reformed and become useful to society, 149, 150; (3) The wicked are often permitted to live and prosper, that Providence may by them execute its justice on others, of which instances are given, 151, 152; (4) The wicked are sometimes spared that a noble and virtuous posterity, proceeding from them, may bless the world, 152; (5) Punishment is sometimes deferred for a time that the hand of Providence may be more conspicuous in inflicting it, 153. But the objection against an overruling Providence, founded on the prosperity of the wicked, assumes too much; the delay is apparent, rather than real, 154. Retribution follows hard on the steps of crime, in the shame, remorse, and inward suffering of the offender, 154. Many look with envy on wicked men who seem to enjoy high prosperity, while those men are soon to become involved in the deepest misery, 154. Wicked men suffer not a late but a long punishment; they suffer all the time, 155. What we call delay, is not such to the Deity; distinctions of time with him have no place, 155. It is not the last moment of punishment which contains all the punishment, 155. God has the offender all the while in his power, and does not suffer him to rest, 156. Instances are given of remorse suffered by the guilty, 156, 157. Were death the extinction of our being, it might still be maintained that the Deity is not remiss in punishing crime, 157. The wicked find, even here, that no real good comes from their wickedness, 158. Self-condemnation, a dread of censure, a fear of death, embitter their lives, 159. One of the company now leads the conversation to a kindred subject, the question how the conduct of Providence can be justified in punishing children for the misconduct of their parents, of which several instances are quoted, 160, 161. To this it is replied: (1) Children often derive advantage from the virtue and piety of their fathers; it is not therefore strange that they should suffer for their wickedness, 163, 164. (2) The law of cause and effect comes in here, as in other cases, though we may not fully explain it; children often inherit the diseases of their parents; the plague of Athens took its rise in far distant Ethiopia, 165. (3) The constitution of society binds one generation to another, and thus renders this retribution just, as well as inevitable; every family, as well as every state, has a separate existence, a personal identity of its own, and it is one and the same through successive ages; hence the social crime of one age may properly work out its legitimate results in another, 166-168. (4) In all cases, God deals with men according to their deserts; if children are virtuous, they are not harmed for what their ancestors have done, 169. But, says one of the company, some of your remarks imply the immortality of the soul, 168, 169. Plutarch answers, yes; and we have good reason for assuming that point; if we were like the leaves which fall from the trees in autumn, or like the hot-house plant which has no enduring root; if we were brought into existence to endure only for a day, it would be unworthy of the Deity to lavish so much care upon us, 169. The immortality of the soul, and an overruling Providence, are confirmed to us by the same argument, 170. If the soul survives the body, we may conclude that its future state will be one of reward or punishment, because life is a struggle and a probation, 170. Punishments that reach posterity often restrain the inclinations of wicked persons, 171. Children born of diseased parents need to be guarded against the hereditary disease, 172. And children of wicked parents will be themselves wicked, unless careful and timely restraints be placed upon them, 173, 174. God sees the inbred corruption if we do not, and often does not wait till the actual outbreak before animadverting upon it, 174, 175. Dormant villany may be more dangerous than open iniquity, and so may need chastisement, 175. The innocent are never punished for the guilty; but if a man tread in his father’s steps, he must succeed to his punishment, 175, 176. The argument is enforced by the story of a man who lived a dishonest and wicked life; who appeared to die; visited the world of spirits; saw the rewards and punishments there experienced; came back to life, and was greatly reformed in consequence, 177-188.

OF NATURAL AFFECTION TOWARDS ONE’S OFFSPRING.

BY R. BROWN, M.L.

The Grecians, from distrust of Grecian justice, appealed to foreign judicatures, 189. In a similar manner, philosophers, instead of appeals to human nature, have appealed to brute affection, 189. Absurdity of such an appeal, 189. Brutes, having no reason, follow blindly and implicitly the guidance of Nature, 190. All brutes love their offspring, toiling and suffering for their good, 190, 191. Let them herein be our examples, 192. Some pretend that among human beings disinterested affection does not exist, 192. This assertion is not true, 193. Nature has so ordered the circumstances in which man comes into being, as to necessitate the existence of a strong and tender love on the part of the mother, 193, 194. Parents do not love their children in the hope of benefit to be derived from them, 195. Nor from the desire of having heirs to their estates, 196. A rich man without heirs has many friends; and children, when born to him, do not augment his power, 196. Natural affection may be obscured and hindered by vice; but this disproves not its existence, 197.

CONCERNING THE FORTUNE OF THE ROMANS.

BY JOHN OSWALD.

Is the grandeur and power of the Roman Empire due to Virtue, or to Fortune? 198. Virtue and Fortune, though different in nature, conspire to produce the same results, 198. Both united in rearing that stupendous structure, the Roman Empire, 199. The world was full of change, confusion, and disorder, till the power of Rome extended over the nations, 200. Virtue and Fortune now come forward in this discussion to maintain their respective claims as architects and supporters of the Roman greatness, 200. In the train of Virtue are Fabricius, Camillus, Cincinnatus, Marcellus, Scipio, and others, 201. Fortune, having deserted the Persians, Greeks and Carthaginians, comes forward leading Numa, Aemilius Paulus, Metellus, Sylla, as her favored sons, 201-203. The Romans themselves attributed their greatness to Fortune, and built many temples to it, 203, 211. Caesar relied much on Fortune, and was greatly assisted by it, 204, 205. Augustus was the favored child of Fortune, 205. Fortune was manifest in all the affairs of Rome from the beginning, as in the birth and education of Romulus, 206-208. In the long, wise, and peaceful reign of Numa, 208-210. In the birth, elevation, and prosperity of Servius Tullius, 212, 213. In the triumphs of the Romans over Philip, Antiochus, and the Carthaginians, and especially the expeditions of Pompey, 214. The favor of Fortune was constant, from age to age: it attended the Romans in all their enterprises, 215. The great overthrow at the river Allia was not fatal to Rome, 216-218. The cackling of the sacred geese, a piece of good fortune, saved Rome, 217. Alexander of Macedon was intending war against the Romans, but Fortune ordered his death just at the right time for them, 219. [The remainder of this treatise, containing the arguments in behalf of Virtue, is lost.]

OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS.

BY JOHN PHILIPS, GENT.

Talkativeness an inveterate disease, 220. Talkative people are very troublesome, 221. They are avoided and are not heard, 222. They never gain belief, 223. Talkativeness often results from drunkenness, 224. Silence is often a great virtue; anecdote of Zeno at a feast, 225. Loquacity shows great want of good breeding, 227. It exposes to great danger, 228. It gave Athens into the power of Sylla, 228. It prolonged the tyranny of Nero, 228, 229. The noble taciturnity of Leaena, 229, 230. Secrets are not to be revealed, even to our most intimate friends, 232, 233. Anecdote of a Roman senator and his wife, 233, 234. Mischiefs of a vain curiosity, 236. Loquacious men destroy themselves, 238. Anecdote of Dionysius and a barber, 238. Of an Athenian barber, 238, 239. Of one who robbed the temple of Minerva, 239. Of the murderers of Ibycus, 240. Great peril of an unbridled tongue, 240. A tell-tale is often a traitor, 241. To cure ourselves of so vile a habit, consider the mischiefs which arise from it, 242. Study conciseness of speech: imitate the Spartan brevity, 243. When in company questions are asked, keep silence till all the rest have refused to answer, 245, 246. Be not hasty to answer questions that are intended to ensnare you, 247. When the questioner really desires information, let there be a pause between the question and the answer, 247. Three sorts of answers to questions,—the necessary, the polite, the superfluous, 248. Beware of the third sort, 249. Beware of talking on favorite subjects, and of matters relating to your profession, 250, 251. Before you speak, consider what advantage may arise from speaking, and what mischief from holding your peace, 253.

OF LOVE.

BY THE SAME HAND.

The scene of this discussion is laid near Thespiae, on the elope of Mount Helicon; the interlocutors are Plutarch and several of his friends, 254, 255. The occasion is a match projected between Ismenodora, a chaste, noble, and rich widow, and Baccho, a beautiful young man, both of Thespiae, 256. There are different opinions concerning the propriety of the connection, chiefly on account of the disparity of age and outward condition, 256. A discussion arises as to the true nature and foundation of love, as it actually exists in the world, 258. Does it spring from the desire of carnal gratification merely, or from some higher impulse? 258, 259. One speaker pretends that genuine love is that for beautiful boys, παιδεραστία, and condemns the love of women, 259. Another condemns male converse as contrary to nature, 260. It is of recent origin, nourished by the scenes of the palaestra, 261, 262. As Venus is not present in such scenes, there is no real love, 262. The connection of Baccho with Ismenodora is objected to by some of the speakers, on the ground that it would make him dependent on her, 264, 265. Plutarch advocates the connection, 266. Men have sometimes married wives who held them in subjection, but came to this result by their own weakness, 266, 267. There may be a positive advantage in having a wife older than one’s self, arising from her superior wisdom, 268. At this point, the company receive information that Ismenodora, with some friends, had got Baccho into her house, and was holding him there, 269. A lady warmly in love, 270. Is Love a Deity, or only a strong human passion? 272. Why should we call in question the deity of Cupid more than that of Jupiter or Minerva? 273, 274. Why admit the deity of Mars, the god of war and slaughter, and even of the nymphs and dryads, and refuse to believe that a god presides over the tenderest human affections? 275-280. The god of love is not inferior either in power, or in the benefits he confers, to any other deity, 281. Mere venereal delight may be purchased for a drachm; it is soon over, 281, 282. Love, as an affection, has a controlling power; examples, 283-287. Its power over the ancient heroes, 286. Love makes cowards brave, and covetous men liberal, 288. There are different opinions about the gods, but all confess the power of the god of love, 291. Opinions of the Egyptians concerning the god of love, 292. Resemblance between the sun and the god of love, and differences, 293, 294. True love has for its main and ultimate object the qualities of the mind and heart, 295, 296. True beauty is that of the soul, 297. Love is the scourge of proud, ill-natured people, 298. The causes of love are common to both sexes, 299. Love is a noble and generous affection, 300. In wedlock, founded on true love, there will be no “mine” and “thine,” 301. There will be mutual respect and confidence, 301. All other love will be excluded, 302. Illustrated by the story of Camma, a Galatian lady, 302, 303. A raging passion for beautiful persons, either male or female, is not true love, 305. Yet personal charms in a modest woman will fix the affection of a husband, 305. No earthly joy is so great and so lasting as that arising from the conjugal union, 307. The love of virtuous women does not cease with their youth and beauty, 308. Conjugal fidelity exemplified in the case of Sabinus of Galatia and his wife, 308-310. The discussion ends with the marriage of Ismenodora and Baccho, 311.

FIVE TRAGICAL HISTORIES OF LOVE.

BY SIR A. I.

1. Aristoclia, of Haliartus in Boeotia, is sought in marriage by two young men; on her wedding-day she is slain, 312, 313. 2. Archias of Corinth, enamoured of a young man named Actaeon, endeavors by force to obtain possession of his person; resistance being made, Actaeon is slain, 313-315. 3. Two virgins of Leuctra in Boeotia having been ravished and murdered by two young Spartans, their father goes to Lacedaemon to obtain redress; failing in the attempt, he invokes the vengeance of the Furies upon that city, and slays himself; not long after, the Lacedaemonians receive a signal defeat at Leuctra, 315-319. 4. Phocus, the father of a beautiful virgin, refusing to give her in marriage, is murdered; the murderers escape, but are at length taken, and put to death, 319, 320. 5. Alcippus of Lacedaemon, a virtuous citizen, being unjustly banished, his wife and daughters are not permitted to follow him; his wife slays herself and daughters, and a terrible earthquake follows, 320-322.

A DISCOURSE TO AN UNLEARNED PRINCE.

BY MR. J. KERSEY

Difficulty of giving advice to princes, 323. A prince in the first place, should learn to govern himself, 324. He should feel that he is God’s minister for good to his subjects, 325. He should not affect the power or the absolute sovereignty of God, 326. He should be more afraid of doing than of suffering ill, 327. He should vigilantly guard the welfare of his subjects, 327. His wisdom and justice should reflect the wisdom and justice of God, 328. His power should be restrained by sound reason, 329.

OF HERODOTUS’S MALICE.

BY A. G., GENT.

Plutarch feels under obligation to defend his countrymen and others from the ungenerous representations of Herodotus, 331. Some signs of a malicious narrative, 332. To put the worst construction on actions; to relate faults having no connection with the story; to omit the relation of laudable actions; when the same action has been related in two different ways, to prefer the more unfavorable; to assign bad motives for an action of which the true motive is unknown: these things are signs of malice, 332-334. Many misrepresentations occur in Herodotus: as in the story of Io; the cause of the Trojan war; and that the Greeks derived their religious worship from the Egyptians, 335, 336. Also that the Persians learned the castration of boys from the Greeks, 336. That Hercules came from Egypt, and Thales from Phœnicia, 337. That the Alcmaeonidae were guilty of treason, 338. That Othryadas was not truly a hero, 338. He is inconsistent in his account of Croesus, 339. He misrepresents the Athenians in the affair of the Milesians, 339. And the Lacedaemonians in their expedition against Polycrates of Samos, 340. And the Corinthians in the affair of the 300 boys from Corcyra, 341. He calumniates Clisthenes, the deliverer of Athens, Aristogiton, and the Lacedaemonians, for their share in the expulsion of Hippias, 343. He gives an incorrect and defective account of the burning of Sardis by the Athenians and Eretrians, 344. He falsifies the history of the Persian invasion of Greece, 345, et seq. He defames the Alemaeonidae and the Argives, for their conduct in that affair, 347-349. He indulges a malignant spite against the Thebans, 351-356. He does injustice to Leonidas, 354. He misrepresents the retirement of the Greek fleet after the battle of Artemisium, 356-358. He is unfair towards those of the Greeks who were compelled to submit to the overwhelming power of the Persians, 351, 352, 360. He misrepresents the Naxians, 360, 361. He is unjust to Themistocles, and to Adimantus, the Corinthian admiral, in respect to their conduct at Salamis, 361-364. He unfairly represents the battle of Plataea, and the part taken in it by several of the confederate States, 366-369. The summing up of the case, 370.

OF COMMON CONCEPTIONS, AGAINST THE STOICS.

BY S. WHITE, M.D.

The views of Chrysippus, the Stoic, opposed, 372, et seq. He and the Stoics in general pervert the common conceptions, 373, 374. Do they agree with Nature who make all natural things indifferent? 375. Natural things,—health, vigor, comfort, &c.,—are necessary, if we would live according to Nature; but the Stoics deny this, 375. An intelligent and wise man will estimate every thing at its true value, 376. When deprived of good things, a wise man feels the loss, 377. It is a common experience that a man has joy in exchanging a state of great evil for a state of great good; but the Stoics do not admit this, 377. The Stoics do not admit that the continuance of a good thing increases its value, contrary to the common apprehension and belief, 378. They maintain that virtue and happiness, when present, may not be perceived by him who enjoys them; which is a great absurdity, 378, 379. Is the difference then so small between health and sickness, wisdom and folly? 379. It is repugnant to the common conception, that all men who are not wise are equally foolish, wicked, and unjust; and yet the Stoics assert this, 380. They say that a man possessing all good things may find it convenient to commit suicide; and that a man destitute of all good may find it fitting to live, 381, 382. Chrysippus inconsistent with himself, 383. He maintains that vice is not wholly useless; that it is indispensable to the existence of virtue, 384. Must we then pray that wickedness may always continue? 385. God has no need of thieves, murderers, and other evil-doers, nor is wickedness pleasing to him, 386. The Stoics say that prudence could not exist in the utter absence of evil, 387. But good and evil do not exist that there may be place and opportunity for prudence, 388. Suppose evil to cease to exist: would any harm arise from the lack of prudence? 388. Our taste would not be lost, if all bitter things were wanting, 389. If good only existed, might there not be an apprehension of evil? 389. If vice were absolutely necessary, might not a few examples suffice? 389. The Stoics say that no vicious man receives benefit from any source; has no benefactors, and does not slight benefactors: of course, then, he is never ungrateful, 391. What is utility?? 392. According to the Stoics, it is a gathering and keeping of useless and indifferent things, 393. To live virtuously and according to nature is the true happiness, 394. The Stoics, in practice, sanction this idea; but their philosophy rejects it, 394. The end is more important and valuable than the means, though both may be good; but the Stoics allow no good or evil thing to be greater or less than another good or evil thing, 395. It is against common sense to say, with Chrysippus, that there may be two ends or scopes proposed of life, and that all we do is not to be referred to one, 396. That which is first by nature is to be first chosen, 396. The Stoics say that the obtaining of natural things is not the end of aiming after them, 397. Chrysippus says a man may be indifferent to good and evil before he understands the nature of good or evil: which is utterly impossible, 398. The Stoics reason in a circle, 399, 400. Absurdities of their philosophy, 402. It is self-contradictory, 403. According to them the universe is nothing and nowhere, 404. Their conceptions of God are confused and erroneous, 404. They believe none of the gods to be immortal, but Jupiter alone, 405. They admit the providence of God, but do not allow that he bestows good things, 406. They make God the author of evil, 408. They hold a final conflagration, and an absorption of all things into God, 405, 409. They say there is but one quality in two substances, 410. They think that one body may mix with another through its whole extent, so that a drop of wine may extend through the whole Atlantic Ocean, 411, 412. Their philosophy concerning the equality and inequality of bodies leads to absurdity, 412-416; and so when they say that nothing touches another, 416, 417. They also absurdly say that time may be past or future, but not present, 418-420. They say that nothing can overtake another: a swift horse cannot overtake a slow tortoise, because the interval between can be divided into infinite spaces, 420. They say that every man has two bodies precisely alike, one being substance, the other quality, 421, 422. They make the virtues and vices, the fancies, impulses, and operations of the mind to be distinct bodies and animals, 423. They make God himself to be an intellectual body, not incorporeal, 425. They make qualities to be bodies, and yet say that matter is void of quality, 426.

THE CONTRADICTIONS OF THE STOICS.

BY E. SMITH, M.A.

The life of every man, especially of every philosopher, should agree with what he believes and teaches, 428. The lives of Chrysippus, Zeno, and other Stoic philosophers, did not agree with their doctrines, 429, et seq. It has been so when any of them have managed state affairs, 429. And in regard to the worship of the gods, 430. They represent virtue as one indivisible quality of the mind, and yet admit several virtues, 431. They say that students should first learn logic, secondly ethics, then physics, and then say that natural science should come first, 432, 433. Chrysippus has written on both sides of the same question; he has opposed his own doctrines, 434-436. They say that the law commands good actions and forbids evil actions; and yet wicked men cannot do good, 437. Chrysippus says that nothing properly belongs to a bad man, or is profitable to him; that no one vice or sin is greater than another, nor any good deed better than another; and then contradicts himself, 438-441. He disparages the fear of divine wrath as a motive to virtue, and yet commends it, 442. In one place he allows pleasure to be a good; in another place he denies that it is so, 443. In one place he asserts that he who injures another injures also himself, and in another place says this is absurd, 444. He often asserts that vice is the essence of unhappiness; but elsewhere says that it is profitable for a bad man to live rather than to die, although he never become good, 446. He says it is sometimes meet for the happy to make away with themselves, and for the unhappy to continue to live, 447. He says that good things are totally and necessarily different from bad; and yet that a man may change from one to the other without perceiving it, 447. He maintains that a prudent man meddles not with public affairs; and also says that a wise man willingly takes upon him a kingdom, 448. He makes a wise man indifferent to wealth, and yet eager to receive pay, 449. In one place he justifies unclean practices from the example of brute animals, and in another place condemns them, 452. When two things are exactly alike, and there is a necessity to choose between them, the mind chooses: which Chrysippus in one place calls an effect without a cause, but in another place thinks there may be a hidden cause, 452, 453. He highly commends Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle, for what they delivered on dialectics, and yet opposes their views, 454. He says that to have been happy a long time is to be no more happy than to be happy only for a moment; and yet that momentary happiness is worth nothing, 455. He allows ornament to be desirable in a discourse, and yet says that blemishes and solecisms in speaking are not to be regarded, 456. He applies to the gods terms of high praise, but makes them the authors of slaughter and carnage, 460. If the gods are the authors of war they are also the authors of vice and wickedness, contrary to what Chrysippus says, 461. He says nothing can be contrary to Nature, and even vicious practices are according to Nature and the laws established by the Deity: yet he says God, and man too, punishes vice, 462-464. He says all the gods are nourished except Jupiter and the World; he also says the World is nourished, 466, 467. He contradicts himself in regard to the generation of the soul; the nature and qualities of the air; a vacuum, &c., 468-473. His doctrine of things possible is contrary to his doctrine of Fate, 473. Fate he declares to be an invincible, absolute cause; yet admits that there are obstacles and hindrances to particular motions and actions, 474-477.

BOOK IX. (part 4)

OF THE WORD ΕΙ ENGRAVEN OVER THE GATE OF APOLLO’S TEMPLE AT DELPHI.

BY R. KIPPAX, M.A.

It is not probable that this word was placed there by chance, 479. It is doubtless an enigma, like many other things in the temple of Apollo, 480. What then is the meaning? 480. Does it point to the number of the wise men of Greece, of whom Thales was one? 480. Has it an astronomical meaning referring to the sun, the second of the planets, as ε is the second of the vowels? 481. Does it denote a form of prayer to the god, εἰ standing for a wish? 482. As Apollo is skilled in logic, does εἰ refer to that science, denoting the dependence of consequent or antecedent, or the connection of one thing with another? 482-484. Has it a relation to mathematics, ε being the fifth letter of the alphabet, five being the sum of two and three, the even and odd numbers, and five or its double being that number by which we reckon? 484-486. Or does it point to music and its five symphonies, or the five positions of the tetrachords? 488. Or may we suppose it refers to five worlds, or to five elements of matter, or to the five geometrical solids? 489. Or to the five portions of the world, or to the five species of animated beings? 490. Or to the five principal beginnings? 491. The true answer is,—By the word εἶ, we are to understand the verb εἶ, Thou art, as an address to Apollo; signifying thereby the actual and permanent existence of God, in contrast with our fleeting, transitory existence, 493-495. God is: he exists, not in time but in eternity, an ETERNAL, CHANGELESS NOW, 495. God is ONE, and not many, though there are many manifestations of him, 495, 496. The word εἶ, Thou art, then, testifies of this one God, as eternal and unchangeable, and challenges for Him our worship, 497, 498.

WHETHER VICE IS SUFFICIENT TO RENDER A MAN UNHAPPY.

BY S. WHITE, M.D.

Men cannot enjoy wealth by reason of trouble; yet men earnestly seek it, 499. Vice is sufficient of itself to produce misery; it needs no aid from instruments, 500. Poverty, slavery, war, external calamity of every sort, even death in cruel forms, may be borne by a heroic spirit, 501. In India, widows burn with joy on the funeral pile of their husbands, 502. All the ills of Fortune cannot produce misery, without Vice; but Vice ruins and destroys, 503.

WHETHER THE PASSIONS OF THE SOUL OR DISEASES OF THE BODY ARE WORSE.

BY THE SAME HAND.

Man is the most unhappy of all creatures, 504. The body has many diseases, and they are readily perceived, 505. But the soul does not readily perceive its own maladies; it even mistakes them for indications of soundness, 506. The man diseased in body willingly yields to the care of the physician, 506. The unruly passions of the soul resist a cure, and are therefore more fatal, 507, 508.

INDEX

PLUTARCH’S MORALS.

VOL. IV.

PLUTARCH’S MORALS.

WHY THE ORACLES CEASE TO GIVE ANSWERS.

LAMPRIAS, CLEOMBROTUS, DIDYMUS, PHILIPPUS, DEMETRIUS, AMMONIUS, HERACLEON.

1. There is an old story, friend Terentius Priscus, that heretofore eagles or swans, flying from the opposite bounds of the earth, met together where now stands the temple of Apollo Pythius, in the place now called the Navel; and that some while after, Epimenides the Phaestian, willing to satisfy his curiosity, enquired of the oracle of Apollo with regard to this story, but received such an answer as made him never a jot the wiser; upon which he said:

No navel is there of the earth or sea: ’Tis known to Gods alone, if one there be.

Thus fitly did the God chastise this bold enquirer into ancient traditions.

2. But in our time, not long before the celebration of the Pythian games during the magistracy of Callistratus, there were two holy men who, coming as it were from the two opposite ends of the world, met together at the city of Delphi. The one was Demetrius the grammarian, who came from England to return to Tarsus in Cilicia, where he was born; the other, Cleombrotus the Lacedaemonian, who had been long conversant in Egypt and the Troglodytic country, and had made several voyages, as well on the Red Sea as other parts,—not as a merchant, to get money, but to improve his knowledge and enrich his mind; for he had enough to live upon, and cared for no more. And he was collecting history, as the material for philosophy, the end whereof (as he called it) is theology. He, having been lately at the temple and oracle of Jupiter Ammon, seemed not much to marvel at any thing he there saw; yet he mentioned to us one particular (which he said was told him by the priest of the temple) touching the lamp that is never extinguished and spendeth less every year than the former. Whence they conjectured an inequality of years, whereby each year was shorter than the preceding.

3. This discourse was much wondered at by the company, and Demetrius amongst the rest affirmed it unreasonable to ground the knowledge of such great matters on such slight and trivial conjectures; for this was not (as Alcaeus said) to paint the lion from the measure of his claw,[1] but to change and disorder the motions of celestial bodies for the sake of a lamp or the snuff of a candle, and to overthrow at one stroke all the mathematical sciences. These men, replied Cleombrotus, will not be moved by what you say; for first, they will not yield to mathematicians in point of certainty, seeing they may be more easily mistaken in their comprehension of time, it being so slippery in its motions and with such distant periods, than these men in the measures of their oil, about which they are so exact and careful because of the strangeness of the thing. Moreover, Demetrius, by denying that small things are oft the signs and indications of great, must prejudice several arts and sciences, and deprive them of the proofs of several conclusions and predictions. And yet you grammarians will needs vouch that the Demi-gods and princes at the Trojan war shaved with razors, because you find in Homer the mention of such an instrument; that also usury was then in fashion, because he says in one place,

A debt is due me neither new nor small,[2]

where you interpret ὀφέλλεται to mean increases. And again, when he calls the night quick and sharp, you will needs have him to mean by this word, that the shadow of the earth being round groweth sharp at the end like the body of a cone. Again, who is he that, denying small things to be the signs and proofs of great, will allow what physicians tell us, namely, that we may prognosticate a pestilent summer when great numbers of spiders are seen, and also when the fig leaves in the spring resemble crows’ feet? And who will permit us to measure the greatness of the sun’s body by a pint or gallon of water, or will grant that a small table like a tile, making a sharp angle leaning on a plane superficies, can show the just measure of the elevation of the pole from the horizon which is ever to be seen in our hemisphere? And this is what the priests may allege in favor of what they affirm; so that we must offer other arguments against them, if we will maintain the course of the sun to be fixed and unchangeable, as we here hold it to be.

4. Not only of the sun, cried out aloud the philosopher Ammonius, who was there present, but also of the whole heaven; for, if the years really decrease, the passage which the sun makes from one tropic to another must of necessity be shortened, so that it shall not take up so great a part of the horizon as the mathematicians do imagine, but become less and shorter as the southern part approaches the northern. Whence consequently the summer will fall out to be shorter and the temperature of the air colder, by reason of the sun’s turning more inwardly, and describing greater parallels within the signs of the tropics than it now does in the longest day in summer and the shortest in winter. It would moreover also follow, that the pins of the dials in the city of Syene will no longer appear shadowless at the summer solstice, and some fixed stars will run under the horizon, and others against one another, for want of room. And should it be alleged that all the other celestial bodies keep their courses and ordinary motions without any change, they will never be able to cite any cause which shall hasten his motion alone above all the rest; but they will be forced to confound and disorder all evident appearances which do clearly show themselves to our eyes, and especially those of the moon. So that there will be no need of observing these measures of oil to know the difference of the years; because the eclipses will do this, if there be any, seeing the sun does oft meet with the moon, and the moon as oft falls within the shadow of the earth; so that we need not any longer hold arguing on this matter.

But, says Cleombrotus, I myself have seen the measure of the oil, for they have shown it several years; but that of the present is far less than that of ancient times. Unto which Ammonius answered: How comes it to pass then that other people who have an inextinguishable fire in veneration, and have preserved it even time out of mind, could never remark this? And granting what you say concerning this measure of oil, is it not better to attribute the cause of this to some coldness or dampness of air; or, on the contrary, to some heat or dryness, by which the fire in the lamp being weakened needs not so much nourishment, and could not consume the same quantity? For it is well known that fire burns better in winter than in summer, its heat being drawn in and enclosed by the cold; whereas in great heats and dry weather it is weakened, lying dead and languishing without any strength; and if it be kindled in the sunshine, its efficacy is small, for it hardly catches hold of the wood, and slowly consumes the fuel But we may with greater probability attribute the circumstance of the oil to the oil itself; for oil formerly was of less nutriment, as squeezed out of olives which grew upon young trees; but being since better ordered, as coming of plants more fully grown, it must needs be more effectual to the nourishing and keeping of the fire. And this is the best way of saving the credit of the Ammonian priests in their supposition, which will not endure the test of reason.

5. Ammonius having finished his discourse, I pray, said I, Cleombrotus, give us some account of the oracle; for it ever has been in great esteem in those parts till these times, wherein its divinity and reputation seem to be decayed. Unto which Cleombrotus making no answer, but looking down to the ground, Demetrius took up the discourse, saying: You need not busy yourself in enquiries after the oracles in those parts, seeing we find the oracles in these parts to fail or (to speak better) to be totally silenced, except two or three; so that it would be more to the purpose to search into the cause of this silence. But we are more concerned in Boeotia, which, although formerly famous throughout all the world for oracles, is now like a fountain dried up, so that at present we find them dumb. For at this day there is no place in all Boeotia, unless in the town of Lebadea, where one can draw out any divination, all other parts being become silent and forsaken. Yet in the time of the war against the Persians, the oracle of Apollo Ptoüs was in request, as also that of Amphiaraus; for both of them were tried. The priest of Apollo Ptoüs, who was always wont to return the oracle’s answers in Aeolic Greek, spake to him that was sent from the barbarians in their own barbarous language, so that none of the assistants understood a word; whereby they were given to understand, that it was not lawful for the barbarians to have the use of the Greek tongue to serve their pleasure. And as to that of Amphiaraus, the person that was sent thither, having fallen asleep in the sanctuary, dreamed that he heard the minister of that God bidding him be gone out of the temple and saying that the God forbade him to remain, and that he presently shoved him out thence with both his hands; and seeing he still stopped by the way, he took up a great stone and struck him with it on the head. And what was this but a prediction and denunciation of what was to come to pass? For Mardonius was not long after defeated by Pausanias, who was no king, but only the king of Lacedaemonia’s guardian and minister, and the then lieutenant of the Grecians’ army, and was with a stone flung out of a sling felled to the ground, just as the Lydian servant thought he was struck in his dream. In the same manner also flourished the oracle near Tegyra, where it is said Apollo himself was born; and in effect, there are two streams that glide near the place, one of which is still called the Palm-tree, and the other the Olive-tree. And at this oracle, in the time of the Medes’ war, Echecrates being then the prophet, the God Apollo answered by his mouth, that the honor and profit of this war would fall to the Greeks’ share. And during the Peloponnesian war, the Delians having been driven out of their island, they had word brought them from the oracle of Delphi, that they should search for the place where Apollo was born, and there make some certain sacrifice. At which they marvelling, and demanding whether Apollo was born elsewhere than in their parts, the prophetess Pythia moreover told them that a crow would show them the place. These deputies from the Delians, in their return home, passed by chance through the city of Chaeronea, where they heard their hostess at the inn talking to some travellers about the oracle of Tegyra, to which they were going, and at their parting they heard them say to her Adieu, Dame Corone.[3] By this they comprehended the meaning of Pythia’s answer; and having offered their sacrifices at Tegyra, they were soon after restored and established in their own country. Yet there have been given later answers from these oracles than those you have mentioned; but now they have wholly ceased, so that it will not be besides the matter, seeing we are near by Apollo Pythius, to enquire after the cause of this change.

6. Thus discoursing together, we left the temple, and were come as far as the Cnidian Hall, where entering in, we found our friends which we looked for, being set down in expectation of our coming. All the rest were at leisure, by reason of the time of the day, and did nothing but anoint their bodies, or gaze on the wrestlers who were exercising themselves. Whereupon Demetrius laughing said to them: It seems to me that you are not discoursing of any matter of great consequence, for I see you labor not under deep thoughts. It is true, replied Heracleon the Megarean, we are not a disputing, whether the verb Βάλλω in his future tense loses one of his λλ, nor from what positive or primitive are formed or derived these two comparatives, χεῖρον and βέλτιον, and these two superlatives, χείριστον and βέλτιστον; for such questions as these make people knit their brows. A man may discourse of all other matters, especially of philosophy, without these frowning angry looks that put the by-standers into a fright. Receive us then, said Demetrius, into your company, and, if you please, the question too which has been now agitated amongst us, which does well agree with the place where we are, and, relating to the God Apollo, concerns therefore all that are here; but, however, let us have no knitting of the brows or frowning looks.

7. Being then all set down close together, and Demetrius having proposed the question we were upon, Didymus the Cynic philosopher, surnamed Planetiades, getting upon his feet and striking the ground two or three times with his stick, cried out: O Jupiter! what a hard question do you offer! What a difficult matter do you propose! For is it any wonder, the whole world wallowing in wickedness, and Shame and Retributive Justice having departed from men (as Hesiod long ago predicted), that the Gods should no longer suffer their oracles to be among them, as heretofore? For my part, I wonder there is so much as one left, and that Hercules or some other of the Gods has not long since plucked up and carried away the tripod whereon are offered such base and villainous questions to Apollo; some coming to him as a mere paltry astrologer, to try his skill and impose on him by subtle questions, others asking him about treasures buried under ground, others about incestuous marriages. So that Pythagoras is here soon convinced of his mistake, when he affirmed that the time when men are honestest is when they present themselves before the Gods; for those filthy passions, which they dare not discover before a grave mortal man, they scruple not to utter to Apollo. He had gone further, if Heracleon had not pulled him by the sleeve; and myself, who was better acquainted than any in the company besides, thus spake to him: Cease, friend Planetiades, from angering Apollo against thee, seeing he is sharp and choleric and not easily reconciled; although, as Pindar says.

Mortals to favor, Heaven has him enjoined.

And whether he be the sun, or the master of the sun and father of it, being above all visible natures, it is not to be supposed he disdains to hold any further intercourse with men at this time, seeing he gives them their birth, nourishment, subsistence, and reason. Neither is it credible that the Divine Providence (who, like a kind and indulgent mother, produces and conserves all things for our use) should show herself malevolent only in the matter of divination, or deprive us of it having once given it us; as if, when there were more oracles than there are now in the world, men were not then as wicked. But let us make a Pythian truce (as they say) with vice, which you are always sharply reprehending, and sit down here together to try whether we can find out any other cause of the ceasing of oracles; and let me only advise you, by the way, to remember that you keep this God propitious and move him not to wrath. Planetiades was so moved with these speeches, that he went away immediately, without speaking a word.

8. The company remaining a while in silence, Ammonius, addressing himself to me, said: Prithee, Lamprias, let us take care of what we say, and not be rash in our assertions; for we do not well when we make the God to be little or no cause of these oracles ceasing; for he that attributes the failing of them to any other cause than the will and decree of the God gives occasion to suspect him of believing that they never were nor are now by his disposition, but by some other means. For there is no other more excellent and noble cause and power which can destroy and abolish divination, if it be the work of a God. And as for Planetiades’s discourse, it does not at all please me, as well for the inequality and inconstancy which he attributes to the God, as for other reasons. For he makes him sometimes rejecting and detesting vice, and sometimes admitting and receiving it, just as a king, or rather a tyrant, who drives wicked people out of one gate, and receives them through another, and negotiates with them. But the greatest and most perfect work, that will admit of no additions, is that which agrees best with the dignity of the Gods. By supposing this, we may in my judgment affirm that in this common scarcity of men, occasioned by the former wars and seditions over all the world, Greece has most suffered; so that she can with much difficulty raise three thousand men, which number the single city of Megara sent heretofore to Plataea. Wherefore if the God now forsakes several oracles which anciently were frequented, what is this but a sign that Greece is at this time very much dispeopled, in comparison of what it was heretofore; and he that will affirm this shall not want for arguments. For of what use would the oracle be now, which was heretofore at Tegyra or at Ptoum? For scarcely shall you meet, in a whole day’s time, with so much as a herdsman or shepherd in those parts. We find also in writing, that this place of divination where we now are, and which is as ancient as any, and as famous and renowned as any in all Greece, was for a considerable time deserted and inaccessible, by means of a dangerous creature that resorted hither, namely a dragon. Yet those that have written this did not well comprehend the occasion of the oracle’s ceasing; for the dragon did not make the place solitary, but rather the solitude of the place occasioned the dragon to repair hither. Since that time, when Greece became populous and full of towns, they had two women prophetesses, who went down one after another into the cave. Moreover, there was a third chosen, if need were; whereas now there is but one, and yet we do not complain of it, because she is sufficient. And therefore we do not well to repine at Providence, seeing there is no want of divinations, where all that come are satisfied in whatever they desire to know. Homer tells us, Agamemnon had nine heralds, and yet with these could he hardly keep in order the Greeks, they being so many in number; but you will find here that the voice of one man is sufficient to be heard all over the theatre. The oracles then spake by more organs or voices, because there were then a greater number of men. So that we should think it strange, if the God should suffer the prophetical divination to be spilt and run to waste like water, or everywhere to resound, as in solitary fields we hear the rocks echoing the voices of shepherds and bleating cattle.

9. Ammonius having said these words, and I returning no answer, Cleombrotus took up the discourse, and addressed himself to me. Hast thou then, said he, confessed that it is the God who makes and unmakes oracles? Not I, said I; for I maintain that God was never the cause of taking away or abolishing any oracle or divination; but, on the contrary, whereas he produces and prepares several things for our use, so Nature leads them into corruption, and not seldom into a privation of their whole being. Or, to speak better, matter, which is itself privation or negation, often flies away, and dissolves what a more excellent being than herself had wrought. So that I am of opinion, there are other causes which obscure and extinguish these prophetic spirits. For though God does give to men several good and excellent things, yet he gives to none of them the power to exist eternally; for, though the Gods never die, yet their gifts do, as Sophocles speaks. It were then well becoming philosophers who exercise themselves in the study of Nature and the first matter, to enquire into the existence, property, and tendency of those things, but to leave the origin and first cause to God, as is most reasonable. For it is a very childish and silly thing, to suppose that the God himself does, like the spirits speaking in the bowels of ventriloquists (which were anciently called Euryclees, and now Pythons), enter into the bodies of the prophets, and speak by their mouths and voices, as fit instruments for that purpose. For he that thus mixes God in human affairs has not that respect and reverence which is due to so great a majesty, as being ignorant of his power and virtue.

10. Cleombrotus then answered: You say very well; but it is a hard matter to comprehend and define how far this providence does extend itself. They seem both alike faulty to me, who will have him simply the cause of nothing at all in the world, and who will have him to be concerned in all things; for both of these are run into extremes. But as those say well who hold that Plato, having invented the element on which spring up the qualities,—which we sometimes call the first matter, and sometimes Nature,—has thereby delivered the philosophers from several great difficulties; so it seems to me, that those who have ranked the genus of Daemons between that of Gods and men have solved greater doubts and difficulties, as having found the knot which does, as it were, join and hold together our society and communication with them. It is uncertain whence this opinion arose, whether from the ancient Magi by Zoroaster, or from Thrace by Orpheus, or from Egypt, or Phrygia; as may be conjectured from the sight of the sacrifices which are made in both countries, where amongst their holy and divine ceremonies there is seen a mixture of mortality and mourning. And as to the Greeks, Homer has indifferently used these two names, terming sometimes the Gods Daemons, and other whiles Daemons Gods. But Hesiod was the first that did best and most distinctly lay down four reasonable natures, the Gods, the Daemons (being many in number, and good in their kind), heroes, and men; for the Demi-gods are reckoned amongst heroes. Others say, there is a transmutation of bodies as well as of souls; and that, just as we see of the earth is engendered water, of the water the air, and of the air fire, the nature of the substance still ascending higher, so good spirits always change for the best, being transformed from men into heroes, and from heroes into Daemons; and from Daemons, by degrees and in a long space of time, a few souls being refined and purified come to partake of the nature of the Divinity. But there are some that cannot contain themselves, but rove about till they be entangled into mortal bodies, where they live meanly and obscurely, like smoke.

11. And moreover, Hesiod imagines that the Daemons themselves, after certain revolutions of time, do at length die. For, introducing a Nymph speaking, he marks the time wherein they expire:

Nine ages of men in their flower doth live The railing crow; four times the stags surmount The life of crows; to ravens doth Nature give A threefold age of stags, by true account; One phoenix lives as long as ravens nine. But you, fair Nymphs, as the daughters verily Of mighty Jove and of Nature divine, The phoenix’s years tenfold do multiply.

Now those which do not well understand what the poet means by this word γενεά (age) do cause this computation of time to amount to a great number of years. For the word means a year; so that the total sum makes but 9720 years, which is the space of the age of Daemons. And there are several mathematicians who make it shorter than this. Pindar himself does not make it longer when he says, Destiny has given Nymphs an equal life with trees; and therefore they are called Hamadryades, because they spring up and die with oaks. He was going on, when Demetrius interrupting him thus said: How is it possible, Cleombrotus, that you should maintain that a year was called by this poet the age of a man, seeing it is not the space of his flower and youth, nor of his old age? For there are divers readings of this place, some reading ἡβώντων, others γηρώντων,—one signifying flourishing, the other aged. Now those that understand hereby “flourishing” reckon thirty years for the age of man’s life, according to the opinion of Heraclitus; this being the space of time in which a father has begotten a son who then is apt and able to beget another. And those that read “aged” allow to the age of man a hundred and eight years, saying that fifty-four years are just the half part of a man’s life, which number consists of unity, the first two plane numbers, two squares, and two cubes (i.e. 1 + 2 + 3 + 4 + 9 + 8 + 27); which numbers Plato himself has appropriated to the procreation of the soul. And it seems also that Hesiod by these words intimated the consummation of the world by fire; at which time it is likely the Nymphs, with the rivers, marshes, and woods where they inhabit, shall be consumed.

Such as in woods, or grotto’s shady cell, Near sacred springs and verdant meadows dwell.[4]

12. I have heard, says Cleombrotus, this alleged by several, and find that the Stoical conflagration hath intruded itself not only upon the works of Heraclitus and Orpheus, but also upon Hesiod’s, imposing such meanings on their words as they never thought of. But I cannot approve of the consummation of the world which they maintain, nor of the other impossible matters; and especially what they say about the crow and the stag would force us to believe in the most excessive numbers. Moreover, the year, containing in itself the beginning and end of all things which the seasons bring and the earth produces, may, in my opinion, be not impertinently called the age of man. For you yourselves confess that Hesiod does somewhere call the life of man γενεά (age). What say you, does he not? Which Demetrius confessing, he proceeded in this manner: It is also certain that we call the vessels whereby we measure things by the names of the things measured in them; as a pint, a quart, or a bushel. As we then call a unit a number, though it be but the least part and measure and the beginning of a number; so has he called a year the age of man, because it is the measure wherewith it is measured. As for those numbers which those others describe, they be not of such singularity and importance. But the sum of 9920 is thus composed. The four numbers arising in order from one, being added together and multiplied by four, amount to forty; this forty being tripled five times makes up the total of the forecited number. But as to that it is not necessary to enter into a debate with Demetrius; for whether it be a short or a long time, certain or uncertain, wherewith Hesiod limits the soul of a Daemon and the life of a Demi-god, either of those will prove, by ancient and evident testimonies, that there are natures neuter and mean, and as it were in the confines of the Gods and men, subject to mortal passions and necessary changes; which natures, according to the tradition and example of our predecessors, it is fitting we should call Daemons, giving them all due honor.

13. To which purpose Xenocrates, one of the familiar friends of Plato, was wont to allege the example of triangles, which agree very well with the subject; for that triangle which has equal sides and equal angles he compared unto the divine and immortal nature; and that which has all three unequal, to the human and mortal nature; and that which has two equal and one unequal, to the nature of Daemons, which is endued with the passions and perturbations of the mortal nature, and the force and power of the divine. Even Nature has set before us sensible figures and resemblance of this; of the Gods, the sun and the stars; of mortal men, the comets, flashings in the night, and shooting-stars. And this similitude is taken up by Euripides, when he saith:

He that but now was fleshy, plump, and gay, As a fall’n star his glories melt away; Like that extinguished on the ground he lies, Breathing his soul into the ambient skies.

And for a mixed body representing the nature of Daemons, we have the moon; which some, observing it to be subject to increase and decrease and wholly to disappear, have thought very agreeable to the mutable condition of Daemons; and for this reason they have termed her a terrestrial star, others Olympic earth, and others the inheritance and possession of Hecate, both heavenly and earthly. As one then that should take from the world the air, and remove it from between the moon and the earth, would dissolve the continuation and composition of the universe, by leaving an empty place in the midst, without any contexture to hold the two parts together; so those that do not allow Daemons oppose all communication and conference of the Gods with men, seeing they destroy that nature (as Plato says) which serves as an interpreter and messenger between them both; or else they constrain us to perplex and confound all things together, by mixing the divine nature with human passions, and plucking it down from heaven, as the women of Thessaly are said to do the moon. Even this fiction has met with belief in some women, because Aglaonice, the daughter of Hegetor, being skilful in astrology, made the vulgar believe, whenever the moon was eclipsed, that by means of some charms and enchantments she brought it down from heaven. But as to us, let us not think there are any oracles or divinations without some divinity, or that the Gods are not pleased with sacrifices, and our services, and other ceremonies. And, on the other hand, let us not think that God is present in them, or employs himself personally about them; but rather believe that he does commit them to his officers, the Daemons, who are the spies and scouts of the Gods, wandering and circuiting about at their commands,—some beholding and ordering the sacred ceremonies and oblations offered to the Gods, others being employed to revenge and punish the high misdemeanors and enormous injustices of men. There are, moreover, others, to whom Hesiod gives a very venerable name, calling them the distributers of riches and donors of largesses among mortals; for the Gods have allowed them the privilege, and granted them a royal commission to see them duly distributed. He informs us here, by the way, that to be beneficent and liberal of favors is the proper office of a king. For there is a difference of virtue between these Daemons, as much as between men. For there are some of them in whom still there are some small remains (though weak and scarcely discernible) of the sensitive and irrational soul, which, like a small quantity of excrements and superfluities, stay still behind. Others there are, in whom there abideth a greater measure of these gross humors, the marks and traces of which are to be seen in many places, in the odd and singular ceremonies and sacrifices and the strange fables which prevail.

14. As to the mysteries and secret ceremonies, by which we may more clearly than by any other means understand the nature of Daemons, let me keep a religious silence, as Herodotus says. But as to the certain feasts and direful sacrifices which are held as unfortunate and mournful days, and are celebrated by eating raw flesh and tearing the skin with the nails, or days wherein they fast and smite their breasts, and in several places utter filthy and dishonest words during the sacrifices,

Wagging their heads in frantic wise, With strange alarms and hideous cries,—

I will never think these done on any of the Gods’ account, but rather to avert, mollify, and appease the wrath and fury of some bad Daemons. For it is not likely there ever was a God that expected or required men to be sacrificed to him, as has been anciently done, or who received such kind of sacrifices with approbation. Neither must we imagine it was for nothing, that kings and great men have delivered their own children to be sacrificed, or that they sacrificed them themselves with their own hands; but they intended hereby to avert and appease the malice and rancor of some evil spirits, or to satisfy the violent and raging lusts of some, who either could not or would not enjoy them with their bodies or by their bodies. Even as Hercules besieged the city of Oechalia for a wench that was therein, so these powerful and tyrannical Daemons, requiring some human soul which is still compassed with a body, and yet not being able to satisfy their lust by the body, do therefore bring the plague and famine into towns, raise wars and seditions, till such time as they obtain and enjoy that which they love. Others, on the contrary (as I remember I observed in Crete, for I was some considerable time there) celebrate a feast in which they show the figure of a man without a head, calling it Molus, the father of Meriones, who, having violently laid hands on the Nymph, was afterwards found without a head.

15. The rapes committed on boys or girls, the long voyages, flights, banishments, and voluntary services of the Gods, which are sung by the poets, are passions fitting to be attributed not to Gods, but to Daemons, whose fortunes were recorded in memorial of their virtue and power. Neither is Aeschylus in the right, when he says,

Divine Apollo banished from the sky;

nor Admetus in Sophocles, saying of a God,

My cock by crowing led him to the mill.

The divines of Delphi were far from the truth when they asserted that there was a combat between Apollo and a Dragon about the possession of this oracle. No less are they to blame who suffer the poets or orators in the open theatres to act or speak of such matters; whereby they seem to condemn those things which themselves perform in their sacred solemnities. Philippus (for this man was an historian, and then present in the company), wondering at what was last said, enquired what divine solemnities they contradicted and condemned who contended one against another in the theatres. Even those, quoth Cleombrotus, which concern the oracle of Delphi, by which this city has lately admitted into these ceremonies and sacrifices all the Greeks without Thermopylae, including those that dwell as far as the vale of Tempe. For the tabernacle or hut, which is set up every ninth year within the court-yard of this temple, is not a representation of the Dragon’s den, but of some king or tyrant; as likewise the assaulting of it in great silence, by the way termed Dolonia, in which they lead hither a youth whose father and mother are still living, with torches burning; and having set this tabernacle on fire and overthrown the table, they run away as fast as they are able through the doors of the temple, never looking behind them. In fine, this boy’s wanderings, together with his servile offices, and all the expiatory sacrifices about Tempe, seem to declare the commission of some horrid crime in this place. For it looks silly to affirm that Apollo, for having killed the Dragon, was forced to fly to the farthest parts of Greece to be cleansed and purified; and that he there made certain offerings and libations, as men do when they design the appeasing those vindictive spirits whom we call Alastores and Palamnaei, which is to say, the revengers of such crimes as cannot be forgotten but must have punishment. It is true, indeed, that the relation which I have heard touching this flight is very strange and wonderful; but if there be any truth in it, we must not suppose it was an ordinary and common matter which happened then about this oracle. Yet lest I should be thought, as Empedocles says,

Starting new heads, to wander from the text, And make the theme we have in hand perplext,

I entreat you to let me put a fit conclusion to my discourse (for now the time requires it), and to say what several have said before me, that when the Daemons who are appointed for the government and superintendency of oracles do fail, the oracles must of necessity fail too; and when they depart elsewhere, the divining powers must likewise cease in those places; but when they return again, after a long time, the places will begin again to speak, like musical instruments handled by those that know how to use them.

16. Cleombrotus having said thus much, Heracleon took up the discourse, saying: We have never an infidel among us, but are all agreed in our opinions touching the Gods; yet let us have a care, Philippus, lest in the heat and multiplicity of our words we unawares broach some false doctrine that may tend to impiety. Well! but, saith Philippus, I hope Cleombrotus has not said any thing which may occasion this caution. His asserting (says Heracleon) that they be not the Gods who preside over the oracles (because we are to suppose them free from all worldly care), but Daemons, or the Gods’ officers or messengers, does not scandalize me; but to attribute to these Daemons all the calamities, vexations, and plagues which happen to mortal men,—snatching these violently (we may almost say) from the verses of Empedocles,—and in the end to make them to die like them, this, in my mind, savors of bold presumption. Cleombrotus, having asked Philippus who this young man was, and being informed of his name and country, proceeded in this manner: I know very well, Heracleon, that the discourse I used may bear an absurd construction; but there is no speaking of great matters without laying first great foundations for the proof of one’s opinion. But, as for your part, you are not sensible how you contradict even that which you allow; for granting, as you do, that there be Daemons, but not allowing them to be vicious and mortal, you cannot prove there are any at all. For wherein do they differ from Gods, supposing they be incorruptible and impassible and not liable to error?

17. Whilst Heracleon was musing, and studying how to answer this, Cleombrotus went on, saying: It is not only Empedocles who affirms there are bad Daemons, but even Plato, Xenocrates, and Chrysippus; yea, and Democritus, when he prayed he might meet with good spirits, which shows that he thought there were bad as well as good Daemons. And as to their mortality, I have heard it reported from a person that was neither fool nor knave, being Epitherses, the father of Aemilianus the orator, whom some of you have heard declaim. This Epitherses was my townsman and a schoolmaster, who told me that designing a voyage to Italy, he embarked himself on a vessel well laden both with goods and passengers. About the evening the vessel was becalmed about the Isles Echinades, whereupon their ship drove with the tide till it was carried near the Isles of Paxi; when immediately a voice was heard by most of the passengers (who were then awake, and taking a cup after supper) calling unto one Thamus, and that with so loud a voice as made all the company amazed; which Thamus was a mariner of Egypt, whose name was scarcely known in the ship. He returned no answer to the first calls; but at the third he replied, Here! here! I am the man. Then the voice said aloud to him, When you are arrived at Palodes, take care to make it known that the great God Pan is dead. Epitherses told us, this voice did much astonish all that heard it, and caused much arguing whether this voice was to be obeyed or slighted. Thamus, for his part, was resolved, if the wind permitted, to sail by the place without saying a word; but if the wind ceased and there ensued a calm, to speak and cry out as loud as he was able what he was enjoined. Being come to Palodes, there was no wind stirring, and the sea was as smooth as glass. Whereupon Thamus standing on the deck, with his face towards the land, uttered with a loud voice his message, saying, The great Pan is dead. He had no sooner said this, but they heard a dreadful noise, not only of one, but of several, who, to their thinking, groaned and lamented with a kind of astonishment. And there being many persons in the ship, an account of this was soon spread over Rome, which made Tiberius the Emperor send for Thamus; and he seemed to give such heed to what he told him, that he earnestly enquired who this Pan was; and the learned men about him gave in their judgments, that it was the son of Mercury by Penelope. There were some then in the company who declared they had heard old Aemilianus say as much.

