Ipresentefc to
of tbe
of Toronto
THE UNIVERSAL ANTHOLOGY
WITH BIBLIOGRAPHIC ESSAYS
BY
RICHARD GARNETT
(EDITOR-IN-CHIEF)
LEON VALLEE
(FRENCH LITERATURE)
ALOIS BRANDL
(GERMAN LITERATURE)
AND
PAUL BOURGET
(French Critical Essays)
EMILE ZOLA
(French Naturalistic Literature)
EDWARD DOWDEN
(Elizabethan Literature)
DEAN FARRAR
(Literature of Religious Criticism)
£. MELCHIOR DE VOGUE
(Russian Literature)
DONALD G. MITCHELL
(Collected Literature)
F. BRUNETIERE
(Modern French Poetry)
HENRY SMITH WILLIAMS
(Scientific Literature)
AINSWORTH R. SPOFFORD
(American Literature)
ANDREW LANG
(Nineteenth Century Literature)
HENRY JAMES
(The Novel)
MAURICE MAETERLINCK
(The Modern Drama)
PASQUALE VILLARI
(The Italian Renaissance)
BRET HARTE
(Short Stories)
ARMANDO PALACIO VALDES
(Decadent Literature)
EDMUND GOSSE
(Poetry)
J. P. MAHAFFY
(Historical Literature)
WALTER BESANT
(Historical Novels)
This Garnett Memorial Edition, in English, of The
Universal Anthology is limited to one thousand complete
sets, of which this copy is number ...?.*. /..I..
Frederick William Farrar
GARNETT MEMORIAL EDITION
THE
UNIVERSAL ANTHOLOGY
in
A COLLECTION OF THE BEST LITERATURE, ANCIENT, MEDIEVAL AND MODERN,
WITH BIOGRAPHICAL AND EXPLANATORY NOTES
EDITED BY
RICHARD GARNETT
KEEPER OF PRINTED BOOKS AT THE BRITISH MUSEUM, LONDON, 185! TO 1899
LEON VALLEE
LIBRARIAN AT THE BIBLIOTHEQUE NATIONALS, PARIS, SINCE 187!
ALOIS BRANDL
PROFESSOR OF LITERATURE IN THE IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY OP BERLIN
Dolume jf our
PUBLISHED BY
THE CLARKE COMPANY, LIMITED, LONDON
MERRILL & BAKER, NEW YORK EMILE TERQUEM, PARIS
BIBLIOTHEK VERLAG, BERLIN
Entered at Stationers1 Hall
London, 1899
Droits de reproduction et de traduction re'serve'
Paris, 1899
AJle rechte, insbesondere das der TJbereetzung, vorbehalten
Berlin, 1899
Proprieta Letieraria, Riservate" tutti i diyitti
Rome, 1899
Copyright 1899
by
Richard Garnett
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
VOLUME IV.
PAGB
The Literature of Religious Criticism. Introduction by FREDERICK
WILLIAM FARRAR.
The Vengeance of Dionysus .... Euripides (tr. Way} . 33
Choruses from Aristophanes :
Women (Collins) 44
Song of the Clouds (Lang) 44
The Birds' Cosmology (Frere) 45
His Vindication (Frere) 47
The Mock Hercules Aristophanes (tr. Frere} 50
Greek Wit and Philosophy Selected ... 61
The Campaign of Cyrus the Younger . . . Xenophon ... 68
Alcibiades' Account of Socrates .... Plato . . . .81
The Trial of Socrates Plato . . 85
A Grecian Sunset Lord Byron . . 100
The Sword of Damocles Cicero .... 101
Damon and Pythias Miss Tonge . . 103
A Dialogue from Plato Austin Dobson . . 107
Plato and Bacon Lord Macaulay . . 108
The Battle of Leuctra George Grote . . 120
Educating a Citizen Plato .... 127
The Ten Attic Orators 134
Antiphon : on an Accidental Homicide 136
Andocides : on Making Peace with Lacedaemon 139
Lysias : against the Younger Alcibiades 144
Isocrates : in Defense of the Same . 151
ISSBUS : on a Disputed Will 159
Lycurgus: against Leocrates 164
^Eschuies : against Demosthenes, " On the Crown " .... 167
Demosthenes : " On the Crown " 173
Dinarchus : against Demosthenes, Harpalus Case .... 186
Hyperides : against Athenogenes 192
Alexander at his Best and Worst . . . Plutarch . . . 198
Alexander's Feast Dryden . . . 213
Alexander the Great J. P. Mahaffy . . 217
The Voyage of Nearchus Arrian . . .227
The Forged Will W. A. Becker . . 240
The Golden Mean Aristotle . . .255
Characters of Men Theophrastits . . 266
Fragments of Greek Tragic Poets :
Thespis 277
Phrynichus . . . .277
Pratinas 277
Aristias 278
Aristarchus , 278
Neophron .... 279
Achaeus 279
Ion 280
Agathon 280
Ariston , . 280
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
PAGB
. 281
Dionysius of Syracuse .
Theodectes .
Cheereinon .
Crates
Critias
281
Moschion . . . .282
Astydamas Junior . . . 283
Carcinus Junior . . . 283
Diogenes (Enomaus . . 284
Fragments of Greek Comic Poets :
"OLD C<
Susarion 288
Sositheus .
Philiscus
3MEDY."
Ecdorus . . . .
Chionides
Epicharmus
Phrynichus
Magnes .
Teleclides . .
. 288
. 288
. 289
. 290
. 290
. 291
Sosiphanes .
Hernippus .
Pherecrates . . .
Plato ("Comicus")
Amipsias .
Strattis
. 293
Python . . .
. 294
Theopompus .
Philonides .
Polyzelus .
Demetrius .