18. Demetrius then related, that about Britain there were many small and desolate islands, some of which were called the Isles of Daemons and Demi-gods; and that he himself, at the command of the Emperor, sailed to the nearest of those places for curiosity’s sake, where he found few inhabitants; but that they were all esteemed by the Britains as sacred and divine. Not long after he was arrived there, he said, the air and the weather were very foul and tempestuous, and there followed a terrible storm of wind and thunder; which at length ceasing, he says, the inhabitants told him that one of the Daemons or Demi-gods was deceased. For as a lamp, said he, while it is lighted, offends nobody with its scent, but when it is extinguished, it sends out such a scent as is nauseous to everybody; so these great souls, whilst they shine, are mild and gracious, without being troublesome to anybody; but when they draw to an end, they cause great storms and tempests, and not seldom infect the air with contagious distempers. They say farther, that Saturn is detained prisoner in one of those islands, and guarded by Briareus, being in a sound sleep (for that is the device to hold him captive), and that he has several of those Daemons for his valets and attendants.

19. Thus then spake Cleombrotus: I could, says he, relate several such stories as these; but it is sufficient that what has been said as yet does not contradict the opinion of any one here. And we all know, the Stoics believe the same as we do concerning the Daemons, and that amongst the great company of Gods which are commonly believed, there is but one who is eternal and immortal; all the rest, having been born in time, shall end by death. As to the flouts and scoffing of the Epicureans, they are not to be regarded, seeing they have the boldness to treat divine providence with as little reverence, calling it by no better a name than a mere whimsy and old wives’ fable. Whereas we, on the contrary, assert that their Infinity is fabulous and ridiculous, seeing among such endless numbers of worlds there is not one governed by reason or divine providence, they having been all made and upheld by chance. If we cannot forbear drolling even in matters of philosophy, they are most to be ridiculed who bring into their disputes of natural questions certain blind, dumb, and lifeless images, which appear they know not where nor when, which, they say, proceed from bodies, some of which are still living, and others long since dead and rotten. Now, such people’s opinions as these must needs be exploded and derided by all rational men; yet these very people shall be offended and angry at a man’s saying there be Daemons, and that they subsist both by reason and by Nature, and continue a long time.

20. Here Ammonius began to speak, saying: In my opinion, Theophrastus was in the right, and spoke like a philosopher and a divine; for whoever shall deny what he alleges must also reject many things which may happen, though we understand not the reasons why they do so. And granting what he offers to be true, it carries with it many things called impossible and unreal. But as to what I have heard the Epicureans allege against the Daemons which Empedocles brings in,—as, that it is impossible they can be happy and long-lived if they be bad and viciously affected, because vice in its own nature is blind and naturally precipitates itself into such mischiefs as destroy life,—that, I must tell you, is vain and idle. For if this reasoning be good, it will then follow that Epicurus was a worse man than Gorgias the sophister, and Metrodorus than Alexis the comic actor; for Alexis lived twice as long as Metrodorus, and Gorgias a third longer than Epicurus. For it is in another regard we say virtue is strong and vice weak, not in reference to the continuance or dissolution of the body; for we know there are many animals which are dull, slow, and heavy, and many disorderly and lustful, which live longer than those that are more sagacious and quicker of sense. And therefore they are much in the wrong in saying the divine nature is immortal because it avoideth the things which are ill and mischievous; for they should have supposed the divine nature free from all possibility of falling into corruption and alteration. But perhaps it will be thought not fair to dispute against those that are absent; I would have therefore Cleombrotus to resume his discourse touching the vanishing and transmigration of Daemons from one place to another.

21. With all my heart, answered Cleombrotus; but I shall now say something which will seem more absurd than any thing I have heretofore offered, although it seems to be grounded on natural reason; and Plato himself has touched upon it, not positively affirming it, but offering it as a probable opinion, although among other philosophers it has been much cried out against. And seeing that we are fallen into a free discourse, and that a man cannot light into better company and a more favorable auditory to test the story, as if it were foreign coin, I shall therefore tell you a story which I heard from a stranger, whose acquaintance has cost me no small sum of money in searching after him in divers countries, whom at length, after much travel I found near the Red Sea. He would converse with men but once a year, all the rest of his time (as he told me) he spent among the Nymphs, Nomades, and Daemons. He was very free with me, and extremely obliging. I never saw a more graceful person in all my life; and that which was very strange in him was, that he was never subject to any disease; once every month he ate the bitter fruit of a certain medicinal herb. He spake several languages perfectly well; his discourse to me was in the Doric dialect; his speech was as charming as the sweetest music, and as soon as ever he opened his mouth to speak, there issued out of it so sweet and fragrant a breath, that all the place was filled with it. Now, as to human learning, such as history, he retained the knowledge thereof all the year; but as to the gift of divination, he was inspired therewith only one day in the year, in which he went down to the sea-side, and there foretold things to come. And thither resorted to him the princes and great men of all the country, or else their secretaries, who there attended his coming at a prefixed day, and then returned. This person attributed divination to the Daemons, and was well pleased to hear what we related concerning Delphi. Whatsoever we told concerning Bacchus and the sacrifices which are offered to him, he knew it all, saying that, as these were great accidents which happened to Daemons, so also was that which was related of the serpent Python. And he affirmed, that he who slew him was not banished for nine years, neither did he fly into the Valley of Tempe, but was driven out of this world into another, from whence, after nine revolutions of the great years, being returned, cleansed, and purified, and become a true Phoebus,—that is to say, clear and bright,—he had at length recovered the superintendence of the Delphic oracle, which in the mean time had been committed to the charge of Themis. He said as much concerning what is related of Typhon and the Titans. For he affirmed, they were the battles of Daemons against Daemons, and the flights and banishments of those that had been vanquished, or the punishments inflicted by the Gods on those who had committed such acts as Typhon is said to have done against Osiris, and Saturn against Uranus, whose honors are much obscured, or wholly lost, by being translated into another world. For I know that the Solymeans, who are borderers to the Lycians, did greatly honor Saturn; but since he killed their princes, Arsalus, Dryus, and Trosobius, he fled into some other country, they knew not where, and he now is in a manner forgotten. But they called these three—Arsalus, Dryus, and Trosobius—the severe Gods, and the Lycians do at this day curse people in their names, as well in private as in public. Several other such like examples may a man find in the records of the Gods. And if we call any of the Daemons by the usual and common names of the Gods, on whom they do depend, it is no marvel at all, said the stranger; for they like to be called by the Gods on whom they do depend, and from whom they have received their honor and power; even as amongst us men one is named Diius, another Athenae, another Apollonius, another Dionysius, and still another Hermaeus. And there are some who have names imposed on them, as it were, by chance, which yet do well agree with their tempers; whereas some carry the names of the Gods which do not at all suit with their weaknesses.

22. Here Cleombrotus having paused, his discourse seemed strange to all the company, and Heracleon demanded of him, how all this concerned Plato, and how he had given occasion to this discourse. Unto which Cleombrotus answered: You do well to put me in mind of it; for first, Plato ever rejected the infinity of worlds, yet would determine nothing positively touching the precise number of them. And granting the probability of their opinion who affirmed there were five, one for each element, as to his own part, he kept to one, which seems to be his genuine opinion; whereas all other philosophers have been afraid to receive and admit the multitude of worlds as if those who did not limit matter to one must needs fall into troublesome and boundless infinity. But was this stranger, said I, of the same opinion with Plato, touching the number of the worlds? Or did you not all the while ask his opinion in that matter? I was far from failing herein, says Cleombrotus, seeing I found him so communicative and affable to me. He told me, that neither was the number of the worlds infinite, neither was there but only one, nor five; but a hundred and eighty-three, which were ranged in a triangular form, every side containing sixty worlds; and of the three remaining, every corner had one. That they were so ordered, that one always touched another in a circle, like those who dance in a ring. That the plain within the triangle is, as it were, the foundation and common altar to all those worlds, which is called the Plain of Truth, in which lie the designs, moulds, ideas, and invariable examples of all things which were, or ever shall be; and about these is Eternity, whence flowed Time, as from a river, into these worlds. Moreover, that the souls of men, if they have lived well in this world, do see these ideas once in ten thousand years; and that the most holy mystical ceremonies which are performed here are no more than a dream of this sacred vision. And further, that all the pains which are taken in the study of philosophy are to attain to a sight of those beauties; otherwise they were all lost labors. I heard him, said he, relate all these things as perfectly, as if they had been some religious rites wherein he would have instructed me; for he brought me no proof or demonstration to confirm what he said.

23. Here, turning myself to Demetrius, I asked him what were the words which the wooers of Penelope spake in Homer, when they saw Ulysses handling his bow. And Demetrius having put me in mind of them, I said: It came into my thoughts to say as much of this wonderful man. He was indeed “an observer and a cunning thief” of opinions and discourses, and a person conversant in all sorts of learning, being a Greek born, and perfectly well skilled in the studies of his country. For this number of worlds shows us that he was neither an Indian nor an Egyptian; but his father was a Dorian Greek of the country of Sicily, named Petron, born in the city of Himera, who wrote a little book on this subject, which I indeed never saw, nor can tell whether it be extant. But Hippys, a native of Rhegium, mentioned by Phanias the Eresian, tells us, it was the doctrine of Petron that there were a hundred and eighty-three worlds, tacked to one another in their first principle; but he does not explain to us what this phrase means, nor does he offer any reason to prove this. It is certain, says Demetrius, that Plato himself, bringing no argument to evince this point, does hereby overthrow this opinion. Yet, says Heracleon, we have heard you grammarians say that Homer was the first author of this opinion, as having divided the universe into five worlds, heaven, water, air, earth, and that which he calls Olympus; of which he leaveth two to be common,—the earth to all beneath, and Olympus to all above,—but the three in the midst between them he attributes unto three several Gods. In the like manner Plato, assigning unto the principal parts of the universe the first forms and most excellent figures of the bodies, calls them five worlds,—those of the earth, water, air, and fire, and finally, of that which comprehended all the others, which he calls Dodecaedron (which is to say, with twelve bases), which, amply extending, is of easy motion and capacity, its form and figure being very fit and proper for the revolutions and motions of the souls. What need is there then, cried Demetrius, of bringing in good old Homer? For we have had fables enough already. But Plato is far from calling the different elements five worlds; for even where he disputes against those who assert an infinite number of worlds, he affirms, there is only one created of God and satisfying him, consisting of the entire corporeal Nature, perfect, endued with self-sufficiency, and wanting nothing; and therefore we may well think it strange that the truth which he spake should occasion the extravagancy of others. For had he not maintained the world’s unity, he would in some sort have given a foundation to those who affirm an infinite number of worlds; but that he asserted precisely five, this is marvellously strange and far from all probability, unless you can (says he, turning himself to me) clear this point. How! (said I) are you then resolved to drop here your first dispute about oracles, and to take up another of no less difficulty? Not so, replied Demetrius; yet we must take cognizance of this, which does, as it were, hold out its hand to us, though we shall not remain long upon it, but treat of it by the way, and soon return to our first discourse.

24. First of all then, I say, the reasons which hinder us from asserting an infinite number of worlds do not hinder us from affirming that there are more than one; for as well in many worlds as in one there may be Providence and Divination, while Fortune intervenes only in the smallest things; but most part of the grand and principal things have and take their beginnings and changes by order, which could not be in an infinite number of worlds. And it is more conformable to reason to say that God made more than one world; for, being perfectly good, he wants no virtue, and least of all justice and friendship, for they do chiefly become the nature of the Gods. Now God hath nothing that is superfluous and useless; and therefore there must be other inferior Gods proceeding from him, and other worlds made by him, towards whom he must use these social virtues; for he cannot exercise those virtues of justice and benignity on himself or any part of himself, but on others. So that it is not likely this world should float and wander about, without either friend, neighbor, or any sort of communication, in an infinite vacuum. For we see Nature includes all single things in genera and species, like as in vessels or in husks of seeds; for there is nothing to be found in Nature—and nothing can have a common notion or appellation—which is not qualified both in common and in particular. Now the world is not said to be such in common, but in particular, for its quality is derived from its being an harmonious whole made up of different parts. But yet, there being no such thing in Nature as one man alone, one horse, one star, one God, one Daemon, why may we not believe that there is not in Nature one only world and no more, but several? And if any one shall object against me that this world hath likewise but one earth and one sea, I can answer him, he is much deceived by not understanding the evidence afforded by like parts. For we divide the earth into similar parts of the same denomination; for all the parts of the earth are earth, and so of the sea; but no part of the world is still the world, it being composed of divers and different natures.

25. For as to the inconvenience which some do seem to fear, and in respect of which they confine all the matter within one world, lest, there remaining any thing without, it should disturb the composition of this, by the resistances and jars which it would make against it,—they have no need to dread this. For, there being many worlds, and each of them in particular having one definite and determinate measure and limit of its substance and matter, no part thereof will be without order and good disposition, nothing will remain superfluous or be cast out as an excrement. For the reason which belongeth to each world, being able to rule and govern the matter that is allotted thereto, will not suffer that any thing shall run out of course and order, and rencounter and jumble another world, nor likewise that any thing from another shall justle or disturb it, there being nothing in Nature infinite and inordinate in quantity, nor in motion without reason and order. And if perhaps there be any influence that passes from the one to the other, this is a fraternal communication, whereby they mix themselves together, like the light of the stars and the influence of their temperatures, and whereby they themselves do rejoice in beholding one another with a benign aspect, and give to the Gods (who are good and many in number in every world) an opportunity of knowing and caressing one another. For there is nothing in all this that is impossible, or fabulous, or contrary to reason; though some may think so because of the opinion of Aristotle, who saith that all bodies have their proper and natural places, by which means the earth must on all sides tend to the midst, and the water must rest upon it, serving by its weight for a foundation to the other lighter elements. Were there then many worlds, the earth would be often found above the airy and fiery regions, and as often under them; while air and water would be sometimes in their natural places, and sometimes in others which are their unnatural; which things being impossible, as he thinks, it follows then, there are neither two nor more worlds, but one only, which is this here, consisting of all kinds of elements, disposed according to Nature, agreeably to the diversity of bodies.

26. But in all this there is more probability than truth. For consider, friend Demetrius; when he saith that some bodies tend towards the midst, which is to say, downwards, the others from the midst, that is, upward, and a third sort move round about the midst, what does he mean by the midst? This cannot be understood in respect of a vacuum, there being no such thing in Nature, as he says himself; and, moreover, those that do allow it say that it can have no middle, no more than beginning and end; for beginning and end are extremities, but that which is infinite, everybody knows, is without an end. But supposing we should be necessitated to admit a middle in a vacuum, it is impossible to comprehend and imagine the difference in the motions of bodies towards it, because there is neither in this vacuum any power attractive of the body, nor in the bodies any inclination or affection to tend on all sides to this middle. And it is no less difficult to imagine that bodies can move of themselves towards an incorporeal place, or receive any motion from it. This middle then must be understood not locally, but corporeally. For this world being a mass and union consisting of different bodies joined together, this diversity of them must beget different motions from one another; which appears in that each of these bodies changing its substance does at the same time change its place. For subtilization and rarefaction dissipate the matter which springeth from the midst and ariseth upwards; whereas, on the contrary, condensation and constipation depress and drive it down towards the middle.

27. On these points it is not necessary to discourse any longer in this place. For whatever cause a man supposes shall produce such passions and changes, that very cause will contain each of these worlds in itself; because each of them has its sea and land, each its proper middle, and each its passions and change of bodies, and the nature and power which contain and preserve each in its place and being. For that which is without, whether it be nothing at all or an infinite vacuum, cannot allow any middle, as we have already said. But there being several worlds, each has its proper middle apart; so that in each of them there will be motions proper to bodies, some tending down to the midst, others mounting aloft from the midst, others moving round about it, according as they themselves do distinguish motions. And he who asserts there are many middles, and that heavy bodies from all sides do tend unto one alone, is like to him who shall affirm that the blood of several men runs from all parts into one vein, or that all their brains should be contained within one and the same membrane; supposing it absurd, that all natural bodies which are solid should not be in one place, and the rare in another. He that thus thinketh is certainly a mean philosopher; and no better is he who will not allow the whole to have all parts in their order, rank, and natural situation. What could be more foolish, than for a man to call that a world which had a moon within it so situated, as if a man should have his brains in his heels, and his heart in his forehead? Whereas there is no absurdity or inconveniency, if, in supposing several distinct worlds separated from one another, a man should distinguish and separate their parts. For in each of them the earth, sea, and sky will be placed and situated in their proper places, and each of these worlds may have its superior, inferior, circular, and middle part, not in respect of another world, nor in reference to what is without, but to what is within itself.

28. And as to the argument which some do draw from a stone supposed to be placed without the world, it neither proves rest nor motion; for how could it remain suspended, seeing it is by nature heavy, or move towards the midst of the world, as other ponderous bodies, seeing it is neither part of it nor like it? And as to that earth which is fixed and environed by another world, we must not wonder, considering its weightiness, if it does not drop down, seeing it is upheld by a certain natural force pertaining to it. For if we shall take high and low not within the world but without, we shall find ourselves involved in the same difficulties as Epicurus was when he made his little indivisible atoms to move and tend to those places which are under foot, as if the vacuum had feet, or its infinite space would permit one to talk of high or low. Indeed, a man would marvel what should cause Chrysippus to say, that the world was placed and situated directly in the midst, and that the matter thereof, from all eternity having possessed itself of the midst, yet is so compacted together that it remains for ever. For he writes this in his Fourth Book of Possible Things, vainly imagining there is a middle in that vast emptiness, and still more absurdly attributing unto that middle, which is not, the cause of the world’s stability and continuance; he having often said in other writings of his that the substance is upheld and governed, partly by the motions tending to the midst of it, and partly by others parting from the midst of it.

29. As to the other oppositions which the Stoics make, who should fear them? As when they demand, how it is possible to maintain a fatal destiny and a divine providence, and how it can be otherwise but that we must admit of several Jupiters, when we assert the plurality of worlds. Now if there be an inconveniency in admitting many Jupiters, their opinions will appear far more absurd; for they imagine there are suns, and moons, Apollos, Dianas, and Neptunes innumerable, in innumerable changes and revolutions of worlds. But where is the necessity which lies upon us to grant that there must be many Jupiters if there be many worlds, seeing that each of them may be subject to a sovereign governor of the whole, a God endued with a suitable mind and ability, like to him whom we name the Lord and Father of all things? Or what shall hinder us from asserting that the several worlds must be subject to the providence and destiny of Jupiter, and that he has an eye to all things, directing all, and administering to them the principles, seeds, and causes of all things which are made? For, while we often see here a body composed of several other distinct bodies,—for example, the assembly of a town, an army, or a chorus,—in each of which bodies there is life, prudence, and understanding; so it cannot be impossible that, in the whole universe, ten or fifty or a hundred worlds which may be in it should all use the same reason, and all correspond with the same principle. For this order and disposition is very suitable to the Gods; for we must not make them kings of a swarm of bees who never stir out of their hives, or keep them fast imprisoned in matter, like those who affirm the Gods to be certain dispositions of the air, and powers of waters and fire, infused and mixed within, which arise and spring up together with the world, and in time are to be burnt and end with it,—not affording them the liberty of coachmen and pilots, but nailing them down to their bases like statues and images. For they enclose the Gods within matter, and that in so strict a manner as makes them liable to all the changes, alterations, and decays of it.

30. It is certainly more agreeable to the nature of the Gods to say that they are wholly at liberty, like Castor and Pollux, ready to succor such as are overtaken by bad weather at sea; for when they appear, the winds cease and the waves are calmed. Not that they navigate and are partakers of the same peril; but they only appear in the sky, and the danger is over. Thus do the Gods visit each world, and rule and provide for all things in them. Jupiter in Homer cast not his eyes far from the city of Troy into Thrace, and to the nomad Scythians along the river Ister; but the true Jupiter has several seemly and agreeable passages for his majesty from one world into another, not looking into the infinite vacuum without, nor regarding himself and nothing else, as some have imagined, but weighing the deeds of Gods and men, and the motions and revolutions of the stars. For the Divinity does not hate variety and changes, but takes great pleasure in them, as one may conjecture by the circuits, conversions, and mutations observable in the heavens. And therefore I conclude that the infinite number of worlds is a chimera, which has not the least probability of truth, and which cannot by any means admit of any God, but must be wholly guided by chance and fortune. Whereas the government and providence of a certain definite number of worlds has nothing in it that seems more laborious and unworthy than that which is employed in the direction of one alone, which is transformed, renewed, and reformed an infinite number of times.

31. Having said this, I paused. And Philippus immediately cried out: Whether this be certain or not, I will not be too positive; but if we carry God beyond one world, it would more gratify me to know why we should make him the Creator only of five worlds and no more, and what proportion this number bears to that of the worlds, than to know why the word ~ΕΙ~ was inscribed upon this temple. For this is neither a triangular, a quadrate, a perfect, nor a cubic number, neither does it yield any elegancy to such as are delighted in this kind of sciences. As to what concerns the argument drawn from the number of elements, which Plato seems to have touched upon, it is obscure and improbable, and will not afford this consequence,—that, as there are formed from matter five sorts of regular bodies, which have equal angles and equal sides, and are environed with equal superficies, so there were from the beginning five worlds, made and formed of these five bodies.

32. Yet Theodorus the Solian, said I, when he reads Plato’s mathematics to his scholars, both keeps to the text and clearly expounds it, when he saith, the pyramid, octahedron, dodecahedron, icosahedron (which Plato lays down as the first bodies) are all beautiful both in their proportions and equalities; Nature cannot contrive and make better than these, nor perhaps so good. Yet they have not all the same constitution and origin; for the least and slightest of the five is the pyramid; the greatest, which has most parts, is the dodecahedron; and of the other two, the icosahedron is greater than the octahedron by more than twofold, if you compare their number of triangles. And therefore it is impossible they should be all made at once, of one and the same matter; for the smallest and most subtile have been certainly more pliable to the hand of the workman who moved and fashioned the matter, and consequently were sooner made and shaped, than those which have stronger parts and a greater mass of bodies, and whose composition was more laborious and difficult, like the dodecahedron. Whence it follows that the pyramid was the first body, and not one of the others, which were by nature last produced. Now the way also to avoid this absurdity is to separate and divide matter into five worlds; here the pyramid (for she is the first and most simple), there the octahedron, and there the icosahedron; and out of that which exists first in every one of these the rest draw their original by the concretion of parts, by which every thing is changed into every thing, as Plato himself shows us by examples throughout. But it will suffice us briefly to learn thus much. Air is engendered by the extinction of fire, and the same being subtilized and rarefied produceth fire. Now by the seeds of these two we may find out the passions and transmutations of all. The seminary or beginning of fire is the pyramid, consisting of twenty-four first triangles; and the octahedron is the seminary of the air, consisting of forty-eight triangles of the same kind. So that the one element of air stands upon two of fire, joined together and condensed. And again, one body or element of air is divided into two of fire, which again, becoming thick and hard, is changed into water; so that, throughout, that which comes first into light gives easily birth unto the rest by transmutation. And so it comes to pass, that there is not merely one first principle of all things; but one thing is so mixed with the origin of another, in the several changes and alterations of nature by motion, that the same name and denomination belong equally to all.

33. But here Ammonius interrupted him, and said: Notwithstanding that those things are so peremptorily and so pompously asserted by Theodorus, yet I shall wonder if he be not forced to make use of such suppositions as are destructive of themselves and one of another. For he will have it, that the five worlds he speaks of were not composed all at one time, but that that which was subtilest, and which gave least trouble in the making, came out first into being. And as if it were a consequent, and not a repugnant thing, he supposes that the matter does not always drive out into existence that which is most subtile and simple, but that sometimes the thickest, grossest, and heaviest parts do anticipate the more subtile in generation. But besides this, supposing that there be five primitive bodies or elements, and consequently that there be as many worlds, there are but four of those orders which he discourses rationally concerning. For as to the cube, he takes it away and removes it, as it were in a game of counters; for it is naturally unfit either to turn into any thing besides itself, or to yield that any of those other bodies be converted into it, inasmuch as the triangles of which they consist be not of the same sort. For all the rest consist in common of demi-triangles (or halves of equilateral triangles); but the proper subject of which the cube is particularly composed is the right isosceles triangle, which admits no inclination to a demi-triangle, nor can possibly be united and incorporated with it. If there be then five bodies, and consequently five worlds, and in each of these worlds the principle of generation be that body which is first produced, it must happen that, where the cube is the first in generation, none of the rest can possibly be produced, it being contrary to its nature to change into any of them. Not to insist here, that Theodorus and those of his mind make the element or principle of which the dodecahedron is composed to be different from the rest, it not being that triangle which is termed scalene, with three unequal sides, out of which the pyramid, octahedron, and icosahedron, according to Plato, are produced; so that (said Ammonius laughing) you must solve these objections, or offer something new concerning the matter in debate.[5]

34. And I answered him, that, for my part, I knew not at present how to say any thing which carried more probability. But perhaps (said I) it is better for a man to give an account of his own opinion than of another’s. Therefore I say that, there being supposed from the beginning of things two several natures contrary to each other,—the one sensible, mutable, subject to generation, corruption, and change every way, the other spiritual and intelligible, and abiding always in the same state,—it would be very strange, my friends, to say that the spiritual nature admitteth of division and hath diversity and difference in it, and to be angry if a man will not allow the passible and corporeal nature to be wholly united in itself, without dividing it into many parts. For it is most suitable to the permanent and divine natures to be tied and linked to each other, and to avoid, as much as is possible, all division and separation; and yet, amongst incorporeal natures the power of diversity works greater differences in regard to essential forms and reason, than those of distance of place in the corporeal world. And therefore Plato, refuting those who hold this proposition, that all is one, asserts these five grounds and principles of all,—entity, identity, diversity, motion, and rest; which five immaterial principles being admitted, it is no marvel if Nature have made every one of these to be an imitation, though not exact, yet as perfect and agreeable as could be drawn, of a correspondent principle in the corporeal mystery, partaking, as much as can be, of its power and virtue. For it is very plain that the cube is most proper and agreeable to repose and rest, by reason of the stability and firmness of those plain surfaces of which it consists. And as to the pyramid, everybody soon sees and acknowledges the nature of fire in it, by the slenderness of its decreasing sides, and the sharpness of its angles; and the nature of the dodecahedron, apt to comprehend all the other figures, may seem more properly to be the corporeal image of Ens, or Being in the general, indifferent to this or that particular form or shape. And of the other two which remain, the icosahedron resembleth the principle of diversity, and the octahedron principally partakes of the identical nature. And thus from one of these the air is produced, which partakes of and borders upon every substance, under one and the same outward form and appearance; and the other has afforded us the element of water, which by mixture may put on the greatest diversity of qualities. Therefore if Nature requires a certain uniformity and harmony in all things, it must be then that there are neither more nor fewer worlds in the corporeal nature than there are patterns or samples in the incorporeal, to the end that each pattern or sample in the invisible nature may have its own primary position and power, answering to a secondary or derivative in the different constitution or composition of bodies.

35. And this may serve for an answer to those that wonder at our dividing Nature, subject to generation and alteration, into so many kinds. But I entreat you all further, attentively to consider with yourselves that, of the two first and supreme principles of all things,—that is to say, the unity, and the indefinite binary or duality,—this latter, being the element and chief origin of all deformity and disorder, is termed infinity, and on the contrary, the nature of unity, determining and limiting the void infinity, which has no proportion nor termination, reduces it into form, and renders it in some manner capable of receiving a denomination which belongs only to sensible and particular things. Now these two general principles appear first in number; for the multitude is indeed no number, unless a certain form of the matter resulting out of indeterminate infinity is cut off, and bounded within respective limits, either shorter or longer. For then each multitude is made number, when once it is determined and limited by unity; whereas, if we take away unity, then the indeterminate duality brings all into confusion, and renders it without harmony, without number or measure. Now, the form not being the destruction of matter, but rather the order and the beauty of it, both these principles therefore must be within number, from whence ariseth the chief disparity and greatest difference. For the infinite and indeterminate principle is the cause of the even number; and the other better principle, which is the unity, is the father (as it were) of the odd number. So that the first even number is two, and the first odd number is three; of which is composed five by conjunction, which is by its composition common to both, but of power or nature not even but odd. For, since sensible and corporeal nature is divided into several parts, on account of its inborn necessity of diversity, it was necessary that the number of these parts should not be either the first even number, nor yet the first uneven or odd, but a third, consisting of both; to the end that it might be procreated out of both principles, viz. of that which causeth the even number, and of that which produceth the odd; for the one cannot be parted from the other, inasmuch as both have the nature, power, and force of a principle. These two principles being then joined together, the better one being mightier prevails over the indeterminate infinity or duality, which divideth the corporeal nature; and thus the matter being divided, the unity interposing itself between has hindered the universe from being divided and parted into two equal portions. But there has been a multitude of worlds caused by the diversity and disagreement of the infinite Nature; but this multitude was brought into an odd number by the virtue and power of identity, or the finite principle; and it was therefore odd, because the better principle would not suffer Nature to stretch itself further than was fitting. For if there had been nothing but pure and simple unity, the matter would have known no separation; but being mixed with the dividing nature of duality, it has by this means suffered separation and division; yet it has stopped here, by the odd numbers being the superior and master to the even.

36. This is the reason why the ancients were used to express numbering or reckoning by πεμπάσασθαι, to count by fives. And I am of opinion that that word πάντα, all, is derived from πέντε, which is to say five, five being compounded of the first numbers. For all the other numbers being afterwards multiplied by others, they produce numbers different from themselves; whereas five, being multiplied by an even number, produceth a perfect ten, and multiplied by an odd number, representeth itself again; not to insist that it is composed of the two first tetragons or quadrate numbers (unity and four), and that, being the first number whose square is equivalent to the two squares before it, it composeth the fairest of right angled triangles, and is the first number which containeth the sesquilateral proportion. Perhaps all these reasons are not very pertinent to the discourse of the present dispute, it being better to allege that in this number there is a natural virtue of dividing, and that nature divideth many things by this number. For in ourselves she has placed five senses, and five parts of the soul, the vital, the sensitive, the concupiscible, the irascible, and the rational; and as many fingers on each hand; and the most fruitful seed disperseth itself but into five, for we read nowhere of a woman that brought forth more than five at a birth. And the Egyptians also tell us that the Goddess Rhea was delivered of five Gods, giving us to understand in covert terms that of the same matter were procreated five worlds. And in the universe, the earth is divided into five zones, the heaven into five circles,—two arctics, two tropics, and one equinoctial in the midst. There are five revolutions of planets or wandering stars, inasmuch as the Sun, Venus, and Mercury make but one and the same revolution. And the construction of the world consists of an harmonical measure; even as our musical chords consist of the posture of five tetrachords, ranged orderly one after another, that is to say, those called ὑπάτων, μέσων, συνημμένων, διεζευγμένων, and ὑπερβολαίων.[6] The intervals also which are used in singing are five, diesis, semitone, tone, the tone and a half, and the double tone; so that Nature seems to delight more in making all things according to the number five, than she does in producing them in a spherical form, as Aristotle writeth.

37. But it will perhaps be demanded, why Plato refers the number of worlds to the five regular bodies or figures, saying that God made use of the number five in the fabric of the world, as it were transcribing and copying this; and then, having proposed a doubt and question of the number of the worlds, whether there be five, or one only, thereby clearly shows that his conjecture is grounded on this conceit of the five regular bodies. If now we may make a probable conjecture as to his opinion, we may believe that of necessity, with the diversity of these figures and bodies, there must presently ensue a difference and diversity of motions; as he himself teacheth, affirming that whatever is subtilized or condensed does, at the same time with its alteration of substance, alter and change its place. For if from the air there is engendered fire, when the octahedron is dissolved and vanished into pyramids, or, on the contrary, if the air be produced from the fire pressed and squeezed up into the form of the octahedron, it is not possible it should remain there where it was before, but it flies and runs to another place, forcing and combating whatever stands in the way to oppose it. And he shows this more clearly and evidently by an example and similitude of fans, and such like things as drive away the chaff from the corn; for thus the elements driving the matter, and being driven by it, do always bring like to like, some taking up this place, others that, before the world was digested as now it is. The matter then being in that condition in which it is likely every thing is where God is not present, the five first qualities, or first bodies, having each their proper and peculiar inclinations and motions, went apart, not wholly and altogether, nor throughly divided and separated one from another; for when all was huddled in confusion, such as were surmounted went continually against their nature with the mightier. And therefore, some going on one side and others going on the other, hence it has happened that there have been as many portions and distinctions as there are divers kinds of first bodies; one of fire, not wholly pure, but inclining towards the form of fire; another of an ethereal nature, yet not wholly so, but inclining thereto; another of earth, not simple and mere earth, but inclining to the form of earth. But especially there was a communication of water and air; for these, as we have already mentioned, went their ways, replenished with divers other kinds. For God did not separate and distribute the matter, but having found it thus carelessly dissipated in itself, and each part being carried away in such great disorder and confusion, he ranged and ordered it into symmetry and proportion; and setting reason over each as a guardian and governor, he made as many worlds as there were first bodies. However, in respect to Ammonius, let these Platonical notions pass for what they are worth. For my part, I will never be over-zealous in this precise number of worlds; but this I will say, that those who hold there are more than one, yet not an infinite number, have as good grounds as others, seeing the matter does naturally spread itself and is diffused into many parts,—not resting in one, while yet it is contrary to reason that it should be infinitely extended. In short, let us here especially be mindful of the wise precepts of the Academy, and preserve ourselves upon such slippery ground as the controversy concerning the infinity of worlds, by refusing a too confident assent.

38. And when I had finished this discourse, Demetrius said: Lamprias is very much in the right; for the Gods deceive us with multiplicities, not of shadows and impostures (as Euripides[7] expresseth it), but even of realities and substances themselves, when we presume to be positive, as if we understood them in things of such weight and moment. But we must, as he advises us, return to our first question, which we seem to have forgotten. For what was said concerning the oracles remaining dumb and useless when the Daemons who presided over them were departed, even as we see musical instruments yield no harmony when the musician does not handle them,—this, I say, brings a greater question into debate, namely touching the cause and power by which these Daemons use to make their prophets and prophetesses to be ravished with enthusiasm and filled with fantastical imaginations. For to say the oracles are silent as being forsaken by the Daemons is nothing, unless we be first shown how (when they are present and govern them) they set them at work and make them prophesy.

Ammonius then taking up the discourse, Do you think said he, that the Daemons are any thing else

Than wandering spirits clothed in finest air,[8]

as Hesiod says? For as to my part, I think the same difference which there is between one man and another, when they act in a tragedy or comedy, is also to be found in this life in souls that are clothed with bodies. So that there is nothing in this which is strange or contrary to reason, if souls meeting with other souls do imprint on them visions and apprehensions of future things, just as we show several things already done and come to pass, and prognosticate of those which have not yet happened, not only by the help of speech, but also by letters and writings, or by a bare touch, or a single look;—unless you, Lamprias, are of another opinion. For we heard but very lately, that you discoursed at large upon this subject with the strangers that came to Lebadea; but he that gave us this information could give us no particular account of what passed. No wonder, replied I, for several avocations and businesses intervening, occasioned by the oracle and the solemn sacrifice that was then performing, made our discourse very broken and interrupted. But now, says Ammonius, you have auditors at leisure, that are inquisitive and desirous of instruction, so that you may speak freely, and expect all the candor and consideration which you can desire.

BOOK IX. (part 5)

39. And the rest of the company making the like exhortations, having paused a while, I began after this manner: It so happened, Ammonius, that you did, without your knowledge, give occasion to the discourse which was then held; for if the Daemons be souls and spirits separated from bodies and having no communication with them, as you affirm, but according to the divine poet Hesiod,

Are our kind guardians, walking here their rounds,[9]

why do we deprive the spirits and souls which are in bodies of the same power by which Daemons may foresee and foretell things to come? For it is not likely souls do acquire any property and power, when they abandon their bodies, wherewith they were not endowed before; but rather, we should think that they had always the same parts, but in a worse degree, when they were mixed with bodies, some of them being inapparent and hid, and others weak and obscure, like those who see through a thick mist or move in water, heavily and uneasily performing their operations, much desiring to be cured and so to recover what is their own, and to be discharged and purified of that which covers them. For as the sun does not then properly become bright when he has escaped out of the cloud,—for he is always so, though to our eyes, being clouded, he seems obscure and dark,—so the soul acquires not then the faculty of divining when gotten clear of the body, as from a cloud, but having the same before, is blinded by the commixture and confusion which she has with the mortal body. And this cannot seem strange or incredible, if we consider nothing else in the soul but the faculty of remembrance, which is, as it were, the reverse of divination, and if we reflect upon the miraculous power it hath of preserving things past, or, we should rather say, things present, for of what is past nothing remains, and all things do come into being and perish in the same moment, whether they be actions, or words, or passions; they all pass by and vanish as soon as they appear; for time, like the course of a river, passeth on, and carries every thing along with it. But this retentive faculty of the soul seizes upon these in some mysterious way, and gives a form and a being to those things which are no longer present. For the oracle which was given to those of Thessaly, touching Arne, enjoined them to declare

The deaf man’s hearing, and the blind man’s sight.

But memory is to us the hearing of things without voice, and the sight of things invisible; so that, as I now said, no marvel, if retaining the things which are no longer in being, the soul anticipates several of those which are still to come; for these do more concern her, and she does naturally sympathize with them, inclining and tending to things which are future; whereas, as to those which are past and have an end, she leaves them behind her, only retaining the bare remembrance of them.

40. Our souls then, having this inbred power,—though weak, obscure, and hardly able to express their apprehensions,—yet sometimes spread forth and recover themselves, either in dreams or in the time of sacrifice or religious worship, when the body is well purified and endued with a certain temperature proper to this effect, or when the rational and speculative part, being released and freed from the solicitude after present things, joineth with the irrational and imaginative part to think of and represent what is to come. For it is not, as Euripides saith, that he is the best prophet who guesses well; but he is the wisest man, not whose guess succeeds well in the event, but who, whatever the event be, takes reason and probability for his guide. Now the faculty of divining, like blank paper, is void of any reason or determination of itself, but is susceptible of fantasies and presentiments; and without any ratiocination or discourse of reason, it touches on that which is to come, when it has withdrawn itself farthest from the present. And from this it withdraws by means of a certain disposition of body, by which that state is produced which we call inspiration or enthusiasm. Now the body is sometimes endued naturally with this disposition; but most times the earth casts forth to men the sources and causes of several other powers and faculties, some of which carry men beside themselves into ecstasy and phrensy, and produce maladies and mortalities; others again are good, gentle, and profitable, as appears by those who have had the experience of them. But this spring, or wind, or spirit of divination is most holy and divine, whether it comes by itself through the air, or through the water of some spring. For, being infused and mixed with the body, it produceth an odd temperature and strange disposition in the soul, which a man cannot exactly express, though he may resemble or compare it to several things. For by heat and dilatation it seems to open certain pores that make a discovery of future things; like wine, which, causing fumes to ascend up into the head, puts the spirits into many unusual motions, and reveals things that were laid up in secret. For drunkenness and phrensy, if we will believe Euripides, have a near approach to the nature of divination, when the soul, being hot and fiery, banishes those fears to which prudence and sobriety are subject, and which extinguish and quench the spirit of divination.

41. Furthermore, a man may say that dryness, being mixed with heat, attenuateth and subtilizeth the spirit, and makes it pure and of an ethereal nature and consistence; for the soul itself, according to Heraclitus, is of a dry constitution; whereas moisture does not only dim the sight and dull the hearing, but when mingled with the air and touching the superficies of mirrors, dusketh the brightness of the one and takes away the light of the other. Or perhaps, on the contrary, by some refrigeration and condensation of this spirit, like the tincture and hardening of iron, this part of the soul which does prognosticate may become more intense and get a perfect edge. Just as tin being melted with brass (which of itself is rare and spongeous) does drive it nearer and make it more massy and solid, and withal causeth it to look more bright and resplendent; so I cannot see any reason, why this prophetical exhalation, having some congruence and affinity with souls, may not fill up that which is lax and empty, and drive it more close together. For there are many things which have a reference and congruity one with another; as the bean is useful in dyeing purple, and soda in dyeing saffron, if they be mixed therewith; and as Empedocles says,

Linen is dyed with the bright saffron’s flower.

And we have learned of you, Demetrius, that only the river Cydnus cleaneth the knife consecrated to Apollo, in the city of Tarsus in Cilicia, and that there is no other water which can scour and cleanse it. So in the town of Olympia, they temper ashes with the water of the river Alpheus, with which they make a mortar wherewith they plaster the altar there; but if this be attempted to be done by the water of any other river, it is all to no purpose.

42. It is no wonder then if, the earth sending up many exhalations, only those of this sort transport the soul with a divine fury, and give it a faculty of foretelling future things. And, without a doubt, what is related touching the oracle of this place does herewith agree; for it is here where this faculty of divining first showed itself, by means of a certain shepherd, who chanced to fall down and began to utter enthusiastic speeches concerning future events; of which at first the neighbors took no notice; but when they saw what he foretold came to pass, they had him in admiration; and the most learned among the Delphians, speaking of this man, are used to call him by the name of Coretas. The soul seems to me to mix and join itself with this prophetic exhalation, just as the eye is affected with the light. For the eye, which has a natural property and faculty of seeing, would be wholly useless without the light; so the soul, having this faculty and property of foreseeing future things, as an eye, has need of a proper object which may enlighten and sharpen it. And therefore the ancients took the sun and Apollo to be the same God; and those who understand the beauty and wisdom of analogy or proportion do tell us, that as the body is to the soul, the sight to the mind, and light to truth, so is the sun with reference to Apollo; affirming the sun to be the offspring proceeding perpetually from Apollo, who is eternal and who continually bringeth him forth. For as the sun enlightens and excites the visive powers of the senses, so Apollo does excite the prophetic virtue in the soul.

43. Those then that imagined that both were one and the same God have with good reason dedicated and consecrated this oracle to Apollo and to the earth, deeming it to be the sun which imprinted this temperature and disposition on the earth, from whence arose this predictive exhalation. For as Hesiod, with far better reason than other philosophers, calls the earth

The well-fixed seat of all things;[10]

so do we esteem it eternal, immortal, and incorruptible. But as to the virtues and faculties which are in it, we believe that some fail in one place, and spring up anew in another. It seems also (for so some experiments incline us to conjecture) that these transitions, changes, and revolutions in process of time do circulate and return to the same place, and begin again where they left off. In some countries we see lakes and whole rivers and not a few fountains and springs of hot waters have sometimes failed and been entirely lost, and at others have fled and absconded themselves, being hidden and concealed under the earth; but perhaps some years after do appear again in the same place, or else run hard by. And so of metal mines, some have been quite exhausted, as the silver ones about Attica; and the same has happened to the veins of brass ore in Euboea, of which the best blades were made and hardened in cold water, as the poet Aeschylus tells us,

Taking his sword, a right Euboean blade.

It is not long since the quarry of Carystus has ceased to yield a certain soft stone, which was wont to be drawn into a fine thread; for I suppose some here have seen towels, net-work, and coifs woven of that thread, which could not be burnt; but when they were soiled with using, people flung them into the fire, and took them thence white and clean, the fire only purifying them. But all this is vanished; and there is nothing but some few fibres or hairy threads, lying up and down scatteringly in the grain of the stones, to be seen now in the quarry.

44. Aristotle and his followers affirm that all this proceeds from an exhalation within the earth, and when this fails or removes to another place, or revives and recovers itself again, the phenomena proceeding from them do so too. The same must we say of the prophetical exhalations which spring from the earth, that their virtue also is not immortal, but may wax old and decay; for it is not unlikely that great floods of rain and showers do extinguish them, and that the claps of thunder do dissipate them; or else (which I look upon to be the principal cause) they are sunk lower into the earth or utterly destroyed by the shock of earthquakes and the confusion that attends them, as here in this place there still remain the tragical monuments of that great earthquake that overthrew the city. And in the town of Orchomenus, they say, when the pestilence carried away such multitudes of people, the oracle of Tiresias of a sudden ceased, and remains mute to this day. And whether the like has not happened to the oracles in Cilicia, as we have heard it hath, no man can better inform us than you, Demetrius.

45. I cannot tell, says Demetrius, how things are at present in those parts, for you all know I have been long absent from thence; but when I was there, both that of Mopsus and of Amphilochus flourished and were in great esteem. And as to the oracle of Mopsus, I can from my own knowledge tell you a strange story about it. The Governor of Cicilia was a man inclining to scepticism about the Gods,—through the infirmity of his unbelief, I think, for otherwise he was an oppressor and a worthless man,—and he had about him several Epicureans, who are wont to mock at the belief of such things as seem contrary to reason, as they themselves say, standing much upon their goodly natural philosophy. He sent a freed servant of his to the oracle, like a spy into an enemy’s camp, with a letter sealed, wherein was the question he was to ask the oracle, nobody knowing the contents thereof. This man then, as the custom of the place is, remaining all night in the temple-porch asleep, related the next morning the dream which he had; for he thought he saw a very handsome man stand before him, who said only this word, Black, to him, and nothing else, for he vanished away immediately. This seemed to us very impertinent, though we could not tell what to make of it; but the governor marvelled at it, and was so nettled with it, that he had the oracle in great veneration ever since; for, opening the letter, he showed this question which was therein: Shall I sacrifice to thee a white bull or a black? Which dashed his Epicureans quite out of countenance, and he offered the sacrifice required, and to the day of his death continued a devout admirer of Mopsus.

46. When Demetrius had given us this relation, he held his peace. And I, being desirous to put an end to this conference, cast mine eyes on Philippus and Ammonius, who sat together; and they, I thought, looked as if they had something to say to me, and therefore I kept silent With that Ammonius: Philippus hath something to offer, Lamprias, touching what hath been debated; for he thinks, as well as other folks, that Apollo and the sun are the same God. But the question which I propose is of greater consequence; for just now in our discourse we have taken away divination from the Gods, and openly attributed it to the Daemons, and now we are for excluding them also, and dispossessing them of the oracle and three-footed stool, referring the cause, or rather the nature and essence, of divination to exhalations, winds, and vapors; for these opinions carry us still farther off from the Gods, introducing such a cause of this event as Euripides makes Polyphemus to allege:

The earth by force, whether she will or no Does for my cattle make the grass to grow.[11]

Yet he says that he sacrificed his herds, not to the Gods, but to himself and his own belly, “the greatest of all Daemons;” whereas we offer them sacrifices and prayers to obtain an answer from their oracles; but to what purpose, if it be true that souls are naturally endued with the faculty of prediction, and that the chief cause that excites this faculty and virtue is a certain temperature of air and winds? And what signifies then the sacred institutions and setting apart these religious prophetesses, for the giving of answers? And why do they return no answer at all, unless the sacrifice tremble all over, even from the very feet, whilst the wine is poured on its head? For it is not enough to wag the head, as other beasts do which are appointed for sacrifices; but this quaking and shivering must be universal throughout all parts of the body, and that with a trembling noise; for if this be not done, they say that the oracle will give no answer, neither is the priestess even introduced. For it is very proper and suitable for them to do and believe thus who ascribe the impulses of prophetical inspiration either to a God or a Daemon, but by no means for those that are of your opinion. For the exhalation which springeth out of the ground, whether the beast tremble or not, will always, if it be present, cause a ravishment and transport of spirit, and dispose the soul alike, not only of Pythia, but of any one else that first cometh or is presented. And it must needs seem absurd to set apart one certain woman for the delivery of these oracles, and to oblige her to virginity and chastity all her days, when the thing is referred to such a cause. For as to that Coretas, whom the Delphians will needs have to be the first that happened to fall upon this chink or crevice of the ground, and gave the first proof of the virtue of the place,—he, I say, seems to me not at all to differ from other herdsmen or shepherds, supposing what is reported of him to be true, as I believe it is not. And truly, when I call to mind of what benefit this oracle has been unto the Greeks, not only in their wars and building of cities, but also in the stresses of plague and famine, methinks it is very unfit to refer its invention and original unto mere chance, rather than to God and divine providence. But I would willingly have you, Lamprias, says he, to speak on this point, and I pray you, Philippus, to have patience a while. With all my heart, replied Philippus, and I dare undertake the same for all the company.

47. And, as to my part, quoth I, O Philippus! I am not only much moved, but also ashamed, considering my youth, in the presence of so many wise and grave personages, to appear as if I endeavored by sophistry to impose upon them, and to destroy and evacuate what sage and holy men have determined concerning the divine nature and power. But though I am young, yet Plato was old and wise as you are, and he shall be my example and advocate in this case. He reprehended Anaxagoras for applying himself too much to natural causes, always following and pursuing the necessary and material cause of the passions and affections incident to bodies, and omitting the final and efficient, which are much better and more considerable principles than the other. But Plato either first, or most of all the philosophers, hath joined both of these principles together, attributing to God the causality of all things that are according to reason, and yet not depriving matter of a necessary or passive concurrence; but acknowledging that the adorning and disposing of all this sensible world does not depend on one single and simple cause, but took its being from the conjunction and fellowship of matter with reason. This may be illustrated by the works of art; as, for example, without going any further, the foot of the famous cup which is amongst the treasure of this temple, which Herodotus calls a Hypocrateridion, that has for the material causes fire and iron, and pliableness by means of fire, and the tincture in water, without which such a piece of work could not be wrought. But the principal cause, and that which is most properly so called, which wrought by all these, was art and reason. And we see the name of the artist set on all such pieces, according to that,

’Twas Thasian Polygnotus, Aglaophon’s son, That drew this draught of conquer’d Ilium.

But yet, without colors mixed and confounded with one another, it had been impossible to have done a piece so pleasing to the eye. Should one come then and enquire into the material cause, searching into and discoursing concerning the alterations and mutations which the vermilion receives mixed with ochre, or the ceruse with black, would he thereby lessen the credit of the painter Polygnotus? And so he that shall discourse how iron is both hardened and mollified, and how, being softened in the fire, it becomes obedient to them who by beating it drive it out in length and breadth; and afterwards, being plunged into fresh water, by the coldness of it becomes hardened and condensed after it was softened and rarefied by the fire, and acquires a firmness and temper which Homer calls the strength of the iron,—does he, because of this, e’er the less attribute the cause of the work to the workman? I do not think he does; for those who examine the virtues and properties of medicinal drugs do not thereby condemn the art of physic. Just as when Plato says that we see because the light of the eye is mixed with the clearness of the sun, and that we hear by the percussion of the air, yet this does not hinder but that we have the faculty of seeing and hearing from Divine Providence.

48. In a word, generation, as I have said, proceeding from two causes, the chiefest and most ancient poets and divines have stuck only to the first and most excellent of these, having on all occasions these known words in their mouths,

Jove, the beginning, middle, source of all;[12]

but as to the necessary and natural causes, they concern not themselves with them. Whereas their successors, who were for that reason called natural philosophers, took a different course; for they, forsaking this admirable and divine principle, ascribe all matter and the passions of it to the motions, mutations, and mixtures of its parts. So that both of these are defective in their methods, because they omit, through ignorance or design, the one the efficient, the others the material cause. Whereas he that first pointed at both causes, and manifestly joined with the reason, which freely operateth and moveth, the matter, which necessarily is obedient and passive, does defend both himself and us from all calumny and censure. For we do not deprive divination either of God or of reason; seeing we allow it for its subject the soul of man, and for its instrument an enthusiastic exhalation. For first, the earth, out of which exhalations are generated, and then the sun, which in and upon the earth works all the infinite possibilities of mixture and alteration, are, in the divinity of our forefathers, esteemed Gods. And hereunto if we add the Daemons as superintendents and guardians of this temperature, as of a harmony and consort, who in due time slacken or stretch the virtue of this exhalation, sometimes taking from it the too great activity which it has to torment the soul and transport it beyond itself, and mingling with it a virtue of moving, without causing pain to those that are possessed with it; in all this it seems to me that we do nothing that can look strange or impossible or unagreeable to reason.

49. And when we offer victims before we come to the oracle, and crown them with garlands of flowers and pour wine on their heads, I see we do not any thing in all this that is absurd or repugnant to this opinion of ours. For the priests, who offer the sacrifices, and pour out the holy wine thereon, and observe their motions and tremblings, do this for no other reason besides that of learning whether they can receive an answer from the oracle. For the animal which is offered to the Gods must be pure, entire, and sound, both as to soul and body. Now it is not very hard to discover the marks of the body; and as to the soul, they make an experiment of it in setting meal before the bulls and presenting pease to the boars; for if they will not taste them, it is a certain sign they be not sound. As to goats, cold water is a trial for them; for if the beast does not seem to be moved and affected when the water is poured upon her, this is an evident sign that her soul is not right according to Nature. And supposing it should be granted that it is a certain and unquestionable sign that God will give an answer when the sacrifice thus drenched stirs, and that when it is otherwise he vouchsafes none, I do not see herein any thing that disagrees with the account of oracles which I have given. For every natural virtue produceth the effect to which it is ordained better or worse, according as its season is more or less proper; and it is likely God gives us signs whereby we may know whether the opportunity be gone or not.

50. As for my part, I believe the exhalation itself which comes out of the ground is not always of the same kind, being at one time slack, and at another strong and vigorous; and the truth of that experiment which I use to prove it is attested by several strangers, and by all those which serve in the temple. For the room where those do wait who come for answers from the oracle is sometimes—though not often and at certain stated times, but as it were by chance—filled with such a fragrant odor and scent, that no perfumes in the world can exceed it, and this arises, as it were, out of a spring, from the sanctuary of the temple. And this proceeds very likely from its heat or some other power or faculty which is in it; and if peradventure this seems to any body an unlikely thing, such a one will, however, allow that the prophetess Pythia hath that part of the soul unto which this wind and blast of inspiration approacheth moved by variety of passions and affections, sometimes after one sort and sometimes another, and that she is not always in the same mood and temper, like a fixed and immutable harmony which the least alteration or change of such and such proportions destroys. For there are several vexations and passions, which agitate bodies and slide into the soul, that she perceives, but more that she does not, in which case it would be better that she should tarry away and not present herself to this divine inspiration, as not being clean and void of perturbations, like an instrument of music exquisitely made, but at present in disorder and out of tune. For wine does not at all times alike surprise the drunkard, neither does the sound of the flute always affect in the same manner him who dances to it. For the same persons are sometimes more and sometimes less transported beyond themselves, and more or less inebriated, according to the present disposition of their bodies. But especially the imaginative part of the soul is subject to change and sympathize together with the body, as is apparent from dreams; for sometimes we are mightily troubled with many and confused visions in our dreams, and at other times there is a perfect calm, undisturbed by any such images or ideas. We all know Cleon, a native of Daulia, who used to say to himself that in the many years in which he hath lived he never had any dream. And among the ancients, the same is related of Thrasymedes of Heraea. The cause of this lies in the complexion and constitution of bodies, as is seen by melancholy people, who are much subject to dreams in the night, and their dreams sometimes prove true. Inasmuch as such persons’ fancies run sometimes on one thing and at other times on another, they must thereby of necessity now and then light right, as they that shoot often must hit sometimes.

51. When therefore the imaginative part of the soul and the prophetic blast or exhalation have a sort of harmony and proportion with each other, so as the one, as it were in the nature of a medicament, may operate upon the other, then happens that enthusiasm or divine fury which is discernible in prophets and inspired persons. And, on the contrary, when the proportion is lost, there can be no prophetical inspiration, or only such as is as good as none; for then it is a forced fury, not a natural one, but violent and turbulent, such as we have seen to have happened in the prophetess Pythia who is lately deceased. For certain pilgrims being come for an answer from the oracle, it is said the sacrifice endured the first effusion without stirring or moving a jot, which made the priests, out of an excess of zeal, to continue to pour on more, till the beast was almost drowned with cold water; but what happened hereupon to the prophetess Pythia? She went down into the hole against her will; but at the first words which she uttered, she plainly showed by the hoarseness of her voice that she was not able to bear up against so strong an inspiration (like a ship under sail, oppressed with too much wind), but was possessed with a dumb and evil spirit. Finally, being horribly disordered and running with dreadful screeches towards the door to get out, she threw herself violently on the ground, so that not only the pilgrims fled for fear, but also the high priest Nicander and the other priests and religious which were there present; who entering within a while took her up, being out of her senses; and indeed she lived but few days after. For these reasons it is that Pythia is obliged to keep her body pure and clean from the company of men, there being no stranger permitted to converse with her. And before she goes to the oracle, they are used by certain marks to examine whether she be fit or no, believing that the God certainly knows when her body is disposed and fit to receive, without endangering her person, this enthusiastical inspiration. For the force and virtue of this exhalation does not move all sorts of persons, nor the same persons in like manner, nor as much at one time as at another; but it only gives beginning, and, as it were, kindles those spirits which are prepared and fitted to receive its influence. Now this exhalation is certainly divine and celestial, but yet not incorruptible and immortal, nor proof against the eternity of time, which subdues all things below the moon, as our doctrine teaches,—and, as some say, all things above it, which, weary and in despair as regards eternity and infinity, are apt to be suddenly renewed and changed.

52. But these things, said I, I must advise you and myself often and seriously to consider of, they being liable to many disputes and objections, which our leisure will not suffer to particularize; and therefore we must remit them, together with the questions which Philippus proposes touching Apollo and the sun, to another opportunity.

OF ISIS AND OSIRIS, OR OF THE ANCIENT RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY OF EGYPT.

1. It becomes wise men, dame Clea,[13] to go to the Gods for all the good things they would enjoy. Much more ought we, when we would aim at that knowledge of them which our nature can arrive at, to pray that they themselves would bestow it upon us; truth being the greatest good that man can receive, and the goodliest blessing that God can give. Other good things he bestows on men as they want them, they being not his own peculiars nor of any use to himself. For the blessedness of the Deity consists not in silver and gold, nor yet his power in lightnings and thunders, but in knowledge and wisdom. And it was the best thing Homer ever said of Gods, when he pronounced thus:

Both of one line, both of one country boast, But royal Jove’s the eldest and knows most;[14]

where he declares Jupiter’s prerogative in wisdom and science to be the more honorable, by terming it the elder. I, for my own part, do believe that the felicity of eternal living which the Gods enjoy lies mainly in this, that nothing escapes their cognizance that passes in the sphere of generation, and that, should we set aside wisdom and the knowledge of true beings,[15] immortality itself would not be life, but merely a long time.

2. And therefore the desire of truth, especially in what relates to the Gods, is a sort of grasping after divinity, it using learning and enquiry for a kind of resumption of things sacred, a work doubtless of more religion than any ritual purgation or charge of temples whatever, and especially most acceptable to the Goddess you serve, since she is more eminently wise and speculative, and since knowledge and science (as her very name[16] seems to import) appertain more peculiarly to her than any other thing. For the name of Isis is Greek, and so is that of her adversary Typhon, who, being puffed up[17] through ignorance and mistake, pulls in pieces and destroys that holy doctrine, which she on the contrary collects, compiles, and delivers down to such as are regularly advanced unto the deified state; which, by constancy of sober diet, and abstaining from sundry meats and the use of women, both restrains the intemperate and voluptuous part, and habituates them to austere and hard services in the temples, the end of which is the knowledge of the original, supreme, and mental being, which the Goddess would have them enquire for, as near to herself and as dwelling with her. Besides, the very name of her temple most apparently promises the knowledge and acquaintance of true being (τὸ ὄν), for they call it Iseion (Ἴσειον), as who should say, We shall know true being, if with reason and sanctimony we approach the sacred temples of this Goddess.

3. Moreover, many have reported her the daughter of Hermes, and many of Prometheus; the latter of which they esteem as the author of wit and forecast, and the former of letters and music. For the same reason also they call the former of the Muses at Hermopolis at the same time Isis and Justice, Isis being (as we before said) no other than wisdom, and revealing things divine to such as are truly and justly styled the sacred bearers, and keepers of the sacred robes; and these are such as have in their minds, as in an ark, the sacred doctrine about the Gods, cleansed from superstitious frights and vain curiosities, keeping out of sight all dark and shady colors, and exposing to sight the light and gay ones, to insinuate something of the like kind in our persuasion about the Gods as we have represented to us in the sacred vestments. Wherefore, in that the priests of Isis are dressed up in these when they are dead, it is a token to us that this doctrine goes with them to the other life, and that nothing else can accompany them thither. For as neither the nourishing of beards nor the wearing of mantles can render men philosophers, so neither will linen garments or shaved heads make priests to Isis; but he is a true priest of Isis, who, after he hath received from the laws the representations and actions that refer to the Gods, doth next apply his reason to the enquiry and speculation of the truth contained in them.

4. For the greater part of men are ignorant even of this most common and ordinary thing, for what reason priests lay aside their hair and go in linen garments. Some are not at all solicitous to be informed about such questions; and others say their veneration for sheep is the cause why they abstain from their wool as well as their flesh, and that they shave their heads in token of mourning, and that they wear linen because of the bloomy color which the flax sendeth forth, in imitation of that ethereal clarity that environs the world. But indeed the true reason of them all is one and the same. For it is not lawful (as Plato saith) for a clean thing to be touched by an unclean; but now no superfluity of food or excrementitious substance can be pure or clean; but wool, down, hair, and nails come up and grow from superfluous excrements. It would be therefore an absurdity for them to lay aside their own hair in purgations, by shaving themselves and by making their bodies all over smooth, and yet in the mean time to wear and carry about them the hairs of brutes. For we ought to think that the poet Hesiod, when he saith,

Not at a feast of Gods from five-branched tree With sharp-edged steel to part the green from dry,[18]

would teach us to keep the feast when we are already cleansed from such things as these, and not in the solemnities themselves to use purgation or removal of excrementitious superfluities. But now flax springs up from an immortal being, the earth, and bears an eatable fruit, and affords a simple and cleanly clothing, not burdensome to him that is covered with it, and convenient for every season of the year, and which besides (as they tell us) is the least subject to engender vermin; but of this to discourse in this place would not be pertinent.

5. But now the priests do so abhor all kinds of superfluous excrements, that they not only decline most sorts of pulse, and of flesh that of sheep and swine, which produce much superfluity, but also in the time of their purgations they exclude salt from their meals. For which, as they have several other good reasons, so more especially this, that it whets the appetite and renders men over-eager after meat and drink. For that the reason why salt is not accounted clean should be (as Aristagoras tells us) because that, when it is hardened together, many little animals are catched in it and there die, is fond and ridiculous. They are also said to water the Apis from a well of his own, and to restrain him altogether from the river Nile,—not because they hold the water for polluted by reason of the crocodile, as some suppose, for there is nothing in the world in more esteem with the Egyptians than the Nile, but because the water of the Nile being drunk is observed to be very feeding, and above all others to conduce to the increase of flesh. But they would not have the Apis nor themselves neither to be over fat; but that their bodies should sit light and easy about their souls, and not press and squeeze them down by a mortal part overpowering and weighing down the divine.

6. They also that at Heliopolis (Sun-town) wait upon the sun never bring wine into his temple, they looking upon it as a thing indecent and unfitting to drink by daylight, while their lord and king looks on. The rest of them do indeed use it, but very sparingly. They have likewise many purgations, wherein they prohibit the use of wine, in which they study philosophy, and pass their time in learning and teaching things divine. Moreover their kings, being priests also themselves, were wont to drink it by a certain measure prescribed them in the sacred books, as Hecataeus informs us. And they began first to drink it in the reign of Psammetichus; but before that time they were not used to drink wine at all, no, nor to pour it forth in sacrifice as a thing they thought any way grateful to the Gods, but as the blood of those who in ancient times waged war against the Gods, from whom, falling down from heaven and mixing with the earth, they conceived vines to have first sprung; which is the reason (say they) that drunkenness renders men besides themselves and mad; they being, as it were, gorged with the blood of their ancestors. These things (as Eudoxus tells us in the second book of his Travels) are thus related by the priests.

7. As to sea-fish, they do not all of them abstain from all, but some from one sort, and some from another. As for example, the Oxyrynchites abstain from such as are catched with the angle and hook; for, having the fish called oxyrynchus (the pike) in great veneration, they are afraid lest the hook should chance to catch hold of it and by that means become polluted. They of Syene also abstain from the phagrus (or sea-bream) because it is observed to appear with the approaching overflow of the Nile, and to present itself a voluntary messenger of the joyful news of its increase. But the priests abstain from all in general. But on the ninth day of the first month, when every other Egyptian eats a fried fish before the outer door of his house, the priests do not eat any fish, but only burn them before their doors. For which they have two reasons; the one whereof, being sacred and very curious, I shall resume by and by (it agreeing with the pious reasonings we shall make upon Osiris and Typhon); the other is a very manifest and obvious one, which, by declaring fish to be not a necessary but a superfluous and curious sort of food, greatly confirms Homer, who never makes either the dainty Phaeacians or the Ithacans (though both islanders) to make use of fish; no, nor the companions of Ulysses either in so long a voyage at sea, until they came to the last extremity of want. In short, they reckon the sea itself to be made of fire and to lie out of Nature’s confines, and not to be a part of the world or an element, but a preternatural, corrupt, and morbid excrement.

8. For nothing hath been ranked among their sacred and religious rites that savored of folly, romance, or superstition, as some do suppose; but some of them were such as contained some signification of morality and utility, and others such as were not without a fineness either in history or natural philosophy. As, for instance, in what refers to the onions; for that Dictys, the foster-father of Isis, as he was reaching at a handful of onions, fell into the river and was there drowned, is extremely improbable. But the true reason why the priests abhor, detest, and avoid the onion is because it is the only plant whose nature it is to grow and spread forth in the wane of the moon. Besides, it is no proper food, either for such as would practise abstinence and use purgations, or for such as would observe the festivals; for the former, because it causeth thirst, and for the latter, because it forceth tears from those that eat it. They likewise esteem the swine as an unhallowed animal, because it is observed to be most apt to engender in the wane of the moon, and because that such as drink its milk have a leprosy and scabbed roughness in their bodies. But the story which they that sacrifice a swine at every full moon are wont to subjoin after their eating of it,—how that Typhon, being once about the full of the moon in pursuit of a certain swine, found by chance the wooden chest wherein lay the body of Osiris, and scattered it,—is not received by all, but looked upon as a misrepresented story, as a great many more such are. They tell us moreover, that the ancients did so much despise delicacy, sumptuousness, and a soft and effeminate way of living, that they erected a pillar in the temple at Thebes, having engraven upon it several grievous curses against King Meinis, who (as they tell us) was the first that brought off the Egyptians from a mean, wealthless, and simple way of living. There goes also another story, how that Technatis, father to Bocchoris, commanding an army against the Arabians, and his baggage and provisions not coming in as soon as was expected, heartily fed upon such things as he could next light on, and afterwards had a sound sleep upon a pallet, whereupon he fell greatly in love with a poor and mean life; and for this reason he cursed Meinis, and that with the consent of all the priests, and carved that curse upon a pillar.

9. But their kings (you must know) were always chosen either out of the priesthood or soldiery, the latter having the right of succession by reason of their military valor, and the former by reason of their wisdom. But he that was chosen out of the soldiery was obliged immediately to turn priest, and was thereupon admitted to the participation of their philosophy, whose genius it was to conceal the greater part in tales and romantic relations, containing dark hints and resemblances of truth; which it is plain that even themselves would insinuate to us, while they are so kind as to set up Sphinxes before their temples, to intimate that their theology contained in it an enigmatical sort of learning. Moreover, the temple of Minerva which is at Sais (whom they look upon as the same with Isis) had upon it this inscription: I am whatever was, or is, or will be; and my veil no mortal ever took up. Besides, we find the greater part to be of opinion that the proper name of Jupiter in the Egyptian tongue is Amun (from which we have derived our word Ammon). But now Manetho the Sebennite thinks this word signifies hidden and hiding; but Hecataeus of Abdera saith, the Egyptians use this word when they call anybody; for that it is a term of calling. Therefore they must be of the opinion that the first God is the same with the universe; and therefore, while they invoke him who is unmanifest and hidden, and pray him to make himself manifest and known to them, they cry Amun. So great therefore was the piety of the Egyptians’ philosophy about things divine.

10. This is also confirmed by the most learned of the Greeks (such as Solon, Thales, Plato, Eudoxus, Pythagoras, and as some say, even Lycurgus) going to Egypt and conversing with the priests; of whom they say Eudoxus was a hearer of Chonuphis of Memphis, Solon of Sonchis of Sais, and Pythagoras of Oenuphis of Heliopolis. Whereof the last named, being (as is probable) more than ordinarily admired by the men, and they also by him, imitated their symbolical and mysterious way of talking, obscuring his sentiments with dark riddles. For the greatest part of the Pythagoric precepts fall nothing short of those sacred writings they call hieroglyphical, such as, Do not eat in a chariot; Do not sit on a choenix (or measure); Plant not a palm-tree; Stir not fire with a knife within the house. And I verily believe, that their terming the unit Apollo, the number two Diana, the number seven Minerva, and the first cube Neptune, refers to the columns set up in their temples, and to things there acted, aye, and painted too. For they represent their king and lord Osiris by an eye and a sceptre. There are some also that interpret his name by many-eyed, as if os in the Egyptian tongue signified many, and iri an eye. And the heaven, because by reason of its eternity it never grows old, they represent by a heart with a censer under it. There were also statues of judges erected at Thebes, having no hands; and the chief of them had also his eyes closed up, hereby signifying that among them justice was not to be solicited with either bribery or address. Moreover, the men of the sword had a beetle carved upon their signets, because there is no such thing as a female beetle; for they are all males, and they generate their young in certain round pellets formed of dirt, being herein as well providers of the place in which they are to be engendered, as of the matter of their nutrition.

11. When therefore you hear the tales which the Egyptians relate about the Gods, such as their wanderings, discerptions, and such like disasters that befell them, you are still to remember that none of these things have been really so acted and done as they are told. For they do not call the dog Hermes properly, but only attribute the warding, vigilancy, and philosophic acuteness of that animal, which by knowing or not knowing distinguishes between its friend and its foe (as Plato speaks), to the most knowing and ingenious of the Gods. Nor do they believe that the sun springs up a little boy from the top of the lotus, but they thus set forth his rising to insinuate the kindling of his rays by means of humids. Besides, that most savage and horrible king of the Persians named Ochus, who, when he had massacred abundance of people, afterwards slaughtered the Apis, and feasted upon him, both himself and his retinue, they called the Sword; and they call him so to this very day in their table of kings, hereby not denoting properly his person, but resembling by this instrument of murder the severity and mischievousness of his disposition. When therefore you thus hear the stories of the Gods from such as interpret them with consistency to piety and philosophy, and observe and practise those rites that are by law established, and are persuaded in your mind that you cannot possibly either offer or perform a more agreeable thing to the Gods than the entertaining of a right notion of them, you will then avoid superstition as a no less evil than atheism itself.

12. The story is thus told after the most concise manner, the most useless and unnecessary parts being cut off. They tell us how that once on a time, Rhea having accompanied with Saturn by stealth, the Sun found them out, and pronounced a solemn curse against her, containing that she should not be delivered in any month or year; but that Hermes, afterwards making his court to the goddess, obtained her favor, in requital of which he went and played at dice with the Moon, and won of her the seventieth part from each day, and out of all these made five new days, which he added to the three hundred and sixty other days of the year; and these the Egyptians therefore to this day call the Epagomenae (or the superadded days), and they observe them as the birthdays of their Gods. Upon the first of these, as they say, Osiris was born, and a voice came into the world with him, saying, The Lord of all things is now born. There are others that affirm that one Pamyles, as he was fetching water at Thebes, heard a voice out of the temple of Jupiter, bidding him to publish with a loud voice that Osiris, the great and good king, was now born; and that he thereupon got to be foster-father to Osiris, Saturn entrusting him with the charge of him, and that the feast called Pamylia (resembling the Priapeian procession which the Greeks call Phallephoria) was instituted in honor of him. Upon the second day Arueris was born, whom some call Apollo, and others the elder Horus. Upon the third Typhon was born, who came not into the world either in due time or by the right way, but broke a hole in his mother’s side, and leaped out at the wound. Upon the fourth Isis was born in Panygra. And upon the fifth Nephthys, whom they sometimes call the end, and sometimes Venus, and sometimes also Victory. Of these they say Osiris and Arueris were begot by the Sun, Isis by Hermes, and Typhon and Nephthys by Saturn. For which reason their kings, looking upon the third of the Epagomenae as an inauspicious day, did no business upon it, nor took any care of their bodies until the evening. They say also that Nephthys was married unto Typhon, and that Isis and Osiris were in love with one another before they were born, and enjoyed each other in the dark before they came into the world. Some add also that Arueris was thus begotten, and that he was called by the Egyptians the elder Horus, and by the Greeks Apollo.

13. And they say that Osiris, when he was king of Egypt, drew them off from a beggarly and bestial way of living, by showing them the use of grain, and by making them laws, and teaching them to honor the Gods; and that afterwards he travelled all the world over, and made it civil, having but little need of arms, for he drew the most to him, alluring them by persuasion and oratory, intermixed with all sorts of poetry and music; whence it is that the Greeks look upon him as the very same with Bacchus. They further add that Typhon, while he was from home, attempted nothing against him; for Isis was very watchful and guarded him closely from harm. But when he came home, he formed a plot against him, taking seventy-two men for accomplices of his conspiracy, and being also abetted by a certain Queen of Ethiopia, whose name they say was Aso. Having therefore privately taken the measure of Osiris’s body, and framed a curious ark, very finely beautified and just of the size of his body, he brought it to a certain banquet. And as all were wonderfully delighted with so rare a sight and admired it greatly, Typhon in a sporting manner promised that whichsoever of the company should by lying in it find it to be of the size of his body, should have it for a present. And as every one of them was forward to try, and none fitted it, Osiris at last got into it himself, and lay along in it; whereupon they that were there present immediately ran to it, and clapped down the cover upon it, and when they had fastened it down with nails, and soldered it with melted lead, they carried it forth to the river side, and let it swim into the sea at the Tanaitic mouth, which the Egyptians therefore to this day detest, and abominate the very naming of it. These things happened (as they say) upon the seventeenth of the month Athyr, when the sun enters into the Scorpion, and that was upon the eight and twentieth year of the reign of Osiris. But there are some that say that was the time of his life, and not of his reign.

14. And because the Pans and Satyrs that inhabited the region about Chemmis were the first that knew of this disaster and raised the report of it among the people, all sudden frights and discomposures among the people have been ever since called panics. But when Isis heard of it, she cut off in that very place a lock of her hair, and put on a mourning weed, where there is a town at this day named Kopto; others think that name signifies bereaving, for that some use the word for depriving. And as she wandered up and down in all places, being deeply perplexed in her thoughts, and left no one she met withal unspoken to, she met at last with certain little children, of whom also she enquired about the ark. Now these had chanced to see all that had passed, and they named to her the very mouth of the Nile by which Typhon’s accomplices had sent the vessel into the sea; for which reason the Egyptians account little children to have a faculty of divination, and use more especially to lay hold on their omens when they play in sacred places or chance to say any thing there, whatever it be. And finding afterwards that Osiris had made his court to her sister, and through mistake enjoyed her instead of herself, for token of which she had found the melilot garland which he had left hard by Nephthys, she went to seek for the child; for her sister had immediately exposed it as soon as she was delivered of it, for fear of her husband Typhon. And when with great difficulty and labor she had found it, by means of certain dogs which conducted her to it, she brought it up; and he afterwards became her guardsman and follower, being named Anubis, and reported to guard the Gods as dogs do men.

15. Of him she had tidings of the ark, how it had been thrown out by the sea upon the coasts of Byblos, and the flood had gently entangled it in a certain thicket of heath. And this heath had in a very small time run up into a most beauteous and large tree, and had wrought itself about it, clung to it, and quite enclosed it within its trunk. Upon which the king of that place, much admiring at the unusual bigness of the plant, and cropping off the bushy part that encompassed the now invisible chest, made of it a post to support the roof of his house. These things (as they tell us) Isis being informed of by the divine breath of rumor, went herself to Byblos; where when she was come she sate her down hard by a well, very pensive and full of tears, insomuch that she refused to speak to any person, save only to the queen’s women, whom she complimented and caressed at an extraordinary rate, and would often stroke back their hair with her hands, and withal transmit a most wonderful fragrant smell out of her body into theirs. The queen, perceiving that her women’s bodies and hair thus breathed of ambrosia, greatly longed to become acquainted with this new stranger. Upon this she being sent for, and becoming very intimate with the queen, was at last made nurse to her child. Now the name of this king (they tell us) was Malcander; and the queen, some say, was called Astarte, and some Saosis, and others Nemanun (which in Greek is as much as to say Athenaïs).

16. Isis nursed the child by putting her finger into his mouth instead of the breast; and in the night-time she would by a kind of lambent fire singe away what was mortal about him. In the mean while, herself would be turned to a swallow, and in that form would fly round about the post, bemoaning her misfortune and sad fate; until at last, the queen, who stood watching hard by, cried out aloud as she saw her child all on a light flame, and so robbed him of immortality. Upon which the Goddess discovered herself, and begged the post that held up the roof; which when she had obtained and taken down, she very quickly cropped off the bushy heath from about it and wrapping the trunk in fine linen and pouring perfumed oil upon it, she put it into the hands of their kings; and therefore the Byblians to this very day worship that piece of wood, laying it up in the temple of Isis. Then she threw herself down upon the chest, and her lamentations were so loud, that the younger of the king’s two sons died for very fear; but she, having the elder in her own possession, took both him and the ark, and carried them on shipboard, and so took sail. But the river Phaedrus sending forth a very keen and chill air, it being the dawning of the morn, she grew incensed at it, and dried up its current.

17. And in the first place where she could take rest, and found herself to be now at liberty and alone, she opened the ark, and laid her cheeks upon the cheeks of Osiris, and embraced him and wept bitterly. The little boy seeing her came silently behind her, and peeping saw what it was; which she perceiving cast a terrible look upon him in the height of her passion; the fright whereof the child could not endure, and immediately died. But there are some that say it was not so, but that in the fore-mentioned manner he dropped into the sea, and was there drowned. And he hath divine honors given him to this very day upon the Goddess’s account; for they assure us that Maneros, whom the Egyptians so often mention in their carols at their banquets, is the very same. But others say that the boy was named Palaestinus or Pelusius, and that the city of that name was so called from him, it having been built by the Goddess. They also relate that this Maneros, so often spoken of in their songs, was the first that invented music. But some there are that would make us believe that Maneros was not the name of any person, but a certain form of speech, made use of to people in drinking and entertaining themselves at feasts, by way of wishing that all things might prove auspicious and agreeable to them; for that is the thing which the Egyptians would express by the word Maneros, when they so often roar it forth. In like manner they affirm that the likeness of a dead man, which is carried about in a little box and shown at feasts, is not to commemorate the disaster of Osiris, as some suppose, but was designed to encourage men to make use of and to enjoy the present things whilst they have them, since all men must quickly become such as they there see; for which reason they bring it into their revels and feasts.

18. But when Isis came to her son Horus, who was then at nurse at Buto, and had laid the chest out of the way, Typhon, as he was hunting by moonshine, by chance lighted upon it, and knowing the body again, tore it into fourteen parts, and threw them all about. Which when Isis had heard, she went to look for them again in a certain barge made of papyrus, in which she sailed over all the fens. Whence (they tell us) it comes to pass, that such as go in boats made of this rush are never injured by the crocodiles, they having either a fear or else a veneration for it upon the account of the goddess Isis. And this (they say) hath occasioned the report that there are many sepulchres of Osiris in Egypt, because she made a particular funeral for each member as she found them. There are others that tell us it was not so, but that she made several effigies of him and sent them to every city, taking on her as if she had sent them his body; so that the greater number of people might pay divine honors to him, and withal, if it should chance that Typhon should get the better of Horus, and thereupon search for the body of Osiris, many bodies being discoursed of and shown him, he might despair of ever finding the right one. But of all Osiris’s members, Isis could never find out his private part, for it had been presently flung into the river Nile, and the lepidotus, sea-bream, and pike eating of it, these were for that reason more scrupulously avoided by the Egyptians than any other fish. But Isis, in lieu of it, made its effigies, and so consecrated the phallus for which the Egyptians to this day observe a festival.

19. After this, Osiris coming out of hell to assist his son Horus, first labored and trained him up in the discipline of war, and then questioned him what he thought to be the gallantest thing a man could do; to which he soon replied, to avenge one’s father’s and mother’s quarrel when they suffer injury. He asked him a second time, what animal he esteemed most useful to such as would go to battle. Horus told him, a horse; to which he said that he wondered much at his answer, and could not imagine why he did not rather name a lion than a horse. Horus replied, that a lion might indeed be very serviceable to one that needed help, but a horse would serve best to cut off and disperse a flying enemy. Which when Osiris heard, he was very much pleased with him, looking upon him now as sufficiently instructed for a soldier. It is reported likewise that, as a great many went over daily unto Horus, Typhon’s own concubine Thueris deserted also; but that a certain serpent, pursuing her close at the heels, was cut in pieces by Horus’s men, and that for that reason they still fling a certain cord into the midst of the room and then chop it to pieces. The battle therefore continued for several days, and Horus at last prevailed; but Isis, although she had Typhon delivered up to her fast bound, yet would not put him to death, but contrariwise loosed him and let him go. Which when Horus perceived, he could not brook it with any patience, but laid violent hands upon his mother, and plucked the royal diadem from off her head. But Hermes presently stepped in, and clapped a cow’s head upon her instead of a helmet. Likewise, when Typhon impeached Horus for being a bastard, Hermes became his advocate, and Horus was judged legitimate by all the Gods. After this, they say that Typhon was worsted in two several battles. Isis had also by Osiris, who accompanied with her after his decease, Harpocrates, who came into the world before his time and was lame in his lower parts.

20. These then are most of the heads of this fabular narration, the more harsh and coarse parts (such as the description of Horus and the beheading of Isis) being taken out. If therefore they say and believe such things as these of the blessed and incorruptible nature (which is the best conception we can have of divinity) as really thus done and happening to it, I need not tell you that you ought to spit and to make clean your mouth (as Aeschylus speaks) at the mentioning of them. For you are sufficiently averse of yourself to such as entertain such wicked and barbarous sentiments concerning the Gods. And yet that these relations are nothing akin to those foppish tales and vain fictions which poets and story-tellers are wont, like spiders, to spin out of their own bowels, without any substantial ground or foundation for them, and then weave and wire-draw them out at their own pleasures, but contain in them certain abstruse questions and rehearsals of events, you yourself are, I suppose, convinced. And as mathematicians do assert the rainbow to be an appearance of the sun so variegated by reflection of its rays in a cloud, so likewise the fable here related is the appearance of some doctrine whose meaning is transferred by reflection to some other matter; as is plainly suggested to us as well by the sacrifices themselves, in which there appears something lamentable and very sad, as by the forms and makes of their temples, which sometimes run out themselves into wings, and into open and airy circs, and at other times again have under ground certain private cells, resembling vaults and tombs. And this is most plainly hinted to us by the opinion received about those of Osiris, because his body is said to be interred in so many different places. Though it may be they will tell you that some one town, such as Abydos or Memphis, is named for the place where his true body lies; and that the most powerful and wealthy among the Egyptians are most ambitious to be buried at Abydos, that so they may be near the body of their God Osiris; and that the Apis is fed at Memphis, because he is the image of Osiris’s soul, where also they will have it that his body is interred. Some also interpret the name of this city to signify the haven of good things, and others, the tomb of Osiris. They add, that the little island at Philae is at other times inaccessible and not to be approached to by any man, and that the very birds dare not venture to fly over it nor the fish to touch upon its banks; yet upon a certain set time the priests go over into it, and there perform the accustomed rites for the dead, and crown his tomb, which stands there shaded over by a tree called methida, exceeding any olive in bigness.

21. But Eudoxus saith that, though there be in Egypt many tombs reported to be his, yet his true body lies at Busiris, for that was the place of his birth; neither can there be any room for dispute about Taphosiris, for that its very name bespeaks it, Osiris’s tomb. I pass by their cleaving of wood, their peeling of flax, and the wine libations then made by them, because many of their secret mysteries are therein contained. And it is not of this God only, but of all others also that are not ungotten and incorruptible, that the priests pretend that their bodies lie buried with them and are by them served, but their souls are stars shining in heaven; and they say that the soul of Isis is by the Greeks called the Dog, but by the Egyptians, Sothis; and that of Horus, Orion; and that of Typhon, the Bear. They also tell us, that towards the support of the animals honored by them all others pay the proportion assigned them by the laws, but that those that inhabit the country of Thebais are the only men that refuse to contribute any thing, because they believe in no mortal God, but in him only whom they call Cneph, who is ungotten and immortal.

22. They therefore who suppose that, because many things of this sort are both related and shown unto travellers, they are but so many commemorations of the actions and disasters of mighty kings and tyrants who, by reason of their eminent valor or puissance, wrote the title of divinity upon their fame, and afterwards fell into great calamities and misfortunes,—these, I say, make use of the most ready way of eluding the story, and plausibly enough remove things of harsh and uncouth sound from Gods to men. Nay, I will add this farther, that the arguments they use are fairly enough deduced from the things themselves related. For the Egyptians recount, that Mercury was, in regard to the make of his body, with one arm longer than the other, and that Typhon was by complexion red, Horus white, and Osiris black, as if they had been indeed nothing else but men. They moreover style Osiris a commander, and Canopus a pilot, from whom they say the star of that name was denominated. Also the ship which the Greeks call Argo—being the image of Osiris’s ark, and therefore, in honor of it, made a constellation—they make to ride not far from Orion and the Dog; whereof the one they believe to be sacred to Horus, and the other to Isis.

23. But I fear this would be to stir things that are not to be stirred, and to declare war not only (as Simonides speaks) against length of time, but also against many nations and families of mankind, whom a religious reverence towards these Gods holds fast bound like men astonished and amazed. And this would be no other than going about to remove so great and venerable names from heaven to earth, thereby shaking and dissolving that worship and persuasion that hath entered into almost all men’s constitutions from their very birth, and opening vast doors to the Atheists’ faction, who convert all divine matters into human, giving also a large license to the impostures of Euhemerus the Messenian, who out of his own brain contrived certain memoirs of a most incredible and imaginary mythology, and thereby spread all manner of Atheism throughout the world. This he did by describing all the received Gods under the style of generals, sea-captains, and kings, whom he makes to have lived in the more remote and ancient times, and to be recorded in golden characters in a certain country called Panchon, with which notwithstanding never any man, either Barbarian or Grecian, had the good fortune to meet, except Euhemerus alone, who (it seems) sailed to the land of the Panchoans and Triphyllians, that neither have nor ever had a being.

24. And although the actions of Semiramis are sung among the Assyrians as very great, and likewise those of Sesostris in Egypt, and the Phrygians to this very day style all illustrious and strange actions manic, because Manis, one of their ancient kings (whom some call Masdes) was a brave and mighty person; and although Cyrus enlarged the empire of the Persians, and Alexander that of the Macedonians, within a little matter of the world’s end; yet have they still retained the names and memorials of gallant princes. And if some, puffed up with excessive vain-glory (as Plato speaks), having their minds enflamed at once with both youthful blood and folly, have with an unruly extravagancy taken upon them the style of Gods and had temples erected in their honor, yet this opinion of them flourished but for a short season, and they afterwards underwent the blame of great vanity and arrogancy, conjoined with the highest impiety and wickedness; and so,

Like smoke they flew away with swift-paced Fate;[19]

and being dragged away from the altars like fugitive slaves, they have now nothing left them but their tombs and graves. Which made Antigonus the Elder, when one Hermodotus had in his poems declared him to be son to the Sun and a God, to say to him: Friend, he that empties my close-stoolpan knows no such matter of me. And Lysippus the carver had good reason to quarrel with the painter Apelles for drawing Alexander’s picture with a thunder-bolt in his hand, whereas himself had made him but with a spear, which (he said) was natural and proper for him and a weapon the glory of which no time would rob him of.

25. Therefore they maintain the wiser opinion, who hold that the things here storied of Typhon, Osiris, and Isis were not the events of Gods, nor yet of men, but of certain grand Daemons, whom Plato, Pythagoras, Xenocrates, and Chrysippus (following herein the opinion of the most ancient theologists) affirm to be of greater strength than men, and to transcend our nature by much in power, but not to have a divine part pure and unmixed, but such as participates of both the soul’s nature and the body’s sensation, capable of receiving both pleasure and pain, and all the passions that attend these mutations, which disorder some of them more and others of them less. For there are divers degrees both of virtue and vice, as among men, so also among Daemons. For what they sing about among the Greeks, concerning the Giants and the Titans, and of certain horrible actions of Saturn, as also of Python’s combats with Apollo, of the flights of Bacchus, and the ramblings of Ceres, come nothing short of the relations about Osiris and Typhon and others such, which everybody may lawfully and freely hear as they are told in the mythology. The like may be also said of those things that, being veiled over in the mystic rites and sacred ceremonies of initiation, are therefore kept private from the sight and hearing of the common sort.

26. We also hear Homer often calling such as are extraordinary good “Godlike,” and “God’s compeers,” and “gifted with wisdom by the Gods.”[20] But the epithet derived from Daemons we find him to bestow upon the good and bad indifferently, as,

“Daemon-like sir, make haste, why do you fear the Argives thus?”

And then on the contrary,

“When the fourth time he rushed on like a Daemon;”

and again where Jupiter speaks thus to Juno:

Daemonial dame, what hath poor Priam done To anger you so much, or what his sons, That you resolve fair Ilium’s overthrow, And your revengeful purpose won’t forego?

where he seems to make Daemons to be of a mixed and unequal temper and inclination. Whence it is that Plato assigns to the Olympic Gods dexter things and odd numbers, and the opposite to these to Daemons. And Xenocrates also is of opinion, that such days as are commonly accounted unlucky, and those holy days in which are used scourgings, beatings of breasts, fastings, uncouth words, or obscene speeches, do not appertain to the honor of Gods or of good Daemons; but he thinks there are in the air, that environs us about, certain great and mighty natures, but withal morose and tetrical ones, that take pleasure in such things as these, and if they have them, they do no farther mischief. On the other side, the beneficent ones are styled by Hesiod “Holy Daemons,” and “Guardians of Mankind,” and,

Givers of wealth, this royal gift they have.[21]

And Plato calls this sort the interpreting and ministering kind, and saith, they are in a middle place betwixt the Gods and men, and that they carry up men’s prayers and addresses thither, and bring from thence hither prophetic answers and distributions of good things. Empedocles saith also that Daemons undergo severe punishments for their evil deeds and misdemeanors:—

The force of air them to the sea pursues; The sea again upon the land them spews; From land to th’ sun’s unwearied beams they’re hurled, Thence far into the realm of aether whirled, Received by each in turn, by all abhorred;

until, being thus chastened and purified, they are again admitted to that region and order that suits their nature.

27. Now such things and such like things as these they tell us are here meant concerning Typhon; how he, moved with envy and spite, perpetrated most wicked and horrible things, and putting all things into confusion, filled both land and sea with infinite calamities and evils, and afterwards suffered for it condign punishment. But now the avenger of Osiris, who was both his sister and wife, having extinguished and put an end to the rage and madness of Typhon, did not forget the many contests and difficulties she had encountered withal, nor her wanderings and travels to and fro, so far as to commit her many acts both of wisdom and courage to utter oblivion and silence; but she mixed them with their most sacred rites of initiation, and together consecrated them as resemblances, dark hints, and imitations of her former sufferings, both as an example and an encouragement of piety for all men and women that should hereafter fall under the like hard circumstances and distresses. And now both herself and Osiris being for their virtue changed from good Daemons into Gods, as were Hercules and Bacchus after them, they have (and not without just grounds) the honors of both Gods and Daemons joined together, their power being indeed everywhere great, but yet more especial and eminent in things upon and under the earth. For Serapis they say is no other than Pluto, and Isis the same with Proserpine; as Archemachus of Euboea informs us, as also Heraclides of Pontus, who delivers it as his opinion that the oracle at Canopus appertains to Pluto.

28. Besides, Ptolemaeus Soter saw in a dream the colossus of Pluto that stood at Sinope (although he knew it not, nor had ever seen what shape it was of) calling upon him, and bidding him to convey it speedily away to Alexandria. And as he was ignorant and at a great loss where it should be found, and was telling his dream to his familiars, there was found by chance a certain fellow that had been a general rambler in all parts (his name was Sosibius), who affirmed he had seen at Sinope such a colossus as the king had dreamt of. He therefore sent Soteles and Bacchus thither, who in a long time and with much difficulty, and not without the special help of a Divine Providence, stole it away and brought it to Alexandria. When therefore it was conveyed thither and viewed, Timothy the expositor and Manetho the Sebennite, concluding from the Cerberus and serpent that stood by it that it must be the statue of Pluto, persuaded Ptolemy it could appertain to no other God but Serapis; for he had not this name when he came from thence, but after he was removed to Alexandria, he acquired the name of Serapis, which is the Egyptian for Pluto. And when Heraclitus the physiologist saith, Pluto and Bacchus are one and the same, in whose honor men are mad and rave, we are thus led to the same doctrine. For those that will needs have Pluto to be the body, the soul being as it were distracted and drunken in it, do in my opinion make use of an over fine and subtle allegory. It is therefore better to make Osiris to be the same with Bacchus, and Serapis again with Osiris, he obtaining that appellation since the change of his nature. For which reason Serapis is a common God to all, as they who participate of divine matters best understand.

29. For there is no reason we should attend to the writings of the Phrygians, which say that one Charopos was daughter to Hercules, and that Typhon was son to Isaeacus, son of Hercules; no more than we have not to contemn Phylarchus, when he writes that Bacchus first brought two bullocks out of India into Egypt, and that the name of the one was Apis, and the other Osiris; but that Serapis is the name of him who orders the universe, from σαίρειν, which some use for beautifying and setting forth. For these sentiments of Phylarchus’s are very foolish and absurd; but theirs are much more so who affirm Serapis to be no God at all, but only the name of the chest in which Apis lies; and that there are at Memphis certain great gates of copper, called the gates of oblivion and lamentation, which, being opened when they bury the Apis, make a doleful and hideous noise; which (say they) is the reason that, when we hear any sort of copper instrument sounding, we are presently startled and seized with fear. But they judge more discreetly who suppose his name to be derived from σεύεσθαι or σοῦσθαι (which signifies to be borne along) and so make it to mean, that the motion of the universe is hurried and borne along violently. But the greatest part of the priests do say that Osiris and Apis are both of them but one complex being, while they tell us in their sacred commentaries and sermons that we are to look upon the Apis as the beautiful image of the soul of Osiris. I, for my part, do believe that, if the name of Serapis be Egyptian, it may not improperly denote joy and merriment, because I find the Egyptians term the festival which we call merry-making in their language sairei. Besides, I find Plato to be of opinion, that Pluto is called Hades because he is the son of Αἰδώ (which is Modesty) and because he is a gentle God to such as are conversant with him. And as among the Egyptians there are a great many other names that are also definitions of the things they express, so they call that place whither they believe men’s souls to go after death, Amenthes, which signifies in their language the receiver and the giver. But whether this be one of those names that have been anciently brought over and transplanted out of Greece into Egypt, we shall consider some other time; but at present we must hasten to despatch the remaining parts of the opinion here handled.

30. Osiris therefore and Isis passed from the number of good Daemons into that of Gods; but the power of Typhon being much obscured and weakened, and himself besides in great dejection of mind and in agony and, as it were, at the last gasp, they therefore one while use certain sacrifices to comfort and appease his mind, and another while again have certain solemnities wherein they abase and affront him, both by mishandling and abusing such men as they find to have red hair, and by breaking the neck of an ass down a precipice (as do the Coptites), because Typhon was red-haired and of the ass’s complexion. Moreover, those of Busiris and Lycopolis never make any use of trumpets, because they give a sound like that of asses. And they altogether esteem the ass as an animal not clean but daemoniac, because of its resemblance to Typhon; and when they make cakes at their sacrifices upon the months of Payni and Phaophi, they impress upon them an ass bound. Also, when they do their sacrifices to the Sun, they enjoin such as perform worship to that God neither to wear gold nor to give fodder to an ass. It is also most apparent that the Pythagoreans look upon Typhon as a daemoniac power; for they say he was produced in an even proportion of numbers, to wit, in that of fifty-six. And again, they say that the property of the triangle appertains to Pluto, Bacchus, and Mars; of the quadrangle to Rhea, Venus, Ceres, Vesta, and Juno; of the figure of twelve angles to Jupiter; and of the figure of fifty-six angles to Typhon;—as Eudoxus relates.

31. And because the Egyptians are of opinion that Typhon was born of a red complexion, they are therefore used to devote to him such of the neat kind as they find to be of a red color; and their observation herein is so very nice and strict that, if they perceive the beast to have but one hair about it that is either black or white, they account it unfit for sacrifice. For they hold that what is fit to be made a sacrifice must not be of a thing agreeable to the Gods, but contrariwise, such things as contain the souls of ungodly and wicked men transformed into their shapes. Wherefore in the more ancient times they were wont, after they had pronounced a solemn curse upon the head of the sacrifice, and had cut it off, to fling it into the river Nile; but now they distribute it among strangers. Those also among the priests that were termed Sphragistae or Sealers were wont to seal the beast that was to be offered; and the engraving of their seal was (as Castor tells us) a man upon his knees with his hands tied behind him, and a knife set under his throat. They believe, moreover that the ass suffers for being like him (as hath been already spoken of), as much for the stupidity and sensualness of his disposition as for the redness of his color. Wherefore, because of all the Persian monarchs they had the greatest aversion for Ochus, as looking upon him as a villanous and abominable person, they gave him the nickname of the ass; upon which he replied: But this ass shall dine upon your ox. And so he slaughtered the Apis, as Dinon relates to us in his history. As for those that tell us that Typhon was seven days flying from the battle upon the back of an ass, and having narrowly escaped with his life, afterwards begat two sons called Hierosolymus and Judaeus, they are manifestly attempting, as is shown by the very matter, to wrest into this fable the relations of the Jews.

32. And so much for the allegories and secret meanings which this head affords us. And now we begin at another head, which is the account of those who seem to offer at something more philosophical; and of these we will first consider the more simple and plain sort. And they are those that tell us that, as the Greeks are used to allegorize Kronos (or Saturn) into chronos (time), and Hera (or Juno) into aer (air) and also to resolve the generation of Vulcan into the change of air into fire, so also among the Egyptians, Osiris is the river Nile, who accompanies with Isis, which is the earth; and Typhon is the sea, into which the Nile falling is thereby destroyed and scattered, excepting only that part of it which the earth receives and drinks up, by means whereof she becomes prolific. There is also a kind of a sacred lamentation used to Saturn, wherein they bemoan him “who was born in the left side of the world, and died in the right.” For the Egyptians believe the eastern part to be the world’s face, and the northern its right hand, and the southern its left. And therefore the river Nile, holding its course from the southern parts towards the northern, may justly be said to have its birth in the left side and its death in the right; for which reason, the priests account the sea abominable, and call salt Typhon’s foam. And it is one of the things they look upon as unlawful and prohibited to them, to use salt at their tables. And they use not to salute any pilots, because they have to do with the sea. And this is not the least reason of their so great aversedness to fish. They also make the picture of a fish to denote hatred. And therefore at the temple of Minerva at Sais there was carved in the porch an infant and an old man, and after them a hawk, and then a fish, and after all a hippopotamus, which, in a symbolical manner, contained this sentence: O! ye that are born and that die, God hateth impudence. From whence it is plain, that by a child and an old man they express our being born and our dying; by a hawk, God; by a fish, hatred (by reason of the sea, as hath been before spoken); and by a river-horse, impudence, because (as they say) he killeth his sire and forceth his dam. That also which the Pythagoreans are used to say, that the sea is the tear of Saturn, may seem to hint out to us that it is not pure nor congenial with our race.

33. These then are the things that may be uttered without doors and in public, they containing nothing but matters of common cognizance. But now the most learned and reserved of the priests do not term the Nile only Osiris, and the sea Typhon; but in general, the whole principle and faculty of rendering moist they call Osiris, as believing it to be the cause of generation and the very substance of the seminal moisture. And on the other hand, whatever is a-dust, fiery, or any way drying and repugnant to wet, they call Typhon. And therefore, because they believe he was of a red and sallow color when he was born, they do not greatly care to meet with men of such looks nor willingly converse with them. On the other side again they report that Osiris, when he was born, was of a black complexion, because that all water renders earth, clothes, and clouds black, when mixed with them; and the moisture also that is in young persons makes their hair black; but grayness, like a sort of paleness, comes up through over much draught upon such as are now past their vigor and begin to decline in years. In like manner, the spring time is gay, fecund, and very agreeable; but the autumn, through defect of moisture, is both destructive to plants and sickly to men. Moreover the ox called Mnevis, which is kept at Heliopolis (and is sacred to Osiris, and judged by some to be the sire of Apis), is of a coal-black color, and is honored in the second place after Apis. To which we may add, that they call Egypt (which is one of the blackest soils in the world) as they do the black part of the eye, Chemia. They also liken it to the heart, by reason of its great warmth and moisture, and because it is mostly enclosed by and removed towards the left (that is, the southern) part of the earth, as the heart is with respect to a man’s body.

34. They believe also that the sun and moon do not go in chariots, but sail about the world perpetually in certain boats; hinting hereby at their feeding upon and springing first out of moisture. They are likewise of the opinion that Homer (as well as Thales) had been instructed by the Egyptians, which made him affirm water to be the spring and first original of all things; for that Oceanus is the same with Osiris, and Tethys with Isis, so named from τίτθη, a nurse, because she is the mother and nurse of all things. For the Grecians call the emission of the genital humor ἀπουσία, and carnal knowledge συνουσία: they also call a son υἱός, from ὕδωρ, water, and ὗσαι, to wet; and likewise Bacchus ὕης, the wetter, they looking upon him as the lord of the humid nature, he being no other than Osiris. For Hellanicus hath set him down Hysiris, affirming that he heard him so pronounced by the priests; for so he hath written the name of this God all along in his history, and that, in my opinion, not without good reason, derived as well from his nature as his invention.

35. And that therefore he is one and the same with Bacchus, who should better know than yourself, Dame Clea, who are not only president of the Delphic prophetesses, but have been also, in right of both your parents, devoted to the Osiriac rites? And if, for the sake of others, we shall think ourselves obliged to lay down testimonies for the proof of our present assertion, we shall notwithstanding remit those secrets that must not be revealed to their proper place. But now the things which the priests do publicly at the interment of the Apis, when they carry his body on a raft to be buried, do nothing differ from the procession of Bacchus. For they hang about them the skins of hinds, and carry branches in their hands, and use the same kind of shoutings and gesticulations that the ecstatics do at the inspired dances of Bacchus. For which reason also many of the Greeks make statues of Dionysos Tauromorphos (or Bacchus in the form of a bull). And the Elean women, in their ordinary form of prayer, beseech the God to come to them with his ox’s foot. The Argives also have a Bacchus named Bougenes (or ox-gotten); and they call him up out of the waters by sounding of trumpets, flinging a young lamb into the abyss for him that keeps the door there; and these trumpets they hide within their thyrsi (or green boughs), as Socrates, in his Treatise of Rituals, relates. Likewise the tales about the Titans, and what they call the Mystic Night, have a strange agreement with what they tell us of the discerptions, resurrections, and regenerations of Osiris; as also what relates to their sepulchres. For not only the Egyptians (as hath been already spoken) do show in many several places the chests in which Osiris lies; but the Delphians also believe that the relics of Bacchus are laid up with them just by the oracle-place; and the Hosii (or holy men) perform a secret sacrifice within the temple of Apollo, when the Thyiades rouse the God of the fan (as they call him). Now that the Greeks do not esteem Bacchus as the lord and president of wine only, but also of the whole humid nature, Pindar alone is a sufficient witness, when he saith,

May joyous Bacchus send increase of fruit, The chaste autumnal light, to all my trees.

For which cause it is forbidden to such as worship Osiris, either to destroy a fruit-tree or to stop up a well.

36. And they call not only the Nile, but in general every humid, the efflux of Osiris. And a pitcher of water goes always first in their sacred processions, in honor of the God. And they make the figure of a fig-leaf both for the king and the southern climate, which fig-leaf is interpreted to mean the watering and fructifying of the universe, for it seems to bear some resemblance in its make to the virilities of a man. Moreover, when they keep the feast of the Pamylia, which is a Phallic or Priapeian one (as was said before), they expose to view and carry about a certain image of a man with a threefold privity; for this God is a first origin, and every first origin doth by its fecundity multiply what proceeds from it. And we are commonly used instead of “many times” to say “thrice,” as “thrice happy,” and,

BOOK IX. (part 6)

As many bonds thrice told, and infinite.[22]

Unless (by Jove) we are to understand the word treble as spoken by the ancients in a proper sense. For the humid nature, being in the beginning the chief source and origin of the universe, must of consequence produce the three first bodies,—the earth, air, and fire. For the story which is here told by way of surplusage to the tale—how that Typhon threw the privity of Osiris into the river, and that Isis could not find it, and therefore fashioned and prepared the resemblance and effigies of it, and appointed it to be worshipped and carried about in their processions, like as in the Grecian Phallephoria—amounts but to this, to instruct and teach us that the prolific and generative property of this God had moisture for its first matter, and that by means of moisture it came to immix itself with things capable of generation. We have also another story told us by the Egyptians,—how that once Apopis, brother to the Sun, fell at variance with Jupiter and made war upon him; but Jupiter, entering into an alliance with Osiris and by his means overthrowing his enemy in a pitched battle, afterwards adopted him for his son and gave him the name of Dionysus. It is easy to show that this fabular relation borders also upon the verity of physical science. For the Egyptians call the wind Jupiter, with which the parching and fiery property makes war; and though this be not the sun, yet hath it some cognation with the sun. But now moisture, extinguishing the excessiveness of drought, increases and strengthens the exhalations of wet, which give food and vigor to the air.

37. Moreover, the ivy, which the Greeks use to consecrate to Bacchus, is called by the Egyptians chenosiris, which word (as they tell us) signifies in their language Osiris’s tree. Ariston therefore, who wrote of the colony of the Athenians, lighted upon a certain epistle of Alexarchus, in which it is related that Bacchus, the son of Jupiter and Isis, is not called Osiris by the Egyptians, but Arsaphes, which denotes valiant. This is hinted at by Hermaeus also, in his first book about the Egyptians; for he saith, the name of Osiris is to be interpreted stout. I shall now pass by Mnaseas, who joins Bacchus, Osiris, and Serapis together, and makes them the same with Epaphus. I shall also omit Anticlides, who saith that Isis was the daughter of Prometheus, and that she was married to Bacchus. For the fore-mentioned proprieties of their festivals and sacrifices afford us a much more clear evidence than the authorities of writers.

38. They believe likewise that of all the stars, the Sirius (or Dog) is proper to Isis, because it bringeth on the flowing of the Nile. They also pay divine honor to the lion, and adorn the gates of their temples with the yawning mouths of lions, because the Nile then overflows its banks,

When first the mounting sun the Lion meets.[23]

And as they term the Nile the efflux of Osiris, so they hold and esteem the earth for the body of Isis; and not all of it either, but that part only which the Nile, as it were, leaps over, and thereby impregnates and mixes with it. And by this amorous congress they produce Horus. Now this Horus is that Hora, or sweet season and just temperament of the ambient air, which nourisheth and preserveth all things; and they report him to have been nursed by Latona in the marshy grounds about Buto, because moist and watery land best feeds those exhaled vapors which quench and relax drought and parching heat. But those parts of the country which are outmost and upon the confines and sea-coast they call Nephthys; and therefore they give her the name of Teleutaea (or the outmost) and report her to be married to Typhon. When therefore the Nile is excessive great, and so far passes its ordinary bounds that it approaches to those that inhabit the outmost quarters, they call this Osiris’s accompanying with Nephthys, found out by the springing up of plants thereupon, whereof the melilot is one; which (as the story tells us), being dropped behind and left there, gave Typhon to understand the wrong that had been done to his bed. Which made them say that Isis had a lawful son called Horus, and Nephthys a bastard called Anubis. And indeed they record in the successions of their kings, that Nephthys being married to Typhon was at first barren. Now if they do not mean this of a woman but of a Goddess, they must needs hint that the earth, by reason of its solidity, is in its own nature unfruitful and barren.

39. And the conspiracy and usurpation of Typhon will be the power of the drought, which then prevails and dissipates that generative moisture which both begets the Nile and increases it. And the queen of Ethiopia, that abetted his quarrel, will denote the southern winds that come from Ethiopia. For when these come to overpower the Etesian (or anniversary) winds which drive the clouds towards Ethiopia, and by that means prevent those showers of rain which should augment the Nile from discharging themselves down, Typhon then being rampant scorcheth all, and being wholly master of the Nile, which now through weakness and debility draws in its head and takes a contrary course, he next thrusts him hollow and sunk as he is into the sea. For the story that is told us of the closing up of Osiris in a chest seems to me to be nothing else but an imitation of the withdrawing and disappearing of the water. For which reason they tell us that Osiris was missing upon the month of Athyr; at which time the Etesian winds being wholly ceased, the Nile returns to his channel, and the country looks bare; the night also growing longer, the darkness increases, and so the power of light fades away and is overcome. And as the priests act several other melancholy things upon this occasion, so they cover a gilded cow with a black linen pall, and thus expose her to public view at the mourning of the Goddess, for four days together, beginning at the seventeenth of the month. For the things they mourn for are also four; the first whereof is the falling and recess of the river Nile; the second, because the northern winds are then quite suppressed by the southern overpowering them; the third, because the day is grown shorter than the night; and the last and chiefest of all, the barrenness of the earth, together with the nakedness of the trees, which then cast their leaves. And on the nineteenth day at night they go down to the sea-side, and the priest and sacred livery bring forth the chest, having within it a little golden ark into which they pour fresh and potable water, and all that are there present give a great shout for joy that Osiris is now found. Then they take fertile mould, and stir it about in that water, and when they have mixed with it several very costly odors and spices, they form it into a little image, in fashion like a crescent, and then dress it up in fine clothes and adorn it, intimating hereby that they believe these Gods to be the substance of earth and water.

40. But Isis again recovering Osiris, and rearing up Horus, made strong by exhalations, mists, and clouds, Typhon was indeed reduced, but not executed; for the Goddess who is sovereign over the earth would not suffer the opposite nature to wet to be utterly extinguished, but loosed it and let it go, being desirous the mixture should continue. For it would be impossible for the world to be complete and perfect, if the property of fire should fail and be wanting. And as these things are not spoken by them without a considerable show of reason, so neither have we reason wholly to contemn this other account which they give us; which is, that Typhon in the more ancient times was master of Osiris’s portion. For (say they) Egypt was once all sea. For which reason it is found at this day to have abundance of fish-shells, both in its mines and on its mountains. And besides that, all the springs and wells (which in that country are extreme numerous) have in them a salt and brackish water, as if some remainder of the ancient sea had run thither, to be laid up in store. But in process of time, Horus got the upper hand of Typhon; that is, there happened such an opportunity of sudden and tempestuous showers of rain, that the Nile pushed the sea out, and discovered the champaign land, and afterwards filled it up with continual profusions of mud; all which hath the testimony of sense to confirm it. For we see at this day that, as the river drives down fresh mud and lays new earth unto the old, the sea by degrees gives back and the salt water runs off, as the parts in the bottom gain height by new accessions of mud. We see, moreover, that the Pharos, which Homer observed in his time to be a whole day’s sail from Egypt, is now a part of it; not because it changed its place or came nearer the shore than before, but because, the river still adding to and increasing the main land, the intermediate sea was obliged to retire.

To speak the truth, these things are not far unlike the explications which the Stoics used to give of the Gods. For they also say that the generative and nutritive property of the air is called Bacchus; the striking and dividing property, Hercules; the receptive property, Ammon; that which passes through the earth and fruits, Ceres and Proserpine; and that which passes through the sea, Neptune.

41. But those who join with these physiological accounts certain mathematical matters relating to astronomy suppose Typhon to mean the world of the sun, and Osiris that of the moon; for that the moon, being endued with a prolific and moistening light, is very favorable both to the breeding of animals and the springing up of plants; but the sun, having in it an immoderate and excessive fire, burns and dries up such things as grow up and look green and by its scorching heat renders a great part of the world wholly uninhabitable, and very often gets the better of the moon. For which reason the Egyptians always call Typhon Seth, which in their language signifies a domineering and compelling power. And they tell us in their mythology, that Hercules is placed in the sun and rides about the world in it, and that Hermes doth the like in the moon. For the operations of the moon seem to resemble reason and to proceed from wisdom, but those of the sun to be like unto strokes effected by violence and mere strength. But the Stoics affirm the sun to be kindled and fed by the sea, and the moon by the waters of springs and pools, which send up a sweet and soft exhalation to it.

42. It is fabled by the Egyptians that Osiris’s death happened upon the seventeenth day of the month, at which time it is evident that the moon is at the fullest. For which reason the Pythagoreans call that day Antiphraxis (or disjunction) and utterly abominate the very number. For the middle number seventeen, falling in betwixt the square number sixteen and the oblong parallelogram eighteen (which are the only plane numbers that have their peripheries equal with their areas), disjoins and separates them from each other; and being divided into unequal portions, it makes the sesquioctave proportion (9 : 8). Moreover, there are some that affirm Osiris to have lived eight and twenty years; and others again, that he only reigned so long, for that is the just number of the moon’s degrees of light and of the days wherein she performs her circuit. And after they have cleft the tree, at the solemnity they call Osiris’s Burial, they next form it into an ark in fashion like a crescent, because the moon, when it joins the sun, becomes first of that figure and then vanishes away. Likewise the division of Osiris into fourteen parts sets forth unto us symbolically the number of days in which that luminary is decreasing, from the full to the change. Moreover, the day upon which she first appears, after she hath now escaped the solar rays and passed by the sun, they term “imperfect good;” for Osiris is beneficent, and as this name hath many other significations, so what they call “effectuating and beneficent force” is none of the least. Hermaeus also tells us, that his other name of Omphis, when interpreted, denotes a benefactor.

43. They moreover believe that the several risings of the river Nile bear a certain proportion to the variations of light in the moon. For they say that its highest rise, which is at Elephantine, is eight and twenty cubits high, which is the number of its several lights and the measures of its monthly course; and that at Mendes and Xois, which is the lowest of all, it is six cubits high, which answers the half-moon; but that the middlemost rise, which is at Memphis, is (when it is at its just height) fourteen cubits high, which answers the full moon. They also say that the Apis is the living image of Osiris, and that he is begotten when a prolific light darts down from the moon and touches the cow when she is disposed for procreation; for which reason many things in the Apis bear resemblance to the shapes of the moon, it having light colors intermixed with shady ones. Moreover, upon the kalends of the month Phamenoth they keep a certain holiday, by them called Osiris’s ascent into the moon, and they account it the beginning of their spring. Thus they place the power of Osiris in the moon, and affirm him to be there married with Isis, which is generation. For which cause they style the moon the mother of the world, and believe her to have the nature both of male and female, because she is first filled and impregnated by the sun, and then herself sends forth generative principles into the air, and from thence scatters them down upon the earth. For that Typhonian destruction doth not always prevail; but it is very often subdued by generation and fast bound like a prisoner, but afterwards gets up again and makes war upon Horus. Now this Horus is the terrestrial world, which is not wholly exempted from either generation or destruction.

44. But there are some that will have this tale to be a figurative representation of the eclipses. For the moon is under an eclipse at the full, when the sun is in opposition to her, because she then falls into the shadow of the earth, as they say Osiris did into his chest. But she hides and obscures the sun at the new moon, upon the thirtieth day of the month, but doth not extinguish the sun quite, any more than Isis did Typhon. And when Nephthys was delivered of Anubis, Isis owned the child. For Nephthys is that part of the world which is below the earth, and invisible to us; and Isis that which is above the earth, and visible. But that which touches upon both these, and is called the horizon (or bounding circle) and is common to them both, is called Anubis, and resembles in shape the dog, because the dog makes use of his sight by night as well as by day. And therefore Anubis seems to me to have a power among the Egyptians much like to that of Hecate among the Grecians, he being as well terrestrial as Olympic. Some again think Anubis to be Saturn; wherefore, they say, because he produces all things out of himself and breeds them in himself, he had the name of Kyon (which signifies in Greek both a dog and a breeder). Moreover, those that worship the dog have a certain secret meaning that must not be here revealed. And in the more remote and ancient times, the dog had the highest honor paid him in Egypt; but after that Cambyses had slain the Apis and thrown him away contemptuously like a carrion, no animal came near to him except the dog only; upon this he lost his first honor and the right he had of being worshipped above other creatures. There are also some that will have the shadow of the earth, into which they believe the moon to fall when eclipsed, to be called Typhon.

45. Wherefore it seems to me not to be unconsonant to reason to hold that each of them apart is not in the right, but all together are. For it is not drought, nor wind, nor sea, nor darkness, but every part of Nature that is hurtful or destructive, that belongs to Typhon. For we are not to place the first origins of the universe in inanimate bodies, as do Democritus and Epicurus; nor to make one reason, and one forecast overruling and containing all things, the creator of matter without attribute, as the Stoics do; for it is alike impossible for any thing bad to exist where God is the cause of all things, and for any thing good to exist where he is the cause of nothing. For the harmony of the world is (according to Heraclitus) like that of a bow or a harp, alternately tightened and relaxed; and according to Euripides,

Nor good nor bad here’s to be found apart; But both immixed in one, for greater art.[24]

And therefore this most ancient opinion hath been handed down from the theologists and lawgivers to the poets and philosophers, it having an original fathered upon none, but having gained a persuasion both strong and indelible, and being everywhere professed and received by barbarians as well as Grecians,—and that not only in vulgar discourses and public fame, but also in their secret mysteries and open sacrifices,—that the world is neither hurried about by wild chance without intelligence, discourse, and direction, nor yet that there is but one reason, which as it were with a rudder or with gentle and easy reins directs it and holds it in; but that on the contrary, there are in it several differing things, and those made up of bad as well as good or rather (to speak more plainly) that Nature produces nothing here but what is mixed and tempered. Not that there is as it were one store-keeper, who out of two different casks dispenses to us human affairs adulterated and mixed together,[25] as a host doth his liquors; but by reason of two contrary origins and opposite powers—whereof the one leads to the right hand and in a direct line, and the other turns to the contrary hand and goes athwart—both human life is mixed, and the world (if not all, yet that part which is about the earth and below the moon) is become very unequal and various, and liable to all manner of changes. For if nothing can come without a cause, and if a good thing cannot afford a cause of evil, Nature then must certainly have a peculiar source and origin of evil as well as of good.

46. And this is the opinion of the greatest and wisest part of mankind. For some believe that there are two Gods, as it were two rival workmen, the one whereof they make to be the maker of good things, and the other of bad. And some call the better of these God, and the other Daemon; as doth Zoroaster the Magian whom they report to be five thousand years elder than the Trojan times. This Zoroaster now called the one of these Horomazes, and the other Arimanius; and affirmed, moreover, that the one of them did, of any thing sensible, the most resemble light, and the other darkness and ignorance; but that Mithras was in the middle betwixt them. For which cause the Persians call Mithras the Mediator. And they tell us, that he first taught mankind to make vows and offerings of thanksgiving to the one, and to offer averting and feral sacrifice to the other. For they beat a certain plant called omomi in a mortar, and call upon Pluto and the dark; and then mix it with the blood of a sacrificed wolf, and convey it to a certain place where the sun never shines, and there cast it away. For of plants they believe that some appertain to the good God, and others again to the evil Daemon; and likewise they think that such animals as dogs, fowls, and urchins belong to the good, but water animals to the bad, for which reason they account him happy that kills most of these.

47. These men moreover tell us a great many romantic things about these Gods, whereof these are some. They say that, Horomazes springing from purest light, and Arimanius on the other hand from pitchy darkness, these two are therefore at war with one another; and that Horomazes made six Gods, whereof the first was the author of benevolence, the second of truth, the third of law and order; and the rest, one of wisdom, another of wealth, and a third of that pleasure which accrues from good actions; and that Arimanius likewise made the like number of contrary Gods to confront them. After this, Horomazes, having first trebled his own magnitude, mounted up aloft, as far above the sun as the sun itself above the earth, and so bespangled the heavens with stars. But one star (called Sirius, or the Dog) he set as a kind of sentinel or scout before all the rest. And after he had made four and twenty Gods more, he placed them all in an egg-shell. But those that were made by Arimanius (being themselves also of the like number) breaking a hole in this beauteous and glazed egg-shell, bad things came by this means to be intermixed with good. But the fatal time is now approaching, in which Arimanius, who by means of this brings plagues and famines upon the earth, must of necessity be himself utterly extinguished and destroyed; at which time, the earth being made plain and level, there will be one life and one society of mankind, made all happy and of one speech. But Theopompus saith, that, according to the opinion of the Magi, each of these Gods subdues and is subdued by turns for the space of three thousand years apiece, and that for three thousand years more they quarrel and fight, and destroy each other’s works; but that at last Pluto shall fail, and mankind shall be happy, and neither need food nor yield a shadow. And that the God who has projected these things shall then for some time take his repose and rest; but yet this time is not so much to him, although it seem so to man, whose sleep is but short.

48. Such then is the mythology of the Magi. But the Chaldaeans say, there are Gods of the planets also, two whereof they style benefics, and two malefics; the other three they pronounce to be common and indifferent. As for the Grecians, their opinions are obvious and well known to every one; to wit, that they make the good part of the world to appertain to Jupiter Olympius, and the hateful part to Pluto; and likewise, that they fable Harmonia to have been begotten by Venus and Mars, the one whereof is rough and quarrelsome, and the other sweet and generative. In the next place consider we the great agreement of the philosophers with these people. For Heraclitus doth in plain and naked terms call war the father, the king, and the lord of all things; and saith that Homer, when he first prayed,

Discord be damned from Gods and human race,[26]

little thought he was then cursing the origination of all things, they owing their rise to aversation and quarrel. He also saith, that the sun will never exceed his proper bounds; and if he should, that

Tongues, aids of justice, soon will find him out.

Empedocles also calls the benefic principle love and friendship, and very often sweet-looked harmony; and the evil principle

Pernicious enmity and bloody hate.

The Pythagoreans use a great number of terms as attributes of these two principles; of the good, they use the unit, the terminate, the permanent, the straight, the odd, the square, the equal, the dexter, and the lucid; and again of the bad, the two, the interminate, the fluent, the crooked, the even, the oblong, the unequal, the sinister, and the dark; insomuch that all these are looked upon as principles of generation. But Anaxagoras made but two, the intelligence and the interminate; and Aristotle called the first of these form, and the latter privation. But Plato in many places, as it were shading and veiling over his opinion, names the first of these opposite principles the Same, and the second the Other. But in his book of Laws, when he was now grown old, he affirmed, not in riddles and emblems but in plain and proper words, that the world is not moved by one soul, but perhaps by a great many, but not by fewer than two; the one of which is beneficent, and the other contrary to it and the author of things contrary. He also leaves a certain third nature in the midst between, which is neither without soul nor without reason, nor void of a self-moving power (as some suppose), but rests upon both of the preceding principles, but yet so as still to affect, desire, and pursue the better of them; as I shall make out in the ensuing part of this discourse, in which I design to reconcile the theology of the Egyptians principally with this sort of philosophy.

49. For the frame and constitution of this world is made up of contrary powers, but yet such as are not of such equal strength but that the better is still predominant. But it is impossible for the ill one to be quite extinguished, because much of it is interwoven with the body and much with the soul of the universe, and it always maintains a fierce combat with the better part. And therefore in the soul, intellect and reason, which is the prince and master of all the best things, is Osiris; and in the earth, in the winds, in the waters, in the heaven, and in the stars, what is ranged, fixed, and in a sound constitution (as orderly seasons, due temperament of air, and the revolutions of the stars) is the efflux and appearing image of Osiris. Again, the passionate, Titanic, irrational, and brutal part of the soul is Typhon; and what in the corporeal nature is adventitious, morbid, and tumultuous (as irregular seasons, distemperatures of air, eclipses of the sun, and disappearings of the moon) is, as it were, the incursions and devastations of Typhon. And the name of Seth, by which they call Typhon, declares as much; for it denotes a domineering and compelling power, and also very often an overturning, and again a leaping over. There are also some that say that Bebon was one of Typhon’s companions; but Manetho saith, Typhon himself was called Bebon. Now that name signifies restraining and hindering; as who should say, “while all things march along in a regular course and move steadily toward their natural end, the power of Typhon stands in their way and stops them.”

50. For which reason they assign him the ass, the most brutal and sottish of all the tame beasts, and the crocodile and river-horse, the most savage and fierce of all the wild beasts. Of the ass we have spoken already. They show us at Hermopolis the statue of Typhon, which is a river-horse with a hawk on his back fighting with a serpent; where they set out Typhon by the river-horse, and by the hawk that power and principle which Typhon possesses himself of by violence, and thereupon ceases not to disturb others and to be disturbed himself by his malice. For which reason also, when they are to offer sacrifice upon the seventh day of the month Tybi, at the festival which they call the Arrival of Isis out of Phoenicia, they print the river-horse bound upon their sacred cakes. Besides this, there is a constant custom at the town of Apollo, for every one to eat some part of a crocodile; and having upon a certain set day hunted down as many of them as they are able, they kill them, and throw down their carcasses before the temple. And they tell us that Typhon made his escape from Horus in the form of a crocodile; for they make all bad and noxious things—whether animals, plants or passions—to be the works, the members, and the motions of Typhon.

51. On the other hand, they represent Osiris by an eye and a sceptre, the one whereof expresses forecast, and the other power. In like manner Homer, when he called the governor and monarch of all the world

Supremest Jove, and mighty Counsellor,[27]

seems to me to denote his imperial power by supremest, and his well-advisedness and discretion by Counsellor. They also oftentimes describe this God by a hawk, because he exceeds in quickness of sight and velocity in flying, and sustains himself with very little food. He is also said to fly over the bodies of dead men that lie unburied, and to drop down earth upon their eyes. Likewise, when he alights down upon the bank of any river to assuage his thirst, he sets his feathers up on end, and after he hath done drinking, he lets them fall again. Which he plainly doth because he is now safe and escaped from the danger of the crocodile; but if he chances to be catched, his feathers then continue stiff as before. They also show us everywhere Osiris’s statue in the shape of a man, with his private part erect, to betoken unto us his faculty of generation and nutrition; and they dress up his images in a flame-colored robe, esteeming the sun as the body of the power of good, and as the visible image of intelligible substance. Wherefore we have good reason to reject those that ascribe the sun’s globe unto Typhon, to whom appertaineth nothing of a lucid or salutary nature, nor order, nor generation, nor motion attended with measure and proportion, but the clean contrary to them. Neither is that parching drought, which destroys many animals and plants, to be accounted as an effect of the sun, but of those winds and waters which in the earth and air are not tempered according to the season, at which time the principle of the unordered and interminate nature acts at random, and so stifles and suppresses those exhalations that should ascend.

52. Moreover, in the sacred hymns of Osiris they call him up “who lies hidden in the arms of the sun.” And upon the thirtieth day of the month Epiphi they keep a certain festival called the Birthday of the eyes of Horus, when the sun and the moon are in one direct line; as esteeming not only the moon but also the sun to be the eye and light of Horus. Likewise the three and twentieth day of the month Phaophi they make to be the nativity of the staves of the sun, which they observe after the autumnal equinox, intimating hereby that he now wants, as it were, a prop and a stay, as suffering a great diminution both of heat and light by his declining and moving obliquely from us. Besides this, they lead the sacred cow seven times about her temple at the time of the winter solstice. And this going round is called the seeking of Osiris, the Goddess being in great distress for water in winter time. And the reason of her going round so many times is because the sun finishes his passage from the winter to the summer tropic in the seventh month. It is reported also that Horus, the son of Isis, was the first that ever sacrificed to the sun upon the fourth day of the month, as we find it written in a book called the Birthdays of Horus. Moreover, they offer incense to the sun three times every day; resin at his rising, myrrh when it is in the mid-heaven, and that they call Kyphi about the time of his setting. (What each of these means, I shall afterwards explain.) Now they are of opinion that the sun is atoned and pacified by all these.

But to what purpose should I heap together many things of this nature? For there are some that scruple not to say plainly that Osiris is the sun, and that he is called Sirius by the Greeks, although the Egyptians, adding the article to his name, have obscured and brought its sense into question. They also declare Isis to be no other than the moon, and say that such statues of her as are horned were made in imitation of the crescent; and that the black habit in which she so passionately pursues the sun, sets forth her disappearings and eclipses. For which reason they used to invoke the moon in love-concerns; and Eudoxus also saith that Isis presides over love-matters. Now these things have in them a show and semblance of reason; whereas they that would make Typhon to be the sun deserve not to be heard.

53. But we must again resume our proper discourse. Isis is indeed that property of Nature which is feminine and receptive of all production; in which sense she was called the nurse and the all-receiver by Plato, and the Goddess with ten thousand names by the common sort, because being transmuted by reason she receives all manner of shapes and guises. But she hath a natural love to the prime and principal of all beings (which is the good principle), and eagerly affects it and pursues after it; and she shuns and repels her part of the evil one. And although she be indeed both the receptacle and matter of either nature, yet she always of herself inclines to the better of them, and readily gives way to it to generate upon her and to sow its effluxes and resemblances into her; and she rejoices and is very glad when she is impregnated and filled with productions. For generation is the production of an image of the real substance upon matter, and what is generated is an imitation of what is in truth.

54. And therefore not without great consonancy do they fable that the soul of Osiris is eternal and incorruptible but that his body is often torn in pieces and destroyed by Typhon, and that Isis wanders to and fro to look him out, and when she hath found him, puts him together again. For the permanent being, the mental nature, and the good, is itself above corruption and change; but the sensitive and corporeal part takes off certain images from it, and receives certain proportions, shapes, and resemblances, which, like impressions upon wax, do not continue always, but are swallowed up by the disorderly and tumultuous part, which is chased hither from the upper region and makes war with Horus, who is born of Isis, being the sensible image of the mental world. For which reason he is said to be prosecuted for bastardy by Typhon, as not being pure and sincere,—like his father, the pure absolute reason, unmixed and impassible,—but embased with matter by corporeity. But he gets the better of him, and carries the cause, Hermes (that is, reason) witnessing and proving that Nature produces the world by becoming herself of like form with the mental property. Moreover, the generation of Apollo by Isis and Osiris, while the Gods were yet in Rhea’s womb, hints out unto us that, before this world became visible and was completed by reason, matter, being convinced by Nature that she was imperfect alone, brought forth the first production. For which reason they also say, this deity was born a cripple in the dark, and they call him the elder Horus; for he was not the world, but a kind of a picture and phantom of the world to be afterwards.

55. This Horus is terminate and complete of himself, yet hath he not quite destroyed Typhon, but only taken off his over great activity and brutal force. Whence it is they tell us that at Copto the statue of Horus holds fast in hand the privities of Typhon; and they fable that Mercury took out Typhon’s sinews and used them for harp-strings, to denote unto us that, when reason composed the universe, it made one concord out of many discords, and did not abolish but accomplish[28] the corruptible faculty. Whence it comes that this power, being weak and feeble in the present state of things, blends and mixes with passible and mutable parts of the world, and so becomes in the earth the causer of concussions and shakings, and in the air of parching droughts and tempestuous winds, as also of hurricanes and thunders. It likewise infects both waters and winds with pestilential diseases, and runs up and insolently rages as high as the very moon, suppressing many times and blackening the lucid part, as the Egyptians believe. They relate that Typhon one while smote Horus’s eye, and another while plucked it out and swallowed it up, and afterwards gave it back to the sun; intimating by the blow the monthly diminution of the moon, and by the blinding of him its eclipse, which the sun cures again by shining presently upon it as soon as it hath escaped from the shadow of the earth.

56. Now the better and more divine nature consists of three; or of the intelligible part, of matter, and of that which is made up of both, which the Greeks call Cosmos (that is trimness) and we the world. Plato therefore uses to name the intelligible part the form, the sample, and the father; and matter the mother, the nurse, and the seat and receptacle of generation; and that again which is made up of both, the offspring and the production. And one would conjecture that the Egyptians called it the most perfect of triangles, because they likened the nature of the universe principally to that; which Plato also in his Commonwealth seems to have made use of to the same purpose, when he forms his nuptial diagram. Now in that triangle the perpendicular consists of three parts, the base of four, and the subtense of five, its square being equal in value with the squares of the two that contain it. We are therefore to take the perpendicular to represent the male property, the base the female, and the subtense that which is produced by them both. We are likewise to look upon Osiris as the first cause, Isis as the faculty of reception, and Horus as the effect. For the number three is the first odd and perfect number, and the number four is a square, having for its side the even number two. The number five also in some respects resembles the father and in some again the mother, being made up of three and two; besides, πάντα (all things) seems to be derived from πέντε (five), and they use πεμπάσασθαι (which is telling five) for counting.[29] Moreover, the number five makes a square equal to the number of letters used among the Egyptians, as also to the number of years which Apis lived. They are also used to call Horus Min, which signifieth as much as seen; for the world is perceptible to sense and visible. And Isis they sometimes call Muth, and sometimes again Athyri, and sometimes Methyer. And by the first of these names they mean mother, by the second Horus’s mundane house (as Plato calls it, the place and receptacle of generation); but the third is compounded of two words, the one whereof signifies full, and the other the cause; for the matter of the world is full, and it is closely joined with the good and pure and well ordered principle.

57. And it may be, Hesiod also, when he makes the first things of all to be chaos, earth, hell, and love, may be thought to take up no other principles than these, if we apply these names as we have already disposed them, to wit, that of earth to Isis, that of love to Osiris, and that of hell to Typhon; for he seems to lay the chaos under all, as a kind of room or place for the world to lie in. And the subject we are now upon seems in a manner to call for Plato’s tale, which Socrates tells us in the Symposium about the production of Eros (or Love), where he saith, that once on a time Poverty, having a mighty desire of children, laid her down by Plenty’s side as he was asleep, and that she thereupon conceiving by him brought forth Eros, who was of a nature both mixed and various, as coming of a father that was good and wise and had sufficiency of all things, but of a mother that was very needy and poor; and that by reason of her indigence she still hankered after another, and was eagerly importunate for another. For this same Plenty is no other than the first amiable, desirable, complete, and sufficient being; and matter is that which he called Poverty, she being of herself alone destitute of the property of good, but when she is impregnated by it, she still desires and craves for more. Moreover, the world (or Horus) that is produced out of these two, being not eternal, nor impassible, nor incorruptible, but ever a making, does therefore machinate, partly by shifting of accidents and partly by circular motions, to remain still young and never to die.

58. But we must remember that we are not to make use of fables as if they were doctrinal throughout, but only to take that in each of them which we shall judge to make a pertinent resemblance. And therefore, when we treat of matter, we need not (with respect to the sentiments of some philosophers) to conceit in our minds a certain body void of soul and of all quality, and of itself wholly idle and unactive. For we use to call oil the matter of an unguent, and gold the matter of a statue, though they are not destitute of all quality. And we render the very soul and mind of a man as matter to reason, to be dressed up and composed into science and virtue. There have been some also that have made the mind to be a receptacle of forms and a kind of imprimary for things intelligible; and some are of opinion again that the genital humidity in the female sex is no active property nor efficient principle, but only the matter and nutriment of the production. Which when we retain in our memories, we ought to conceive likewise that this Goddess, which always participates of the first God and is ever taken up with the love of those excellencies and charms that are about him, is not by nature opposite to him; but that, as we are used to say of a good natured woman, that, though she be married to a man and constantly enjoys his embraces, yet she hath a fond kind of longing after him, so hath she always a strong inclination to the God, though she be present and round about him, and though she be impregnated with his most prime and pure particles.

59. But where Typhon falls in and touches upon her extreme parts, it is there she appears melancholy, and is said to mourn, and to look for certain relics and pieces of Osiris, and to array them with all diligence; she receiving all things that die and laying them up within herself, as she again brings forth and sends up out of herself all such things as are produced. And those proportions, forms, and effluxes of the God that are in the heaven and stars do indeed continue always the same; but those that are sown abroad into mutable things, as into land, sea, plants, and animals, are resolved, destroyed, and buried, and afterwards show themselves again very often, and come up anew in several different productions. For which reason the fable makes Typhon to be married to Nephthys, and Osiris to have accompanied with her by stealth. For the utmost and most extreme parts of matter, which they call Nephthys and the end, is mostly under the power of the destructive faculty; but the fecund and salutary power dispenses but a feeble and languid seed into those parts, which is all destroyed by Typhon, except only what Isis taking up doth preserve, cherish, and improve.

60. And in general, Typhon is the prevailing power, as both Plato and Aristotle insinuate. Moreover, the generative and salutary part of nature hath its motion towards him, in order to procure being; but the destroying and corruptive part hath its motion from him, in order to procure not-being. For which reason they call the former part Isis, from going (ἴεσθαι) and being borne-along with knowledge, she being a kind of a living and prudent motion. For her name is not of a barbarous original; but, as all the Gods have one name (θεός) in common, and that is derived from the two words, θέων (running) and θεατός (visible); so also this very Goddess is both from motion and science at once called Isis by us and Isis also by the Egyptians. So likewise Plato tells us, that the ancients called οὐσία (being) ἰσία (knowledge), as also that νόησις (intelligence) and φρόνησις (prudence) had their names given them for being a φορά (agitation) and motion of νοῦς (mind), which was then, as it were, ἱέμενος and φερόμενος (set in motion and borne-along); and the like he affirmeth of συνιέναι (to understand), that it was as much as to say “to be in commotion.”[30] Nay he saith, moreover, that they attribute the very names of ἀγαθόν (good) and ἀρετή (virtue) to the ideas of running (θέω) and of ever-flowing (ἀεὶ ῥέω)[31] which they imply; as likewise, on the other hand again, they used terms opposite to motion by way of reproach; for they called what clogged, tied up, locked up, and confined nature from agitation and motion κακία (baseness or ill motion), ἀπορία (difficulty or difficult motion), δειλία (fearfulness or fearful motion) and ἀνία (sorrow or want of motion).

61. But Osiris had his name from ὅσιος and ἱερός (pious and sacred) compounded; for he is the common idea of things in heaven and things in the lower world, the former of which the ancients thought fit to style ἱερά, and the latter ὅσια. But the principle which discloses things heavenly, and which appertains to things whose motion tends upwards (ἄνω), is called Anubis, and sometimes he is also named Hermanubis, the former name referring to things above, and the latter to things beneath. For which reason they also sacrifice to him two cocks, the one whereof is white and the other of a saffron color, as esteeming the things above to be entire and clear, and the things beneath to be mixed and various. Nor need any one to wonder at the formation of these words from the Grecian tongue; for there are many thousand more of this kind, which, accompanying those who at several times removed out of Greece, do to this very day sojourn and remain among foreigners; some whereof when poetry would bring back into use, it hath been falsely accused of barbarism by those men, who love to call such words strange and outlandish. They say, moreover, that in the so-called books of Hermes there is an account given of the sacred names; and that power which presides over the circulation of the sun is called Horus, and by the Greeks Apollo; and that which is over the winds is by some called Osiris, and by others Serapis, and by others again in the Egyptian tongue Sothi. Now the word Sothi signifies in Greek to breed (κύειν) and breeding; and therefore, by an obliquation of the word κύειν, the star which they account proper to the Goddess Isis is called in Greek κύων, which is as well dog as breeder. And although it be but a fond thing to be over contentious about words, yet I had rather yield to the Egyptians the name of Serapis than that of Osiris, since I account the former to be foreign, and the latter to be Greekish, but believe both to appertain to one God and to one power.

62. And the Egyptian theology seems to favor this opinion. For they oftentimes call Isis by the name of Minerva, which in their language expresseth this sentence, “I came from myself,” and is significative of a motion proceeding from herself. But Typhon is called (as hath been said before) Seth, Bebon, and Smu, which names would insinuate a kind of a forcible restraint, and an opposition or subversion. Moreover, they call the loadstone Horus’s bone, and iron Typhon’s bone, as Manetho relates. For as iron is oftentimes like a thing that is drawn to and follows the loadstone, and oftentimes again flies off and recoils to the opposite part; so the salutary, good, and intelligent motion of the universe doth, as by a gentle persuasion, invert, reduce, and make softer the rugged and Typhonian one; and when again it is restrained and forced back, it returns into itself, and sinks into its former interminateness. Eudoxus also saith that the Egyptian fable of Jupiter is this, that being once unable to go because his legs grew together, he for very shame spent all his time in the wilderness; but that Isis dividing and separating these parts of his body, he came to have the right use of his feet. This fable also hints to us by these words, that the intelligence and reason of the God, which walked before in the unseen and inconspicuous state, came into generation by means of motion.

63. The sistrum likewise (or rattle) doth intimate unto us, that all things ought to be agitated and shook (σείεσθαι), and not to be suffered to rest from their motion, but be as it were roused up and awakened when they begin to grow drowsy and to droop. For they tell us that the sistrum averts and frights away Typhon, insinuating hereby that, as corruption locks up and fixes Nature’s course, so generation again resolves and excites it by means of motion. Moreover, as the sistrum hath its upper part convex, so its circumference contains the four things that are shaken; for that part of the world also which is liable to generation and corruption is contained by the sphere of the moon but all things are moved and changed in it by means of the four elements, fire, earth, water, and air. And upon the upper part of the circumference of the sistrum, on the outside, they set the effigies of a cat carved with a human face; and again, on the under part, below the four jingling things, they set on one side the face of Isis, and on the other the face of Nephthys; symbolically representing by these two faces generation and death (for these are changes and alterations of the elements), and by the cat representing the moon, because of the different colors, the night-motion and the great fecundity of this animal. For they say that she brings forth first one, then two, and three, and four, and five, and so adds one until she comes to seven; so that she brings eight and twenty in all, which are as many as there are days in each moon; but this looks more like a romance. This is certain, that the pupils of her eyes are observed to fill up and grow large upon the full of the moon, and again, to grow less upon its decrease. And the human face of the cat shows how the changes of the moon are governed by mind and reason.

64. To sum up all then in one word, it is not reasonable to believe that either the water or the sun or the earth or the heaven is Osiris or Isis; nor, again, that the fire or the drought or the sea is Typhon; but if we simply ascribe to Typhon whatever in all these is through excesses or defects intemperate or disorderly, and if on the other hand we reverence and honor what in them all is orderly, good, and beneficial, esteeming them the operations of Isis, and as the image, imitation, and discourse of Osiris, we shall not err. And we shall besides take off the incredulity of Eudoxus, who makes a great question how it comes to pass that neither Ceres hath any part in the care of love affairs (but only Isis), nor Bacchus any power either to increase the Nile or to preside over the dead. For we hold that these Gods are set over the whole share of good in common, and that whatever is either good or amiable in Nature is all owing to these, the one yielding the principles, and the other receiving and dispensing them.

65. By this means we shall be able to deal with the vulgar and more importunate sort also, whether their fancy be to accommodate the things that refer to these Gods to those changes which happen to the ambient air at the several seasons of the year, or to production of fruit and to the times of sowing and earing, affirming that Osiris is then buried when the sown corn is covered over by the earth, and that he revives again and re-appears when it begins to sprout. Which they say is the reason that Isis is reported, upon her finding herself to be with child, to have hung a certain amulet or charm about her upon the sixth day of the month Phaophi, and to have been delivered of Harpocrates about the winter solstice, he being in the first shootings and sprouts very imperfect and tender. And this is the reason (say they) that, when the lentils begin to spring up, they offer him their tops for first-fruits. They also observe the festival of her child-birth after the vernal equinox. For they that hear these things are much taken with them and readily give assent to them, and presently infer their credibility from the obviousness and familiarness of the matter.

66. Nor would this be any great harm either, would they save us these Gods in common, and not make them to be peculiar to the Egyptians, nor confine these names to the river Nile, and only to that one piece of ground which the river Nile waters; nor affirm their fens and their lotuses to be the subject of this mythology, and so deprive the rest of mankind of great and mighty Gods, who have neither a Nile nor a Buto nor a Memphis. As for Isis, all mankind have her, and are well acquainted with her and the other Gods about her; and although they had not anciently learned to call some of them by their Egyptian names, yet they from the very first both knew and honored the power which belongs to every one of them. In the second place, what is yet of greater consequence is, that they take a mighty care and fear lest, before they are aware, they change and dissolve the divine beings into blasts of winds, streams of water, sowings of corn, earings of land, accidents of the earth, and changes of seasons; as those who make Bacchus to be wine and Vulcan to be flame. Cleanthes also somewhere saith that Proserpine (or Persephone) is the breath of air which is carried (φερόμενον) through the corn and then dies (φονεύομενον); and again, a certain poet saith of reapers,

Then when the youth the legs of Ceres cut.

For these men seem to me to be nothing wiser than such as would take the sails, the cables, and the anchor of a ship for the pilot; the yarn and the web for the weaver; and the bowl or the mead or the ptisan for the doctor. And they over and above produce in men most dangerous and atheistical opinions, while they give the names of Gods to those natures and things that have in them neither soul nor sense, and that are necessarily destroyed by men who need them and use them.

67. No man can imagine these things can be Gods in themselves. And therefore nothing can be a God to men that is either without soul or under their power. But yet by means of these things we come to think them Gods that use them themselves and bestow them upon us, and that render them perpetual and continual. And those are not some in one country and others in another, nor some Grecians and others barbarians, nor some southern and others northern; but as the sun, moon, land, and sea are common to all men, but yet have different names in different nations, so that one discourse that orders these things, and that one forecast that administers them, and those subordinate powers that are set over every nation in particular, have assigned them by the laws of several countries several kinds of honors and appellations. And those that have been consecrated to their service make use, some of them of darker, and others again of clearer symbols, thereby guiding the understanding to the knowledge of things divine, not without much danger and hazard. For some not being able to reach their true meaning, have slid into downright superstition; and others again, while they would fly the quagmire of superstition, have fallen unwittingly upon the precipice of atheism.

68. And for this reason we should here make most use of the reasonings from philosophy, which introduce us into the knowledge of things sacred, that so we may think piously of whatever is said or acted in religion; lest—as Theodorus once said that, as he reached forth his discourses in his right hand, some of his auditors received them in their left—so what things the laws have wisely constituted about the sacrifices and festivals we should take otherwise than as they are meant, and thereby fall into most dangerous errors and mistakes. That therefore we are to construe all these things by reference to reason, we may easily perceive by the Egyptians themselves. For upon the nineteenth day of the first month they keep a solemn festival to Hermes, wherein they eat honey and figs, and withal say these words, “Truth is a sweet thing.” And that amulet or charm which they fable Isis to hang about her is, when interpreted into our language, “A true voice.” Nor are we to understand Harpocrates to be either some imperfect or infant God, or a God of pulse (as some will have him), but to be the governor and reducer of the tender, imperfect, and inarticulate discourse which men have about the Gods. For which reason, he hath always his finger upon his mouth, as a symbol of talking little and keeping silence. Likewise, upon the month of Mesore, they present him with certain pulse, and pronounce these words: “The tongue is Fortune, the tongue is God.” And of all the plants that Egypt produces, they say the Persea is the most sacred to the Goddess, because its fruit resembles the heart, and its leaf the tongue. For there is nothing that man possesses that is either more divine, or that hath a greater tendency upon happiness, than discourse, and especially that which relates to the Gods. For which reason they lay a strict charge upon such as go down to the oracle there, to have pious thoughts in their hearts and words of good omen in their mouths. But the greater part act ludicrous things in their processions and festivals, first proclaiming good expressions, and then both speaking and thinking words of most wicked and lewd meaning, and that even of the Gods themselves.

69. How then must we manage ourselves at these tetrical, morose, and mournful sacrifices, if we are neither to omit what the laws prescribe us, nor yet to confound and distract our thoughts about the Gods with vain and uncouth surmises? There are among the Greeks also many things done that are like to those which the Egyptians do at their solemnities, and much about the same time too. For at the Thesmophoria at Athens the women fast sitting upon the bare ground. The Boeotians also remove the shrines of Achaea (or Ceres), terming that day the afflictive holiday, because Ceres was then in great affliction for her daughter’s descent into hell. Now upon this month, about the rising of the Pleiades, is the sowing time; and the Egyptians call it Athyr, the Athenians Pyanepsion; and the Boeotians Damatrios (or the month of Ceres). Moreover Theopompus relates, that those that live towards the sun-setting (or the Hesperii) believe the winter to be Saturn, the summer Venus, and the spring time Proserpine; and that they call them by those names, and maintain all to be produced by Saturn and Venus. But the Phrygians, being of opinion that the Deity sleeps in the winter and wakes in the summer, do, in the manner of ecstatics, in the winter time sing lullabies in honor of his sleeping, and in the summer time certain rousing carols in honor of his waking. In like manner the Paphlagonians say, he is bound and imprisoned in the winter, and walks abroad again in the spring and is at liberty.

70. And the nature of the season gives us suspicion that this tetrical sort of service was occasioned by the absenting of the several sorts of fruits at that time of the year; which yet the ancients did not believe to be Gods, but such gifts of the Gods as were both great and necessary in order to preserve them from a savage and bestial life. And at what time they saw both the fruits that came from trees wholly to disappear and fail, and those also which themselves had sown to be yet but starved and poor, they taking up fresh mould in their hands and laying it about their roots, and committing them a second time to the ground with uncertain hopes of their ever coming to perfection or arriving to maturity, did herein many things that might well resemble people at funerals and mourning for the dead. Moreover, as we use to say of one that hath bought the books of Plato, that he hath bought Plato, and of one that hath taken upon him to act the compositions of Menander, that he hath acted Menander; in like manner they did not stick to call the gifts and creatures of the Gods by the names of the Gods themselves, paying this honor and veneration to them for their necessary use. But those of after times receiving this practice unskilfully and ignorantly, applying the accidents of fruits, and the accesses and recesses of things necessary to human life, unto the Gods, did not only call them the generations and deaths of the Gods, but also believed them such, and so filled themselves with abundance of absurd, wicked, and distempered notions; and this, although they had the absurdity of such a monstrous opinion before their very eyes. And therefore Xenophanes the Colophonian might not only put the Egyptians in mind, if they believed those they worshipped to be Gods, not to lament for them, and if they lamented for them, not to believe them to be Gods; but also that it would be extremely ridiculous at one and the same time to lament for the fruits of the earth, and to pray them to appear again and make themselves ripe, that so they may be over again consumed and lamented for.

71. But now this in its true intention is no such thing. But they make their lamentation for the fruits; and their prayers to the Gods, who are the authors and bestowers of those fruits, that they would be pleased to produce and bring up again other new ones in the place of them that are gone. Wherefore it is an excellent saying among philosophers, that they that have not learned the true sense of words will mistake also in the things; as we see those among the Greeks who have not learned nor accustomed themselves to call the brazen and stone statues and the painted representations of the Gods their images or their honors, but the Gods themselves, are so adventurous as to say that Lachares stripped Minerva, that Dionysius cropped off Apollo’s golden locks, and that Jupiter Capitolinus was burned and destroyed in the civil wars of Rome. They therefore, before they are aware, suck in and receive bad opinions with these improper words. And the Egyptians are not the least guilty herein, with respect to the animals which they worship. For the Grecians both speak and think aright in these matters, when they tell us that the pigeon is sacred to Venus, the serpent to Minerva, the raven to Apollo, and the dog to Diana, as Euripides somewhere speaks:

Into a bitch transformed you shall be, And be the image of bright Hecate.

But the greater part of the Egyptians worshipping the very animals themselves, and courting them as Gods, have not only filled their religious worship with matter of scorn and derision (for that would be the least harm that could come of their blockish ignorance); but a dire conception also arises therefrom, which blows up the feeble and simple minded into an extravagance of superstition, and when it lights upon the more subtle and daring tempers, outrages them into atheistical and brutish cogitations. Wherefore it seems not inconsonant here to recount what is probable upon this subject.

72. For that the Gods, being afraid of Typhon, changed themselves into these animals, and did as it were hide themselves in the bodies of ibises, dogs, and hawks, is a foolery beyond all prodigiousness and legend. And that such souls of men departed this life as remain undissolved after death have leave to be reborn into this life by these bodies only, is equally incredible. And of those who would assign some political reason for these things, there are some that affirm that Osiris in his great army, dividing his forces into many parts (which we in Greek call λόχοι and τάξεις), at the same time gave every of them certain ensigns or colors with the shapes of several animals upon them, which in process of time came to be looked upon as sacred, and to be worshipped by the several kindred and clans in that distribution. Others say again, that the kings of after times did, for the greater terror of their enemies, wear about them in their battles the golden and silver heads and upper parts of fierce animals. But there are others that relate that one of these subtle and crafty princes, observing the Egyptians to be of a light and vain disposition and very inclinable to change and innovation, and withal, when sober and unanimous, of an inexpugnable and irrestrainable strength by reason of their mighty numbers, therefore taught them, in their several quarters, a perpetual kind of superstition, to be the ground of endless quarrels and disputes among them. For the various animals which he commanded different cities to observe and reverence being at enmity and war with one another, and desiring one another for food, each party among them being upon the perpetual defence of their proper animals and highly resenting the wrongs that were offered them, it happened that, being thus drawn into the quarrels of their beasts, they were, before they were aware, engaged in hostilities with one another. For at this very day, the Lycopolitans (or Wolf-town-men) are the only people among the Egyptians that eat the sheep, because the wolf, which they esteem to be a God, doth so too. And in our own times, the Oxyrynchites (or those of Pike-town), because the Cynopolitans (or those of Dog-town) did eat a pike, catched the dogs and slew them, and ate of them as they would do of a sacrifice; and there arising a civil war upon it, in which they did much mischief to one another, they were all at last chastised by the Romans.

73. And whereas there are many that say that the soul of Typhon himself took its flight into these animals, this tale may be looked upon to signify that every irrational and brutal nature appertains to the share of the evil Daemon. And therefore, when they would pacify him and speak him fair, they make their court and addresses to these animals. But if there chance to happen a great and excessive drought which, above what is ordinary at other times, brings along with it either wasting diseases or other monstrous and prodigious calamities, the priests then conduct into a dark place, with great silence and stillness, some of the animals which are honored by them; and they first of all menace and terrify them, and if the mischief still continues, they then consecrate and offer them up, looking upon this as a way of punishing the evil God, or at least as some grand purgation in time of greatest disasters. For, as Manetho relateth, they were used in ancient times to burn live men in the city of Ilithyia, entitling them Typhonian; and then they made wind, and dispersed and scattered their ashes into the air. And this was done publicly, and at one only season of the year, which was the dog-days. But those consecrations of the animals worshipped by them which are made in secret, and at irregular and uncertain times of the year as occasions require, are wholly unknown to the vulgar sort, except only at the time of their burials, at which they produce certain other animals, and in the presence of all spectators throw them into the grave with them, thinking by this means to vex Typhon and to abate the satisfaction he received by their deaths. For it is the Apis, with a few more, that is thought sacred to Osiris; but the far greater part are assigned to Typhon. And if this account of theirs be true, I believe it explains the subject of our enquiry as to such animals as are universally received and have their honors in common amongst them all; and of this kind is the ibis, the hawk, the cynocephalos, and the Apis himself; ... for so they call the goat which is kept at Mendes.

74. It remains yet behind, that I treat of their beneficialness to man, and of their symbolical use; and some of them participate of some one of these, and others of both. It is most manifest therefore that they worship the ox, the sheep, and the ichneumon for their benefit and use; as the Lemniotes did the lark, for finding out the locusts’ eggs and breaking them, and the Thessalians the storks, because that, as their soil bred abundance of serpents, they at their appearance destroyed them all, for which reason they enacted a law that whoever killed a stork should be banished the country. Moreover the Egyptians honored the asp, the weasel, and the beetle, observing in them certain dark resemblances of the power of the Gods, like those of the sun in drops of water. For there are many that to this day believe that the weasel engenders by the ear, and brings forth by the mouth, and is therein a resemblance of the production of speech; and that the beetle kind also hath no female, but that the males cast out their sperm into a round pellet of earth, which they roll about by thrusting it backwards with their hinder feet,—and this in imitation of the sun, which, while itself moves from west to east, turns the heaven the contrary way. They also compared the asp to a star, for being always young, and for performing its motions with great ease and glibness, and that without the help of organs.

75. Nor had the crocodile his honor given him without a show of probable reason for it; but it is reported to have been produced by a representation of God, it being the only animal that is without tongue. For the divine discourse hath no need of voice, but “marching by still and silent ways, it guides mortal affairs by equal justice.”[32] Besides, they say he is the only animal that lives in water that hath his eye-sight covered over with a thin and transparent film, descending down from his forehead, so that he sees without being seen himself by others, in which he agrees with the first God. Moreover, in what place soever in the country the female crocodile lays her eggs, that may be certainly concluded to be the utmost extent of the rise of the river Nile for that year. For not being able to lay in the water, and being afraid to lay far from it, they have so exact a knowledge of futurity, that though they enjoy the benefit of the approaching stream at their laying and hatching, they yet preserve their eggs dry and untouched by the water. And they lay sixty in all, and are just as many days a hatching them, and the longest lived of them live as many years; that being the first measure which those that are employed about the heavens make use of. But of those animals that were honored for both reasons, we have already treated of the dog; but now the ibis, besides that he killeth all deadly and poisonous vermin was also the first that taught men the evacuation of the belly by clysters, she being observed to be after this manner washed and purged by herself. Those also of the priests that are the strictest observers of their sacred rites, when they consecrate water for lustration, use to fetch it from some place where the ibis has been drinking; for she will neither taste nor come near any unwholesome or infectious water. Besides, with her two legs standing at large and her bill, she maketh an equilateral triangle; and the speckledness and mixture of her feathers, where there are black ones about the white, signify the gibbousness of the moon on either side.

76. Nor ought we to think it strange that the Egyptians should affect such poor and slender comparisons, when we find the Grecians themselves, both in their pictures and statues, make use of many such resemblances of the Gods as these are. For example, there was in Crete an image of Jupiter having no ears, for he that is commander and chief over all should hear no one. Phidias also set a serpent by the image of Minerva, and a tortoise by that of Venus at Elis, to show that maids needed a guard upon them, and that silence and keeping at home became married women. In like manner the trident of Neptune is a symbol of the third region of the world, which the sea possesses, situated below that of the heaven and air. For which reason they also gave their names to Amphitrite and the Tritons. The Pythagoreans also honored numbers and geometric figures with the names of Gods. For they called an equilateral triangle Minerva Coryphagenes (or crown-born) and Tritogeneia, because it is equally divided by perpendiculars drawn from the three angles. They likewise called the unit Apollo; the number two, contention and also audaciousness; and the number three, justice; for, wronging and being wronged being two extremes caused by deficiency and excess, justice came by equality in the middle. But that which is called the sacred quaternion, being the number thirty-six, was (according to common fame) the greatest oath among them, and was called by them the world, because it is made up of the first four even numbers and the first four odd numbers summed up together.

77. If therefore the most approved of the philosophers did not think meet to pass over or disesteem any significant symbol of the Divinity which they observed even in things that had neither soul nor body, I believe they regarded yet more those properties of government and conduct which they saw in such natures as had sense, and were endued with soul, with passion, and with moral temper. We are not therefore to content ourselves with worshipping these things, but we must worship God through them,—as being the more clear mirrors of him, and produced by Nature,—so as ever worthily to conceive of them as the instruments or artifices of that God which orders all things. And it is reasonable to believe that no inanimate being can be more excellent than an animate one, nor an insensible than a sensible; no, though one should heap together all the gold and emeralds in the universe. For the property of the Divinity consists not in fine colors, shapes, and slicknesses; but, on the contrary, those natures are of a rank below the very dead, that neither did nor ever can partake of life. But now that Nature which hath life and sees, and which hath the source of her motion from her own self, as also the knowledge of things proper and alien to her, hath certainly derived an efflux and a portion of that prudence which (as Heraclitus speaks) considers how the whole universe is governed. Therefore the Deity is no worse represented in these animals, than in the workmanships of copper and stone, which suffer corruptions and decays as well as they, and are besides naturally void of sense and perception. This then is what I esteem the best account that is given of their adoration of animals.

78. As to the sacred vestments, that of Isis is party-colored and of different hues; for her power is about matter, which becomes every thing and receives every thing, as light and darkness, day and night, fire and water, life and death, beginning and ending. But that of Osiris has no shade, no variety of colors, but one only simple one, resembling light. For the first principle is untempered, and that which is first and of an intelligible nature is unmixed; which is the reason why, after they have once made use of this garment, they lay it up and keep it close, invisible and not to be touched. But those of Isis are used often. For sensible things, when they are of daily use and familiar to us, afford us many opportunities to display them and to see them in their various mutations; but the apprehension of what is intelligible, sincere, and holy, darting through the soul like a flash of lightning, attends but to some one single glance or glimpse of its object. For which reason both Plato and Aristotle call this part of philosophy by the name of the epoptic or mysterious part, intimating that those who by help of reason have got beyond these fanciful, mixed, and various things mount up to that first, simple, and immaterial being; and when they have certainly reached the pure truth about it, they believe they have at last attained to complete philosophy.

79. And that which the present priests do darkly hint out and insinuate to us, though with much obscurity, great shyness, and precaution,—that this God is the governor and prince of those that are dead, and that he is no other than he who is called by the Greeks Hades and Pluto,—being not taken in its true sense, disturbs the minds of the greater part, while they suspect that the truly holy and good God Osiris lives within and beneath the earth, where the bodies of those who are supposed to have an end lie hid and buried. But he himself is at the remotest distance from the earth imaginable, being unstained and unpolluted and clean from every substance that is liable to corruption and death. But men’s souls encompassed here with bodies and passions, have no communication with God, except what they can reach to in conception only, by means of philosophy, as by a kind of an obscure dream. But when they are loosed from the body, and removed into the unseen, invisible, impassible, and pure region, this God is then their leader and king; they there as it were hanging on him wholly, and beholding without weariness and passionately affecting that beauty which cannot be expressed or uttered by men. This the Goddess Isis is always caressing, affecting, and enjoying, according to the old tales, and by that means she fills this lower world with all those goodly and excellent things which partake of generation.

80. This then is that account of these things which best suits the nature of the Gods. And if I now must, according to my promise, say something concerning those things they daily offer by way of incense, you are in the first place to understand this, that these people make the greatest account imaginable of all endeavors that relate to health; and more especially in their sacrifices, purgations, and diets, health is no less respected than devotion. For they think it would be an unseemly thing to wait upon that nature that is pure and every way unblemished and untouched, with crazy and diseased minds or bodies. Whereas, therefore, the air that we most use and live in hath not always the same disposition and temperament, but in the night-time grows condense, compresses the body, and contracts the mind into a kind of melancholy and thoughtful habit, it becoming then as it were foggy and dozed, they therefore, as soon as they are up in the morning, burn rosin about them, refreshing and clearing the air by its scattered particles, and fanning up the native spirit of the body, which is now grown languid and dull; this sort of scent having something in it that is very impetuous and striking. And perceiving again at noon-time that the sun hath drawn up by violence a copious and gross exhalation out of the earth, they by censing mix myrrh also with the air; for heat dissolves and dissipates that puddled and slimy vapor which at that time gathers together in the ambient air. And physicians are also found to help pestilential diseases by making great blazes to rarefy the air; but it would be much better rarefied, if they would burn sweet-scented woods, such as cypress, juniper, and pine. And therefore Acron the physician is said to have gained a mighty reputation at Athens, in the time of the great plague, by ordering people to make fires near to the sick; for not a few were benefited by it. Aristotle likewise saith that the odoriferous exhalations of perfumes, flowers, and sweet meadows are no less conducing to health than to pleasure; for that their warmth and delicacy of motion gently relax the brain, which is of its own nature cold and clammy. And if it be true that the Egyptians in their language call myrrh bal, and that the most proper signification of that word is scattering away idle talk, this also adds some testimony to our account of the reason why they burn it.

81. Moreover, that they call Kyphi is a kind of a composition made up of sixteen ingredients, that is, of honey, wine, raisins, cyperus, rosin, myrrh, aspalathus, seseli, mastich, bitumen, nightshade, and dock; to which they add the berries of both the junipers (the one whereof they call the greater, and the other the lesser sort), as also calamus and cardamom. Neither do they put them together slightly or at a random rate; but the sacred books are read to the perfumers all the while they are compounding them. As for the number of the ingredients (sixteen),—although it may appear important, being the square of a square, and making the only square surface which has a periphery equal to its area,—yet I must needs say that this contributes but very little here. But it is the contained species (most of which are of aromatic properties) that send up a sweet fume and an agreeable exhalation, by which the air is changed; and the body, being moved by the breath, sinks into a calm and gentle sleep, and retains a temperament conducive to sleep; and without the disorders of drunkenness, as it were, it loosens and unties, like a sort of knots, the doziness and intenseness of the thoughts by day-time; and the fantastic part and that which is receptive of dreams it wipes like a mirror and renders clearer, with no less efficacy than those strokes of the harp which the Pythagoreans made use of before they went to sleep, to charm and allay the distempered and irrational part of the soul. For we find that strong scents many times call back the failing sense, but sometimes dull and obstruct it, their wasted parts diffusing themselves by their great fineness and subtilty through the whole body; like as some physicians tell us that sleep is produced when the fumes of meat, by creeping gently about the inwards, and as it were groping every part, cause a certain soft titillation.

They also use this Kyphi both for a drink and for a medicinal potion; for when drunk it is found to cleanse the inwards, it being a loosener of the belly. Besides all this, rosin is the creature of the sun, and they gather myrrh as the trees weep it out by moonlight; but now of those ingredients that make up Kyphi, there are some that delight more in the night, as those whose nature it is to be nourished by cool blasts, shades, dews, and humidities. For the light of day is one thing and simple; and Pindar saith, the sun is then seen

Through solitary air.[33]

But the air of night is a kind of composition; for it is made up of many lights and powers, which, like so many several seeds, flow down from every star into one place. They therefore very pertinently cense the former things by day-time, as being simples and deriving their original from the sun; and the latter at the entrance of the night, they being mixed and of many and different qualities.

CONCERNING SUCH WHOM GOD IS SLOW TO PUNISH.

PATROCLEAS, PLUTARCH, TIMON, OLYMPICUS.

1. These and such like things, O Quintus! when Epicurus had spoken, before any person could return an answer, while we were busy at the farther end of the portico,[34] he flung away in great haste. However, we could not but in some measure admire at the odd behavior of the man, though without taking any farther notice of it in words; and therefore, after we had gazed a while one upon another, we returned to walk as we were singled out in company before. At this time Patrocleas first breaking silence, How say ye, gentlemen? said he: if you think fitting, why may not we discuss this question of the last proposer as well in his absence as if he were present? To whom Timon replying, Surely, said he, it would but ill become us, if at us he aimed upon his departure, to neglect the arrow sticking in our sides. For Brasidas, as history reports, drawing forth the javelin out of his own body, with the same javelin not only wounded him that threw it, but slew him outright. But as for ourselves, we surely have no need to revenge ourselves on them that pelt us with absurd and fallacious reasonings; but it will be sufficient that we shake them off before our opinion has taken hold of them. Then, said I, which of his sayings is it that has given you the greatest cause to be moved? For the man dragged into his discourse many things confusedly, and nothing in order; but gleaning up and down from this and the other place, as it were in the transports of his wrath and scurrility, he then poured the whole in one torrent of abuse upon the providence of God.

2. To which Patrocleas: The slowness of the Supreme Deity and his procrastination in reference to the punishment of the wicked have long perplexed my thoughts; but now, puzzled by these arguments which he produces, I find myself as it were a stranger to the opinion, and newly beginning again to learn. For a long time I could not with patience hear that expression of Euripides,

Does he delay and slowly move; ’Tis but the nature of the Gods above.[35]

For indeed it becomes not the Supreme Deity to be remiss in any thing, but more especially in the prosecution of the wicked, since they themselves are no way negligent or dilatory in doing mischief, but are always driven on by the most rapid impetuosities of their passions to acts of injustice. For certainly, according to the saying of Thucydides, that revenge which follows injury closest at the heels presently puts a stop to the progress of such as make advantage of successful wickedness.[36] Therefore there is no debt with so much prejudice put off, as that of justice. For it weakens the hopes of the person wronged and renders him comfortless and pensive, but heightens the boldness and daring insolence of the oppressor; whereas, on the other side, those punishments and chastisements that immediately withstand presuming violence not only restrain the committing of future outrages, but more especially bring along with them a particular comfort and satisfaction to the sufferers. Which makes me no less troubled at the saying of Bias, which frequently comes into my mind. For thus he spake once to a notorious reprobate: It is not that I doubt thou wilt suffer the just reward of thy wickedness, but I fear that I myself shall not live to see it. For what did the punishment of Aristocrates avail the Messenians who were killed before it came to pass? He, having betrayed them at the battle of Taphrus yet remained undetected for above twenty years together, and all that while reigned king of the Arcadians, till at length, discovered and apprehended, he received the merited recompense of his treachery. But alas! they whom he had betrayed were all dead at the same time. Or when the Orchomenians had lost their children, their friends, and familiar acquaintance through the treachery of Lyciscus, what consolation was it to them, that many years after a foul distemper seized the traitor, and fed upon his body till it had consumed his putrefied flesh?—who, as often as he dipped and bathed his feet in the river, with horrid oaths and execrations prayed that his members might rot if he had been guilty of treachery or any other villany. Nor was it possible even for the children’s children of the Athenians who had been murdered long before, to behold the bodies of those sacrilegious caitiffs torn out of their graves and transported beyond the confines of their native soil. Whence, in my opinion, Euripides absurdly makes use of these expressions, to divert a man from wickedness:

If thou fear’st heav’n, thou fearest it in vain; Justice is not so hasty, foolish man, To pierce thy heart, or with contagious wound Or thee or weaker mortals to confound; But with slow pace and silent feet his doom O’ertakes the sinner, when his time is come.

And I am apt to persuade myself that upon these and no other considerations it is, that wicked men encourage and give themselves the liberty to attempt and commit all manner of impieties, seeing that the fruit which injustice yields is soon ripe, and offers itself early to the gatherer’s hand, whereas punishment comes late, and lagging long behind the pleasure of enjoyment.

3. After Patrocleas had thus discoursed, Olympicus taking him up, There is this farther, said he, O Patrocleas! which thou shouldst have taken notice of; for how great an inconveniency and absurdity arises besides from these delays and procrastinations of divine justice! For the slowness of its execution takes away the belief of providence; and the wicked, perceiving that calamity does not presently follow at the heels of every enormous crime, but a long time after, look upon their calamity as a misfortune, and calling it chance, not punishment, are nothing at all thereby reformed; troubled indeed they well may be at the dire accident befallen them, but they never repent of the villanies they have committed. For as, in the case of the horse, the lashing and spurring that immediately pursue the transgression correct and reduce him to his duty, but all the tugging at the bit and shouting which are late and out of time seem to be inflicted for some other reason than to teach or instruct, the animal being thereby put to pain without understanding his error; in like manner, were the impieties of enormous transgressors and heinous offenders singly scourged and repressed by immediate severity, it would be most likely[37] to bring them to a sense of their folly, humble them, and strike them with an awe of the Divine Being, whom they find with a watchful eye beholding the actions and passions of men, and feel to be no dilatory but a speedy avenger of iniquity; whereas that remiss and slow-paced justice (as Euripides describes it) that falls upon the wicked by accident, by reason of its uncertainty, ill-timed delay, and disorderly motion, seems rather to resemble chance than providence. So that I cannot conceive what benefit there is in these millstones of the Gods which are said to grind so late,[38] as thereby celestial punishment is obscured, and the awe of evil doing rendered vain and despicable.

4. These things thus uttered, while I was in a deep meditation of what he had said, Timon interposed. Is it your pleasure, said he, that I shall give the finishing stroke to the difficulties of this knotty question, or shall I first permit him to argue in opposition to what has been propounded already? Nay then, said I, to what purpose is it to let in a third wave to drown the argument, if one be not able to repel or avoid the objections already made?

To begin therefore, as from the Vestal hearth, from that ancient circumspection and reverence which our ancestors, being Academic philosophers also, bare to the Supreme Godhead, we shall utterly decline to speak of that mysterious Being as if we could presume to utter positively any thing concerning it. For though it may be borne withal, for men unskilled in music to talk at random of notes and harmony, or for such as never experienced warfare to discourse of arms and military affairs; yet it would be a bold and daring arrogance in us, that are but mortal men, to dive too far into the incomprehensible mysteries of Deities and Daemons,—just as if persons void of knowledge should undertake to judge of the methods and reason of cunning artists by slight opinions and probable conjectures of their own. And while one that understands nothing of science finds it hard to give a reason why the physician did not let blood before but afterwards, or why he did not bathe his patient yesterday but to-day; it cannot be that it is safe or easy for a mortal to speak otherwise of the Supreme Deity than only this, that he alone it is who knows the most convenient time to apply most proper corrosives for the cure of sin and impiety, and to administer punishments as medicaments to every transgressor, yet being not confined to an equal quality and measure common to all distempers, nor to one and the same time. Now that the medicine of the soul which is called justice is the most transcendent of all sciences, besides ten thousand other witnesses, even Pindar himself testifies, where he gives to God, the ruler and lord of all things, the title of the most perfect artificer, as being the grand author and distributer of Justice, to whom it properly belongs to determine at what time, in what manner, and to what degree to punish every particular offender. And Plato asserts that Minos, being the son of Jupiter, was the disciple of his father to learn this science; intimating thereby that it is impossible for any other than a scholar, bred up in the school of equity, rightly to behave himself in the administration of justice, or to make a true judgment of another whether he does well or no. For the laws which are constituted by men do not always prescribe that which is unquestionable and simply decent, or of which the reason is altogether without exception perspicuous, in regard that some of their ordinances seem to be on purpose ridiculously contrived; particularly those which in Lacedaemon the Ephori ordain at their first entering into the magistracy, that no man suffer the hair of his upper lip to grow, and that they shall be obedient to the laws to the end they may not seem grievous to them. So the Romans, when they asserted the freedom of any one, cast a slender rod upon his body; and when they make their last wills and testaments, some they leave to be their heirs, while to others they sell their estates; which seems to be altogether contrary to reason. But that of Solon is most absurd, who, when a city is up in arms and all in sedition, brands with infamy the person who stands neuter and adheres to neither party. And thus a man that apprehends not the reason of the lawgiver, or the cause why such and such things are so prescribed, might number up several absurdities of many laws. What wonder then, since the actions of men are so difficult to be understood, if it be no less difficult to determine concerning the Gods, wherefore they inflict their punishments upon sinners, sometimes later, sometimes sooner.

BOOK IX. (part 7)

5. Nor do I allege these things as a pretence to avoid the dispute, but to secure the pardon which I beg, to the end that our discourse, having a regard (as it were) to some port or refuge, may proceed the more boldly in producing probable circumstances to clear the doubt. But first consider this; that God, according to Plato, when he set himself before the eyes of the whole world as the exemplar of all that was good and holy, granted human virtue, by which man is in some measure rendered like himself, unto those that are able to follow the Deity by imitation. For universal Nature, being at first void of order, received its first impulse to change and to be formed into a world, by being made to resemble and (as it were) partake of that idea and virtue which is in God. And the self-same Plato asserts, that Nature first kindled the sense of seeing within us, to the end that the soul, by the sight and admiration of the heavenly bodies, being accustomed to love and embrace decency and order, might be induced to hate the disorderly motions of wild and raving passions, and avoid levity and rashness and dependence upon chance, as the original of all improbity and vice. For there is no greater benefit that men can enjoy from God, than, by the imitation and pursuit of those perfections and that sanctity which is in him, to be excited to the study of virtue. Therefore God, with forbearance and at leisure, inflicts his punishment upon the wicked; not that he is afraid of committing an error or of repenting should he accelerate his indignation; but to eradicate that brutish and eager desire of revenge that reigns in human breasts, and to teach us that we are not in the heat of fury, or when our anger heaving and palpitating boils up above our understanding, to fall upon those who have done us an injury, like those who seek to gratify a vehement thirst or craving appetite, but that we should, in imitation of this mildness and forbearance, wait with due composure of mind before we proceed to chastisement or correction, till such sufficient time for consideration is taken as shall allow the least possible room for repentance. For, as Socrates observed, it is far the lesser mischief for a man distempered with ebriety and gluttony to drink puddle-water, than, when the mind is disturbed and over-charged with anger and fury, before it be settled and become limpid again, for a man to seek the satiating his revenge upon the body of his friend or kinsman. For it is not the revenge which is the nearest to injury, as Thucydides says, but rather that which is the most remote from it, that observes the most convenient opportunity. For as anger, according to that of Melanthius,

Quite from the brain transplants the wit, Vile acts designing to commit;

so reason does that which is just and moderate, laying passion and fury aside. Whence it comes to pass that men, giving ear to human examples, become more mansuete and gentle; as when they hear how Plato, holding his cudgel over his page’s shoulders, as himself relates, paused a good while, correcting his own anger; and how in like manner Archytas, observing the sloth and wilful negligence of his servants in the field, and perceiving his passion to rise at a more than usual rate, did nothing at all; but as he went away, It is your good fortune, said he, that ye have angered me. If then the sayings of men when called to mind, and their actions being told, have such a power to mitigate the roughness and vehemency of wrath, much more becomes it us, beholding God, with whom there is neither dread nor repentance of any thing, deferring nevertheless his punishments to future time and admitting delay, to be cautious and circumspect in these matters, and to deem as a divine part of virtue that mildness and long-suffering of which God affords us an example, while by punishing he reforms some few, but by slowly punishing he helpeth and admonisheth many.

6. In the second place, therefore, let us consider this, that human punishments of injuries regard no more than that the party suffer in his turn, and are satisfied when the offender has suffered according to his merit; and farther they never proceed. Which is the reason that they run after provocations, like dogs that bark in their fury, and immediately pursue the injury as soon as committed. But probable it is that God, whatever distempered soul it be which he prosecutes with his divine justice, observes the motions and inclinations of it, whether they be such as tend to repentance, and allows time for the reformation of those whose wickedness is neither invincible nor incorrigible. For, since he well knows what a proportion of virtue souls carry along with them from himself when they come into the world, and how strong and vigorous their innate and primitive good yet continues,—while wickedness buds forth only preternaturally upon the corruption of bad diet and evil conversation, and even then some souls recover again to perfect cure or an indifferent habitude,—therefore he doth not make haste to inflict his punishments alike upon all. But those that are incurable he presently lops off and deprives of life, deeming it altogether hurtful to others, but most baneful to themselves, to be always wallowing in wickedness. But as for those who may probably be thought to transgress rather out of ignorance of what is virtuous and good, than through choice of what is foul and vicious, he grants them time to turn; but if they remain obdurate, then likewise he inflicts his punishments upon them; for he has no fear lest they should escape.

Now let us consider how oft the characters and lives of men are changed; for which reason, the character is called τρόπος, as being the changeable part, and also ἦθος, since custom (ἔθος) chiefly prevails in it and rules with the greatest power when it has seized upon it. Therefore I am of opinion, that the ancients reported Cecrops to have had two bodies, not, as some believe, because of a good king he became a merciless and dragon-like tyrant, but rather, on the contrary, for that being at first both cruel and formidable, afterwards he became a most mild and gentle prince. However, if this be uncertain, yet we know both Gelo and Hiero the Sicilians, and Pisistratus the son of Hippocrates, who, having obtained the sovereignty by violence and wickedness, made a virtuous use of their power, and coming unjustly to the throne, became moderate rulers and beneficial to the public. For, by recommending wholesome laws and the exercise of useful tillage to their subjects, they reduced them from idle scoffers and talkative romancers to be modest citizens and industrious good husbands. And as for Gelo, after he had been successful in his war and vanquished the Carthaginians, he refused to grant them the peace which they sued for, unless they would consent to have it inserted in their articles that they would surcease from sacrificing their children to Saturn.

Over Megalopolis Lydiadas was tyrant; but then, even in the time of his tyranny, changing his manners and maxims of government and growing into a hatred of injustice, he restored to the citizens their laws, and fighting for his country against his own and his subjects’ enemies, fell an illustrious victim for his country’s welfare. Now if any one, bearing an antipathy to Miltiades or Cimon, had slain the one tyrannizing in the Chersonese or the other committing incest with his own sister, or had expelled Themistocles out of Athens at what time he lay rioting and revelling in the market-place and affronting all that came near him, according to the sentence afterwards pronounced against Alcibiades, had we not lost Marathon, the Eurymedon, and lovely Artemisium,

Where the Athenian youth The famed foundations of their freedom laid?[39]

For great and lofty geniuses produce nothing that is mean and little; the innate smartness of their parts will not endure the vigor and activity of their spirits to grow lazy; but they are tossed to and again, as with the waves, by the rolling motions of their own inordinate desire, till at length they arrive to a stable and settled constitution of manners. Therefore, as a person that is unskilful in husbandry would by no means make choice of a piece of ground quite overrun with brakes and weeds, abounding with wild beasts, running streams, and mud; while, to him who hath learnt to understand the nature of the earth, these are certain symptoms of the softness and fertility of the soil; thus great geniuses many times produce many absurd and vile enormities, of which we not enduring the rugged and uneasy vexation, are presently for pruning and lopping off the lawless transgressors. But the more prudent judge, who discerns the abounding goodness and generosity covertly residing in those transcendent geniuses, waits the co-operating age and season for reason and virtue to exert themselves, and gathers the ripe fruit when Nature has matured it. And thus much as to those particulars.

7. Now to come to another part of our discourse, do you not believe that some of the Greeks did very prudently to register that law in Egypt among their own, whereby it is enacted that, if a woman with child be sentenced to die, she shall be reprieved till she be delivered? All the reason in the world, you will say. Then, say I, though a man cannot bring forth children, yet if he be able, by the assistance of Time, to reveal any hidden action or conspiracy, or to discover some concealed mischief, or to be author of some wholesome piece of advice,—or suppose that in time he may produce some necessary and useful invention,—is it not better to delay the punishment and expect the benefit, than hastily to rid him out of the world? It seems so to me, said I. And truly you are in the right, replied Patrocleas, for let us consider, had Dionysius at the beginning of his tyranny suffered according to his merits, never would any of the Greeks have re-inhabited Sicily, laid waste by the Carthaginians. Nor would the Greeks have repossessed Apollonia, nor Anactorium, nor the peninsula of the Leucadians, had not Periander’s execution been delayed for a long time. And if I mistake not, it was to the delay of Cassander’s punishment that the city of Thebes was beholden for her recovery from desolation. But the most of those barbarians who assisted at the sacrilegious plunder of this temple,[40] following Timoleon into Sicily, after they had vanquished the Carthaginians and dissolved the tyrannical government of that island, wicked as they were, came all to a wicked end. So the Deity makes use of some wicked persons as common executioners to punish the wickedness of others, and then destroys those instruments of his wrath,—which I believe to be true of most tyrants. For as the gall of a hyena and the rennet of a sea-calf—both filthy monsters—contain something in them for the cure of diseases; so when some people deserve a sharp and biting punishment, God, subjecting them to the implacable severity of some certain tyrant or the cruel oppression of some ruler, does not remove either the torment or the trouble, till he has cured and purified the distempered nation. Such a sort of physic was Phalaris to the Agrigentines, and Marius to the Romans. And God expressly foretold the Sicyonians how much their city stood in need of most severe chastisement, when, after they had violently ravished out of the hands of the Cleonaeans Teletias, a young lad who had been crowned at the Pythian games, they tore him limb from limb, as their own fellow-citizen. Therefore Orthagoras the tyrant, and after him Myro and Clisthenes, put an end to the luxury and lasciviousness of the Sicyonians; but the Cleonaeans, not having the good fortune to meet with the same cure, went all to wreck. To this purpose, hear what Homer says:

From parent vile by far the better son Did spring, whom various virtues did renown.[41]

And yet we do not find that ever the son of Copreus performed any famous or memorable achievement; but the offspring of Sisyphus, Autolycus, and Phlegyas flourished among the number of the most famous and virtuous princes. Pericles at Athens descended from an accursed family; and Pompey the Great at Rome was the son of Strabo, whose dead body the Roman people, in the height of their hatred conceived against him when alive, cast forth into the street and trampled in the dirt. Where is the absurdity then,—as the husbandman never cuts away the thorn till it injures the asparagus, or as the Libyans never burn the stalks till they have gathered all the ladanum,—if God never extirpates the evil and thorny root of a renowned and royal race before he has gathered from it the mature and proper fruit? For it would have been far better for the Phocians to have lost ten thousand of Iphitus’s horses and oxen, or a far greater sum in gold and silver from the temple of Delphi, than that Ulysses and Aesculapius should not have been born, and those many others who, of wicked and vicious men, became highly virtuous and beneficial to their country.

8. And should we not think it better to inflict deserved punishments in due season and by convenient means, than hastily and rashly when a man is in the heat and hurry of passion? Witness the example of Callippus, who, having stabbed Dio under the pretence of being his friend, was himself soon after slain by Dio’s intimates with the same dagger. Thus again, when Mitius of Argos was slain in a city tumult, the brazen statue which stood in the market-place, soon after, at the time of the public shows, fell down upon the murderer’s head and killed him. What befell Bessus the Paeonian, and Aristo the Oetaean, chief commander of the foreign soldiers, I suppose you understood full well, Patrocleas. Not I, by Jove, said he, but I desire to know. Well then, I say, this Aristo, having with permission of the tyrants carried away the jewels and ornaments belonging to Eriphyle, which lay deposited in this temple, made a present of them to his wife. The punishment of this was that the son, being highly incensed against his mother, for what reason it matters not, set fire to his father’s house, and burned it to the ground, with all the family that were in it.

As for Bessus, it seems he killed his own father, and the murder lay concealed a long time. At length being invited to supper among strangers, after he had so loosened a swallow’s nest with his spear that it fell down, he killed all the young ones. Upon which, being asked by the guests that were present, what injury the swallows had done him that he should commit such an irregular act; Did you not hear, said he, these cursed swallows, how they clamored and made a noise, false witnesses as they were, that I had long ago killed my father? This answer struck the rest of the guests with so much wonder, that, after a due pondering upon his words, they made known the whole story to the king. Upon which, the matter being dived into, Bessus was brought to condign punishment.

9. These things I have alleged, as it was but reason, upon a supposition that there is a forbearance of inflicting punishment upon the wicked. As for what remains, it behooves us to listen to Hesiod, where he asserts,—not like Plato, that punishment is a suffering which accompanies injustice,—but that it is of the same age with it, and arises from the same place and root. For, says he,

Bad counsel, so the Gods ordain, Is most of all the adviser’s bane.

And in another place,

He that his neighbor’s harm contrives, his art Contrives the mischief ’gainst his own false heart.[42]

It is reported that the cantharis fly, by a certain kind of contrariety, carries within itself the cure of the wound which it inflicts. On the other side wickedness, at the same time it is committed, engendering its own vexation and torment, not at last, but at the very instant of the injury offered, suffers the reward of the injustice it has done. And as every malefactor who suffers in his body bears his own cross to the place of his execution, so are all the various torments of various wicked actions prepared by wickedness herself. Such a diligent architectress of a miserable and wretched life is wickedness, wherein shame is still accompanied with a thousand terrors and commotions of the mind, incessant repentance, and never-ceasing tumults of the spirits. However, there are some people that differ little or nothing from children, who, many times beholding malefactors upon the stage, in their gilded vestments and short purple cloaks, dancing with crowns upon their heads, admire and look upon them as the most happy persons in the world, till they see them gored and lashed, and flames of fire curling from underneath their sumptuous and gaudy garments. Thus there are many wicked men, surrounded with numerous families, splendid in the pomp of magistracy, and illustrious for the greatness of their power, whose punishments never display themselves till those glorious persons come to be the public spectacles of the people, either slain and lying weltering in their blood, or else standing on the top of the rock, ready to be tumbled headlong down the precipice; which indeed cannot so well be said to be a punishment, as the consummation and perfection of punishment.

Moreover, as Herodicus the Selymbrian, falling into a consumption, the most incurable of all diseases, was the first who intermixed the gymnastic art with the science of physic (as Plato relates), and in so doing did spin out in length a tedious time of dying, as well for himself as for others laboring under the same distemper; in like manner some wicked men who flatter themselves to have escaped the present punishment, not after a longer time, but for a longer time, endure a more lasting, not a slower punishment; not punished with old age, but growing old under the tribulation of tormenting affliction. When I speak of a long time I speak in reference to ourselves. For as to the Gods, every distance and distinction of human life is nothing; and to say “now, and not thirty years ago” is the same thing as to say that such a malefactor should be tormented or hanged in the afternoon and not in the morning;—more especially since a man is but shut up in this life, like a close prisoner in a gaol, from whence it is impossible to make an escape, while yet we feast and banquet, are full of business, receive rewards and honors and sport. Though certainly these are but like the sports of those that play at dice or draughts in the gaol, while the rope all the while hangs over their heads.

10. So that what should hinder me from asserting, that they who are condemned to die and shut up in prison are not truly punished till the executioner has chopped off their heads, or that he who has drunk hemlock, and then walks about and stays till a heaviness seizes his limbs, has suffered no punishment before the extinction of his natural heat and the coagulation of his blood deprive him of his senses,—that is to say, if we deem the last moment of the punishment only to be the punishment, and omit the commotions, terrors, apprehensions, and embitterments of repentance, with which every malefactor and all wicked men are teased upon the committing of any heinous crime? But this is to deny the fish to be taken that has swallowed the hook, before we see it boiled and cut into pieces by the cook; for every offender is within the gripes of the law, so soon as he has committed the crime and has swallowed the sweet bait of injustice, while his conscience within, tearing and gnawing upon his vitals, allows him no rest:

Like the swift tunny, frighted from his prey, Rolling and plunging in the angered sea.

For the daring rashness and precipitate boldness of iniquity continue violent and active till the fact be perpetrated; but then the passion, like a surceasing tempest, growing slack and weak, surrenders itself to superstitious fears and terrors. So that Stesichorus may seem to have composed the dream of Clytemnestra, to set forth the event and truth of things:

Then seemed a dragon to draw near, With mattery blood all on his head besmeared; Therefrom the king Plisthenides appeared.

For visions in dreams, noon-day apparitions, oracles, descents into hell, and whatever objects else which may be thought to be transmitted from heaven, raise continual tempests and horrors in the very souls of the guilty. Thus it is reported that Apollodorus in a dream beheld himself flayed by the Scythians and then boiled, and that his heart, speaking to him out of the kettle, uttered these words, I am the cause thou sufferest all this. And another time, that he saw his daughters run about him, their bodies burning and all in a flame. Hipparchus also, the son of Pisistratus, had a dream, that the Goddess Venus out of a certain phial flung blood in his face. The favorites of Ptolemy, surnamed the Thunderer, dreamed that they saw their master cited to the judgment-seat by Seleucus, where wolves and vultures were his judges, and then distributing great quantities of flesh among his enemies. Pausanias, in the heat of his lust, sent for Cleonice, a free-born virgin of Byzantium, with an intention to have enjoyed her all night; but when she came, out of a strange sort of jealousy and perturbation for which he could give no reason, he stabbed her. This murder was attended with frightful visions; insomuch that his repose in the night was not only interrupted with the appearance of her shape, but still he thought he heard her uttering these lines:

To judgment-seat approach thou near, I say; Wrong dealing is to men most hurtful aye.

After this the apparition still haunting him, he sailed to the oracle of the dead in Heraclea, and by propitiations, charms, and dirges, called up the ghost of the damsel; which, appearing before him, told him in few words, that he should be free from all his affrights and molestations upon his return to Lacedaemon; where he was no sooner arrived, but he died.

11. Therefore, if nothing befalls the soul after the expiration of this life, but death is the end of all reward and punishment, I might infer from thence rather that the Deity is remiss and indulgent in swiftly punishing the wicked and depriving them of life. For if a man shall assert that in the space of this life the wicked are no otherwise affected than by the convincement that crime is a fruitless and barren thing, that produces nothing of good, nothing worthy of esteem, from the many great and terrible combats and agonies of the mind, the consideration of these things altogether subverts the soul. As it is related that Lysimachus, being under the violent constraint of a parching thirst, surrendered up his person and his dominions to the Getae for a little drink; but after he had quenched his draught and found himself a captive, Shame of this wickedness of mine, cried he, that for so small a pleasure have lost so great a kingdom. But it is a difficult thing for a man to resist the natural necessity of mortal passions. Yet when a man, either out of avarice, or ambition of civil honor and power, or to gratify his venereal desires, commits any enormous and heinous crime, after which, the thirst and rage of his passion being allayed, he comes to set before his eyes the ignominious and horrible passions tending to injustice still remaining, but sees nothing useful, nothing necessary, nothing conducible to make his life happy; may it not be probably conjectured that such a person is frequently solicited by these reflections to consider how rashly, either prompted by vain-glory, or for the sake of a lawless and barren pleasure, he has overthrown the noblest and greatest maxims of justice among men, and overflowed his life with shame and trouble? As Simonides jesting was wont to say, that the chest which he kept for money he found always full, but that which he kept for gratitude he found always empty; thus wicked men, contemplating their own wickedness, find it always void altogether and destitute of hope (since pleasure gives but a short and empty delight), but ever weighed down with fears and sorrows, ungrateful remembrances, suspicions of futurity, and distrusts of present accidents. Thus we hear Ino complaining upon the theatre, after her repentance of what she had done:

Dear women, tell me, with what face Shall I return to dwell with Athamas, As if it ne’er had been my luckless fate The worst of foul misdeeds to perpetrate?[43]

Thus is it not reason to believe, that the soul of every wicked man revolves and reasons within itself, how by burying in oblivion former transgressions, and casting from itself the consciousness and the guilt of hitherto committed crimes, to fit frail mortality under her conduct for a new course of life? For there is nothing for a man to confide in, nothing but what vanishes like smoke, nothing durable or constant in whatever impiety proposes to itself,—unless, by Jove, we will allow the unjust and vicious to be sage philosophers,—but wherever eager avarice and voluptuousness, inexorable hatred, enmity, and improbity associate together, there you shall also be sure to find superstition nestling and herding with effeminacy and terror of death, a swift change of the most violent passions, and an arrogant ambition after undeserved honor. Such men as these stand in continual dread of their contemners and backbiters, they fear their applauders, believing themselves injured by their flatteries; and more especially, they are at enmity with bad men, because they are so free to extol those that seem good. However, that which hardens men to mischief soon cankers, grows brittle, and shivers in pieces like bad iron. So that in process of time, coming to understand themselves better and to be more sensible of their miscarriages, they disdain, abhor, and utterly disclaim their former course of life. And when we see how a wicked man who restores a trust or becomes security for his friend, or ambitious of honor contributes more largely to the benefits of his country, is immediately in a condition of repentance and sorry for what he has just done, by reason of the natural inclination of his mind to ramble and change; and how some men, being clapped and hummed upon the theatre, presently fall a weeping, their desire of glory relapsing into covetousness; we surely cannot believe that those which sacrificed the lives of men to the success of their tyrannies and conspiracies, as Apollodorus, or plundered their friends of their treasure and deprived them of their estates, as Glaucus the son of Epicydes, did not repent and abhor themselves, or that they were not sorry for the perpetration of such foul enormities. For my part, if it may be lawful for me to deliver my opinion, I believe there is no occasion either for the Gods or men to inflict their punishment upon the most wicked and sacrilegious offenders; seeing that the course of their own lives is sufficient to chastise their crimes, while they remain under the consternations and torments attending their impiety.

12. And now consider whether my discourse have not enlarged itself too far. To which Timon: Perhaps (said he) it may seem to have been too long, if we consider what remains behind, and the length of time required for the discussion of our other doubts. For now I am going about to put forward the last question, like a new champion, since we have contended already long enough upon the former. Now, as to what we have further to say, we find that Euripides delivers his mind freely, and censures the Gods for imputing the transgressions of forefathers unto their offspring. And I am apt to believe that even they who are most silent among us do the like. For if the offenders themselves have already received their reward, then there is no reason why the innocent should be punished, since it is not equal to punish even criminals twice for the same fact. But if remiss and careless, the Gods, omitting opportunely to inflict their penalties upon the wicked, send down their tardy rigor on the blameless, they do not well to repair their defective slowness by injustice. As it is reported of Aesop, that he came upon a time to Delphi, having brought along with him a great quantity of gold which Croesus had bestowed upon him, on purpose to offer a most magnificent oblation to the Gods, and with a design moreover to distribute among the priests and the people of Delphi four minas apiece. But there happening some disgust and difference between him and the Delphians, he performed his solemnity, but sent back his money to Sardis, not deeming those ungrateful people worthy of his bounty. Upon which the Delphians, laying their heads together, accused him of sacrilege, and then threw him down headlong from a steep and prodigious precipice, which is there, called Hyampia. Upon which it is reported that the Deity, being highly incensed against them for so horrid a murder, brought a famine upon the land, and infested the people with noisome diseases of all sorts; insomuch that they were constrained to make it their business to travel to all the general assemblies and places of public concourse in Greece, making public proclamation wherever they came, that, whoever they were that would demand justice for the death of Aesop, they were prepared to give him satisfaction and to undergo whatever penalty he should require. Three generations afterwards came one Idmon, a Samian, no way of kin or otherwise related to Aesop, but only descended from those who had purchased Aesop in Samos; to whom the Delphians paid those forfeitures which he demanded, and were delivered from all their pressing calamities. And from hence (by report) it was, that the punishment of sacrilegious persons was transferred from the rock Hyampia to that other cliff which bears the name of Nauplia.

Neither is Alexander applauded by those who have the greatest esteem for his memory (of which number are we ourselves), who utterly laid waste the city of Branchidae, putting men, women, and children to the sword, for that their ancestors had long before delivered up the temple of Miletus. In like manner Agathocles, tyrant of Syracuse, when the Corcyraeans requested to know the reason of him, why he depopulated their island, deriding and scoffing at their demand, replied: For no other reason, by Jove, but because your forefathers entertained Ulysses. And when the islanders of Ithaca expostulated with him, asking why his soldiers carried away their sheep; because, said he, when your king came to our island, he put out the eyes of the shepherd himself. And therefore do you not think Apollo more extravagant than all these, for punishing so severely the Pheneatae by stopping up that profound and spacious receptacle of all those floods that now cover their country, upon a bare report that Hercules a thousand years ago took away the prophetic tripod and carried it to Pheneus?—or when he foretold to the Sybarites, that all their calamities should cease, upon condition they appeased the wrath of Leucadian Juno by enduring three ruinous calamities upon their country? Nor is it so long since, that the Locrians surceased to send their virgins to Troy;

Who like the meanest slaves, exposed to scorn, Barefoot, with limbs unclad, at earliest morn Minerva’s temple sweep; yet all the while, No privilege has age from weary toil. Nor, when with years decrepit, can they claim The thinnest veil to hide their aged shame;

and all this to punish the lasciviousness of Ajax.

Now where is the reason or justice of all this? Nor is the custom of the Thracians to be approved, who to this day abuse their wives in revenge of their cruelty to Orpheus. And with as little reason are the Barbarians about the river Po to be extolled, who once a year put themselves into mourning for the misfortune of Phaethon. And still more ridiculous than all this it would certainly be, when all those people that lived at the time took no notice of Phaethon’s mischance, that they, who happened to be born five or ten generations after, should be so idle as to take up the custom of going into black and bewailing his downfall. However, in all these things there is nothing to be observed but mere folly; nothing pernicious, nor any thing dangerous. But as for the anger of the Gods, what reason can be given why their wrath should stop and conceal itself upon a sudden, like some certain rivers, and when all things seem to be forgot, should break forth upon others with so much fury, as not to be atoned but with some remarkable calamities?

13. Upon that, so soon as he had done speaking, not a little afraid lest, if he should begin again, he would run himself into many more and greater absurdities, I asked: Do you believe, sir, all that you have said to be true? Then he: Though all that I have alleged may not be true, yet if only some part may be allowed for truth, do not you think there is the same difficulty still remaining in the question? It may be so, said I. And thus it is with those who labor under a vehement burning fever; for, whether covered with one blanket or many, the heat is still the same or very little different; yet for refreshment’s sake it may be convenient sometimes to lighten the weight of the clothes; and if the patient refuse your courtesy, to let him alone. Yet I must tell you, the greatest part of these examples look like fables and fiction. Call to mind therefore the feast called Theoxenia lately celebrated, and that most noble portion which the public criers proclaim to be received as their due by the offspring of Pindar; and recollect with yourself, how majestic and grateful a mark of grandeur you look upon that to be. Truly, said he, I judge there is no man living who would not be sensible of the curiosity and elegancy of such an honor, displaying antiquity void of tincture and false glitter, after the Greek manner, unless he were such a brute that I may use the words of Pindar himself:

Whose coal-black heart, from natural dross unpurged, Had only by cold flames at first been forged.

Therefore I forbear, said I, to mention that proclamation not much unlike to this, usually made in Sparta,—“After the Lesbian singer,”—in honor and memory of the ancient Terpander. But you, on the other side, deem yourself worthy to be preferred above all the rest of the Boeotians, as being of the noble race of the Opheltiadae; and among the Phocians you claim undoubted pre-eminence, for the sake of your ancestor Daiphantus. And, for my part, I must acknowledge that you were one of the first who assisted me, as my second, against the Lycormaeans and Satilaeans, claiming the privilege of wearing crowns and the honor due by the laws of Greece to the descendants from Hercules; at what time I affirmed, that those honors and guerdons ought more especially to be preserved inviolable to the immediate progeny of Hercules, in regard that, though he were so great a benefactor to the Greeks, yet in his lifetime he was not thought worthy of any reward or return of gratitude. You recall to my remembrance, said he, a most noble contest, and worthy the debate of philosophy itself. Dismiss therefore, said I, that vehement humor of yours that excites you to accuse the Gods, nor take it ill, if many times celestial punishment discharges itself upon the offspring of the wicked and vicious; or else be not too much overjoyed or too forward to applaud those honors which are due to nobility of birth. For it becomes us, if we believe that the reward of virtue ought to be extended to posterity, by the same reason to take it for granted that punishment for impieties committed ought not to be stayed and cease any sooner, but that it should run forward at equal pace with the reward, which will in turn requite every man with what is his due. And therefore they that with pleasure behold the race of Cimon highly honored in Athens, but on the other side, fret and fume at the exilement of the posterity of Lachares or Ariston, are too remiss and oscitant, or rather too morose and over quarrelsome with the Deity itself, one while accusing the Divinity if the posterity of an unjust and wicked person seem to prosper in the world, another time no less moody and finding fault if it fall out that the race of the wicked come to be utterly destroyed and extirpated from the earth. And thus, whether the children of the wicked or the children of the just fall under affliction, the case is all one to them; the Gods must suffer alike in their bad opinions.

14. These, said I, are the preliminaries, which I would have you make use of against those choleric accusers and testy snarlers of whom I have given you warning. But now to take in hand once more, as it were, the first end of the bottom of thread, in this same dark discourse of the Gods, wherein there are so many windings and turnings and gloomy labyrinths, let us by degrees and with caution direct our steps to what is most likely and probable. For, even in those things which fall under our daily practice and management, we are many times at a loss to determine the undoubted and unquestioned truth. For example, what certain reason can be given for that custom amongst us, of ordering the children of parents that die of a consumption or a dropsy to sit with both their feet soaking in the water till the dead body be burnt? For people believe, that thereby the disease is prevented from becoming hereditary, and also that it is a charm to secure those children from it as long as they live. Again, what should be the reason, that if a goat take a piece of sea-holly in her mouth, the whole herd will stand still till the goat-herd come and take it out? Other hidden properties there are, which, by virtue of certain touches and transitions, pass from some bodies into others with incredible swiftness and often to incredible distances. But we are more apt to wonder at distances of time than those of space. And yet there is more reason to wonder, that Athens should be infected with an epidemic contagion taking its rise in Ethiopia, that Pericles should die and Thucydides be smitten with the infection, than that, upon the impiety of the Delphians and Sybarites, delayed vengeance should at length overtake their posterity. For these hidden powers and properties have their sacred connections and correspondences between their utmost endings and their first beginnings; of which although the causes be concealed from us, yet silently they bring to pass their proper effects.

15. Not but that there is a reason ready at hand for the public punishments showered down from heaven upon particular cities. For a city is a kind of entire thing and continued body, a certain sort of creature, never subject to the changes and alterations of age, nor varying through process of time from one thing to another, but always sympathizing and in unity with itself, and receiving the punishment or reward of whatever it does or has ever acted in common, so long as the community, which makes it a body and binds it together with the mutual bands of human benefit, preserves its unity. For he that goes about of one city to make many, and perhaps an infinite number, by distinguishing the intervals of time, seems to be like a person who would make several of one single man, because he is now grown elderly who before was a young man, and before that a mere stripling. Or rather, it resembles the method of disputing amongst the Epicharmians, the first authors of that manner of arguing called the increaser. For example: he that formerly ran in debt, although he never paid it, owes nothing now, as being become another man; and he that was invited yesterday to supper comes the next night an unbidden guest, for that he is quite another person. And indeed the distinctions of ages cause greater alterations in every one of us than commonly they do in cities. For he that has seen Athens may know it again thirty years after; the present manners, motions, pastimes, serious studies, their familiarities and marks of their displeasure, little or nothing differing from what formerly they were. But after a long absence there is many a man who, meeting his own familiar friend, hardly knows him again, by reason of the great alteration of his countenance and the change of his manners, which are so easily subject to the alterations of language, labor, and employment, all manner of accidents, and mutation of laws, that even they who are most usually conversant with him admire to see the strangeness and novelty of the change; and yet the man is reputed still to be the same from his birth to his decease. In the same manner does a city still remain the same; and for that reason we think it but justice, that a city should as well be obnoxious to the blame and reproach of its ancient inhabitants, as participate the glory of their former puissance and renown; else we shall throw every thing before we know it into the river of Heraclitus, into which (he says) no one can step twice,[44] since Nature by her changes is ever altering and transforming all things.

16. Now then, if a city be one entire and continued body, the same opinion is to be conceived of a race of men, depending upon one and the same beginning, and carrying along with it a certain power and communion of qualities; in regard that what is begotten cannot be thought to be severed from that which begets it, like a piece of workmanship from the artificer; the one being begotten of the person, the other framed by him. So that what is engendered is a part of the original from whence it sprung, whether meriting honor or deserving punishment. So that, were it not that I might be thought to be too sportive in a serious discourse, I would affirm, that the Athenians were more unjust to the statue of Cassander when they caused it to be melted down and defaced, and that the Syracusans were more rigorous to the dead carcass of Dionysius when they cast it forth of their own confines, than if they had punished their posterity; for that the statue did no way partake of the substance of Cassander, and the soul of Dionysius was absolutely departed from the body deceased. Whereas Nisaeus, Apollocrates, Antipater, Philip, and several others descended from wicked parents, still retained the most principal part of those who begot them, not lazily and sluggishly dormant, but that very part by which they live, are nourished, act and move, and become rational and sensible creatures. Neither is there any thing of absurdity, if, being the offspring of such parents, they should retain many of their bad qualities. In short, therefore, I affirm that, as it is in the practice of physic, that whatever is wholesome and profitable is likewise just, and as he would be accounted ridiculous that should aver it to be an act of injustice to cauterize the thumb for the cure of the sciatica, or when the liver is imposthumated, to scarify the belly, or when the hoofs of laboring oxen are over tender, to anoint the tips of their horns; in the same manner is he to be laughed at who seeks for any other justice in the punishment of vice than the cure and reformation of the offender, and who is angry when medicine is applied to some parts for the cure of others, as when a chirurgeon opens a vein to give his patient ease upon an inflammation of the eyes. For such a one seems to look no farther than what he reaches by his senses, forgetting that a schoolmaster, by chastising one, admonishes all the rest of his scholars, and that a general, condemning only one in ten, reduces all the rest to obedience. And thus there is not only a cure and amendment of one part of the body by another; but many times the very soul itself is inclined to vice or reformation, by the lewdness or virtue of another, and indeed much more readily than one body is affected by another. For, in the case of the body, as it seems natural, the same affections and the same changes must always occur; while the soul, being agitated by fancy and imagination, becomes better or worse, as it is either daring and confident or timorous and mistrustful.

17. While I was yet speaking, Olympicus interrupting me said: You seem by this discourse of yours to infer as if the soul were immortal, which is a supposition of great consequence. It is very true, said I, nor is it any more than what yourselves have granted already; in regard the whole dispute has tended from the beginning to this, that the supreme Deity overlooks us, and deals to every one of us according to our deserts. To which the other: Do you then believe (said he) it follows of necessity that, because the Deity observes our actions and distributes to every one of us according to our merits, therefore our souls should exist and be altogether incorruptible, or else for a certain time survive the body after death? Not so fast, good sir, said I. But can we think that God so little considers his own actions, or is such a waster of his time in trifles, that, if we had nothing of divine within us, nothing that in the least resembled his perfection, nothing permanent and stable, but were only poor creatures, that (according to Homer’s expression) faded and dropped like withered leaves, and in a short time too, yet he should make so great account of us—like women that bestow their pains in making little gardens, no less delightful to them than the gardens of Adonis, in earthen pans and pots—as to create us souls to blossom and flourish only for a day, in a soft and tender body of flesh, without any firm and solid root of life, and then to be blasted and extinguished in a moment upon every slight occasion? And therefore, if you please, not concerning ourselves with other Deities, let us go no farther than the God Apollo, whom here we call our own; see whether it is likely that he, knowing that the souls of the deceased vanish away like clouds and smoke, exhaling from our bodies like a vapor, requires that so many propitiations and such great honors be paid to the dead, and such veneration be given to the deceased, merely to delude and cozen his believers. And therefore, for my part, I will never deny the immortality of the soul, till somebody or other, as they say Hercules did of old, shall be so daring as to come and take away the prophetical tripod, and so quite ruin and destroy the oracle. For as long as many oracles are uttered even in these our days by the Delphic soothsayer, the same in substance which was formerly given to Corax the Naxian, it is impious to declare that the human soul can die.

Then Patrocleas: What oracle was this? Who was that same Corax? For both the answer itself and the person whom you mention are strangers to my remembrance. Certainly, said I, that cannot be; only it was my error which occasioned your ignorance, in making use of the addition to the name instead of the name itself. For it was Calondas, who slew Archilochus in fight, and who was surnamed Corax. He was thereupon ejected by the Pythian priestess, as one who had slain a person devoted to the Muses; but afterwards, humbling himself in prayers and supplications, intermixed with undeniable excuses of the fact, was enjoined by the oracle to repair to the habitation of Tettix, there to expiate his crime by appeasing the ghost of Archilochus. That place was called Taenarus; for there it was, as the report goes, that Tettix the Cretan, coming with a navy, landed, built a city not far from the Psychopompaeum (or place where ghosts are conjured up), and stored it with inhabitants. In like manner, when the Spartans were commanded by the oracle to atone the ghost of Pausanias, they sent for several exorcisers and conjurers out of Italy, who by virtue of their sacrifices chased the apparition out of the temple.

18. Therefore, said I, there is one and the same reason to confirm the providence of God and the immortality of the soul; neither is it possible to admit the one, if you deny the other. Now then, the soul surviving after the decease of the body, the inference is the stronger that it partakes of punishment and reward. For during this mortal life the soul is in continual combat like a wrestler; but after all those conflicts are at an end, she then receives according to her merits. But what the punishments and what the rewards of past transgressions or just and laudable actions are to be while the soul is thus alone by itself, is nothing at all to us that are alive; for either they are altogether concealed from our knowledge, or else we give but little credit to them. But those punishments that reach succeeding posterity, being conspicuous to all that are living at the same time, restrain and curb the inclinations of many wicked persons. Now I have a story that I lately heard, which I might relate to show that there is no punishment more grievous or that touches more to the quick, than for a man to behold his children born of his body suffering for his crimes; and that, if the soul of a wicked and lawless criminal were to look back to earth and behold, not his statues overturned and his dignities reversed, but his own children, his friends, or his nearest kindred ruined and overwhelmed with calamity, such a person, were he to return to life again, would rather choose the refusal of all Jupiter’s honors than abandon himself a second time to his wonted injustice and extravagant desires. This story, I say, I could relate, but that I fear lest you should censure it for a fable. And therefore I deem it much the better way to keep close to what is probable and consentaneous to reason. By no means, replied Olympicus; but proceed, and gratify us with your story also, since it was so kindly offered. Thereupon, when the rest of the company likewise made me the same request, Permit me, said I, in the first place, to pursue the rational part of my discourse, and then, according as it shall seem proper and convenient, if it be a fable, you shall have it as cheap as I heard it.

19. Bion was of opinion that God, in punishing the children of the wicked for the sins of their fathers, seems more irregular than a physician that should administer physic to a son or a grandchild, to cure the distemper of a father or a grandfather. But this comparison does not run cleverly; since the amplification of the similitude agrees only in some things, but in others is altogether defective. For if one man be cured of a disease by physic, the same medicine will not cure another; nor was it ever known that any person troubled with sore eyes or laboring under a fever was ever restored to perfect health by seeing another in the same condition anointed or plastered. But the punishments or executions of malefactors are done publicly in the face of the world, to the end that, justice appearing to be the effect of prudence and reason, some may be restrained by the correction inflicted upon others. So that Bion never rightly apprehended where the comparison answered to our question. For oftentimes it happens, that a man comes to be haunted with a troublesome though not incurable disease, and through sloth and intemperance increases his distemper, and weakens his body to that degree that he occasions his own death. After this, it is true, the son does not fall sick; only he has received from his father’s seed such a habit of body as makes him liable to the same disease; which a good physician or a tender friend or a skilful apothecary or a careful master observing confines him to a strict and spare diet, restrains him from all manner of superfluity, keeps him from all the temptations of delicious fare, wine, and women, and making use of wholesome and proper physic, together with convenient exercise, dissipates and extirpates the original cause of a distemper at the beginning, before it grows to a head and gets a masterless dominion over the body. And is it not our usual practice thus to admonish those that are born of diseased parents, to take timely care of themselves, and not to neglect the malady, but to expel the original nourishment of the inbred evil, as being then easily movable and apt for expulsion? It is very true, cried they. Therefore, said I, we cannot be said to do an absurd thing, but what is absolutely necessary,—nor that which is ridiculous, but what is altogether useful,—while we prescribe to the children of the epileptic, the hypochondriacal, and those that are subject to the gout, such exercises, diet, and remedies as are proper, not so much because they are at that time troubled with the distemper, as to prevent the malady. For a man begotten by an unsound body does not therefore deserve punishment, but rather the preservation of proper physic and good regimen; which if any one call the punishment of fear or effeminacy, because the person is debarred his pleasures and put to some sort of pain by cupping and blistering, we mind not what he says. If then it be of such importance to preserve, by physic and other proper means, the vitiated offspring of another body, foul and corrupted; ought we to suffer the hereditary resemblances of a wicked nature to sprout up and bud in the youthful character, and to wait till they are diffused into all the affections of the mind, and bring forth and ripen the malignant fruit of a mischievous disposition? For such is the expression of Pindar.

20. Or can you believe but that in this particular God is wiser than Hesiod, admonishing and exhorting us in this manner:[45]

Nor mind the pleasures of the genial bed, Returning from th’ interment of the dead; But propagate the race, when heavenly food And feasting with the Gods have warmed the blood,

intimating thereby, that a man was never to attempt the work of generation but in the height of a jocund and merry humor, and when he found himself as it were dissolved into jollity; as if from procreation proceeded the impressions not only of vice or virtue, but of sorrow and joy, and of all other qualities and affections whatever. However, it is not the work of human wisdom (as Hesiod supposes) but of divine providence, to foresee the sympathies and differences of men’s natures, before the malignant infection of their unruly passions come to exert itself, by hurrying their unadvised youth into a thousand villanous miscarriages. For though the cubs of bears and whelps of wolves and apes immediately discover their several inbred qualities and natural conditions without any disguise or artificial concealment, man is nevertheless a creature more refined, who, many times curbed by the shame of transgressing common customs, universal opinion, or the law, conceals the evil that is within him, and imitates only what is laudable and honest. So that he may be thought to have altogether cleansed and rinsed away the stains and imperfections of his vicious disposition, and so cunningly for a long time to have kept his natural corruption wrapped up under the covering of craft and dissimulation, that we are scarce sensible of the fallacy till we feel the stripes or sting of his injustice; believing men to be only then unjust, when they offer wrong to ourselves; lascivious, when we see them abandoning themselves to their lusts; and cowards, when we see them turning their backs upon the enemy; just as if any man should be so idle as to believe a scorpion had no sting until he felt it, or that a viper had no venom until it bit him,—which is a silly conceit. For there is no man that only then becomes wicked when he appears to be so; but, having the seeds and principles of iniquity within him long before, the thief steals when he meets with a fit opportunity, and the tyrant violates the law when he finds himself surrounded with sufficient power. But neither is the nature and disposition of any man concealed from God, as taking upon him with more exactness to scrutinize the soul than the body; nor does he tarry till actual violence or lewdness be committed, to punish the hands of the wrong-doer, the tongue of the profane, or the transgressing members of the lascivious and obscene. For he does not exercise his vengeance on the unjust for any wrong that he has received by his injustice, nor is he angry with the highway robber for any violence done to himself, nor does he abominate the adulterer for defiling his bed; but many times, by way of cure and reformation, he chastises the adulterer, the covetous miser, and the wronger of his neighbors, as physicians endeavor to subdue an epilepsy by preventing the coming of the fits.

21. What shall I say? But even a little before we were offended at the Gods protracting and delaying the punishments of the wicked, and now we are as much displeased that they do not curb and chastise the depravities of an evil disposition before the fact committed; not considering that many times a mischief contrived for future execution may prove more dreadful than a fact already committed, and that dormant villany may be more dangerous than open and apparent iniquity; not being able to apprehend the reason wherefore it is better to bear with the unjust actions of some men, and to prevent the meditating and contrivance of mischief in others. As, in truth, we do not rightly comprehend why some remedies and physical drugs are no way convenient for those that labor under a real disease, yet wholesome and profitable for those that are seemingly in health, but yet perhaps in a worse condition than they who are sick. Whence it comes to pass, that the Gods do not always turn the transgressions of parents upon their children; but if a virtuous son happen to be the offspring of a wicked father,—as often it falls out that a sane child is born of one that is unsound and crazy,—such a one is exempted from the punishment which threatens the whole descent, as having been adopted into a virtuous family. But for a young man that treads in the footsteps of a criminal race, it is but just that he should succeed to the punishment of his ancestor’s iniquity, as one of the debts attached to his inheritance. For neither was Antigonus punished for the crimes of Demetrius; nor (among the ancient heroes) Phyleus for the transgressions of Augeas, nor Nestor for the impiety of Neleus; in regard that, though their parents were wicked, yet they were virtuous themselves. But as for those whose nature has embraced and espoused the vices of their parentage, them holy vengeance prosecutes, pursuing the likeness and resemblance of sin. For as the warts and moles and freckles of parents, not seen upon the children of their own begetting, many times afterwards appear again upon the children of their sons and daughters; and as the Grecian woman that brought forth a blackamore infant, for which she was accused of adultery, proved herself, upon diligent inquiry, to be the offspring of an Ethiopian after four generations; and as among the children of Pytho the Nisibian,—said to be descended from the Sparti, that were the progeny of those men that sprung from the teeth of Cadmus’s dragon,—the youngest of his sons, who lately died, was born with the print of a spear upon his body, the usual mark of that ancient line, which, not having been seen for many revolutions of years before, started up again, as it were, out of the deep, and showed itself the renewed testimonial of the infant’s race; so many times it happens that the first descents and eldest races hide and drown the passions and affections of the mind peculiar to the family, which afterward bud forth again, and display the natural propensity of the succeeding progeny to vice or virtue.

22. Having thus concluded, I held my peace; when Olympicus smiling said: We forbear as yet to give you our approbation, that we may not seem to have forgot the fable; not but that we believe your discourse to have been sufficiently made out by demonstration, only we reserve our opinion till we shall have heard the relation of that likewise. Upon which, I began again after this manner: There was one Thespesius of Soli, the friend and familiar acquaintance of that Protogenes who for some time conversed among us. This gentleman, in his youth leading a debauched and intemperate life, in a short time spent his patrimony, and then for some years became very wicked; but afterwards repenting of his former follies and extravagancies, and pursuing the recovery of his lost estate by all manner of tricks and shifts, did as is usual with dissolute and lascivious youth, who when they have wives of their own never mind them at all, but when they have dismissed them, and find them married to others that watch them with a more vigilant affection, endeavor to corrupt and vitiate them by all the unjust and wicked provocations imaginable. In this humor, abstaining from nothing that was lewd and illegal, so it tended to his gain and profit, he got no great matter of wealth, but procured to himself a world of infamy by his unjust and knavish dealing with all sorts of people. Yet nothing made him more the talk of the country, than the answer which was brought him back from the oracle of Amphilochus. For thither it seems he sent, to inquire of the Deity whether he should live any better the remaining part of his life. To which the oracle returned, that it would be better with him after he was dead. And indeed, not long after, in some measure it so fell out; for he happened to fall from a certain precipice upon his neck, and though he received no wound nor broke any limb, yet the force of the fall beat the breath out of his body. Three days after, being carried forth to be buried, as they were just ready to let him down into the grave, of a sudden he came to himself, and recovering his strength, so altered the whole course of his life, that it was almost incredible to all that knew him. For by the report of the Cilicians, there never was in that age a juster person in common dealings between man and man, more devout and religious as to divine worship, more an enemy to the wicked, nor more constant and faithful to his friends; which was the reason that they who were more conversant with him were desirous to hear from himself the cause of so great an alteration, not believing that so great a reformation could proceed from bare chance; though it was true that it did so, as he himself related to Protogenes and others of his choicest friends.

For when his sense first left his body, it seemed to him as if he had been some pilot flung from the helm by the force of a storm into the midst of the sea. Afterwards, rising up again above water by degrees, so soon as he thought he had fully recovered his breath, he looked about him every way, as if one eye of his soul had been open. But he beheld nothing of those things which he was wont formerly to see, only he saw stars of a vast magnitude, at an immense distance one from the other, and sending forth a light most wonderful for the brightness of its color, which shot itself out in length with an incredible force; on which the soul riding, as it were in a chariot, was most swiftly, yet as gently and smoothly, dandled from one place to another. But omitting the greatest part of the sights which he beheld, he saw, as he said, the souls of such as were newly departed, as they mounted from below, resembling little fiery bubbles, to which the air gave way. Which bubbles afterwards breaking insensibly and by degrees, the soul came forth in the shapes of men and women, light and nimble, as being discharged of all their earthly substance. However, they differed in their motion; for some of them leaped forth with a wonderful swiftness, and mounted up in a direct line; others like so many spindles of spinning-wheels turned round and round, sometimes whisking upwards, sometimes darting downwards, with a confused and mixed agitation, that could hardly be stopped in a very long time.

Of these souls he knew not who the most part were; only perceiving two or three of his acquaintance, he endeavored to approach and discourse them. But they neither heard him speak, neither indeed did they seem to be in their right mind, fluttering and out of their senses, avoiding either to be seen or felt; they frisked up and down at first, alone and apart by themselves, till meeting at length with others in the same condition, they clung together; but still their motions were with the same giddiness and uncertainty as before, without steerage or purpose; and they sent forth inarticulate sounds, like the cries of soldiers in combat, intermixed with the doleful yells of fear and lamentation. Others there were that towered aloft in the upper region of the air, and these looked gay and pleasant, and frequently accosted each other with kindness and respect; but they shunned those troubled souls, and seemed to show discontent by crowding together, and joy and pleasure by expanding and separating from each other. One of these, said he, being the soul of a certain kinsman,—which, because the person died when he was but very young, he did not very well know,—drew near him, and saluted him by the name of Thespesius; at which being in a kind of amazement, and saying his name was not Thespesius but Aridaeus, the spirit replied, ’twas true that formerly he was so called, but that from thenceforth he must be Thespesius, that is to say “divine.” For thou art not in the number of the dead as yet, it said, but by a certain destiny and permission of the Gods, thou art come hither only with thy intellectual faculty, having left the rest of thy soul, like an anchor, in thy body. And that thou mayst be assured of this, observe it for a certain rule, both now and hereafter, that the souls of the deceased neither cast any shadow, neither do they open and shut their eyelids. Thespesius having heard this discourse, was so much the more encouraged to make use of his own reason; and therefore looking round about to prove the truth of what had been told him, he could perceive that there followed him a kind of obscure and shadowlike line, whereas those other souls shone like a round body of perfect light, and were transparent within. And yet there was a very great difference between them too; for that some yielded a smooth, even, and contiguous lustre, all of one color, like the full-moon in her brightest splendor; others were marked with long scales or slender streaks; others were all over spotted and very ugly to look upon, as being covered with black speckles like the skins of vipers; and others were marked by faint scratches.

Moreover, this kinsman of Thespesius (for nothing hinders but that we may call the souls by the names of the persons which they enlivened), proceeding to give a relation of several other things, informed his friend how that Adrastea, the daughter of Jupiter and Necessity, was seated in the highest place of all, to punish all manner of crimes and enormities; and that in the whole number of the wicked and ungodly, there never was any one, whether great or little, high or low, rich or poor, that ever could by force or cunning escape the severe lashes of her rigor. But as there are three sorts of punishments, so there are three several Furies, or female ministers of justice; and to every one of these belongs a peculiar office and degree of punishment. The first of these was called Speedy Punishment, who takes in charge those that are presently to receive bodily punishment in this life, which she manages after a more gentle manner, omitting the correction of many offences which need expiation. But if the cure of impiety require a greater labor, the Deity delivers them after death to Justice. But when Justice has given them over as altogether incurable, then the third and most severe of all Adrastea’s ministers, Erinnys (the Fury), takes them in hand; and after she has chased and coursed them from one place to another, flying, yet not knowing where to fly, for shelter or relief, plagued and tormented with a thousand miseries, she plunges them headlong into an invisible abyss, the hideousness of which no tongue can express.

Now, of all these three sorts, that which is inflicted by punishment in this life resembles the practice among the barbarians. For, as among the Persians, they take off the garments and turbans of those that are to be punished, and tear and whip them before the offender’s faces, while the criminals, with tears and lamentations, beseech the executioners to give over; so corporal punishments, and penalties by mulcts and fines, have no sharpness or severity, nor do they take hold upon the vice itself, but are inflicted for the most part only with regard to appearance and to the outward sense. But if any one comes hither that has escaped punishment while he lived upon earth and before he was well purged from his crimes, Justice takes him to task, naked as he is, with his soul displayed, as having nothing to conceal or veil his impiety; but on all sides and to all men’s eyes and every way exposed, she shows him first to his honest parents, if he had any such, to let them see how degenerate he was and unworthy of his progenitors. But if they were wicked likewise, then are their sufferings rendered yet more terrible by the mutual sight of each other’s miseries, and those for a long time inflicted, till each individual crime has been quite effaced with pains and torments as far surmounting in sharpness and severity all punishments and tortures of the flesh, as what is real and evident surpasses an idle dream. But the weals and stripes that remain after punishment appear more signal in some, in others are less evident.

View there, said he, those various colors of souls. That same black and sordid hue is the tincture of avarice and fraud. That bloody and flame-like dye betokens cruelty, and an imbittered desire of revenge. Where you perceive a bluish color, it is a sign that soul will hardly be cleansed from the impurities of lascivious pleasure and voluptuousness. Lastly, that same dark, violet, and venomous color, resembling the sordid ink which the cuttle fish spews up, proceeds from envy. For as during life the wickedness of the soul, being governed by human passions and itself governing the body, occasions this variety of colors; so here it is the end of expiation and punishment, when these are cleansed away, and the soul recovers her native lustre and becomes clear and spotless. But so long as these remain, there will be some certain returns of the passions, accompanied with little pantings and beatings, as it were of the pulse, in some remiss and languid and quickly extinguished, in others more quick and vehement. Some of these souls, being again and again chastised, recover a due habit and disposition; while others, by the force of ignorance and the enticing show of pleasure, are carried into the bodies of brute beasts. For while some, through the feebleness of their ratiocinating, while their slothfulness will not permit them to contemplate, are impelled by their active principle to seek a new generation; others again, wanting the instrument of intemperance, yet desirous to gratify their desires with the full swing of enjoyment, endeavor to promote their designs by means of the body. But alas! here is nothing but an imperfect shadow and dream of pleasure, that never attains to ability of performance.

Having thus said, the spirit quickly carried Thespesius to a certain place, as it appeared to him, prodigiously spacious; yet so gently and without the least deviation, that he seemed to be borne upon the rays of the light as upon wings. Thus at length he came to a certain gaping chasm, that was fathomless downward, where he found himself deserted by that extraordinary force which brought him thither, and perceived other souls also to be there in the same condition. For hovering upon the wing in flocks together like birds, they kept flying round and round the yawning rift, but durst not enter into it. Now this same cleft withinside resembled the dens of Bacchus, fringed about with the pleasing verdure of various herbs and plants, that yielded a more delightful prospect still of all sorts of flowers, enamelling the green so with a wonderful diversity of colors, and breathing forth at the same time a soft and gentle breeze, which perfumed all the ambient air with odors most surprising, as grateful to the smell as the sweet flavor of wine to those that love it. Insomuch that the souls banqueting upon these fragrancies were almost all dissolved in raptures of mirth and caresses one among another, there being nothing to be heard for some fair distance round about the place, but jollity and laughter, and all the cheerful sounds of joy and harmony, which are usual among people that pass their time in sport and merriment.

The spirit said, moreover, that Bacchus ascended through this overture to heaven, and afterwards returning fetched up Semele the same way; and that it was called the place of oblivion. Wherefore his kinsman would not suffer Thespesius to tarry there any longer, though very unwilling to depart, but took him away by force; informing and instructing him withal, how strangely and how suddenly the mind was subject to be softened and melted by pleasure; that the irrational and corporeal part, being watered and incarnated thereby, revives the memory of the body, and that from this remembrance proceed concupiscence and desire, exciting an appetite for a new generation and entrance into a body—which is named γένεσις as being an inclination towards the earth (ἐπὶ γῆν νεῦσις)—when the soul is weighed down with overmuch moisture.

At length, after he had been carried as far another way as when he was transported to the yawning overture, he thought he beheld a prodigious standing goblet, into which several rivers discharged themselves; among which there was one whiter than snow or the foam of the sea, another resembled the purple color of the rainbow. The tinctures of the rest were various; besides that, they had their several lustres at a distance. But when he drew nearer, the ambient air became more subtile and rarefied, and the colors vanished, so the goblet retained no more of its flourishing beauty except the white. At the same time he saw three Daemons sitting together in a triangular aspect, and blending and mixing the rivers together with certain measures. Thus far, said the guide of Thespesius’s soul, did Orpheus come, when he sought after the soul of his wife; and not well remembering what he had seen, upon his return he raised a false report in the world, that the oracle at Delphi was in common to Night and Apollo, whereas Apollo never had any thing in common with Night. But, said the spirit, this oracle is in common to Night and to the Moon, no way included within earthly bounds, nor having any fixed or certain seat, but always wandering among men in dreams and visions. For from hence it is that all dreams are dispersed, compounded as they are of truth jumbled with falsehood, and sincerity with the various mixtures of craft and delusion. But as for the oracle of Apollo, said the spirit, you neither do see it, neither can you behold it; for the earthly part of the soul is not capable to release or let itself loose, nor is it permitted to reach sublimity, but it swags downward, as being fastened to the body.

And with that, leading Thespesius nearer, the spirit endeavored to show him the light of the Tripod, which, as he said, shooting through the bosom of Themis, fell upon Parnassus; which Thespesius was desirous to see, but could not, in regard the extraordinary brightness of the light dazzled his eyes; only passing by, he heard the shrill voice of a woman speaking in verse and measure, and among other things, as he thought, foretelling the time of his death. This the genius told him was the voice of a Sibyl who, being orbicularly whirled about in the face of the moon, continually sang of future events. Thereupon being desirous to hear more, he was tossed the quite contrary way by the violent motion of the moon, as by the force of rolling waves; so that he could hear but very little, and that very concisely too. Among other things, he heard what was prophesied concerning the mountain Vesuvius, and the future destruction of Dicaearchia by fire; together with a piece of a verse concerning a certain emperor[46] or great famous chieftain of that age,

Who, though so just that no man could accuse, Howe’er his empire should by sickness lose.

After this, they passed on to behold the torments of those that were punished. And indeed at first they met with none but lamentable and dismal sights. For Thespesius, when he least suspected any such thing, and before he was aware, was got among his kindred, his acquaintance, and companions, who, groaning under the horrid pains of their cruel and ignominious punishments, with mournful cries and lamentations called him by his name. At length he saw his father ascending out of a certain abyss, all full of stripes, gashes, and scars; who stretching forth his hands—not permitted to keep silence, but constrained to confess by his tormentors—acknowledged that he had most impiously poisoned several of his guests for the sake of their gold; of which not being detected while he lived upon earth, but being convicted after his decease, he had endured part of his torments already, and now they were haling him where he should suffer more. However, he durst not either entreat or intercede for his father, such was his fear and consternation; and therefore being desirous to retire and be gone, he looked about for his kind and courteous guide; but he had quite left him, so that he saw him no more.

Nevertheless, being pushed forward by other deformed and grim-looked goblins, as if there had been some necessity for him to pass forward, he saw how that the shadows of such as had been notorious malefactors, and had been punished in this world, were not tormented so grievously nor alike to the others, in regard that only the imperfect and irrational part of the soul, which was consequently most subject to passions, was that which made them so industrious in vice. Whereas those who had shrouded a vicious and impious life under the outward profession and a gained opinion of virtue, their tormentors constrained to turn their insides outward with great difficulty and dreadful pain, and to writhe and screw themselves contrary to the course of nature, like the sea scolopenders, which, having swallowed the hook, throw forth their bowels and lick it out again. Others they flayed and scarified, to display their occult hypocrisies and latent impieties, which had possessed and corrupted the principal part of their souls. Other souls, as he said, he also saw, which being twisted two and two, three and three, or more together gnawed and devoured each other, either upon the score of old grudges and former malice they had borne one another, or else in revenge of the injuries and losses they had sustained upon earth.

Moreover, he said, there were certain lakes that lay parallel and equidistant one from the other, the one of boiling gold, another of lead, exceeding cold, and the third of iron, which was very scaly and rugged. By the sides of these lakes stood certain Daemons, that with their instruments, like smiths or founders, put in or drew out the souls of such as had transgressed either through avarice or an eager desire of other men’s goods. For the flame of the golden furnace having rendered these souls of a fiery and transparent color, they plunged them into that of lead; where after they were congealed and hardened into a substance like hail, they were then thrown into the lake of iron, where they became black and deformed, and being broken and crumbled by the roughness of the iron, changed their form; and being thus transformed, they were again thrown into the lake of gold; in all these transmutations enduring most dreadful and horrid torments. But they that suffered the most dire and dismal torture of all were those who, thinking that divine vengeance had no more to say to them, were again seized and dragged to repeated execution; and these were those for whose transgression their children or posterity had suffered. For when any of the souls of those children come hither and meet with any of their parents or ancestors, they fall into a passion, exclaim against them, and show them the marks of what they have endured. On the other side, the souls of the parents endeavor to sneak out of sight and hide themselves; but the others follow them so close at the heels, and load them in such a manner with bitter taunts and reproaches, that not being able to escape, their tormentors presently lay hold of them, and hale them to new tortures, howling and yelling at the very thought of what they have suffered already. And some of these souls of suffering posterity, he said, there were, that swarmed and clung together like bees or bats, and in that posture murmured forth their angry complaints of the miseries and calamities which they had endured for their sakes.

The last things that he saw were the souls of such as were designed for a second life. These were bowed, bent, and transformed into all sorts of creatures by the force of tools and anvils and the strength of workmen appointed for that purpose, that laid on without mercy, bruising the whole limbs of some, breaking others, disjointing others, and pounding some to powder and annihilation, on purpose to render them fit for other lives and manners. Among the rest, he saw the soul of Nero many ways most grievously tortured, but more especially transfixed with iron nails. This soul the workmen took in hand; but when they had forged it into the form of one of Pindar’s vipers, which eats its way to life through the bowels of the female, of a sudden a conspicuous light shone out, and a voice was heard out of the light, which gave order for the transfiguring it again into the shape of some more mild and gentle creature; and so they made it to resemble one of those creatures that usually sing and croak about the sides of ponds and marshes. For indeed he had in some measure been punished for the crimes he had committed; besides, there was some compassion due to him from the Gods, for that he had restored the Grecians to their liberty, a nation the most noble and best beloved of the Gods among all his subjects. And now being about to return, such a terrible dread surprised Thespesius as had almost frighted him out of his wits. For a certain woman, admirable for her form and stature, laying hold of his arm, said to him: Come hither, that thou mayst the better be enabled to retain the remembrance of what thou hast seen. With that she was about to strike him with a small fiery wand, not much unlike to those that painters use; but another woman prevented her. After this, as he thought himself, he was whirled or hurried away with a strong and violent wind, forced as it were through a pipe; and so lighting again into his own body, he awoke and found himself on the brink of his own grave.

OF NATURAL AFFECTION TOWARDS ONE’S OFFSPRING.

1. Appeals to foreign judicatures first came in request among the Grecians out of their distrust of one another’s justice, they deeming it as requisite to fetch justice from abroad, as any other necessary commodity which was not of their own growth. And is it not even so that philosophers, by reason of dissensions amongst themselves, have in the decision of some questions appealed to the nature of irrational beings, as to a strange city, and have submitted the final determination of such questions to the affections or to the dispositions of brutes, as being unbiassed and not corrupted by bribes? Or else this is the general complaint of human frailty, that while we differ about the most necessary and the greatest things, we consult horses, dogs, and birds, how we should marry, beget children, and bring them up; and, as if the evidence of Nature in ourselves were not to be trusted, we appeal to the dispositions and affections of brute beasts, and testify against the manifold transgressions of our own lives, intimating how at the very first and in the first things we are confounded and disturbed. For Nature conserves the propriety in them pure, unmixed, and simple; but in men, the mixture of ascititious opinions and judgments (as oil is served by the druggists) alters the properties, and does not preserve what is their peculiar. Nor need we wonder if irrational animals follow Nature more than rational; for plants do it more than animals, for they have neither imagination nor passion for what is not according to Nature, but are bound in chains, and ever go that one way that Nature leads them. Brutes do little regard gentleness, wit, or liberty; they have indeed the use of irrational incitements and appetites, which put them upon wandering and running about,—but seldom far, for they seem to lie at the anchor of Nature, who guides them in the right way (as it were) by bit and bridle. But reason, the lord and master in man, finds sometimes one turning, sometimes another; but in all its wanderings leaves no mark or footstep of Nature.

2. But in brutes observe how all things are accommodated to Nature. As to marriages, they tarry not till laws are passed against celibacy and late marriages, as Lycurgus and Solon’s citizens did; they matter not the disgrace of wanting children; nor are they ambitious of the honor of having three children, as many Romans, who marry and get children, not that they may have heirs, but that they may get estates. Again, the male accompanies with the female not at all times, because not pleasure but procreation is his end. Therefore in the spring time, when the fruitful breezes blow and the air is of a pregnant temper, then the female approaches the male, gentle and desirable, wantoning in the sweet smell and peculiar ornament of her body, full of dew and pure grass; and when she perceives she has conceived, she modestly departs, and provides for her bringing forth and for the safety of what she shall be delivered of. What brutes do cannot be sufficiently expressed; in all of them their affection to their young is evident by their providence, patience, and continence. Indeed we call the bee wise, and we celebrate her who “deviseth the yellow honey,” flattering her for glutting us with her sweetness; but the wisdom and art of other creatures, about their bringing forth and the rearing their young, we wholly neglect. For instance, first, the king-fisher, when she has conceived, makes her nest of the prickles of the sea-needle, weaving them one among another, in form of a long oval fishing-net; then she puts it under the dashing of the waters, that being by degrees beaten upon and milled, it may acquire a smooth surface, and become so solid that it cannot easily be divided by either stone or iron. And what is more wonderful, the mouth of the nest is so exactly fitted to the king-fisher, that neither a greater nor a less animal can enter it; and when she is in (as they say) it will not admit the sea-water. The sea-fish called γαλεοί give birth to their young within themselves, let them go abroad to feed, and then take them into their bellies again when they go to sleep. The bear, a most fierce and ugly beast, brings forth her young shapeless and without limbs, but with her tongue, as with a tool, she shapes the members; so that she seems not only to bring forth but to work out her young. And Homer’s lioness,—

Thus in the centre of some gloomy wood, With many a step the lioness surrounds Her tawny young, beset by men and hounds; Elate her heart, and rousing all her powers, Dark o’er the fiery balls each hanging eyebrow lowers;[47]

does she not, I say, look as if she were contriving how to make a bargain with the huntsman for her whelps? For generally the love of their young makes bold creatures timorous, the slothful industrious, and the voracious parsimonious. So Homer’s bird “gives to her young, though with herself it go hard.”[48] She feeds them by starving herself, and when she has taken up her food, she lays it down again, and keeps it down with her bill, lest she should swallow it unawares. In like manner,

For tender whelps, when strangers come in sight, The barking bitch prepares herself to fight;[49]

and fear for her young turns into a second passion. When partridges and their young are pursued, the old suffer the young to fly away before, so contriving it that the fowler may think to catch them. Thus they hover about, run forward a little, then turn again, and so detain the fowler till their young are safe. We daily behold hens, how they cherish their chickens, taking some of them under their spread wings, suffering others of them to run upon their backs, and taking them in again, with a voice expressing kindness and joy. When themselves are concerned, they fly from dogs and serpents; but to defend their chickens, they will venture beyond their strength and fight.

And shall we think that Nature has bred such affections in these creatures, because she is solicitous for the propagation of hens, dogs, and bears, and not that she may by these means make us ashamed? Certainly we must conclude that these creatures, following the duct of nature, are for our example, and that they much upbraid the remorselessness of humanity, of which human nature alone is culpable, in not being capable of gratuitous love, nor knowing how to be a friend without profit. Well therefore might the comedian be admired who said, For reward only man loves man. Epicurus thinks that after this manner children are beloved of their parents, and parents of their children. But if the benefit of speech were allowed to brutes, and if horses, cows, dogs, and birds were brought upon the stage, and the song were changed, and it were said that neither the bitch loved her whelps for gain, nor the mare her foal, nor fowls their chickens, but that they were all beloved gratis and by impulse of nature, then by the affection of all brutes this assertion would be approved as just and true. And is it not a shame, that the procreation of beasts, their birth, pains in birth, and their education, should be by nature and gratis, and yet for these things that man should require usury, rewards, and bribes?

BOOK IX. (part 8)

3. This assertion, as to pure Nature, can never be true, nor ought it to be believed. For, as in wild plants, such as wild vines, figs, and olives, Nature has implanted the principles of cultivated fruit, though crude and imperfect; so she has endowed beasts with a love of their young, though imperfect and not attaining to justice, nor proceeding further than utility. But in man, whom she produced a rational and political being, inclining him to justice, law, religion, building of cities, and friendship, she hath placed the seed of those things that are generous, fair, and fruitful,—that is, the love of their children,—following the first principles which entered into the very constitution of their bodies. For terms and expressions are wanting to declare with what industry Nature—who is skilful, unerring, and not to be surpassed, and (as Erasistratus says) has nothing idle or frivolous—has contrived all things pertaining to the procreation of mankind; and modesty will not permit it. The making and economy of milk sufficiently speak her providence and care. In women what abundance of blood more than serves for necessary uses, which, through languidness and want of spirit, wanders about and disturbs the body; being at other times by Nature in monthly periods discharged by proper canals and passages, for the relief and purgation of the body, and to render the womb like a field fit for the plough and seed, and desirous of it at seasons. But when the womb has caught the seed, and it has taken root (for the navel as Democritus says, grows first, like an anchor to keep the foetus from fluctuating, or as a stay or footstalk to the child), then Nature stops the passages proper for monthly purgations, and keeps the superfluous blood after that for nourishment and to moisten the birth, which now begins to be formed and fashioned, and at the end of a set number of days increases so in the womb, that it must seek another place and other sort of food. Then Nature, more diligent than any husbandman, deriving the blood to other uses, has as it were some subterranean fountains, which receive the affluent liquors; and they receive them not negligently nor without affection, but with a gentle heat and womanish softness they concoct, mollify, and alter them; for in this manner are the breasts internally affected and tempered. And milk is not poured out of them by pipes in a full stream; but the breasts, terminating in flesh that is pervious by small and insensible passages, do afford store of sweet and pleasant sucking to the infant’s mouth. But for all this, such and so many instruments for procreation, such preparation, so great industry and providence, were all to no purpose, unless Nature had inbred in the mothers a love and care of their offspring.

Than man more wretched naught takes breath, Not th’ vilest thing that creeps on earth;[50]

which infallibly holds good of infants new-born. For nothing can be beheld so imperfect, helpless, naked, shapeless, and nasty, as man is just at his birth; to whom alone almost Nature has denied a cleanly passage into the world; and as he is smeared with blood, and daubed with filth, more like to one killed than to one new-born, he could never be touched, taken in arms, kissed, or hugged by any one to whom Nature had not given an inbred affection for him. Therefore other animals have their dugs below their belly, which grow on woman above her breast, that she may the more conveniently kiss, embrace, and cherish her infant; because the end of bringing forth and rearing is not necessity but love.

4. For let us look back to ancient times, to those who first brought forth and who first saw a child born. Upon them certainly no law enjoined any necessity of rearing their offspring, nor could expectation of thanks oblige them to feed their infants, as if it were for usury. Nay, rather, they were angry with their children, and long remembered the injuries they had received from them, as authors of so many dangers and of so much pain and travail to them.

As when keen darts the fierce Ilithyiae send; The powers that cause the teeming matron’s throes. Sad mothers of unutterable woes![51]

These verses, some say, were not written by Homer, but by some Homeress, who either had been or was then in travail, and felt the very pangs in her bowels. Yet the love implanted by Nature melts and sways the childbed woman. While she is still in a sweat and trembling for pain, she is not averse to her infant; but turns it to her, smiles on it, hugs and kisses it. Though she finds no true sweetness, nor yet profit, however, “she sometimes rocks it in a warm cradle, sometimes she dances it in the cool air, turning one toil into another, resting neither night nor day.”

For what reward or gain was all this? For as little then as now; for the hopes are uncertain and far off. He that plants a vine in the vernal equinox gathers grapes upon it in the autumnal. He that sows wheat at the setting of the Pleiades reaps it at their rising. Cows, mares, and birds bring forth young ready for use. Man’s education is laborious, his increase slow, his virtue lies at a distance; so that most parents die before their children show their virtue. Neocles never saw Themistocles’s victory at Salamis, nor Miltiades the valor of Cimon at Eurymedon; Xanthippus never heard Pericles pleading; nor Aristo Plato philosophizing; nor did the fathers of Euripides and Sophocles know the victories their sons won, though they heard them indeed stammering and learning to talk. It is the mishap of fathers to see the revelling, drinking, and love intrigues of their children; to which purpose that of Evenus is memorable,

Terror or grief unto his father’s heart A son must ever be.

And yet men find no end of rearing of children; they especially who have no need of them. For it is ridiculous to think that rich men, when they have children born to them, sacrifice and rejoice that they may have some to maintain and to bury them. Or is it perhaps that they bring up children for want of heirs, because, forsooth, men cannot be found to accept of another man’s estate? “Sand, dust, and the feathers of all the birds in the world, are not so numerous” as heirs are to other men’s estates. Danaus was the father of fifty daughters; but if he had wanted issue, he might have had many more heirs. The case is far otherwise with children; they make not acknowledgments nor curry favor nor pay their devotions, as expecting the inheritance of due. But you may hear strangers who hang about them that have no heirs, talking like the comedian:

O Demos, having after judgment bathed, Drink, eat a morsel, take three oboli.[52]

And what Euripides said,

’Tis money that procures us friends to choose, And mightiest power o’er all things that men use,

does not universally hold true, but of such only as have no children. To such the rich give banquets, such great men honor, and for such only lawyers plead gratis. “A rich man who has no known heir can do great matters.” Many a man who has had a great number of friends and followers, as soon as he has had a child, has been divested of all his alliances and power. So that children do not augment a man’s power; but their whole power over their parents’ affection is due to Nature, and is shown no less in men than in beasts.

5. But this natural affection, like many other good qualities in men, may be choked and obscured by vices; as when a wild forest is sown with garden-seeds. Can we say that man loves not himself, because some hang themselves, others break their own necks, Oedipus put out his own eyes,[53] and Hegesias, by his disputation, persuaded many of his auditors to pine themselves to death?

For fatal things in various shapes do walk.[54]

But all these things are disease and craziness of mind, transporting a man out of his own nature; and in this men testify against themselves. For if a sow or a bitch kill the young they have brought forth, men look dejected, are disturbed, sacrifice to the Gods to avert the mischief, and do account it a miracle; because men know that Nature has implanted in all creatures the love of their young, so that they should feed them and not kill them. For as among metals gold, though mixed with much rubbish, will appear; so Nature, even in vicious deeds and affection, declares the love to posterity. For poor people do not rear their children, fearing that, if they should not be well educated, they would prove slavish, clownish, and destitute of all things commendable; since they cannot endure to entail poverty, which they look upon as the worst of all evils or diseases, upon their posterity.

CONCERNING THE FORTUNE OF THE ROMANS.

1. Among the many warm disputes which have often happened between Virtue and Fortune, this concerning the Roman empire is none of the least considerable, whether of them shall have the honor of founding that empire at first, and raising it afterwards to vast power and glory. The victory in this cause will be no small commendation of the conqueror, and will sufficiently vindicate either of the contending parties from the allegations that are usually made against it. For Virtue is accused as unprofitable, though beautiful, and Fortune as unstable, though good; the former as laboring in vain, the latter as deceitful in its gifts. But who can deny but Virtue has been most profitable, if Rome does favor her cause in this contention, since she procured so much good to brave and gallant men; or that Fortune is most constant, if she be victorious in this contest, since she continued her gifts with the Romans for so long a time?

Ion the poet has written somewhere in prose, that Fortune and Wisdom, though they be very much different from one another, are nevertheless the causes of the very same effects. Both of them do advance and adorn men; both do raise them to glory, power, and empire. It were needless to multiply instances by a long enumeration of particulars, when even Nature itself, which produces all things, is by some reputed Fortune, and by others Wisdom. And therefore the present controversy will conciliate ciliate great honor and veneration to the city of Rome, since she is thought worthy of the same enquiry which uses to be made concerning the earth and seas, the heavens and the stars,—whether she owes her being to Fortune or to Providence.

2. In which question, I think it may be truly affirmed that, notwithstanding the fierce and lasting wars which have been between Virtue and Fortune, they did both amicably conspire to rear up the structure of her vast empire and power, and join their united endeavors to finish the most beautiful work that ever was of human production. It was the opinion of Plato, that the whole world was composed of fire and earth, as necessary first principles, which being mixed together did render it visible and tangible,—the earth contributing weight and firmness, while the fire gave color, form, and motion to the several parts of matter; but for the tempering and union of these extremes, he thought it necessary that the water and air, being of a middle nature, should mitigate and rebate the contrary force by composition. After the same manner did God and Time, who laid the foundations of Rome, conjoin and mingle Virtue and Fortune together, that by the union of their several powers, they might compose a Vesta, truly sacred and beneficent to all men, which should be a firm stay, an eternal support, and a steady anchor (as Democritus calls it) amidst the fluctuating and uncertain affairs of human life. For as naturalists say, that the world was not framed at first into that beautiful order and structure in which we now behold it, nor would these several bodies that compose it unite and mix so that Nature might receive a common form by their union, but that all things did fluctuate a long while in confusion and crashing,—whilst some bodies were still small and variously moved, and slipped and avoided all seizure and connections, and others which were greater and already compacted, being of contrary natures, did frequently justle and jar one against another,—and that all was full of destruction and confusion and wreck, until such time as the earth, being framed of them both in its due magnitude, was established in its proper place, and by its stability gave occasion to all the other bodies of the universe either to settle upon it or round about it; just so it happened to the greatest kingdoms and empires of men, which were long tossed with various changes and broken in pieces by mutual clashings. And for want of one supreme ruler over all, while all aspired to rule, the world was filled with unspeakable violence, confusion, and revolution in all things, until such time as Rome was raised to its just strength and greatness, which, comprehending under her power many strange nations and even transmarine dominions, did lay the foundation of firmness and stability to the greatest of human affairs; for by this vast compass of one and the same empire, government was secured as in an unmovable circle, resting upon the centre of peace. Whosoever therefore contrived and compassed these great designs must not only have been endowed with all virtues, but likewise have been assisted by Fortune in many things; as will plainly appear from the following discourse.

3. And now methinks I behold, as from a turret, Virtue and Fortune coming to this conference. As to Virtue, her gait is modest, her countenance grave, the blushing color of her face shows her earnest desire of obtaining victory and honor in this contest. Fortune in her hasty pace, leaves her far behind, but she is led and accompanied by many brave and gallant men.

A martial host, ghastly with bloody arms,[55]

all wounded in the fore part of their bodies, distilling blood mingled with sweat, and they lean upon the bending spoils of their enemies. If you enquire who they are, they answer, We are of the Fabricii, Camilli, and Lucii, and Cincinnati, and Fabii Maximi, and Claudii Marcelli, and the Scipios. I perceive also in the train of Virtue Caius Marius angry with Fortune, and Mucius Scaevola holding out his burning hand and crying with a loud voice, Will ye attribute this to Fortune also? And Marcus Horatius, who behaved himself gallantly at the river Tiber, when he cut the bridge and swam over, being loaded with Tyrrhenian darts, showing his wounded thigh, thus expostulates from out of the deep whirlpit of the river, Was I also thus maimed by mere chance? Such is the company of Virtue, when she comes to the dispute; “a company powerful in arms, terrible to their foes.”

4. But as to Fortune, her gait is hasty, her looks bold, her hope arrogant; and leaving Virtue far behind her, she enters the lists, not, as she is described, with light wings, balancing herself in the air, or lightly tripping with her tiptoes upon the convexity of the globe, as if she were presently to vanish away out of sight. No, she does not appear here in any such doubtful and uncertain posture; but as the Spartans say that Venus, when she passed over the Eurotas, put off her gewgaws and female ornaments, and armed herself with spear and shield for the sake of Lycurgus; so Fortune, having deserted the Persians and Assyrians, did swiftly fly over Macedonia, and quickly threw off her favorite Alexander the Great, and after that, having passed through the countries of Egypt and Syria, and oftentimes by turns supported the Carthaginians, she did at last fly over Tiber to the Palatine Mount, and there she put off her wings, her Mercurial shoes, and left her slippery and deceitful globe. Thus she entered Rome, as one that was to be resident there, and thus she comes to the bar in this controversy. She is no more uncertain, as Pindar describes her; she does not henceforth guide a double helm, but continues constant to the Romans, and therefore may be called the sister of Eunomia and Persuasion, and the daughter of Providence, as Alcman describes her pedigree. This is certain in the opinion of all men, that she holds in her hand the Horn of Plenty, not that which is filled with verdant fruits, but that which pours forth abundance of all things which the earth or the sea, the rivers or the metals, or the harbors afford. Several illustrious and famous men are seen to accompany her, Numa Pompilius from the Sabines, and Priscus from Tarquinii, whom, being foreigners and strangers, Fortune seated on the throne of Romulus. Aemilius Paulus also, bringing back his army from Perseus and the Macedonians, and triumphing in an unbloody and entire victory, does greatly magnify and extol Fortune. The same does Caecilius Metellus, that brave old gentleman surnamed Macedonicus, whose corpse was carried forth to its funeral by his four sons, Quintus Balearicus, Lucius Diadematus, Marcus Metellus, and Caius Caprarius, and his two sons-in-law,—who were all six honorable men, and of consular dignity,—and also by his two grandsons, who were famous for the good offices they did to the commonwealth, both abroad by their heroical actions and at home by the administration of justice. Aemilius Scaurus, from a mean estate and a meaner family, was raised by Fortune to that height of dignity that he was chosen Prince of the Senate. It was Fortune that took Cornelius Sylla out of the bosom of Nicopolis the whore, and exalted him above the Cimbrian triumphs of Marius and the dignity of his seven consulships, giving him at once the powers of a monarch and a dictator; upon which account he adopted himself and all his memorable actions to Fortune, crying out with Oedipus in Sophocles, I think myself the son of Fortune.[56] In the Roman tongue he was called Felix, the happy; but he writ himself to the Greeks Lucius Cornelius Sylla Venustus, i.e. Beloved of Venus,—which is also the inscription on all his trophies, both those at Chaeronea with us, and those in honor of his victories over Mithridates; and that not without reason, since it is not the Night, as Menander thought, but Fortune, that enjoys the greatest part of Venus.

5. And thus, having made a seasonable beginning in defence of Fortune, we may now call in, for witnesses in this cause, the Romans themselves, who attributed more to Fortune than to Virtue. For the temple of Virtue was but lately built by Scipio Numantinus, a long time after the building of the city. And after that, Marcellus dedicated a temple to Virtue and Honor; and Aemilius Scaurus, who lived in the time of the Cimbrian war, founded another to the Mind, when now, by the subtilties of sophisters and encomiastics of orators, these things began to be mightily extolled. And to this very day there is no temple built to Wisdom, nor to Temperance, Patience, Magnanimity, or Continence. On the contrary, the temples dedicated to Fortune are splendid and ancient, almost as old as the first foundations of Rome itself. The first that built her a temple was Ancus Marcius, born of the sister of Numa, being the third king from Romulus; and he seems to have made Fortune surname to Fortitude, to which she contributes very much for obtaining victory. The Romans built the temple of Feminine Fortune before the time of Camillus, when by the help of the women they turned back Marcius Coriolanus, leading up the Volsci against the city of Rome; for the women being sent ambassadors to him, together with his mother and wife, prevailed with the man to spare the city at that time and to draw off the army of the barbarians. It is said that this statue of Fortune, when it was consecrated, uttered these words: It was piously done, O ye city matrons, to dedicate me by the law of your state. But (which is more remarkable) Furius Camillus, having quenched the flame of the Gallic war, and rescued Rome from the balance and scales in which her price was weighed to them in gold, did not upon this occasion found a temple to Prudence and Fortitude, but to Fame and Presage; which he built hard by the New Way, in that very place where (it is said) Marcus Caedicius walking in the night-time heard a prophetical voice, commanding him shortly to expect a war from the Gauls. And the Fortune whose temple is near the river they call Fortis (that is, stout, or valiant, or manly), as having the power of conquering all things.[57] And her temple is built in those very gardens which were left by Caesar as a legacy to the people, because they thought that he also was raised to the height of power by the favor of Fortune.

6. And so Caesar himself testified, otherwise I should be ashamed to say such a thing of so great a person. For when he loosed from Brundisium, and embarked in pursuit of Pompey, on the fourth day of January, though it was then the latter end of winter, he passed over the sea in safety by the good conduct of Fortune, which was stronger than the rigor of the season. And when he found Pompey powerful by sea and land, with all his forces lying together, and himself with his small party altogether unable to give him battle, while the army of Antonius and Sabinus lagged behind, he ventured to set forth again in a little bark, unknown either to the master of the vessel or the pilot, who took him for some servant. But when he saw the pilot began to change his purpose of putting out to sea, because of the violence of the waves, which hindered the sailing out at the mouth of the river, he presently plucked off the disguise from his head and showed himself, encouraging the pilot in these words: Put on, brave fellow, and fear nothing, but commit the sails to Fortune, and expose all boldly to the winds; for thou carriest Caesar and Caesar’s fortune. So resolute was Caesar upon this assurance, that Fortune did favor him in his voyages and journeys, his armies and battles; and that it was her province to give calmness to the sea and warmth to a winter season, to give swiftness to the slowest, and vigor to the most sluggish creatures; and (which is more incredible than all this) he believed that Fortune put Pompey to flight, and gave Ptolemy the opportunity of murdering his guest, so that Pompey should fall and Caesar be innocent.

7. What shall I say of his son, the first that had the honor to be surnamed Augustus, who was emperor four and fifty years? Did not he pray the Gods for his grandson, when he sent him forth to battle, to grant him the courage of Scipio, and the wisdom of Pompey, but his own Fortune, as counting her the chief artificer of his wonderful self? It was she that imposed him upon Cicero, Lepidus, Pansa, Hirtius, and Mark Antony, and by their victories and famous exploits, by their navies, battles, and armies, raised him to the greatest height of power and honor, degrading them by whose means he was thus advanced. For it was for him that Cicero governed the state, Lepidus conducted the armies, and Pansa gained the victories. It was for him that Hirtius fell, and Mark Antony committed licentious outrages. Nay, even Cleopatra herself is to be reckoned as part of his good fortune; for on her, as on a dangerous rock, Antony was shipwrecked, although he was so mighty a commander, that Augustus alone might wear the title of Caesar. It is reported of Antony and Augustus, when they lived familiarly together in daily conversation, that Antony was always beaten by Caesar at ball or dice, and in quail or cock fighting. Whereupon a certain friend, who pretended to the art of divination, did freely admonish Antony, and say: “What have you to do, my friend, with this young man? Why don’t you avoid his company? You excel him in glory and largeness of empire, you exceed him in age and experience, having signalized your valor in the wars. But your Genius is afraid of his; your Fortune, which is great by itself, does fawn upon his, and will undoubtedly pass over to him, unless you remove yourself to a great distance.”

8. By these testimonies of men the cause of Fortune is supported; after which I proceed now to other arguments taken from the things themselves, beginning from the first foundations of the city of Rome. And first of all, it cannot be denied that, by the birth and preservation of Romulus, by his education and growth, the foundations of Rome were first laid by Fortune; but then withal it must be acknowledged that Virtue finished the building. As to their origin and birth who first founded and built the city, it looked like a wonderful good Fortune. For it is said that their mother conceived by a God; and as Hercules is said to have been sown in a long night, the natural day being preternaturally prolonged by the sun’s standing still; so it is reported concerning the begetting of Romulus, that the sun was eclipsed at the time, being in conjunction with the moon, as the immortal God Mars was with the mortal Sylvia. The same is said to have happened about the time of his death. For on the seventh of July, called Nonae Capratinae, which is a feast observed to this day with great solemnity, while the sun was under an eclipse, he suddenly vanished out of the sight of men. After their nativity, when the tyrant would have murdered the new-born babes, by the conduct of Fortune, who was concerned for the preservation of their lives, Romulus and Remus fell into the hands of a servant no ways barbarous and cruel, but pitiful and tender-hearted, who laid them on the pleasant green bank of a river, in a place shaded with lowly shrubs, near to that wild fig-tree, to which the name of Ruminalis was afterwards given. There it was that a she-wolf, having lost her young whelps, by chance lighted on them, and being burdened with her swollen dugs, inflamed for want of evacuation, she gladly let out her overheated milk, as if it had been a second birth, and suckled the young children. The woodpecker also, a bird sacred to Mars, came often unto them, and supporting herself upon one claw, she did by turns open both their mouths with the other, and distribute unto each of them convenient gobbets of her own food. This fig-tree was therefore called Ruminalis, from Ruma, the dug, which the wolf lying down there gave to the infants. And from a veneration of this strange chance of Romulus and of every thing resembling it, the inhabitants thereabout would not expose any of their offspring; but they carefully reared and fostered all new births.

Above all things, the hidden craft of Fortune appeared in their education at the city Gabii; for there they were secretly nursed and brought up, and the people knew nothing of their pedigree, that they were the sons of Sylvia and the grandchildren of king Numitor; which seems to be so ordered on purpose to prevent that untimely death which the knowledge of their royal race would occasion, and to give them opportunity of showing themselves hereafter by their famous exploits, and discovering the nobility of their extraction by their heroical actions. And this brings to my mind the saying of that great and wise commander Themistocles to some of the Athenian captains, who, having followed him in the wars with good success, were grown ambitious to be preferred above him. There was an eager contest, said he, between the festival day and the day following, for precedency. Thou, says the following day, art full of tumult and business, but I give men the peaceful opportunity of enjoying themselves. Ay, says the festival, that’s true; but then, I pray you, tell me, if I had not been, where had you been? So, says Themistocles, if I had not preserved my country in the war with the Medes, what use would there be of you now? And after this manner Fortune seems to accost the virtue of Romulus: it is true indeed, your actions are great and famous, by which you have clearly shown that you are descended of the race of the Gods. But see now how far you come behind me. For if I had not relieved the infants in their distress by my bounty and humanity, if I had deserted and betrayed them when they lay naked and exposed, how could you have appeared with such lustre and splendor as now you do? If a she-wolf had not then lighted upon them, inflamed with the abundance and pressure of her milk, which wanted one to give food unto more than any food for herself; if some wild beast had happened to come in her stead, hungry and ravaging for meat; then there had been no such beautiful and stately palaces, temples, theatres, walks, courts, and forum, as now you justly glory of; then your followers had still been shepherds, and your buildings cottages or stables, and they had still lived in subjection to the Albanian, Tyrrhenian, or Latin lords. Certainly the first beginning of all things is of greatest importance, and more especially in building of a city. But it was Fortune that first gave a beginning to Rome, by preserving the founder of it in so many dangers to which he was exposed. For as Virtue made Romulus great, so Fortune preserved him till his virtue did appear.

9. It is confessed by all, that the reign of Numa, which lasted longest, was conducted by a wonderful good fortune. For as to the story of the wise goddess Egeria, one of the Dryades,—that she being in love conversed familiarly with him, and assisted him in laying the platform and cementing the frame of the commonwealth,—it appears to be rather fabulous than true, since there were others that had Goddesses for their wives and are said to have been loved by them, such as Peleus, Anchises, Orion, and Emathion, who, for all that, did not live so pleasantly and free from trouble. But Numa seems to have had good fortune for his domestic companion and colleague in the government, which, receiving the city of Rome into her protection, at such time as she was tossed like a troublesome sea by the wars of neighboring states, and inflamed with intestine feuds, did quickly heal those breaches and allay those storms that threatened her ruin. And as the sea is said to receive the halcyon brood in a tempest, which it preserves and nourishes; so the people of Rome being lately gathered together, after various commotions and tossings, were by Fortune delivered from all wars, diseases, dangers, and terrors, and settled in such a lasting peace, that they had time and leisure to take root in their new soil and grow up securely into a well-compacted city. For as a great ship or galley is not made without many blows, and much force from hammers, nails, wedges, saws, and axes, and being once built, it must rest for some time upon the stocks, until the bands of its structure grow strong and tenacious, and the nails be well fastened which hold its parts together, lest, being launched while it is loose and unsettled, the hulk should be shattered by the concussion of the waves and let in the water,—so the first artificer of Rome, having built the city of rustical men and shepherds, as on strong foundations, was forced to endure hard labor and maintain dangerous wars against those who opposed its first origination and institution; but after it was once framed and compacted by this force, the second artificer, by the benignity of Fortune, gave it so long rest and peace, till all its parts were consolidated and settled in a firm and lasting posture. But if at that time, when the city was newly built, some Porsena had advanced the Etruscan camp and army to the walls, being yet moist and trembling, or some warlike revolter of the Marsian grandees, or some envious and contentious Lucanian, such as in latter times were Mutius or the bold Silo, or the last plague of Sylla’s faction, Telesinus, who with one alarm armed all Italy,—if any of these, I say, had encompassed the philosopher Numa with the sound of trumpets, while he was sacrificing and praying to the Gods, the city being yet unsettled and unfinished, he could never have resisted so great a torrent and tempest, nor increased unto so great numbers of stout and valiant men.

That long time of peace therefore in Numa’s reign did prepare and fortify the Romans against all the wars which happened afterwards; for by its continuance, during the space of forty-three years, the body of the people was confirmed in that athletic habit which they acquired in the war under Romulus, and which generally prevailed henceforward against all their enemies. For in these years they say Rome was not afflicted with famine or pestilence, with barrenness of the earth, or any notable calamity by winter or summer; all which must be attributed, not to human prudence, but to the good conduct of divine Fortune governing for that time. Then the double gate of Janus was shut, which they call the gate of war, because it is always opened in time of war and shut in time of peace. After Numa’s death, it was opened again when the war with the Albans commenced, which was followed with other wars without number in a continued series of time; but after four hundred and eighty years, it was shut again when peace was concluded at the end of the first Punic war, in the consulship of Caius Atilius and Titus Manlius. The next year it was opened again, and the wars lasted until the victory which Augustus obtained at Actium. Then the Roman arms rested but a little while; for the tumults from Cantabria and the wars with the Gauls and Germans breaking in upon them quickly disturbed the peace. These things I have added to explain this argument of the good fortune of Numa.

10. Even those kings which followed him have admired Fortune as the governess and nurse of Rome, and the city supporter, as Pindar saith. For proof of this, we may consider that the temple of Virtue at Rome was but lately built, many years after the beginning of the city, by that Marcellus who took Syracuse.[58] There is also a temple dedicated to the Mind, or rather to good counsel, called Mens, by Scaurus Aemilius, who lived in the time of the Cimbrian war, when the arms of rhetoric and the sophistry of logic had crept into the city. And even to this day, there are no temples built to Wisdom, Temperance, Patience, and Magnanimity; but the temples of Fortune are very ancient and splendid, adorned with all sorts of honors, and divided amongst the most famous parts and places of Rome. The temple of Manly Fortune was built by Ancus Marcius, the fourth king; which name was therefore given it, because Fortune does contribute very much to valor in obtaining victory. The temple of Feminine Fortune was consecrated by the matrons, when they drove away Marcius Coriolanus at the head of an army marching against Rome, as everybody knows. Moreover, Servius Tullius, who above all the kings did most enlarge the power of the people and adorn the commonwealth, who first established a good order for the giving of suffrages and for the good discipline of the militia, who was the first censor and overseer of men’s lives and sobriety, and is esteemed a most wise and valiant man,—even he threw himself upon Fortune, and owned his kingdom to be derived from her. So great was her kindness to him, that she is thought to have descended into his house by a gateway (which is now called Fenestella) and there to have conversed familiarly with him. Upon which account he built two temples to Fortune, one to that which is called Primogenia in the Capitol, i.e. the first born, as one may expound it; another to that which is called Obsequens, which some interpret as being obsequious to his desires, and others as mild and gentle. I will henceforth leave the Roman names, and endeavor to reckon up and interpret in Greek the meaning of these temples. There is the temple of Private Fortune on the Mount Palatine, and that of Viscous Fortune; which name, though it seems ridiculous, does by a metaphor explain to us the nature of Fortune, that she attracts things at a distance, and retains them when they are brought to contact. At the fountain which is called Mossy the temple of Virgin Fortune is still to be seen; and that of Regardful Fortune in Abescymae. There is an altar also to Fortune of Good Hope in the long narrow street; and near to the altar of Venus Epitalaria (Foot-winged) there is a chapel to Male Fortune.

Infinite are the honors and titles of Fortune, the greater part of which were instituted by Servius, who knew that “Fortune is of great weight—nay, is every thing—in all human affairs,”[59] and more especially had found by experience that by her favor he was preferred from a captive and hostile nation to be king of the Romans. For when Corniculum was taken by the Romans, the virgin Ocresia being taken at the same time, she for her illustrious beauty and virtue (which the meanness of her fortune could not hide or obscure) was presented to Tanaquil, the consort of King Tarquinius, with whom she served till she was married to one of the retainers whom the Romans call clients; and of them was born Servius. Others tell the story after this manner: that the virgin Ocresia using often to receive the first-fruits and libations from the royal table, which were to be offered in sacrifice, it happened on a time that when, according to the custom, she had thrown them into the fire, upon the sudden expiration of the flame, there appeared to come out of it the genital member of a man. The virgin, being frighted with so strange a sight, told the whole matter to Queen Tanaquil; who, being a wise and understanding woman, judged the vision to be divine, and therefore dressed up the virgin in all her bridal ornaments and attire, and then shut her up in a room together with this apparition. Some attribute this amour to Lar the household God, and others to Vulcan; but whichsoever it was, Ocresia was with child, and gave birth to Servius. And while he was yet an infant, his head was seen to send forth a wonderful brightness, like lightning darted from the skies. But Antias tells this story after a different manner: that when Servius’s wife Getania was dead, he fell into a sleep through grief and dejection of mind, in the presence of his mother, and then his head was seen by the woman encompassed by fire; which, as it was a certain token that he was born of fire, so was a good omen of that unexpected kingdom which he obtained after the death of Tarquin, by the means of Tanaquil. This is so much the more to be wondered at, because he of all kings seems to have been least fitted by Nature and most averse by inclination to monarchical government; since he would have resigned his kingdom and divested himself of regal authority, if he had not been hindered by the oath which it appears he made to Tanaquil when she was dying, that he should continue during his life in kingly power, and never change that form of government which he had received from his ancestors. Thus the reign of Servius was wholly owing to Fortune, because he both received it beside his expectation, and retained it against his will.

11. But lest we should seem to shun the light of bright and evident arguments, and retreat to ancient stories, as to a place of darkness and obscurity, let us now pass over the time of the kings, and go on in our discourse to the most noted actions and famous wars of following times. And first of all it must be confessed that the boldness and courage which are necessary for war do aid and improve military virtue, as Timotheus says; and yet it is manifest to him that will reason aright, that the abundance of success which advanced the Roman Empire to such vast power and greatness is not to be attributed to human strength and counsels, but to a certain divine impulse and a full gale of running Fortune, which carried all before it that hindered the rising glory of the Romans. For now trophies were erected upon trophies, and triumphs hastened to meet one another; before the blood was cold upon their arms, it was washed off with the fresh blood of their falling enemies. Henceforth the victories were not reckoned by the numbers of the slain or the greatness of the spoils, but by the kingdoms that were taken, by the nations that were conquered, by the isles and continents which were added to the vastness of their empire. At one battle Philip was forced to quit all Macedonia, by one stroke Antiochus was beaten out of Asia, by one victory the Carthaginians lost Libya; but which is yet more wonderful, Armenia, the Euxine sea, Syria, Arabia, the Albanians, Iberians, with all the regions as far as Caucasus and the Hyrcanians, were by one man and the success of one expedition reduced under the power of the Roman Empire. The Ocean, which environs the whole earth, beheld him thrice victorious; for he subdued the Numidians in Africa, as far as the southern shores; he conquered Spain, which joined in the madness of Sertorius, as far as the Atlantic Ocean; and he pursued the Albanian kings as far as the Caspian sea. Pompeius Magnus, one and the same man, achieved all those great and stupendous things, by the assistance of that public Fortune which waited upon the Roman arms with success; and after all this, he sank under the weight of his own fatal greatness.

The great Genius of the Romans was not propitious for a day only, or for a little time, like that of the Macedonians; it was not powerful by land only, like that of the Laconians, or by sea only, like that of the Athenians. It was not too slowly sensible of injuries, as that of the Persians; nor too easily pacified, like that of the Colophonians; but from the beginning growing up with the city, the more it increased, the more it enlarged the empire, and constantly aided the Romans with its auspicious influence by sea and land, in peace and war, against all their enemies, whether Greeks or barbarians. It was this Genius which dissipated Hannibal the Carthaginian, when he broke in upon Italy like a torrent, and the people could give no assistance, being torn in pieces by intestine jars. It was this Genius that separated the two armies of the Cimbri and Teutones, that they should not meet at the same time and place; by which means Marius the Roman general encountered each army by itself, and overcame them; which, if they had been joined together, would have overflowed all Italy like a deluge, with three hundred thousand valiant men, invincible in arms. It was the same Genius that hindered Antiochus by other occasions from assisting Philip while he was engaged in war with the Romans; so that Philip was first vanquished while Antiochus was still in danger. It was by the conduct of the same Genius that Mithridates was taken up with the Sarmatic and Bastarnic wars while the Marsians attacked Rome; that jealousy and envy divided Tigranes from Mithridates while the latter was flushed with success; but both of them were joined together in the defeat, that they might perish in the same common ruin.

12. What shall I say more? Has not Fortune relieved the city, when it was reduced to the greatest extremity of danger? When the Gauls encamped about the Capitol and besieged the castle,

And heaped the camp with mountains of the dead,[60]

did not Fortune and chance discover their secret attack in the night-time, which otherwise had surprised all men? Of which wonderful accident it will not be unseasonable to discourse here a little more largely.

After the great overthrow and slaughter of the Romans at the river Allia, some of those that remained fled hastily to Rome, and communicated their terror and consternation to the people there. Some trussed up their bag and baggage and conveyed themselves into the Capitol, resolving there to wait the event of so dismal a calamity; others flocked in great multitudes to Veii, and there proclaimed Furius Camillus dictator, giving him now in their distress an absolute and unaccountable power, whom before in their pride and prosperity they had condemned and banished, as guilty of robbing the public treasure. But Camillus, to strengthen his title to this authority, which might seem to be given him only for the present necessity, contrary to the law of the state touching the election of such a magistrate, scorned to accept an election from a body of armed soldiers, so lately shattered and beaten, as if the government of the city were dissolved; but sent to acquaint the senators that were in the Capitol, and know if they would approve the election of the soldiers. To accomplish this, there was one C. Pontius, who undertook to carry the news of this decree to those in the Capitol, though it was with great danger of his life; for he was to go through the midst of the enemies, who were entrenched and kept watch about the castle. He came therefore in the night-time to the river Tiber, and by the help of broad corks supporting the weight of his body, he was carried down the stream in a smooth calm water, and safely landed on the other side. From thence he passed through places uninhabited, being conducted by darkness and silence, to the rock of the Capitol; and climbing up through its winding and rough passages, with much labor and difficulty at last he arrived at the summit, where, being received by the watch, he acquainted the senators with what was done by the soldiers, and having received their approbation of the decree of election, he returned again to Camillus. The next day after, one of the barbarians by chance walking about this rock, and seeing in one place the prints of his feet and his falls, in another place the grass trodden down which grew upon the interspersed earth, and the plain marks of his body in its winding ascent through the craggy precipice, went presently and informed the rest of the Gauls of the whole matter. They, finding that a way was shown them by the enemy, resolved to follow his footsteps; and taking the advantage of the dead time of the night, when all were fast asleep, not so much as a watch stirring or a dog barking, they climbed up secretly to the castle.

But Fortune in this case was wonderfully propitious to the Romans, in discovering and preventing such an imminent danger by the voice of the sacred geese, which were maintained about the temple of Juno for the worship of that Goddess. For that animal being wakeful by nature and easily frighted with the least noise, these sacred geese had been so much neglected by reason of the scarcity of provisions which was in the castle, that they were more easily wakened by the approach of the enemy out of their light and hungry sleep. Therefore they presently perceived the Gauls appearing upon the walls, and with a loud voice flew proudly towards them; but being yet more frightened with the sight of their shining armor, they raised a louder gaggling noise, which wakened the Romans; who understanding the design, presently beat back the enemies, and threw them down over the precipices of the rock. Therefore, in remembrance of this wonderful accident, a dog fastened to a cross, and a goose lying in a bed of state upon a rich cushion, are carried about, even to this day, in pompous solemnity. And now who is not astonished that considers how great the misery of the city was at that time, and how great its happiness is now at this day, when he beholds the splendor and riches of its donatives, the emulation of liberal arts that flourish in it, the accession of noble cities and royal crowns to its empire, and the chief products of sea and land, of isles and continents, of rivers and trees, of animals and fields, of mountains and metallic mines, crowding to adorn and beautify this place? Who is not stunned with admiration at the imminent danger which then was, whether ever those things should be or no; and at those poor timorous birds, which first began the deliverance of the city, when all places were filled with fire, darkness, and smoke, with the swords of barbarians and bloody-minded men? What a prodigy of Fortune was it that those great commanders, the Manlii, the Servii, Postumii, and Papirii, so famous for their warlike exploits and for the illustrious families that have descended from them, should be alarmed in this extremity of danger by the silly geese, to fight for their country’s God and their country? And if that be true which Polybius writes in his second book of those Gauls which then possessed Rome,—that they made a peace with Camillus and departed, as soon as they heard the news of the invasion that was made upon their territories by the neighboring barbarians,—then it is past all controversy, that Fortune was the cause of Rome’s preservation by drawing off the enemies to another place, or rather forcing them from Rome beyond all men’s expectation.

13. But why do I dwell upon those things which have nothing of certain or evident truth, since the memories of those times have perished, and the history of them is confused, as Livy tells us? For those things which happened in following ages, being plain and manifest to all, do sufficiently demonstrate the benignity of Fortune to Rome; among which I reckon the death of Alexander to be no small cause of the Romans’ happiness and security. For he, being a man of wonderful success and most famous exploits, of invincible confidence and pride, who shot like a star, with incredible swiftness, from the rising to the setting sun, was meditating to bring the lustre of his arms into Italy. The pretence of this intended expedition was the death of Alexander Molossus, who was killed at Pandosia by the Bruttians and Lucanians; but the true cause was the desire of glory and the emulation of empire, which instigated him to war against all mankind, that he might extend his dominion beyond the bounds of Bacchus and Hercules. He had heard of the Roman power in Italy, terrible as an army in battle array; of the illustrious name and glory which they had acquired by innumerable battles, in which they were flushed with victory; and this was a sufficient provocation to his ambitious spirit to commence a war against them, which could not have been decided without an ocean of blood;[61] for both armies appeared invincible, both of fearless and undaunted minds; and the Romans then had no fewer than one hundred and thirty thousand stout and valiant men,[62]

All expert soldiers, skilled on foot to dare, Or from the bounding courser urge the war.[63]

OF GARRULITY, OR TALKATIVENESS.

1. It is a troublesome and difficult task that philosophy undertakes in going about to cure the disease, or rather itch, of intemperate prating. For that words, which are the sole remedy against it, require attention; but they who are given to prate will hear nobody, as being a sort of people that love to be always talking themselves. So that the principal vice of loquacious persons is this, that their ears are stopped to every thing else but their own impertinencies; which I take to be a wilful deafness in men, controlling and contradicting Nature, that has given us two ears, though but one tongue. Therefore it was that Euripides spoke very right to a certain stupid hearer of his:

Impossible it is to fill that brain, That in a moment lets out all again; ’Tis but the words of wisdom to unfold Unto a fool, whose skull will nothing hold.[64]

More justly and truly might I say to an idle prate-too-fast, or rather concerning such a fellow:

In vain I seek to fill thy sieve-like brain, That in a moment lets out all again; Infusing wisdom into such a skull As leaks so fast, it never will be full.

Much more may he be said to spill his instructions over (rather than pour them into) a man, who is always talking to those that do not hear, and never hears when others talk. For so soon as a wise man has uttered any thing, be it never so short, garrulity swallows it forthwith like the sea, and throws it up again threefold, with the violence of a swelling tide. Such was the portico at Olympia, called Heptaphonos, by the reverberation of one single voice causing no less than seven distinct echoes. And in like manner, if the least word light into the ears of an impertinent babbler, presently all the room rings with it, and he makes such a din,

That soon the jangling noise untunes the strings Of minds sedately fixt on better things.

Insomuch that we may say, that the conduits and conveyances of their hearing reach not to the souls, but only to their tongues. Therefore it is that other people retain what is spoken to them; whereas, whatever is said to talkative people runs through them as through a cullender; and then they run about from place to place, like empty vessels void of sense or wit, but making a hideous noise.

2. However, in hopes that there is yet some room left to try an experiment for the cure of this distemper, let us begin with this golden sentence to the impertinent prater:

Be silent, boy, and thou wilt find i’ th’ end, What benefits on silent lips attend.[65]

Among these benefits two of the first and chiefest are to hear and to be heard. To neither of which can these talkative companions ever attain; so unhappy they are still to meet with disappointments, though they desire a thing never so much. For as for those other distempers of the soul, such as avarice, ambition, and exorbitant love of pleasure, they have this happiness, to enjoy what they so eagerly covet. But this is that which most afflicts these idle prattlers, that being desirous of nothing more than of company that will hear them prate, they can never meet with it, in regard that all men avoid their society; and whether sitting in a knot together or walking, so soon as they behold a prattler advancing towards them, they presently give warning to each other and adjourn to another place. And as, when there happens a deep silence in any assembly, so that all the company seems to be mute, we say that Mercury is got among them; so when a fool, full of noise and talk, enters into any room where friends and acquaintance are met to discourse or else to feast and be merry, all people are hushed of a sudden, as afraid of giving him any occasion to set his tongue upon the career. But if he once begin to open his mouth, up they rise and away they trip, like seamen foreseeing a sudden storm and rolling of the waves, when they hear “the north wind begin to whistle from some adjoining promontory,” and hastening into harbor. Whence it comes to pass, that he never can meet with any that are willing either to eat or drink or lodge with him in the same room, either upon the road or upon a voyage, unless constrained thereto by necessity. For so importunate he is in all places, that sometimes he will pull you by the coat, sometimes by the beard, and sometimes be hunching your sides, to make you speak. How highly then are to be prized a swift pair of legs, according to the saying of Archilochus! Nay, by Jove, it was the opinion of wise Aristotle himself. For he being perplexed with an egregious prater, and tired out with his absurd stories and idle repetitions of, “And is not this a wonderful thing, Aristotle?”—No wonder at all, said he, is this; but if a man should stand still to hear you prate thus, who had legs to run away, that were a wonder indeed. To another of the same stamp that, after a long tale of a roasted horse, excused himself by saying that he was afraid he had tired him with his prolixity; No, upon my word, quoth the philosopher, for I never minded what you said. On the other side, should it so fall out that there was no avoiding the vexation of one of these chattering fops, Nature has afforded us this happiness, that it is in the power of the soul to lend the outward ears of the body, to endure the brunt of the noise, while she retires to the remoter apartments of the mind, and there employs herself in better and more useful thoughts. By which means those sonorous babblers are at the same time disappointed, as well of auditors, as of people that believe what they say. All men look upon their vain babbling with the same opinion that they have of the seed of people insatiably addicted to the use of women; for as the one is barren and useless for generation, so is the other void of the end of discourse, altogether frivolous and impertinent.

3. And yet there is no member of human bodies that Nature has so strongly enclosed within a double fortification, as the tongue, entrenched within with a barricado of sharp teeth, to the end that, if it refuses to obey and keep silent when reason “presses the glittering reins” within, we should fix our teeth in it till the blood comes, rather than suffer the inordinate and unseasonable din. For, according to the saying of Euripides,

Our miseries do not spring From houses wanting locks or bolts, But from unbridled tongues, Ill used by prating fools and dolts.[66]

And truly, I must tell you, that they who think that houses without doors, and purses without strings, are of no use to their masters, yet at the same time set neither fence nor door before their lips, but suffer a continual torrent of vain and idle discourse to flow through them, like the perpetual flux of water through the mouth of the Pontic sea, seem to me to have the least esteem for human speech of all men in the world. Whence it comes to pass that they never gain belief, which is the end of all discourse. For the main scope and intention of all men that speak is to gain a belief of what they utter with those that hear them; whereas talkative noise-makers are never believed, let them speak never so much truth. For as wheat, when crowded into a musty vessel, is found to exceed in measure, but to be unwholesome for use; so the discourse of a loquacious person swells and enlarges itself with lies and falsehood, but in the mean time it loses all force of persuasion.

4. Then again, there is no man of modesty and civility but would be careful of preserving himself from drunkenness. For anger, as some are of opinion, is the next neighbor to madness, while drunkenness doth dwell in the very same house with it; or rather, drunkenness is madness itself, inferior to it in continuance of time, yet far exceeding it as it is voluntary, since it is a madness of our own choice. Now there is nothing for which drunkenness is so much abominated and decried, as for that it is the cause of inordinate and unlimited babbling and prating.

Heated with wine, the man at other times Both wise and grave sings loose and wanton rhymes; He minds not loud indecent laughter then, Nor mimic dancing, scorned by sober men.[67]

And yet both singing, laughing, and dancing are all but trifles to that which follows, the consequences of which are oft-times fatal:

He blurts those secrets forth, which once revealed, Too late he wishes they had been concealed.

This is that which oftentimes proves dangerous, if not terrible, to the discoverer. And who knows but that the poet might here design to resolve a question much disputed among philosophers,—that is to say, what the difference is between being tipsy and stark drunk,—by attributing to the former only mirth and jollity of humor, but branding the latter with the foul reproach of noxious babbling? For, according to the proverb,

What the sober heart conceals That the drunken heart reveals.

Wherefore it is reported of Bias, that sitting very silent at a compotation, drinking only when it came to his turn, and being laughed at by one whose tongue ran at random, who for his silence called him mope and fool, he made this reply: Find me out that fool, said he, that e’er could hold his tongue in his cups.

A citizen of Athens, having invited the king of Persia’s ambassadors to a magnificent feast, at their request gave the same invitation to the most eminent philosophers in the city, to bear them company. Now, when all the rest were propounding of themes, and raising arguments pro and con, and others were maintaining of paradoxes to show their wit and learning, only Zeno sat still, so reserved and mute that the ambassadors took notice of it; and thereupon, after they thought they had opened his heart with two or three lusty brimmers, Pray tell us, Zeno, said they, what report we shall make concerning thee to our master? To whom Zeno: Nothing more, said he, but that there was an old man at Athens that could hold his tongue in the midst of his cups. Such profound and divine mysterious virtues are silence and sobriety; whereas drunkenness is loquacious, void of reason and understanding, and therefore full of jangling and impertinent tautologies. Wherefore the philosophers, when they come to define drunkenness, call it “vain talk over wine.” So that drinking is not condemned, provided a man keep himself within the bounds of silence; only vain and silly discourse makes wine-bibbing to be drunkenness. He then that is drunk talks idly over his wine; but the babbler does it everywhere,—in the market-place, at the theatre, in the public walks, as well by night as by day. If he be a physician, certainly he is more troublesome than the disease; if your companion in a voyage, more insupportable than the qualms occasioned by the tumbling of the sea. If he praise thee, his panegyric is more offensive than the reproaches of another. It is a greater pleasure to converse with vicious men, so they be discreet in their language, than with twaddlers, though never so honest. Therefore Nestor in Sophocles, desirous to appease exasperated Ajax, mildly thus rebuked him:

I blame thee not, for though thy words are ill, Thy deeds bespeak thee brave and valiant still.[68]

But there is not the same excuse to be made for a vain babbling fellow; for the ill government of his tongue corrupts and vitiates all the merits of his actions.

5. Lysias had given to a certain accused criminal an oration of his own writing. He, having read it several times over, came to Lysias very much dejected, and told him that, upon his first perusal of it, it seemed to him to be a most admirable piece; but after he had read it three or four times over, he could see nothing in it but what was very dull and insipid. To whom Lysias, smiling: What, said he, is not once enough to speak it before the judges? And yet do but consider the persuasive eloquence and grace that is in Lysias’s writing, and then I may be bold to affirm,

That no man living e’er was favored more By sacred Muse that violet garlands wore.

Certain it is that, of all the commendations that were ever given to Homer, this is the truest, that he alone avoided being irksome to his readers, as one that was always new and still flourishing, as it were in the prime of poetic beauty. And yet in speaking thus of himself,

I hate vain repetitions, fondly made, Of what has been already plainly said,[69]

he shows how careful he is to shun that satiety which, as it were, lies in wait for all speech, alluring the ear from one relation into another, and still recreating the reader with fresh variety, in such a manner that he never thinks himself satisfied. Whereas men that let their tongues run at random rend and tear the ears with their tautologies, like those that, after writing-tables have been newly cleansed and wiped, deface them again with their impertinent scrawls and scratches.

6. And therefore we would have them to remember this in the first place, that, as they who constrain men to guzzle down wine unmixed with water, and to excess, are the occasion that what was bestowed at first on men as a blessing, to excite mirth and rejoice the heart, becomes a mischief, creating sadness and causing drunkenness; so they that make an ill and inconsiderate use of speech, which is the most delightful means of human converse, render it both troublesome and unsociable, molesting those whom they think to gratify, derided by those whose esteem and admiration they covet, and offensive to such whose love and friendship they seek. And therefore, as he may be truly said to be no favorite of Venus, who with the girdle of the Goddess, wherein are all manner of allurements, drives and chases away his familiar acquaintance from his society; so he that vexes others with his loose and extravagant talk may be as truly said to be a rustic, wanting altogether education and breeding.

7. Now then, among all other passions and maladies, some are dangerous, others hateful, and others ridiculous; but in foolish prating all these inconveniences concur. Praters are derided when they make relations of common matters; they are hated for bringing unwelcome tidings; they are in danger for divulging of secrets. Whereas Anarcharsis, being feasted by Solon, was esteemed a wise man, for that, as he lay asleep after the banquet was over, he was seen with his left hand over his privy parts, and his right hand laid upon his mouth; deeming, as indeed he rightly believed, that his tongue required the stronger curb. For though it would be a hard task to reckon up how many men have perished through the venereal intemperance, yet I dare say it would be almost as difficult to tell how many cities and States have been demolished and totally subverted by the inconsiderate blurting out of a secret.

Sylla besieged Athens at a time when it was certain that he could not lie long before the city, by reason that other affairs and troubles called him another way. For on the one side, Mithridates ravaged Asia; on the other, Marius’s party had made themselves masters of Rome. But it happened, that certain old fellows being met together in a barber’s shop, among other discourse, blabbed it out, that the Heptachalcon was ill guarded, and that the city was in great danger of a surprise in that part. Which being overheard and reported to Sylla by certain of his spies, he presently brought all his forces on that side, and about midnight, after a sharp assault, entered the city with his whole army, and it was a thousand to one but that he had laid it in ashes. However, he filled it with the carcasses of the slain, and made the Ceramicus run with blood; being highly incensed against the Athenians, more for their reproachful language than their military opposition. For they had abused both him and his wife Metella, getting up upon the walls and calling him “mulberry strewed with dust meal,” with many other provoking scoffs of the same nature; and merely for a few words—which, as Plato observes, are the lightest things in the world—they drew upon their heads the severest punishment.

The tongue of one man prevented Rome from recovering her freedom by the destruction of Nero. For there was but one night to pass before Nero was to be murdered on the morrow, all things being ready prepared and agreed on for that purpose. But in the mean time it happened that he who had undertaken to execute the act, as he was going to the theatre, seeing one of those poor creatures that were bound and pinioned, just ready to be led before Nero, and hearing the fellow bewail his hard fortune, gathered up close to him, and whispered the poor fellow in the ear Pray only, honest friend, said he, that thou mayest but escape this day; to-morrow thou shalt give me thanks. Presently the fellow taking hold of this enigmatical speech, and calling to mind the vulgar saying, that he is a fool who lets slip a bird in the hand for a bird in the bush, preferred the surer to the juster way of saving himself, and presently declared to Nero what that man had whispered in his ear. Immediately the whisperer was laid hold of, and hurried away to the place of torture, where by racking, searing, and scourging he was constrained, poor miserable creature, to confess that by force which before he had discovered without any compulsion at all.

8. Zeno, that he might not be compelled by the tortures of his body to betray, against his will, the secrets entrusted in his breast, bit off his tongue, and spit it in the tyrant’s face. Notorious also was the example of Leaena, and signal the reward which she had for being true to her trust and constant in her taciturnity. She was a courtesan with whom Harmodius and Aristogiton were very familiar; and for that reason they had imparted to her the great hopes which they had upon the success of the conspiracy against the tyrants, wherein they were so deeply engaged; while she on the other side, having drunk freely of the noble cup of love, had been initiated into their secrets through the God of Love; and she failed not of her vow. For the two paramours being taken and put to death after they had failed in their enterprise, she was also apprehended and put to the torture, to force out of her a discovery of the rest of the accomplices; but all the torments and extremities they could exercise upon her body could not prevail to make her discover so much as one person; whereby she manifested to the world that the two gentlemen, her friends, had done nothing misbecoming their descent, in having bestowed their affections upon such a woman. For this reason the Athenians, as a monument of her virtue, set up a lioness (which the name Leaena signifies) in brass, without a tongue, just at the entrance into the Acropolis; by the stomachful courage of that beast signifying to posterity the invincible resolution of the woman; and by making it without a tongue, denoting her constancy in keeping the secret with which she was entrusted. For never any word spoken did so much good, as many locked up in silence. Thus at one time or other a man may utter what heretofore has been kept a secret; but when a secret is once blurted forth, it can never be recalled; for it flies abroad, and spreads in a moment far and near. And hence it is that we have men to teach us to speak, but the Gods are they that teach us silence; silence being the first thing commanded upon our first initiation into their divine ceremonies and sacred mysteries. And therefore it is that Homer makes Ulysses, whose eloquence was so charming, to be the most silent of men; and the same virtue he also attributes to his son, to his wife, and also to his nurse. For thus you hear her speaking:

Safe, as in hardened steel or sturdy oak, Within my breast these secrets will I lock.

And Ulysses himself, sitting by Penelope before he discovered himself, is thus brought in:

His weeping wife with pity he beheld, Although not willing yet to be revealed. He would not move his eyes, but kept them fast, Like horn or steel within his eyebrows placed.[70]

So powerfully possessed with continence were both his tongue and lips; and having all the rest of his members so obedient and subject to his reason, he commanded his eye not to weep, his tongue not to speak a word, and his heart neither to pant nor tremble.

So was his suffering heart confined To give obedience to his mind;[71]

his reason penetrating even to those inward motions, and subduing to itself the blood and vital spirits. Such were many of the rest of his followers. For though they were dragged and haled by Polyphemus, and had their heads dashed against the ground, they would not confess a word concerning their lord and master Ulysses, nor discover the long piece of wood that was put in the fire and prepared to put out his eye; but rather suffered themselves to be devoured raw than to disclose any one of their master’s secrets; which was an example of fidelity and reservedness not to be paralleled. Pittacus therefore did very well, who, when the king of Egypt sent him an oblation-beast, and ordered him to take out and set apart the best and worst piece of it, pulled out the tongue and sent to him, as being the instrument of many good things as well as the instrument of the greatest evils in the world.

9. Ino therefore, in Euripides, frankly extolling herself, says:

I know both when and where my tongue to hold, And when with safety to be freely bold.[72]

For they that are brought up under a truly generous and royal education learn first to be silent, and then to talk. And therefore King Antigonus, when his son asked him when they should discamp, replied, What! art thou afraid of being the only man that shall not hear the trumpet? So loath was he to trust him with a secret, to whom he was to leave his kingdom; teaching him thereby, when he came to command another day, to be no less wary and sparing of his speech. Metellus also, that old soldier, being asked some such question about the intended march of his army, If I thought, said he, that my shirt were privy to this secret, I would pull it off and throw it into the fire. Eumenes also, when he heard that Craterus was marching with his forces against him, said not a word of it to his best friend, but gave out all along that it was Neoptolemus; for him his soldiers contemned, but they admired Craterus’s fame and virtue; but nobody knew the truth but Eumenes himself. Thereupon joining battle, the victory fell to their side, and they slew Craterus, not knowing whom he was till they found him among the slain. So cunningly did taciturnity manage this combat, and conceal so great an adversary; so that the friends of Eumenes admired rather than reproved him for not telling them beforehand. For indeed, should a man be blamed in such a case, it is better for him to be accused after victory obtained by his distrust, than to be obliged to blame others after an overthrow because he has been too easy to impart his secrets.

10. Nay, what man is he that dares take upon him the freedom to blame another for not keeping the secret which he himself has revealed to him? For if the secret ought not to have been divulged, it was ill done to break it to another; but if, after thou hast let it go from thyself, thou wouldst have another keep it in, surely it is a great argument that thou hast more confidence in another than in thyself; for, if he be like thyself, thou art deservedly lost; if better, then thou art miraculously saved, as having met with a person more faithful to thee than thou art to thy own interest. But thou wilt say, he is my friend. Very good: yet this friend of mine had another, in whom he might confide as much as I did in him; and in like manner his friend another, to the end of the chapter. And thus the secret gains ground, and spreads itself by multiplication of babbling. For as a unit never exceeds its bounds, but always remains one, and is therefore called a unit; but the next is two, which contains the unlimited principle of diversity,—for it straightway departs from out of itself (as it were) and by doubling turns to a plurality,—so speech abiding in the first person’s thoughts may truly be called a secret; but being communicated to another, it presently changes its name into common rumor. This is the reason that Homer gives to words the epithet of winged; for he that lets a bird go out of his hand does not easily catch her again; neither is it possible for a man to recall and cage again in his breast a word let slip from his mouth;[73] for with light wings it fetches many a compass, and flutters about from one quarter to another in a moment. The course of a ship may well be stayed by cables and anchors, which else would spoon away before a fresh gale of wind; but there is no fast riding or anchor-hold for speech, when once let loose as from a harbor; but being whirled away with a sonorous noise and loud echo, it carries off and plunges the unwary babbler into some fatal danger.

For soon a little spark of fire, let fly, May kindle Ida’s wood, so thick and high; What one man to his seeming friend lets go, Whole cities may with ease enquire and know.[74]

11. The Senate of Rome had been debating among themselves a certain piece of secrecy for several days, which caused the matter to be so much the more suspected and listened after. Whereupon a certain Roman lady, discreet enough in other things, but yet a woman, laid at her husband day and night, and mournfully importuned him what the secret might be. Oaths, you may be sure, she was ready to make, and to curse herself if ever she revealed whatever he should tell; nor was she wanting in tears, and many moist complaints of her being a woman so little to be trusted by a husband. The Roman thus beset, yet willing in some measure to make trial of her fidelity and convince her of her folly, Thou hast overcome me, wife, said he, and now I’ll tell thee a most dreadful and prodigious thing. We were advertised by the priests, that a lark was seen flying in the air, with a golden helmet upon her head and a spear in one of her claws; now we are consulting with the augurs or soothsayers about this portent, whether it be good or bad. But keep it to thyself, for it may be of great concernment for the commonwealth. Having so said, he walked forth toward the market-place. No sooner was he gone, but his wife caught hold of the first of her maids that entered the room, and then striking her breast and tearing her hair, Woe is me, said she, for my poor husband and dearest country! What will become of us?—prompting the maid, as if she were desirous that she should say to her, Why? What is the matter, mistress? Upon which she presently unfolded all that her husband had told her; nay, she forgot not the common burden with which all twattle-baskets conclude their stories; But, hussy, said she, for your life, be sure you say not a word of this to any soul living. The wench was no sooner got out of her mistress’s sight, but meeting with one of her fellow-servants that had little to do, to her she unbosoms herself; she, big with the news, with no less speed runs away to her sweetheart, who was come to give her a visit, and without any more to do tells him all. By this means the story flew about the market-place before the first deviser of it could get thither. Presently one of his acquaintance meeting him asked, Did ye come straight from your house? Without stop or stay, replied the other. And did ye hear nothing? says his friend. Why? quoth the other, Is there any news? Oh! quoth his friend, a lark has been seen flying in the air, with a golden helmet upon her head and a spear in her claw, and the Senate is summoned to consult about it. Upon which the gentleman, smiling: God a mercy, wife, quoth he, for being so nimble! One would have thought I might have got into the market-place before a story so lately told thee; but I see ’twas not to be done. Thereupon meeting with some of the senators, he soon delivered them out of their pain. However, being resolved to take a slight revenge of his wife, making haste home, Wife, said he, thou hast undone me; for it is found out that the great secret I told thee was first divulged out of my house; and now must I be banished from my native country for your wicked gaggling tongue. At first his wife would have denied the matter, and put it off from her husband by telling him there were three hundred more besides himself that heard the thing, and why might not one of those divulge it as well as he? But he bade her never tell him of three hundred more, and told her it was an invention of his own framing to try her and to avoid her importunity. Thus this Roman safely and cautiously made the experiment of his wife’s ability to keep a secret; as when we pour into a cracked and leaky vessel, not wine nor oil, but water only.

But Fulvius, one of Augustus Caesar’s minions and favorites, once heard the emperor deploring the desolation of his family, in regard his two grandchildren by his daughter were both dead, and Postumius, who only remained alive, upon an accusation charged against him was confined to banishment, so that he was forced to set up his wife’s son to succeed him in the empire, yet upon more compassionate thoughts, signifying his determination to recall Postumius from exile. This Fulvius hearing related the whole to his wife, and she to Livia. Livia sharply expostulated the matter with Caesar; wherefore, seeing he had projected the thing so long before, he did not send for his daughter’s son at first, but exposed her to the hatred and revenge of him that he had determined to be his successor. The next morning Fulvius coming into Augustus’s presence, and saluting him with Hail, O Caesar! Caesar retorted upon him, God send thee more wit, Fulvius. He, presently apprehending the meaning of the repartee, made haste home again; and calling for his wife, Caesar understands, said he, that I have discovered his secret counsels, and therefore I am resolved to lay violent hands upon myself. And justly too, said she, thou dost deserve to die, since having lived so long with me, thou didst not know the lavishness of my tongue, and how unable I was to keep a secret. However, suffer me to die first. And with that, snatching the sword out of her husband’s hands, she slew herself before his face.

12. Truly therefore was it said by Philippides the comedian, who being courteously and familiarly asked by King Lysimachus, what he should bestow upon him of all the treasure that he had, made answer, Any thing, O King, but your secrets.

But there is another vice no less mischievous that attends garrulity, called Curiosity. For there are a sort of people that desire to hear a great deal of news, that they may have matter enough to twattle abroad; and these are the most diligent in the world to pry and dive into the secrets of others, that they may enlarge and aggravate their own loquacity with new stories and fooleries. And then they are like children, that neither can endure to hold the ice in their hands nor will let it go; or rather they may be said to lodge other men’s secrets in their bosoms, like so many serpents, which they are not able to keep there long, because they eat their way through. It is said that the fish called the sea-needle and vipers rive asunder and burst themselves when they bring forth; in like manner, secrets, dropping from the mouths of those that cannot contain them, destroy and overthrow the revealers. Seleucus Callinicus, having lost his whole army in a battle fought with the Galatians, threw off his royal diadem, and flew away full speed on a horse with three or four attendants, wandering through by-roads and deserts, till at last he began to faint for want of food. At length coming to a certain countryman’s house, and finding the owner himself within, he asked him for a little bread and water; which the countryman not only readily fetched him, but what else his ground would afford he very liberally and plentifully set before the king and his companions, making them all as heartily welcome as it was possible for him to do. At length, in the midst of their cheer, he knew the king’s face. This overjoyed the man to such a degree,—that he should have the happiness to relieve the king in his necessity,—that he was not able to contain himself or dissemble his knowledge of the king; but after he had rode a little way with him and came to take his leave; Farewell, King Seleucus, said the poor man. But then the king, stretching forth his right hand and pulling his host to his breast, as if he had intended to kiss him, nodded to one of his followers to strike off the countryman’s head with his sword.

E’en while he speaks, his head rolls in the dust.[75]

Whereas if he could but have held his peace and mastered his tongue for a little while, till the king, as afterwards he did, had recovered his good fortune and grandeur, he had been doubtless better rewarded for his silence than he was for his hospitality. And yet this poor man had some colorable excuse for letting his tongue at liberty; that is to say, his hopes, and the kindness he had done the king.

13. But most of your twattlers, without any cause or pretence at all, destroy themselves; as it happened when certain fellows began to talk pretty freely in a barber’s shop concerning the tyranny of Dionysius, that it was as secure and inexpugnable as a rock of adamant: I wonder, quoth the barber, laughing, that you should talk these things before me concerning Dionysius, whose throat is almost every day under my razor. Which scurrilous freedom of the barber being related to the tyrant, he caused him forthwith to be crucified. And indeed the generality of barbers are a prating generation of men; in regard the most loquacious praters usually resort to their shops, and there sit prattling; from whence the barbers also learn an ill habit of twattling. Pleasant therefore was the answer of Archelaus to the barber who, after he had cast the linen toilet about his shoulders, put this question to him, How shall I trim your majesty; In silence, quoth the king. It was a barber that first reported the news of the great overthrow which the Athenians received in Sicily; for being the first that heard the relation of it in the Piraeus, from a servant of one of those who had escaped out of the battle, he presently left his shop at sixes and sevens, and flew into the city as fast as his heels could carry him,

For fear some other should the honor claim Of being first, when he but second came.[76]

Now you may be sure that the first spreader of this news caused a great hubbub in the city, insomuch that the people, thronging together in the market-place, made diligent enquiry for the first divulger. Presently the barber was brought by head and shoulders to the crowd, and examined; but he could give no account of his author, only one that he never saw or knew in his life before had told him the news. Which so incensed the multitude, that they immediately cried out, To the rack with the traitor, tie the lying rascal neck and heels together. This is a mere story of the rogue’s own making. Who heard it? Who gave any credit to it beside himself? At the same instant the wheel was brought out, and the poor barber stretched upon it,—not to his ease, you may be sure. And then it was, and not before, that the news of the defeat was confirmed by several that had made a hard shift to escape the slaughter. Upon which the people scattered every one to his own home, to make their private lamentation for their particular losses, leaving the unfortunate barber bound fast to the wheel; in which condition he continued till late in the evening, before he was let loose. Nor would this reform the impertinent fool; for no sooner was he at liberty but he would needs be enquiring of the executioner, what news, and what was reported of the manner of Nicias the general’s being slain. So inexpugnable and incorrigible a vice is loquacity, gotten by custom and ill habit, that they cannot leave it off, though they were sure to be hanged.

14. And yet we find that people have the same antipathy against divulgers of bad tidings, as they that drink bitter and distasteful potions have against the cups wherein they drank them. Elegant therefore is the dispute in Sophocles between the messenger and Creon:

MESSENGER. By what I tell and what you hear, Do I offend your heart or ear?

CREON. Why so inquisitive to sound My grief, and search the painful wound?

MESSENGER. My news afflicts thy ears, I find, But ’tis the fact torments thy mind.[77]

Thus they that bring us bad tidings are as bad as they who are the authors of our misery; and yet there is no restraining or correcting the tongue that will run at random.

It happened that the temple of Minerva in Lacedaemon called Chalcioecus was robbed, and nothing but an earthen pitcher left behind; which caused a great concourse of people, where every one spent his verdict about the empty pitcher. Gentlemen, says one, pray give me leave to tell ye my opinion concerning this pitcher. I am apt to believe, that these sacrilegious villains, before they ventured upon so dangerous an attempt, drank each of them a draught of hemlock juice, and then brought wine along with them in this pitcher; to the end that, if it were their good hap to escape without being apprehended, they might soon dissolve and extinguish the strength and vigor of the venom by the force of the wine unmixed and pure; but if they should be surprised and taken in the fact, that then they might die without feeling any pain under the torture of the rack. Having thus said, the people, observing so much forecast and contrivance in the thing, would not be persuaded that any man could have such ready thoughts upon a bare conjecture, but that he must know it to be so. Thereupon, immediately gathering about him, one asked who he was; another, who knew him; a third, how he came to be so much a philosopher. And at length, they did so sift and canvass and fetch him about, that the fellow confessed himself to be one of those that committed the sacrilege.

And were not they who murdered the poet Ibycus discovered after the same manner, as they sat in the theatre? For as they were sitting there under the open sky to behold the public pastimes, they observed a flock of cranes flying over their heads; upon which they whispered merrily one to another, Look, yonder are the revengers of Ibycus’s death. Which words being overheard by some that sat next them,—in regard that Ibycus had been long missing but could not be found, though diligent search had been made after him,—they presently gave information of what they had heard to the magistrates. By whom being examined and convicted, they suffered condign punishment, though not betrayed by the cranes, but by the incontinency of their own tongues, and by an avenging Erinnys hovering over their heads and constraining them to confess the murder. For as in the body, wounded and diseased members draw to themselves the vicious humors of the neighboring parts; in like manner, the unruly tongues of babblers, infested (as it were) with inflammations where a sort of feverish pulses continually lie beating, will be always drawing to themselves something of the secret and private concerns of other men. And therefore the tongue ought to be environed with reason, as with a rampart perpetually lying before it, like a mound, to stop the overflowing and slippery exuberance of impertinent talk; that we may not seem to be more silly than geese, which, when they take their flight out of Cilicia over the mountain Taurus, which abounds with eagles, are reported to carry every one a good big stone in their bills, instead of a bridle or barricado, to restrain their gaggling. By which means they cross those hideous forests in the night-time undiscovered.

BOOK IX. (part 9)

15. Now then if the question should be asked, Which are the worst and most pernicious sort of people? I do not believe there is any man that would omit to name a traitor. By treason it was that Euthycrates covered the uppermost story of his house with Macedonian timber, according to the report of Demosthenes; that Philocrates, having received a good sum of money, spent it upon whores and fish; and that Euphorbus and Philagrus, who betrayed Eretria, were so well rewarded by the king with ample possessions. But a prattler is a sort of traitor that no man needs to hire, for that he offers himself officiously and of his own accord. Nor does he betray to the enemy either horse or walls; but whatever he knows of public or private concerns requiring the greatest secrecy, that he discloses, whether it be in courts of judicature, in conspiracies, or management of state affairs, ’tis all one; he expects not so much as the reward of being thanked for his pains; nay, rather he will return thanks to them that give him audience. And therefore what was said upon a certain spendthrift that rashly and without any discretion wasted his own estate by his lavish prodigality to others,

Thou art not liberal; ’tis a disease Of vainly giving, which does thee possess; ’Tis all to please thyself, what thou dost give,[78]

may well be retorted upon a common prattler:

Thou art no friend, nor dost to me impart, For friendship’s sake, the secrets of thy heart; But as thy tongue has neither bolt nor lock, ’Tis thy disease, that thou delight’st to talk.

16. Nor would I have the reader think that what has hitherto been said has been discoursed so much to blame as to cure that vicious and infectious malady of loquaciousness. For though we surmount and vanquish the vices of the mind by judgment and exercise, yet must the judgment precede. For no man will accustom himself to avoid and, as it were, to extirpate out of his soul those vices, unless he first abominate them. Nor can we ever detest those evil habits of the mind as we ought to do, but when we rightly judge by reason’s light of the prejudice they do us, and the ignominy we sustain thereby. For example, we consider and find that these profuse babblers, desirous of being beloved, are universally hated; while they study to gratify, they become troublesome; while they seek to be admired, they are derided. If they aim at profit, they lose all their labor; in short, they injure their friends, advantage their enemies, and undo themselves. And therefore the first remedy and cure for this spreading malady will be this, to reckon up all the shameful infamies and disasters that attend it.

17. The second remedy is to take into serious consideration the practice of the opposite virtue, by always hearing, remembering, and having ready at hand the due praises and encomiums of reservedness and taciturnity, together with the majesty, sanctimony, and mysterious profoundness of silence. Let them consider how much more beloved, how much more admired, how far they are reputed to excel in prudence, who deliver their minds in few words, roundly and sententiously, and contract a great deal of sense within a small compass of speech, than such as fly out into voluminous language, and suffer their tongues to run before their wit. The former are those whom Plato so much praises, and likens unto skilful archers, darting forth their sentences thick and close, as it were crisped and curled one within another. To this same shrewdness of expression Lycurgus accustomed his fellow-citizens from their childhood by the exercise of silence, contracting and thickening their discourse into a compendious delivery. For as the Celtiberians make steel of iron by burying it in the ground, thereby to refine it from the gross and earthy part, so the Laconic way of speech has nothing of bark upon it, but by cutting off all superfluity of words, it becomes steeled and sharpened to pierce the understanding of the hearers. So their consciousness of language, so ready to turn the edge to all manner of questions, became natural by their extraordinary practice of silence. And therefore it would be very expedient for persons so much given to talk, always to have before their eyes the short and pithy sayings of those people, were it only to let them see the force and gravity which they contain. For example: The Lacedaemonians to Philip; Dionysius in Corinth. And when Philip wrote thus to the Spartans: If once I enter into your territories, I will destroy ye all, never to rise again; they answered him with the single word, If. To King Demetrius exclaiming in a great rage, What! have the Spartans sent me but one ambassador? the ambassador nothing terrified replied, Yes; one to one. Certainly they that spoke short and concisely were much admired by the ancients. Therefore the Amphictyons gave order, not that the Iliad or the Odyssey or Pindar’s paeans should be written upon Pythian Apollo’s temple; but Know thyself; Nothing too much; Give sureties, and mischief is at hand. So much did they admire conciseness of speech, comprehending full sense in so much brevity, made solid as it were by the force of a hammer. Does not the Deity himself study compendious utterance in the delivery of his oracles? Is he not therefore called Loxias,[79] because he avoids rather loquacity than obscurity? Are not they that signify their meaning by certain signs, without words, in great admiration and highly applauded? Thus Heraclitus, being desired by his fellow-citizens to give them his opinion concerning Concord, ascended the public pulpit, and taking a cup of cold water into his hand, first sprinkled it with a little flour, then stirring it with a sprig of pennyroyal, drank it off, and so came down again; intimating thereby, that if men would but be contented with what was next at hand, without longing after dainties and superfluities, it would be an easy thing for cities to live in peace and concord one with another.

Scilurus, king of the Scythians, left fourscore sons behind him; who, when he found the hour of death approaching, ordered them to bring him a bundle of small javelins, and then commanded every one singly to try whether he could break the bundle, as it was, tied up altogether; which when they told him it was impossible for them to do, he drew out the javelins one by one, and brake them all himself with ease; thereby declaring that, so long as they kept together united and in concord, their force would be invincible, but that by disunion and discord they would enfeeble each other, and render their dominion of small continuance.

18. He then, that by often repeating and reflection shall enure himself to such precedents as these, may in time perhaps be more delighted with these short and conclusive apophthegms than with the exorbitances of loose and lavish discourse. For my own part, I must acknowledge that I am not a little ashamed of myself, when I call to mind that same domestic servant of whom I am now going to speak, and consider how great a thing it is to advise before a man speaks, and then to be able to maintain and stick to what he has resolved upon.

Pupius Piso, the rhetorician, being unwilling to be disturbed with much talk, gave orders to his servants to answer to such questions only as he should ask them, and say no more. Then having a design to give an entertainment to Clodius, at that time magistrate, he ordered him to be invited, and provided a splendid banquet for him, as in all probability he could do no less. At the time appointed several other guests appeared, only they waited for Clodius’s coming, who tarried much longer than was expected; so that Piso sent his servant several times to him, to know whether he would be pleased to come to supper or no. Now when it grew late and Piso despaired of his coming, What! said he to his servant, did you call him? Yes, replied the servant. Why then does he not come away? Because he told me he would not come. Why did you not tell me so before? Because, sir, you never asked me the question. This was a Roman servant. But an Athenian servant, while he is digging and delving, will give his master an account of the articles and capitulations in a treaty of peace. So strangely does custom prevail in all things, of which let us now discourse.

19. For there is no curb or bridle that can tame or restrain a libertine tongue; only custom must vanquish that disease. First therefore, when there are many questions propounded in the company where thou art, accustom thyself to silence till all the rest have refused to give an answer. For, as Sophocles observes,

Although in racing swiftness is required, In counselling there’s no such haste desired;

no more do speech and answer aim at the same mark with running. For it is the business of a racer to get the start of him that contends with him; but if another man gives a sufficient answer, there needs no more than to commend and approve what he says, and so gain the reputation of a candid person. If not, then to tell wherein the other failed and to supply the defect will neither be unseasonable nor a thing that can justly merit distaste. But above all things, let us take special heed, when another is asked a question, that we do not chop in to prevent his returning an answer. And perhaps it is as little commendable, when a question is asked of another, to put him by, and undertake the solution of what is demanded ourselves. For thereby we seem to intimate that the person to whom the question was put was not able to resolve it, and that the propounder had not discretion sufficient to know of whom to ask it. Besides, such a malapert forwardness in answering is not only indecent, but injurious and affrontive. For he that prevents the person to whom the question is put in returning his answer, would in effect insinuate a What need had you to ask of him?—What can he say to it?—When I am in presence, no man ought to be asked those questions but myself. And yet many times we put questions to some people, not for want of an answer, but only to minister occasion of discourse to provoke them to familiarity, and to have the pleasure of their wit and conversation, as Socrates was wont to challenge Theaetetus and Charmides. Therefore to prevent another in returning his answers, to abstract his ears, and draw off his cogitations from another to himself, is the same thing as to run and salute a man who designs to be saluted by somebody else, or to divert his eyes upon ourselves which were already fixed upon another; considering that if he to whom the question is put refuse to return an answer, it is but decent for a man to contain himself, and by an answer accommodate to the will of the propounder, modestly and respectfully to put in, as if it had been at the request or in the behalf of the other. For they that are asked a question, if they fail in their answer, are justly to be pardoned; but he that voluntarily presumes to answer for another gives distaste, let his answer be never so rational; but if he mistake, he is derided by all the company.

20. The second point of exercise, in reference to our own answering of questions, wherein a man that is given to talk ought to be extremely careful, is first of all not to be over-hasty in his answers to such as provoke him to talk on purpose to make themselves merry and to put an affront upon him. For some there are who, not out of any desire to be satisfied, but merely to pass away the time, study certain questions, and then propound them to persons which they know love to multiply words, on purpose to make themselves sport. Such men therefore ought to take heed how they run headlong and leap into discourse, as if they were glad of the occasion, and to consider the behavior of the propounder and the benefit and usefulness of the question. When we find that the propounder is really desirous to be informed, it is convenient then for a man to bethink himself awhile, and make some pause between the question and the answer; to the end that the proposer, if he pleases to make any additions to his proposal, may have time to do it, and himself a convenient space to consider what answer to make, for fear of running at random and stifling the question before it be fully propounded, or of giving one answer for another for want of considering what he ought to say,—which is the effect of an over-hasty zeal to be talking. True it is, indeed, that the Pythian priestess was wont to give her oracular answers at the very instant, and sometimes before the question was propounded. For that the Deity whom she serves

Both understands the mute that cannot speak, And hears the silent e’er his mind he break.[80]

But it behooves a man that would return a pertinent answer, to stay till he rightly apprehend the sense and understand the intent of him that propounds the question, lest he may happen to make good the proverb,

A rake we called for; they refused a bowl.

Besides, we must subdue this inordinate and insatiate greediness of having all the talk, that it may not seem as if we had some old flux of humors impostumated about the tongue, which we were willing to have lanced and let out by a question. Socrates therefore, though never so thirsty after violent exercise, never would allow himself the liberty to drink, till he had drawn one bucket of water and poured it out upon the ground; to the end he might accustom his sensual appetite to attend reason’s appointment.

21. Now therefore we come to understand that there are three sorts of answers to questions, the necessary, the polite, and the superfluous. For example, if a man should ask whether Socrates is within, the other, if he were in an ill-humor or not disposed to make many words, would answer, Not within; or if he intended to be more Laconic, he would cut off “within,” and reply briefly, No. Thus the Lacedaemonians, when Philip sent them an epistle, to know whether or not they would admit him into their city, vouchsafed him no other answer than only No, fairly written in large letters upon a sheet of paper. Another that would answer more courteously would say: He is not within; he is gone among the bankers; and perhaps he would add, Where he expects some friends. But a superfluous prater, if he chance to have read Antimachus of Colophon, would reply: He is not within; but is gone among the bankers, in expectation to meet certain Ionian friends, who are recommended to him in a letter from Alcibiades, who lives at Miletus with Tissaphernes, one of the great king of Persia’s lieutenant-generals, who formerly assisted the Lacedaemonians, but is now, by the solicitation of Alcibiades, in league with the Athenians; for Alcibiades, being desirous to return to his own country, has prevailed with Tissaphernes to change his mind and join with the Athenians. And thus perhaps you shall have him run on and repeat the whole eighth book of Thucydides, and overwhelm a man with his impertinent discourse, till he has taken Miletus, and banished Alcibiades a second time. Herein therefore ought a man chiefly to restrain the profuseness of his language, by following the footsteps of the question, and circumscribing the answer, as it were, within a circle proportionable to the benefit which the propounder proposes to make of his question. It is reported of Carneades, that before he was well known in the world, while he was disputing in the Gymnasium, the president of the place sent him an admonition to moderate his voice (for he naturally spoke very deep and loud); in answer to which he desired the president to send him a gauge for his voice, when the president not improperly made answer: Let that be the person who disputes with thee. In like manner, the intent of the propounder ought to be the rule and measure of the answer.

22. Moreover, as Socrates was wont to say, that those meats were chiefly to be abstained from which allured men to eat when they were not a-hungry, and those drinks to be refrained that invited men to drink when they were not a-dry; so it would behoove a man that is lavish of his tongue, to be afraid of those discourses and themes wherein he most delights and makes it his business to be most prolix, and whenever he perceives them flowing in upon him, to resist them to the utmost of his power. For example, your martial men are always talking of sieges and battles, and the great poet often introduces Nestor boasting of his own achievements and feats of arms. The same disease is incident to noted pleaders at the bar, and accompanies such as have unexpectedly risen to be the favorites of great princes. For such will be always up with their stories,—how they were introduced at first, how they ascended by degrees, how they got the better in such a case, what arguments they used in such a case, and lastly how they were hummed up and applauded in court. For to say truth, gladness and joy are much more loquacious than the sleeplessness so often feigned in their comedies, rousing up and still refreshing itself with new relations; and therefore they are prone to fall into such stories upon the least occasion given. For not only

Where the body most is pained, There the patient lays his hand;

but pleasure also has a voice within itself, and leads the tongue about to be a support to the memory. So lovers spend the greatest part of their time in songs and sonnets, to refresh their memories with the representations of their mistresses; concerning which amours of theirs, when companions are wanting, they frequently discourse with things that are void of life. Thus,

O dearest bed, whereon we wont to rest;

and again,

O blessed lamp divine,—for surely thee Bacchis believes some mighty Deity,— Surely the greatest of the Gods thou art, If she so wills who does possess my heart.

And indeed it may well be said, that a loose-tongued fellow is no more, in respect of his discourse, than a white line struck with chalk upon white marble. For in regard there are several subjects of discourse, and many men are more subject to some than to others, it behooves every one to be on his guard especially against these, and to suppress them in such a manner that the delight which they take therein may not decoy them into their beloved prolixity and profuseness of words. The same inclination to overshoot themselves in prattling appears in such as are prone to that kind of discourses wherein they suppose themselves to excel others, either in habit or experience. For such a one, being as well a lover of himself as ambitious of glory,

The chiefest part of all the day doth spend, Himself to pass and others to transcend.[81]

For example, he that reads much endeavors to excel in history; the grammarian, in the artificial couching of words; the traveller is full of his geography. But all these surplusages are to be avoided with great caution, lest men, intoxicated therewith, grow fond of their old infirmities, and return to their former freaks, like beasts that cannot be driven from their haunts. Cyrus therefore, yet a young stripling, was most worthy of admiration, who would never challenge his equals and playfellows to any exercise wherein he excelled, but to such only wherein he knew himself to be inferior; unwilling that they should fret for the loss of the prize which he was sure to win, and loath to lose what he could himself gain from the others’ better skill.

On the other side, the profuse talker is of such a disposition that, if any discourse happen from which he might be able to learn something and inform his ignorance, that he refuses and rejects, nor can you hire him even to hold his tongue; but after his rolling and restless fancy has mustered up some few obsolete and all-to-be-tattered rhapsodies to supply his vanity, out he flings them, as if he were master of all the knowledge in the world. Just like one amongst us who, having read two or three of Ephorus’s books, tired all men’s ears, and spoiled and brake up all the feasts and societies wherever he came, with his continual relations of the battle of Leuctra and the consequences of it; by which means he got himself a nickname, and every one called him Epaminondas.

23. But this is one of the least inconveniences of this infirmity; and indeed we ought to make it one step towards the cure, to turn this violent vein of twattling upon such subjects as those. For such a loquacity is less a nuisance when it superabounds in what belongs to humane literature. It would be well also that the sort of people who are addicted to this vice should accustom themselves to write upon some subject or other, and to dispute of certain questions apart. For Antipater the Stoic, as we may probably conjecture, either not being able or else unwilling to come into dispute with Carneades, vehemently inveighing against the Stoics, declined to meet him fairly in the schools, yet would be always writing answers against him; and because he filled whole volumes full of contradictory arguments, and still opposed him with assertions that only made a noise, he was called Calamoboas, as one that made a great clamor with his pen to no purpose. So it is very probable that such fighting with their own shadows, and exclaiming one against another apart by themselves, driving and restraining them from the multitude, would render them gradually more tolerable and sociable in civil company; as curs, after they have once discharged their fury upon sticks and stones, become less fierce towards men. It would be always of great importance to them to converse with their superiors and elders; for that the awful reverence and respect which they bear to their dignity and gravity may accustom them in time to silence.

And it would be evermore expedient to intermix and involve with these exercises this manner of ratiocination with ourselves, before we speak, and at the very moment that the words are ready to break out of our mouths: What is this which I would say, that presses so hard to be gone? For what reason would this tongue of mine so fain be talking? What good shall I get by speaking? What mischief shall I incur by holding my peace? For we are not to ease and discharge ourselves of our words, as if they were a heavy burthen that overloaded us; for speech remains as well when uttered as before; but men either speak in behalf of themselves when some necessity compels them, or for the benefit of those that hear them, or else to recreate one another with the delights of converse, on purpose to mitigate and render more savory, as with salt, the toils of our daily employments. But if there be nothing profitable in speaking, nothing necessary to them that hear what is said, nothing of satisfaction or delight, what need is there it should be spoken? For words may be in vain and to no purpose, as well as deeds. But after and above all that has been said, we ought always to bear in remembrance, and always to have at our tongue’s end, that saying of Simonides, that he had often repented him of talking, but never of keeping silent. Then as for exercise, we must believe it to be a matter of great importance, as being that which overcomes and masters all things; considering what watchful care and even toil and labor men will undergo to get rid of an old cough or hiccough. But silence and taciturnity not only never cause a dry throat, as Hippocrates observes, but are altogether free from pain and sorrow.

OF LOVE.

FLAVIANUS AND AUTOBULUS, SONS OF PLUTARCH.

1. FLAVIANUS. Was it not in Helicon, dear Autobulus, that those discourses were held concerning Love, which—whether thou hast already set them down in writing, or still carriest them in thy memory, as having often desired them from thy father—we are now in expectation that thou wilt recite to us, at our importunate request?

AUTOBULUS. I was in Helicon, dear Flavianus, among the Muses, at what time the Thespians performed the Erotic solemnities. For they celebrate every four years certain games and festivals very magnificent and splendid in honor of Cupid, as well as of the Muses.

FLAV. Know’st thou then what it is we all desire at thy hands, as many as are gathered here together to be thy auditors?

AUTOB. No; but I shall know, when I am once by you informed.

FLAV. Curtail, we beseech ye, your discourse at present, forbearing the descriptions of meadows and shades, together with the crawling ivy, and whatever else poets are so studious to add to their descriptions, imitating with more curiosity than grace Plato’s Ilissus,[82] with the chaste tree and the gentle rising hillock covered with green grass.

AUTOB. What needed my relation, dearest Flavianus, such a proem as this? The occasion that gave birth to these discourses of itself (as it were) asks for a chorus, and it requires a theatre; otherwise there is nothing wanting of a complete drama. Therefore let us only beseech Memory, the mother of the Muses, to be propitious and assist us in the discovery of the fable.

2. For a long time before we were born, when our father had newly espoused our mother, an unlucky variance that fell out between their parents caused him to take a journey to Thespiae, with an intention to sacrifice to the God of Love; and he carried my mother also to the feast (for that it properly belonged to her as well to make the feast as to perform the sacrifice), besides several of his familiar acquaintance that accompanied him from his house. Now being arrived at Thespiae, he met with Daphnaeus, the son of Archidamus, who was in love with Lysandra, the daughter of Simon, and who was, above all her suitors, chiefly the most welcome and acceptable to her. There he also found Soclarus, the son of Aristion, who was come from Tithorea; together with Protogenes of Tarsus and Zeuxippus the Lacedaemonian, by whom he had been several times kindly entertained; and he said that most of the chief men among the Boeotians were there also. Thus they stayed for two or three days in the city, entertaining each other with learned discourses, one while in the common wrestling-places, sometimes in the theatres, still keeping company together. After that, avoiding the troublesome contest of the harpers and musicians,—it being found out that all had been settled beforehand by favor and intrigue,—the greatest part brake company, as if they had been discamping out of an enemy’s country, retired to Helicon, and took up their lodgings among the Muses. Thither the next morning came to them Anthemion and Pisias, persons of eminent nobility, and both allied to Baccho, surnamed the Fair, and in some way at difference one with another, by reason of the affection which they severally bore to him. For there was at Thespiae, Ismenodora, of an illustrious family, and wealthy withal; and indeed in all other respects discreet and modest; and moreover she had continued a widow no little time, without spot or stain to her reputation, though both young and beautiful.

Now it happened that while this brisk widow was endeavoring to make up a match between Baccho, who was the son of her intimate friend, and a certain just blooming virgin nearly allied to herself, by often talking with the young gentleman and much frequenting his company, she began to feel some sparks of kindness kindled for him in her own breast. Afterwards hearing him highly commended by others, and speaking many things in his praise herself, and finding him beloved by a great number of persons of the best rank, by degrees she fell desperately in love with the youth; nevertheless with a resolution to do nothing unbeseeming her birth and quality, but after public wedlock to acknowledge him as her husband. But as the match seemed impracticable by reason of the distance of their years, so the mother of the young man suspected the nobility and grandeur of her house not to be correspondent to her son’s condition, which rendered him incapable of such a preferment. Moreover, his companions that were wont to go a hunting with him, weighing the difference between his and the age of Ismenodora, filled his head with several scruples, and scaring him with continual frumps and scoffs, more effectually hindered the match than they who labored industriously and seriously to prevent it. And the young man himself felt ashamed at his age to be married to a widow. At last, however, shaking off all others, he applies himself to Pisias and Anthemion for their advice in a matter of so great concernment. The elder of these two, Anthemion, was his cousin, and Pisias the most earnest of his lovers. The latter therefore withstood the match with all his might, and upbraided Anthemion, as one that went about to betray the young man to Ismenodora. On the other side, Anthemion told Pisias, that he did not well to do as he did, having the reputation of a worthy honest man, to imitate those lewd lovers, and endeavor to deprive his friend of a noble house, a rich wife, and other great conveniences, that he might have the pleasure to see him frequently naked in the wrestling-places, fresh and smooth, and a stranger to female sports.

3. However, to prevent the growing of any quarrel between them, through long and passionate disputes, they chose for umpires of the controversy my father and those friends that were with him. And beside them, as if they had been chosen on purpose, Daphnaeus pleaded for Pisias, and for Anthemion, Protogenes; who bitterly inveighing against Ismenodora, O Hercules, cried Daphnaeus, what may we not expect, when Protogenes bids defiance to love? he that all along has spent as well the serious as sportive hours of his life both in love and for love, without regard either to learning or his country; nor like to Laius, who was but five days’ journey distant from home,—for his was a slow sort of love upon the dry land,—whereas your Cupid, Protogenes,

With nimble wings displayed,

crossed the seas from Cilicia to Athens, merely to visit and straggle up and down with lovely boys. And indeed, such at first was the true cause of Protogenes’s peregrination.

4. At which the company falling into a loud laughter; How! said Protogenes, can you believe that I at this time wage war against love, and that I do not rather fight for love against intemperate desire and lascivious wantonness, which, under the shelter of the most honest and fairest names that are, let themselves loose into the most shameful acts of inordinate lust and concupiscence? Then Daphnaeus: Do ye number wedlock and the conjunction of man and wife (than which there is no tie more sacred in this life) among the vile and dishonest actions of the world? Why truly, replied Protogenes, this same bond of wedlock, as being necessary for generation, is not undeservedly perhaps extolled by our grave politicians and lawgivers, and by them recommended to the multitude. But I must tell ye, if you mean true love, there is not a farthing’s worth of it to be found among women. Nor do I believe that either you yourselves, or any other that dote so much as you pretend to do upon women and virgins, love them any otherwise than as flies love milk, or bees love honey-combs; or as cooks and butchers fat up calves and poultry in the dark, not out of any extraordinary affection which they bear to these creatures, but for the gain which they make of them. But as Nature prompts all men to the use of bread and meat with moderation and so far as may suffice the appetite, the excess of which becomes a vice, under the name of gluttony or gormandizing; thus it is natural for men and women to desire the pleasures of mutual enjoyment, but as for that impetuous concupiscence that hurries the greatest part of mankind with so much strength and violence, it is not properly called love. For love that is bred in a young and truly generous heart, by means of friendship, terminates in virtue; whereas all our desires towards women, let them be taken in the best sense he can, serve us only to reap the fruit of pleasure, and to assist us in the fruition of youth and beauty. As Aristippus testified to one that would have put him out of conceit with Lais, for that, as he said, she did not truly love him; no more, said he, am I beloved by pure wine or good fish, and yet I willingly make use of both. For the end of desire is pleasure and enjoyment. But love, having once lost the hopes of friendship, will neither tarry, nor cherish for beauty’s sake that which is irksome, though never so gaudy in the flower of youth, if it bring not forth the fruit of a disposition propense to friendship and virtue. And therefore it is that you hear a certain husband in a tragedy thus talking to his wife:

Thou hat’st me? True;—and I thy proud disdain Will brook with patience, careless of the pain, So long as my dishonor gives me gain.

Now I take him to be not at all a more amorous man than this, that can endure, for the sake of his carnal pleasure, and not for gain, the plague of a curst ill-natured shrew, that is always scolding. The first of which love-martyrs Philippides the comedian thus derided in the person of Stratocles the rhetorician:

She lowers and growls and turns her tail With fury so unkind, The wittol blest would think himself, To kiss her coif behind.

Now if this be the passion you talk of which is to be called Love, it is a spurious and effeminate love that sends us to the women’s chambers, as it were to the Cynosarges at Athens. Or rather, as they say there is a sort of generous and true bred mountain eagle, which Homer calls the black eagle and eagle of prey, and then again there is another sort of bastard eagle, that takes fish and birds that are lazy and slow of flight, and wanting food makes a shrill and mournful noise for hunger; thus the true genuine love is that of boys, not flaming with concupiscence, as according to Anacreon the love of maids and virgins does, neither besmeared with odoriferous ointments, nor alluring with smiles and rolling glances; but you shall find him plain and simple and undebauched with pleasures in the schools of the philosophers, or in the wrestling-lists and places of public exercise, smart and generous in the chase of youth, and exhorting to virtue all that he finds to be fit objects of his diligence; whereas that other love, nice and effeminate, and always nestling in the bosoms and beds of women, pursuing soft pleasures, and wasted with unmanly delights, that have no gust of friendship or heavenly ravishment of mind, is to be despised and rejected of all mankind. This indeed Solon did, when he forbade slaves and servants the use of male familiarity and of dry ointment, but granted them the liberty to accompany with women; as looking upon friendship to be laudable and civil, but pleasure to be a vulgar thing and unbecoming a man born free. Whence it appears that to make love to a slave boy is ignoble and unworthy of a freeman; for this is mere mischievous love of copulation, like the affection toward women.

5. Now while Protogenes was desirous to say more, Daphnaeus interrupting him said: Truly you have done well to put us in mind of Solon, and we may make use of him as the judge of a person addicted to love. Hear what he says:

Then dote upon the flowery youth of boys, Their fragrant breath admiring and soft thighs.

Add to this of Solon that other of Aeschylus:

Ungrateful, for the kisses of my lips, Not to revere the glory of my hips.

These are proper judges of love; but others there are who deride all those that would have lovers inspect thighs and haunches, like so many sacrificers and diviners. And for my part I draw from hence a very strong argument on the behalf of the women. For if male converse, which is altogether against nature, neither extinguishes nor is any ways noxious to amorous affection, much more probable is it that the love of women, which is according to nature, should reach to the consummation of friendship, by virtue of that obsequious beauty which attends it. For I must tell you, Protogenes, the submission of the female to the male was by the ancients expressed by the word χάρις (grace or favor). For which reason Pindar observes that Vulcan was by Juno brought forth without the graces; and Sappho tells a young virgin, not yet ripe for matrimony,

A little child thou seem’st, and without grace.

And a certain person puts the question to Hercules,

By force or by persuasion did the maid Her favors yield?

But the submission of males to males, whether it be by compulsion and strength, like a violent and forcible rape, or whether it be voluntary,—men suffering themselves weakly and effeminately to be covered by each other, like four-footed beasts, and counterfeiting the act of generation in defiance of nature (as Plato says),—is void of all grace, brutish, and contrary to the end of venereal pleasure. Wherefore I am apt to believe that Solon wrote those lines when he was young, brisk, and full of seed (as Plato phrases it), but when he was grown into years, he sang another note:

The sports of Venus, now, are my delight, Or else with Bacchus to carouse; At other times the Muses’ charms invite; These are the chiefest pleasures mankind knows;—

as if he had altered his course of life, and retired from the storms and tempests of pederastic fury into the calms of wedlock and philosophy. Now then, Protogenes, let us but consider the truth of the matter, we shall find the passion of lovers to be the same, whether it be for boys or for women; or if, out of a contentious humor, you will distinguish them, you shall find that this affection for boys does not keep itself within bounds, but like a late-born issue, clandestinely brought forth in the dark and out of season, it strives to expel the truly genuine and legitimate love, which is much the more ancient. For give me leave to tell ye, my dear friend, it is but (as it were) of yesterday’s standing or of the day before—since young boys began to strip and show themselves naked in the public places of exercise—that this frenzy, getting in by degrees and crowding in there, afterwards by little and little became came better fledged and gathered strength of wings in the wrestling-rings, so that now the insolence of it can no longer be so restrained but that still it will be affronting and adulterating conjugal love, which is the coadjutrix of Nature and helps to immortalize mortal mankind, raising up and immediately restoring again by generation our human nature when it has been extinguished by death. But this same Protogenes denies there is any pleasure in male concupiscence, for he is ashamed and afraid to acknowledge it. Therefore there must be some decent pretence for the feeling and handling these adult and lovely youths. And truly he has found out a very clever excuse, alleging it to be for the sake of friendship and virtue. Therefore he rolls himself in the dust, washes with cold water, erects his brows, and outwardly pretends to philosophy and chastity, for fear of the law; but when darkness covers the earth, and all people have betaken themselves to their rest,

Sweet the ripe fruit he finds, its keeper gone.

Now if it be as Protogenes says, that no carnal conjunction attends these masculine familiarities, how can it be love, when Venus is absent; seeing that of all the Goddesses, she it is that Cupid is bound to obey and attend, and that he has no honor or power but what she confers upon him? But if there be a sort of love without Venus, as a man may be drunk without wine by drinking the decoctions of figs or barley, the disturbance of such a love must prove fruitless and to no end, and consequently loathsome and offensive.

6. These things thus said, it was apparent that Pisias found himself touched to the quick, and much concerned for what Daphnaeus had spoken. But after he had been silent awhile, O Hercules, said he, what a strange impudence and levity is this in men, to acknowledge themselves tied to women by their generating parts, like dogs to bitches; by this means expelling and banishing love from the places of exercise, from the public porticos, and from conversing under the open sky and sunshine, to the stews, poniards, philters, and sorceries of lascivious women; for it is not convenient for the chaste either to love or to be beloved. At which words, as my father told me, he took Protogenes by the hand, and repeated to him these verses:

Words such as these the Argive courage warm; And the affronted youth provoke to arm.

For surely (he added) the exorbitant language of Pisias gives us good reason to take Daphnaeus’s part, while he introduces over the head of wedlock a society void of love, and utterly a stranger to that same friendship which descends and is inspired from above; which, if real affection and submission be wanting, can hardly be restrained by all the curbs and yokes of shame and fear. Then Pisias: For my part, said he, I give little heed to this argument; for as for Daphnaeus, I find him in the same condition with brass. For as brass is not so easily melted by the fire as by the force of the same melted and liquid metal being poured upon it, which mollifies both alike, and causes them to run and mix together; so it is not the beauty of Lysandra that inflames him, but the conversing along with one that is already inflamed and full of fire, that sets him all in a flame himself; and it is apparent that, unless he makes haste to us, he will suddenly be melted with his own heat. But I perceive, said he, the same thing will befall me which Anthemion has most reason to desire, that I too shall offend the judges; and therefore I shall say no more. Then Anthemion: ’Tis very true indeed, your fear is just; for you ought at the first to have spoken to the purpose, and what was proper to the argument in hand.

7. To this Pisias replied: I am willing enough that every woman should have her lover; but withal, it very much concerns Baccho to have a care how he entangles himself in Ismenodora’s wealth; lest, while we match him with so much grandeur and magnificence, we consume him to nothing, like tin among brass. For I must tell you, it would be a hard matter for so young a stripling as he is, though he should marry a plain and ordinary woman, to keep the upper hand, like wine mixed with water. But we see her already design superiority and command; else why should she refuse so many suitors of great wealth and noble extraction that court her daily, to woo herself a mere boy, that has but newly assumed the robes of manhood and is more fit to go to school than to marry. And therefore those husbands that are wise, without any admonition, out of their own foresight, clip their wives’ wings themselves; that is, they prune away their riches, that prompt them to luxury and vanity, and render them inconstant and foolish. For many times, by the help of these wings, they soar out of their husbands’ reach and fly quite away; or if they stay at home, better it were for a man to be chained with fetters of gold, as they chain their prisoners in Ethiopia, than to be tied to the riches of a wife.

8. However, said Protogenes, he has not hinted to us in the least the hazard we run of inverting absurdly and ridiculously the counsel of Hesiod, whose words are these:

Take to thy home a woman for thy bride When in the ripeness of thy manhood’s pride: Thrice ten thy sum of years, the nuptial prime; Nor far fall short, nor far exceed the time. Four years the ripening virgin should consume, And wed the fifth of her expanded bloom.[83]

Quite contrary to this precept, we are going about to couple a young lad, scarce ripe for marriage, to a lady much older than himself; like those that graft the tender scions of dates and fig-trees upon old stocks, to make them bear fruit before their season. But you will say, The woman is in love up to the ears, and burns with desire. Who is he that will hinder her from masquerading before his doors, from singing her amorous lamentations at his windows, from adorning his statues with chaplets and garlands of flowers, from duelling her rivals, and winning him from them all by feats of arms? For these are acts that demonstrate the height of a passionate affection. Let her knit her brows, refrain all manner of pomp of luxury; let her put on a garb and countenance suitable to such a violent passion. But if bashful and modest, let her sit at home, expecting her suitors and gallants to come and court her there. But who would not fly and abominate a woman that professes love, and loathe the idea of taking one to wife who makes such an impudent incontinence the first step to future nuptials?

9. When Protogenes had thus concluded; Do you not see, Anthemion, saith my father, how they again make common cause against us, enforcing us still to continue our discourse of nuptial love, who deny not ourselves to be the upholders of it, nor ever avoided the being one of that celebrated chorus? Most certainly I do, replied Anthemion; therefore proceed in the defence of conjugal affection; and let us have also your assistance in maintaining the argument about riches, with which Pisias chiefly seems to scare us. ’Tis the least we can do, said my father; for what in the world will not be made a reproach to womankind, should we reject Ismenodora because she is in love and wealthy to boot? Grant that she is imperious as well as rich. What then if she is beautiful and young? What if she is somewhat stately and haughty, by reason of her illustrious birth? There is nothing of crabbedness, nothing scornful, nothing sour, nothing troublesome, in women truly chaste and modest. And yet their very chastity gains them the name of shrews and furies. But you will say, since it may be a man’s misfortune to be so hampered, would it not be better to marry some Thracian Abrotonon or some Milesian Bacchis, whom he can get in the market for money and a handful of nuts? And yet we have known some men that have been miserably henpecked by this sort of underlings. The Samian minstrels and morris-dancers, such as were Aristonica, Oenanthe with her tabor and pipe, and Agathoclia, insulted over the diadems of sovereigns. The Syrian Semiramis was a poor wench, kept by one of Ninus’s slaves, partly as his servant, partly as his harlot, till Ninus, meeting her and taking a fancy to her, at length doted upon her to that degree, that she not only governed him as she pleased herself, but contemned him; so that, finding she had got the absolute mastery over him, she became so bold as to desire him to do her the favor to see her sit but one day upon his throne, with the royal diadem upon her head, dispatching the public business. To which the king consenting, and giving order to all his officers to yield her the same obedience as to himself, at first she was very moderate in her commands, only to make trial of the guards about her; but when she saw that they obeyed her without the least hesitation or murmuring, she commanded them first to lay hold of Ninus himself, then to bind him, at length to kill him. Which being done, she took the government upon herself, and reigned victoriously over all Asia with great splendor and renown.

And was not Belestiche a barbarian courtesan bought in the market, in whose honor the Alexandrians erected temples and altars, with inscriptions to Venus Belestiche as marks of the king’s affection to her? And as for her who is in this very city enshrined in the same temple and honored with the same solemnities as Cupid, and whose gilded statue stands among kings and queens at Delphi,—I would fain know what dowry of hers it was that brought so many lovers into such subjection to her.[84] But as those great men, through their softness and effeminacy, became a prey to those women; so on the other side, men of low and mean condition, having married women both wealthy and of splendid extraction, neither lowered sail nor abated any thing of their courage and greatness of mind, but lived together with their wives, always honoring them, and keeping that superiority over them which was their right and due. But he that contracts and reduces his wife within a narrow compass, and makes her less, like a ring that is too big for the finger, to prevent her from dropping off, is like to those that dock off their mares’ tails and clip their manes, and then lead them to a river or pond; for it is reported, that when those mares perceive themselves so ill favoredly shorn and disfigured, they lose their natural courage, and will afterwards suffer themselves to be covered by asses.

Now, as it is a base thing to prefer the riches of a woman above her virtue or nobility, so is it as great folly to reject wealth, when accompanied with virtue and illustrious parentage. Antigonus writing to a captain of his, whom he had ordered to fortify the hill Munychia, bade him not only make the collar strong but keep the dog lean; intimating thereby that he should take care to impoverish the Athenians. But there is no necessity for the husband of a rich and beautiful wife to make her poor or to disfigure her; but by self-control and prudence, and by seeming not to admire any thing extravagantly in her, to carry himself so that she may perceive that, as he designs not to be a tyrant, so she must not expect him to be her subject; giving his own character that weight in the balance, that the scale may be turned without offence and for the good of both. Now, as for Ismenodora, her years are fit for marriage, and she is a woman most likely to bear children; nay, I am informed that she is now in her prime. For, continued he, smiling upon Pisias, she is not elder than any of her rivals; neither has she any gray hairs, as some that keep company with Baccho. Now if those people think their converse with the young gentleman no way misbecoming their gravity, what hinders but that she may affect and cherish him better than any young virgin whatever? For I must needs say, it is a difficult matter many times rightly to mix and blend the tempers of young people; in regard it will require some time to make them sensible of several extravagancies which they may commit, until they have laid aside the pride and wantonness which is incident to youth. For many a blustering tempest will happen between the new-married couple before they can be brought to endure the yoke, and draw quietly together, more especially if the God of Love appear among them; and youthful wantonness—like the wind in the absence of the pilot—will disturb and confuse the happiness of the match, while the one has not skill to govern and the other refuses to be governed. Now then, if it be so that nurses are sought for to look after sucking infants, and schoolmasters to teach children; if masters of exercise direct young striplings, and the lover his youth; if the law and the captain-general govern those that are of age, so that no man can be said to be at his own liberty to do what he list; where is the absurdity for a wife, that has wit and discretion and the advantage of years, to govern and direct the life and conversation of a youthful husband, profitable to him as exceeding him in wisdom, and augmenting the pleasure of her society by the sweetness of her disposition and reality of affection? To conclude, said he, we that are Boeotians ourselves ought to reverence Hercules, and not to be offended with those that marry women elder than themselves; knowing, as we do, that even Hercules himself gave his own wife Megara, being then three and thirty years old, to Iolaus his son, being no more than sixteen years of age.

10. While they were in the midst of these discourses, one of Pisias’s companions and friends, as my father reported, came galloping towards them out of the city, whip and spur, to bring the news of a strange and wonderful accident. For Ismenodora, believing that Baccho no way disliked being married to her, but only was deterred by the importunities of his friends that dissuaded him from the match, resolved not to let the young man escape her. To this purpose she sent for certain sparks of her acquaintance, whom she knew to be stout and resolute young gentlemen, and some women that were well-wishers to her amours, and observing the hour that Baccho was wont to pass by her house to the wrestling-place, well attended and decently garbed, one day when he came near the outermost door, anointed as he was for the exercise, with two or three more in the same posture, she met him in the street, and gently twitched his upper coat. This signal being given, her friends rushed forth, and fairly and softly catching him up in his mandilion and doublet, in a huddle together they carried him into the house, and locked the door fast after them. Then came the women also, and pulling off his mandilion, threw about him a costly nuptial garment. The servants likewise, running up and down from one place to another, adorned the posts not only of Ismenodora’s but of Baccho’s house with olive and laurel boughs; and a minstrel likewise was ordered to pipe along the street. The story thus related, the Thespians and strangers some of them laughed, some others were heinously offended, and did what they could to exasperate the presidents of the public exercises. For they have a great command over the young gentlemen, and keep a severe and vigilant eye upon all their actions. And now there was not a word said of the sports that were intended; but all the people, forsaking the theatre, flocked to Ismenodora’s house, discoursing and debating the matter one among another.

11. But when Pisias’s friend, with his horse all foaming and in a sweat, as if he had brought intelligence from the army in time of war, had delivered his news, being hardly able to speak for want of breath, and concluding his story with saying that Ismenodora had ravished Baccho; my father told me, that Zeuxippus fell a laughing, and as he was a great admirer of that poet, repeated the verses of Euripides:

Wanton with wealth, fair lady, thou hast done No more than nature teaches every one.

But Pisias, starting up out of his seat, made a great exclamation, crying out: O ye Gods! when will ye put an end to this licentiousness, that will in the end subvert our city? For now all things are running into disorder through violation of the laws; but perhaps it is now looked upon as a slight matter to transgress the law and violate justice, for even the law of nature is transgressed and broken by the insolent anarchy of the female sex. Was ever there any such thing committed in the island of Lemnos? Let us go, said he, let us go and deliver up the wrestling-place and the council house to the women, if the city be so effeminate as to put up with these indignities. Thus Pisias brake from the company in a fury; nor would Protogenes leave him, partly offended at what had happened, and partly to assuage and mollify his friend. But Anthemion: ’Twas a juvenile bold attempt, said he, and a truly Lemnian one—I venture to say so since we are now by ourselves—of a lady warmly in love. To whom Soclarus smiling: Do you then believe, said he, that this was a real ravishment and force, and not rather a stratagem of the young man’s own contrivance (for he has wit at will), to the end he might escape out of the hands of his ruder male lovers into the embraces of a fair and rich widow? Never say so, said Anthemion, nor have such a suspicion of Baccho. For were he not naturally, as he is, of a plain and open temper, he would still never have concealed this thing from me, to whom he has always imparted his secrets, and whom he knew to be always a favorer of Ismenodora’s design. But, according to the saying of Heraclitus, it is a hard matter to withstand love, not anger; for whatever love has a desire to, it will purchase with the hazard of life, fortune, and reputation. Now where is there a more modest and orderly woman in all our city than Ismenodora? When did you ever hear an ill word spoken of her? Or when did ever any thing done in her house give the least suspicion of an ill act? Rather we may say that she seems to be inspired beyond other women with something above human reason.

12. Then Pemptides smiling: Truly, said he, there is a certain disease of the body, which they call sacred; so that it is no wonder if some men give the appellation of sacred and divine to the most raging and vehement passion of the mind. But as in Egypt once I saw two neighbors hotly contending about a serpent which crept before them in the road, while both concluded it to be good luck, and each assumed the happy omen to himself; so seeing some of you at this time haling love into the chambers of men, others into the cabinets of the women, as a divinely transcendent good, I do not wonder, since it is a passion so powerful and greatly esteemed, that it is magnified and held in greatest veneration by those that have most reason to clip its wings and expel and drive it from them. Hitherto therefore I have been silent, perceiving the debate to be rather about a particular concern, than any thing for the public good. But now that Pisias is gone, I would willingly understand from one of you, upon what account it was that they who first discoursed of love were so fond to deify it.

13. So soon as Pemptides had done, and my father was about to say something in answer to his question, another messenger came from the city in Ismenodora’s name, requesting Anthemion to come to her; for that the tumult increased, and the presidents of the games could not agree, while one was of opinion that Baccho was to be demanded and delivered into their hands, and the other thought it an impertinence to meddle with that which nothing concerned them.

Thus Anthemion being gone, my father addressed himself to Pemptides by name, and so entered into the following discourse: You seem to me, sir, to have hit upon a very strange and nice point, or rather, as I may so say, to have endeavored to stir things which are not to be moved, in reference to the opinion which we have of the Gods, while you demand a reason and demonstration of every thing in particular. For it is sufficient to believe according to the faith of our forefathers and the instructions of the country where we have been bred and born, than which we cannot utter or invent a more certain argument;

For surely all the wit of human brain This part of knowledge never could attain.[85]

For this is a foundation and basis common to all piety and religion; of which if the steady rule and decreed maxims be once disordered and shaken, all the rest must totter and become suspected. And no question but you have heard what a clamor was raised against Euripides when he made this beginning of his Melanippe:

Jupiter, if his name be so; ’Tis only by hearsay that I know.[86]

But when he exhibited the tragedy a second time, he seems to have had such a confidence in the lofty style and elaborate eloquence of his work, that he thus altered the verse:

Jove, for we own he has received that name From truth alone, and not from common fame.[87]

What difference then is there between calling in question the name of Jupiter and Minerva, and doubting of the name of Cupid or Love? For it is not of late that Love has challenged altars and sacrifices, neither is he a foreigner started up out of any barbarian superstition, as were the Attae and the Adonii, introduced by I know not what sort of hermaphrodites and idle women. Nor has he clandestinely crept into honors no way becoming him, to avoid the accusation of bastardy and being unduly enrolled in the catalogue of the Gods. But when you hear Empedocles thus saying,

And friendship too (observe my song) Is like to these, both broad and long; But this thou must not think to find With eyes of body, but of mind,

you ought to believe all this to be said of Love. For Love is no more visible than any of the rest of the ancient Deities, but apprehended only by opinion and belief; for every one of which if you require a reason and demonstrative argument, by enquiring after every temple and making a sophistical doubt upon every altar, you shall find nothing free from inquisition and malicious slander. For, that I may go no farther, observe but these:

I do not Venus see with mortal eyes, The Goddess unto whom we sacrifice; Yet this is she that mighty Cupid bare, Whose offspring all terrestrial beings are.[88]

Therefore Empedocles gives her the epithet of the Giver of Life, and Sophocles calls her Fruitful; both very aptly and pertinently. For indeed the great and wonderful work of generation is properly the work of Venus, where Love is only an assistant when present with Venus; but his absence renders the act itself altogether irksome, dishonorable, harsh, and ungrateful. For the conjunction of man and woman without true affection, like hunger and thirst, terminates in satiety, and produces nothing truly noble or commendable; but when the Goddess by means of Love puts away all loathsome glut of pleasure, she perpetuates delight by a continual supply of friendship and harmony of temper. Therefore Parmenides asserts Love to be the most ancient of all the works of Venus, writing thus in his Cosmogony:

Of all the Gods that rule above, She first brought forth the mighty Love.

But Hesiod, in my opinion, seems more philosophically to make Love the eldest of all the Gods, as from whom all the other Deities derive their beginning. Therefore, should we deprive Love of the honors which are decreed him, the ceremonies we ascribe to Venus will be no longer in request. For it is not sufficient to say, that some men reproach Love and load him with contumelies, but abstain from giving her an ill word; for upon the same theatre we hear these scandals fixed upon both:

Love, idle of himself, takes up his rest And harbors only in the slothful breast.[89]

And in another place thus upon Venus:

She does not the name of Cypris only own, But by a hundred other names is known: She’s hell on earth, continued violence, And rage subduing all the force of sense.[90]

As indeed we may say of the rest of the Gods, that there is not one that has escaped the scandalous jibes of illiterate scurrility. Look upon Mars, as in a brazen sculpture, possessing the place just opposite to Love, how highly has he been honored, how lowly degraded by men?

Swine-snouted Mars, and as a beetle blind,— ’Tis he, fair dames, disorders all mankind.[91]

Homer also gives him the epithets of murderous and Jack-a-both-sides. Moreover, Chrysippus, explaining the name of this Deity, fixes a villanous accusation upon him. For, says he, Ares is derived from ἀναιρεῖν, which signifies to destroy; thereby affording an occasion for some to give the name of Ares or Mars to that same proneness and perverse inclination of men to wrath and passion, and to quarrel and fight one with another. Others affirm Venus to be nothing but our concupiscence; that Mercury is no more than the faculty of speech; that the Muses are only the names for the arts and sciences; and that Minerva is only a fine word for prudence. And thus you see into what an abyss of atheism we are like to plunge ourselves, while we go about to range and distribute the Gods among the various passions, faculties, and virtues of men.

14. I plainly perceive it, replied Pemptides; for I neither believe it lawful to make the Gods to be passions, nor on the other side, to make the passions to be Deities. To whom my father: Well then, said he, do you believe Mars to be a God, or a passion of ours? To which when Pemptides replied, that he thought Mars to be the Deity that rectified the angry and courageous part of man; my father presently retorted upon him: Why then? said he, shall our passionate part, and those wrathful inclinations within us that provoke us to mischief and bloodshed, have a Deity to overrule and govern them; and will you not allow the same guardianship over our better propensities to love, friendship, society, and peace? Is there a Deity called Enyalius and Stratius that presides and has the superintendence over those that kill and are slain, a Deity that bears rule in matters of arms, all warlike preparations, assaults of cities, and depredations of countries, and distributes rewards as he sees occasion; and shall there be no Deity to be a witness and overseer, a supreme governor and director, of conjugal affection, which terminates in concord and happy society? Nay, do we find that they who make it their sport to hunt wild goats, hares, and deer, are not without their forest Deity to encourage them; and they that make it their business to trepan wolves and bears into snares and pitfalls, pray for good luck to Aristaeus,

Who first of all for the wild beasts of prey With gins and snares in secret ambush lay;

and that Hercules, having bent his bow, before he let fly at the bird which he intended to hit, invoked another Deity, as we find in Aeschylus,

Hunter Apollo, and to hunters kind, Direct this arrow to the mark designed;[92]

but for men that hunt the most noble game of love and friendship, is there no God nor so much as one Daemon to assist and prosper so laudable an enterprise? Truly, Daphnaeus, for my part, I cannot believe a man to be a more inconsiderable plant than an oak or mulberry tree, or the vine which Homer reverently calls by the name of Hemeris, considering that man in his due season also is endued with a powerful faculty to bud and pleasantly put forth the beauties both of his body and mind.

15. To whom Daphnaeus: In the name of all the Gods, who ever thought otherwise? All those must certainly, replied my father, who believe the care of ploughing, sowing, and planting is an employment becoming the Gods (and have they not for this purpose certain Nymphs attending them, called Dryads,

Who with the trees they cherish live and die?—

and does not

The joyous Bacchus send increase of fruit, The chaste autumnal light, to every tree?—

as Pindar sings), and who yet will not allow that the nourishment and growth of children and young people, who in the flower of their age are to be formed and shaped into several varieties of beauty, is under the care and tuition of any Deity; or that there is any Divinity to take care that man, being once born, may be guided and conducted in the true paths of virtue, and to prevent the tender plant from being bowed and bent the wrong way for want of a good instructor, or by the depraved conversation of those with whom he lives. For my part, I look upon it as a heinous piece of indignity and ingratitude thus to say, while we are all the time enjoying the bounty and benignity of God, which he is ready to disperse and diffuse over all, and which never abandons the distresses and needs of mortals. And yet in many of these needs the duty to be performed is rather necessary than pleasant. Thus our being delivered from the mother’s womb is no such delightful thing, as being attended with pain and issues of blood; and yet there is a celestial midwife and overseer that takes particular care of that necessity, which is Lucina. And indeed a man had better never be born, than to be made bad and wicked for want of a good tutor and guardian. Nay, we find that the divine power does not desert us in our sickness, nor after we are dead; there being still some Deity or other who claims some certain peculiar employment or function, even upon those occasions. Among the rest, there is one that helps to convey the souls of such as have ended this life into the other world, and lays them asleep, according to this of the poet:

For shady night ne’er brought me forth to play With artful touch upon the tuneful lyre, Nor to be mistress of prophetic fire, Nor pains of rude distempers to allay; But to convey the souls of the deceased Each one to their appointed place of rest.[93]

Nevertheless these ministerial functions have many difficulties and troubles which attend them; whereas we cannot imagine any employment more holy, any exercise more sacred, or any contention for prize and glory more becoming a Deity, than to direct and assist the lawful endeavors and pursuits of lovers in their prime of years and beauty. There is nothing dishonorable, nothing of forced necessity in this; but gentle persuasion and alluring grace, rendering labor delightful, leads to virtue and friendship, which never attains the true accomplishment of the end it aims at without some divine assistance, nor can have any other conductor and master than Cupid himself, who is the friend and companion of the Muses, the Graces, and Venus his own mother. For, according to Melannippides,

Great Love it is, that in the heart of man Sows the sweet harvest of unstained desire;

and he always mingles those things that are sweetest with those that are fairest. What do you say, Zeuxippus? Can we believe it to be otherwise?

16. In truth, I judge it so, replied Zeuxippus; and I think it would be absurd to affirm the contrary. And would it not be absurd indeed, said my father, since there are four sorts of friendships, according to the determination of the ancients,—the first, say they, is natural, the next is that of kindred and relations, the third is that of friends and acquaintance, and last is that of lovers,—if three of these have their several tutelar Deities, under the names of the patron of friendship, the patron of hospitality, and he who knits affection between those of the same race and family; while only amorous affection, as if it were unhallowed and under interdiction, is left without any guardian or protector, which indeed requires the greatest care and government above all the rest? All that you say, replied Zeuxippus, is undeniable.

By the way, replied my father, we may here take notice of what Plato says upon this subject, as pertinent to our discourse. For he says, that there is a certain madness transmitted from the body to the soul, proceeding from a malignant mixture of ill-humors, or a noxious vapor or rather pernicious spirit that possesses the heart; which madness is a rugged and terrible disease. The other is a kind of fury, partaking something of divine inspiration; neither is it engendered within, but is an insufflation from without, and a disturbance of the rational and considerative faculty, deriving its beginning and motion from some stronger power; the common affection of which is called the enthusiastic passion. For as ἔμπνοος signifies filled with breath, and ἔμφρων denotes replete with prudence; so this commotion of the soul is called enthusiasm (from ἔνθεος) by reason it participates of a more divine power. Now the prophetic part of enthusiasm derives itself from the inspiration of Apollo possessing the intellect of the soothsayer; but Bacchanal fury proceeds from Father Bacchus.

And with the Corybantes ye shall dance,

says Sophocles. For as for the extravagancies of the priests of Cybele, the mother of the Gods, and those which are called panic terrors and ejaculations, they are all of the same nature with the Bacchanal orgies. There is also a third sort of enthusiasm, proper to the Muses, which, possessing an even tempered and placid soul, excites and rouses up the gifts of poetry and music. But as for that same warlike fury which is called Arimanian, it is well known to descend from the God of War; a sort of fury, wherein there is no grace nor musical sweetness, calling forth tearful Mars, and rousing up the people to discord and tumult.[94]

There remains yet one sort more of alienation of the understanding in man, the same neither obscure, nor yet altogether calm and quiet; concerning which I would fain ask Pemptides,

Which of the Gods it is who shakes the spear That beareth fruit so lovely and so fair.

But without expecting a resolution of this question, I mean that erotic fury that possesses lovely youths and chaste women, yet a hot and vehement transport. For do we not see how the warrior lays down his arms, and submits to this more prevalent rage?

His grooms, o’erjoyed he had the war forsook, His ponderous arms from off his shoulders took;[95]

and thus having renounced the hazards of battle, he sits down a quiet spectator of other men’s dangers. As for these Bacchanalian motions and frisking of the Corybantes, there is a way to allay those extravagant transports, by changing the measure from the Trochaic and the tone from the Phrygian. And the Pythian prophetess, descending from her tripos and quitting the prophetic exhalation, becomes sedate and calm again. Whereas the fury of love, wherever it seizes either man or woman, sets them in a flame; no music, no appeasing incantations, no changes of place are able to quench or put a stop to it; but being in presence, they love; being absent, they desire; by day they prosecute their importunate visits; by night they serenade at the windows; sober, they are continually calling upon their loves; and when they are fuddled, are always teasing the company with their love songs and madrigals. Neither, as one was pleased to say, are poetical fancies, by reason of their lively expressions, rightly called waking dreams; but the dialogues of persons enamored, discoursing with their absent loves, and dallying, embracing, and expostulating with them as if they were present, much rather deserve this name. For the sight seems to delineate other fancies in the water, that quickly glide away and slip out of the mind; whereas the imaginations of lovers, being as it were enamelled by fire, leave the images of things imprinted in the memory, moving, living, speaking, and remaining for a long time. So that Cato the Roman was wont to say, that the soul of a lover dwelt in the soul of the person beloved, for that there is settled and fixed in the one the form, shape, manners, conversation and actions of the other; by which being led, the lover quickly dispatches a long journey,—as the Cynics say they have found a compendious and direct road to virtue,—and he is carried from love to friendship, as it were with wind and tide, the God of Love assisting his passion. In short then I say, that the enthusiasm of lovers is neither void of divine inspiration, neither is it under the guardianship and conduct of any other Deity but him whose festivals we solemnize, and to whom we offer our oblations. Nevertheless, in regard we measure the excellency of a Deity by his puissance and by the benefit which we receive at his hands, and esteem power and virtue to be the two chiefest and most divine of all human blessings, it may not be unseasonable to consider whether Love be inferior in power to any other of the Gods. For, according to Sophocles,

Great is the puissance of the Cyprian Queen, And great the honor which her triumphs win.[96]

Great is also the dominion of Mars; and indeed we see the power of all the rest of the Gods divided in some measure between these two,—the one being most naturally allied to the beautiful, the other most mighty in the resistance of evil, and both being originally bred in the soul, as Plato says of his ideas.

Now then let us consider, the venereal delight is a thing that may be purchased for a drachm, and there is no man that ever underwent any pain or danger for the sake of venereal enjoyments, unless he were inflamed with the fires of love. Insomuch, that not to mention such courtesans as either Phryne or Lais, we find that the harlot Gnathaenion,

By lanthorn-light, at evening late, Waiting and calling for some mate,

is often passed by and neglected;

But if some spirit blow the fire, Kindled by love’s extreme desire,

this makes the pleasure equally esteemed and valued with the treasures of Tantalus and all his vast dominions. So faint and so soon cloyed is venereal desire, unless rendered grateful by the charms and inspiration of love. Which is more evidently confirmed by this; for that many men admit others to partake of their venereal pleasures, prostituting not only their mistresses and concubines, but also their own wives, to the embraces of their friends; as it is reported of the Roman Gabba, who inviting Maecenas to his house, and perceiving him winking and nodding upon his wife, turned away his head upon his pillow, as if he had been asleep, while they dallied together; yet at the same time, when one of the servants came creeping out of the next room, to steal a bottle of wine from the cupboard, presently turning about with his eyes open, Varlet, said he, ’tis only to pleasure Maecenas that I sleep. But this perhaps is not so strange, considering that Gabba was a low buffoon.

At Argos there was a great animosity between Nicostratus and Phayllus, so that they always opposed each other and quarrelled at the council-board. Now when King Philip made a visit to that city, Phayllus bethought himself, that he could not miss the highest preferment the government could afford, if he could but oblige the king with the company of his wife, who was both beautiful and young. Nicostratus, smelling this design, walked to and fro before Phayllus’s house with some of his servants, to observe who went in and out. They had not stayed long, but out came Phayllus’s wife, whom he had dressed up in high shoes, with a mantle and cap after the Macedonian fashion, like one of the king’s pages, in which disguise she secretly passed in to the king’s lodgings. Since then there ever were and still are so many lovers, did you ever know of any one that ever prostituted his particular male friend, though it were to gain the honors ascribed to Jupiter himself? Truly, I believe there never was any such. For why? There never was any one that would pretend to oppose and contend with a tyrant; but there are many rivals and competitors, that will quarrel and fight for boys that are beautiful and in the prime of their years. It is reported of Aristogiton the Athenian, Antileon of Metapontum, and Melanippus of Agrigentum, that they never contested with tyrants, though they wasted and ruined the commonwealth and indulged the impetuosity of their lust, until they found them attempting their own male concubines: then they withstood them with the utmost peril of their lives, as if they had been to defend their temples and their most sacred sanctuaries. Alexander also is said to have sent to Theodorus, the brother of Proteas, in these words: Send me that musical girl that plays and sings so well, and take ten talents for her, unless thou lovest her thyself. Another time, when one of his minions, Antipatridas, came to be jovial with him, and brought a minstrel in his company to complete the mirth, being greatly affected with the girl’s playing and singing, he asked Antipatridas whether he had any extraordinary kindness for her? He answered, that he loved her as his eyes. Then all the plagues of mankind light upon thee, quoth the prince. However, he would not so much as touch the girl.

17. Consider also what vast power love has over martial men and warriors, not slothful, as Euripides[97] will have it to be, nor unwarlike, nor

Slumbering on a girl’s soft cheek.[98]

For a man that is once inflamed with love wants not Mars himself to be his second, when he is to engage with his enemies; but confiding in the Deity that is within him,

Ventures through fire and seas, and blustering storms, While love of friend his daring courage warms;

and breaks through all opposition, if his mistress require any proof of his valor. Therefore we read in Sophocles, that the daughters of Niobe being wounded with arrows to death, one of them, as she lay wallowing in blood, calls out for no other help or succor to assist her in her revenge, but her lover.

Where is my love? she cried; Were I but armed with that, I yet would be revenged For my untimely fate.[99]

You know the reason why Cleomachus the Pharsalian fell in battle. I am a stranger to the story, replied Pemptides, and would willingly therefore hear it. Certainly it is very well worth your knowledge, said my father.

In the heat of the war between the Chalcidians and the Eretrians, Cleomachus went with the Thessalian force to aid the Chalcidians; at what time it was evident that the Chalcidians were the stronger in foot, but they found it a difficult thing to withstand the force of the enemies’ horse. Thereupon they requested Cleomachus, being their confederate and a man signalized for his courage, to give the first onset upon the enemies’ cavalry. Presently the youth whom he most entirely loved being present, he asked him whether he would stay and be a spectator of the combat. To which when the lad gave his consent, and after many tender kisses and embraces had put on his helmet, Cleomachus’s love redoubling his courage, being surrounded with some few of the flower of the Thessalian horse, he charged into the thickest of the enemy and put them to the rout; which the heavy-armed infantry seeing, they betook themselves also to flight, so that the Chalcidians obtained a noble victory. However, Cleomachus was there slain, and the Chalcidians show his monument erected in the market-place, with a fair pillar standing upon it to this day; and whereas they abominated pederasty before, after that they admired and affected it above all other pleasures. Nevertheless, Aristotle tells us that Cleomachus indeed lost his life after the victorious battle which he gained from the Eretrians, but as for that Cleomachus who was thus kissed by his male concubine, that he was of Chalcis in Thrace, and sent to aid the Chalcidians in Euboea. Which is the reason of that same ballad generally sung among them:

Fair youths, whose mothers brought you forth Lovely in form, and noble for your birth; Envy not men of courage, prompt in arms, The kind fruition of your tempting charms. For softest love with daring valor reigns In equal honor through Chalcidian plains.

Dionysius the poet, in his poem entitled Causes, informs us that the name of the lover was Anton, and that the youth beloved was called Philistus.

And is it not a custom among you Thebans, Pemptides, for the lover to present the beloved with a complete suit of armor when he is come of age? And Pammenes, a very great soldier but very amorously given, quite altered the method of embattling the heavy-armed infantry, and blames Homer, as one that knew not what belonged to love, for marshalling the several divisions of the Achaeans according to their tribes and clans, and not placing the lover by his beloved, so that the close order which he afterwards describes might have been the consequence, in which

Spears lean on spears, on targets targets throng, Helms stuck to helms, and man drove man along;[100]

the only way to render a battalion invincible. For men will desert those of the same tribe or family, nay, their very children and parents; but never any enemy could pierce or penetrate between a lover and his darling minion, in whose sight many times when there is no necessity the lover delights to show his courage and contempt of danger; like Thero the Thessalian, who clapping his left hand to the wall, and then drawing his sword, struck off his thumb, thereby challenging his rival to do the same. Or like another, who falling in battle upon his face, as his enemy was about to follow his blow, desired him to stay till he could turn, lest his male concubine should see that he had been wounded in the back.

And therefore we find that the most warlike of nations are most addicted to love, as the Boeotians, Lacedaemonians, and Cretans. And among the most ancient heroes none were more amorous than Meleager, Achilles, Aristomenes, Cimon, and Epaminondas; the latter of which had for his male concubines Asopichus and Caphisodorus, who was slain with him at the battle of Mantinea and lies buried very near him. And when ... had rendered himself most terrible to the enemy and most resolute, Eucnamus the Amphissean, that first made head against him and slew him, had heroic honors paid him by the Phocians. It would be a task too great to enumerate the amours of Hercules; but among the rest, Iolaus is honored and adored to this day by many, because he is thought to have been the darling of that hero; and upon his tomb it is that lovers plight their troths and make reciprocal vows of their affection. Moreover, Hercules, being skilled in physic, is said to have recovered Alcestis from death’s door in kindness to Admetus, who, as he had a great love for his wife, so was greatly beloved by the hero. For it is said that even Apollo, doting upon Admetus,

Became his slave for a long weary year.

And here, methinks, we have very opportunely mentioned Alcestis; for although the temper of women has little to do with Mars, Love many times drives them to daring attempts beyond their own nature, even to death. And if there be any credit to be given to the fables of the poets, the stories of Alcestis, Protesilaus, and Eurydice the wife of Orpheus, plainly evince us that Pluto himself obeys no other God but Love. For, as Sophocles says,

To others—be their fame or birth whate’er— Nor equity nor favor will he show; But rigorous, and without remorse severe, His downright justice only makes them know;

but to lovers he pays a reverence: to them alone is he neither implacable nor inexorable. And therefore, although it is a very good thing to be initiated into the Eleusinian ceremonies, still I find the condition of those much better in hell who are admitted into the mysteries of love; which I speak as neither altogether confiding in fables, nor altogether misbelieving them. For they speak a great deal of sense, and many times, by a certain kind of divine good hap, hit upon the truth, when they say that lovers are permitted to return from hell to sunlight again; but which way and how, they know not, as wandering from the right path, which Plato, first of all men, by the assistance of philosophy found out. For there are several slender and obscure emanations of truth dispersed among the mythologies of the Egyptians; only they want an acute and experienced huntsman, who is skilled in tracing out great mysteries by small tracks. And therefore let them go.

And now, since we find the power of love to be so great, let us take a little notice of that which we call the benevolence and favor of it towards men; not whether it confers many benefits upon those that are addicted to it,—for that is a thing apparent to all men,—but whether the blessings that men receive by it are more and greater than any other. And here Euripides, notwithstanding that he was a person so amorous as he was, admires the meanest gift it has; for, says he,

Love into men poetic fire infuses, Though ne’er before acquainted with the Muses.[101]

And he might well have said, that love makes a man wise and prudent that was a fool and sottish before, and a coward bold and daring, as we have already shown; as when we heat wood in the fire to make it strong, when before it was weak. In like manner, he that was a sordid miser before, falling once in love, becomes liberal and lofty-minded, his covetous and pinching humor being mollified by love, like iron in the fire, so that he is more pleased with being liberal to the objects of his love, than before delighted to receive from others. For ye all know that Anytus, the son of Anthemion, fell in love with Alcibiades; who, understanding that Anytus had invited several of his friends to a noble and splendid banquet, came into the room in masquerade, and going to the table, after he had taken one half of the silver cups and other plate, went his way. Which when some of the guests took very ill, and told Anytus that the young lad had demeaned himself very rudely and saucily; Not so, said Anytus, but very civilly, since, when it was in his power to have taken all the rest, he was so civil as to leave me some.

18. Pleased with this story, O Hercules, quoth Zeuxippus, how have you almost raced out of mind that hereditary hatred which I had conceived against Anytus, for his ill opinion of Socrates and philosophy, since he was become so gentle and generous in his amours. Be it so, said my father; but let us proceed. Love is of that nature, that it renders those that were severe and morose before both affable and pleasant in their humor. For as

The burning tapers make the house more light, And all things look more glorious to the sight;

so the heat of love renders the soul of man more lively and cheerful. But most men go quite contrary to reason in this particular. For when they behold a glittering light in a house by night, they admire and look upon it as something celestial; but when they see a narrow, pitiful, abject soul of a sudden replenished with understanding, generosity, sense of honor, courtesy, and liberality, they do not believe themselves constrained to say, as Telemachus in Homer,

Surely some God within this house resides.[102]

For the love of the Graces, tell me, said Daphnaeus, is it not a thing altogether as much savoring of divinity, that a man who contemns all other things, not only his friends and familiar acquaintance, but also the laws, the magistrates, even kings and princes themselves, who fears nothing, is astonished at nothing, cares for nothing, but thinks himself able to defy the “barbed lightning,”[103] yet, so soon as he beholds the object of his burning love,

As dunghill cravens, by a sudden blow, Hang their loose wings with little list to crow,

should presently lose all his prowess, and that all his bravery should fail him, as if his heart were quite sunk to the bottom of his body? And it were not impertinent to make mention of Sappho here among the Muses. For the Romans report in their stories that Cacus, the son of Vulcan, vomited fire and flames out of his mouth. And indeed Sappho speaks as if her words were mixed with fire, and in her verses plainly discovers the violent heat of her heart, according to that of Philoxenus,