COMEDY."
Moschion
Patrocles
Apollonides .
Antiphanes
Anaxandrides .
. 295
. 295
.296
"MIDDLE
. 302
. 305
. 306
Diodorus .
Dionysius .
Heniochus .
Mnesimachus .
Timocles .....
Xenarchus .
Theophilus .
OMEDY."
Nicostratus
Philetserus . .
Ephippus
. 306
. 307
. 307
. 307
Aristophon
Epicrates . .
Menander
Philemon
Diphilus . .
. 308
. 309
"NEW c
. 317
. 319
. 321
Phoenicides .
Posidippus .
Strato
Philippides
Apollodorus .
Mimes ....
Hvmn to Zeus
. 322
. 322
Bato
. Herondas .
Invasion of Greece by the Gauls .... Pausanias .
Idyls (tr. by Lang and Mrs. Browning) . . Theocritus .
Lament for Adonis (tr. by Lang) . . . Bion .
Cassandra's Prophecy Lycophron .
Epigrams and Epitaphs ..... Callimachus
The Voyage of the Argo ..... Apollonius Hhodius
Lament for Bion Moschus
Leaders and Fortunes of the Achaean League . Polybius
Hellas and Rome Lord de Tabley .
The Millennial Greece P. B. Shelley
284
285
286
286
287
287
296
296
297
298
300
301
301
302
302
302
302
310
312
313
313
314
314
315
316
317
323
323
324
324
325
326
336
338
348
363
367
370
372
379
403
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOLUME IV.
FREDERICK WILLIAM FARRAR Frontispiece
PAGE
A SUMMER NIGHT IN OLD POMPEII 88
DEMOSTHENES 174
VENETIAN DIPLOMA OF SEMITICOLO. ILLUMINATED MANUSCRIPT 310
ROME , . 398
THE LITEEATUEE OF EELIGIOUS CEITICISM
BY DEAN FARRAR
EELIGIOUS criticism has always been active in every age in which
there has boen any intellectual life at all. Eeligion — by which,
in the broadest sense of the word, we ultimately mean the theory
and the practice of duties which result from the relations between
God and man — must always be a primary concern of human life.
All who believe that the Creator has not remained eternally silent
to the creatures of His hands, but that,
E'en in the absolutest drench of dark,
God, stooping, shows sufficient of His light
For those i' the dark to walk by, —
will form their conception of religion from what they regard as
His direct revelations to the soul of man. Our view as to what
God requires of us is of such infinite importance as to surpass all
others. In many ages the Priests of every variety of religion have
tried to suppress enquiry by authority. They have claimed to be
the sole authorised repositories of divine influence — the sole author-
ised interpreters of God's will; the sole dispensers of His grace.
Whenever their views — often emphasised by free resort to torture
and the stake — have acquired a tyrannous dominance, the religion
of the multitude has usually sunk into a mechanical fetish-worship,
which, relying for salvation on outward observances, has admitted
of the widest possible divorce between religion and morality.
Whatever may be the perils of free enquiry they are infinitely less
to be dreaded than those of a stagnant mummery, or of a subservient
ignorance which rests content with the most glaring falsities. No
xiii
xiv THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM
sacerdotal caste, no human being, no Pope of Eome or Llama of
Thibet, has the remotest right to claim infallibility. The
education of the human race constantly advances. I have just
quoted the lines of Eobert Browning; but we may adduce the
equally emphatic testimony of the other foremost poet of our
generation — Lord Tennyson. He wrote —
Our little systems have their day ;
They have their day, and cease to be :
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, 0 Lord, art more than they.
and again —
Yet I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs,
And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.
Through the shadow of the globe we sweep into the younger day :
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay.
The light is constantly shining on amid the darkness, and " God/'
says George Eliot, " shows all things in the slow history of their
ripening."
Since then, the views of every progressive age must differ, in
many particulars, from those which prevailed in the generations
which preceded it, it becomes a most pertinent enquiry for us, at
the close of another century, whether the incessant and unfettered
activity of the human mind in all matters of enquiry has resulted
in shaking any of the fundamental conceptions in the religion of
those millions — amounting to nearly one-third of the entire human
race — " who profess and call themselves Christians."
Obviously — considering that no century has been more intel-
lectually restless than this, and in no century has education in
Europe been more widely disseminated — it would require not one
brief paper, but several volumes, to enter in detail into the whole
subject ; to estimate the religious effect produced by many epoch-
making writings during an age in which " of making books there
is no end " ; and to define the changes of opinion caused by the
discoveries of science during times in which — more than at any
THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM XV
other period of the world's history — " many run to and fro, and
knowledge is increased." Such a book, written by a student of
competent wisdom and learning, and given to the world before the
beginning of the year 1900, might be a very precious boon. But
to so full an enquiry this paper must only be regarded as an
infinitesimal contribution.
First, as to the most fundamental of all enquiries — Has the
progress of science, or the widening of all sources of enquiry,
weakened our sense of the existence of God? We are, I think,
justified in meeting the question with a most decided negative.
Judging by all the data open to us, we may safely assert that
Infidelity has not increased. It is much less prevalent than it
seems to have been in the days of the French Kevolution; nor
have we in modern society any phenomenon which resembles the
state of things in the eighteenth century, when we are told that
"wits" and men of the world openly repudiated all religion, and when,
as Bishop Butler tells us at the beginning of his " Analogy," the
essential truths of Christianity were often scoffed at as though
they were exploded absurdities not worth discussion. " It is come,"
he says, " I know not how, to be taken for granted by many persons
that Christianity is not so much as a subject of enquiry, but that
it is, now at length, discovered to be fictitious. And accordingly,
they treat it as if, in the present age, this were an agreed point
among all people of discernment ; and nothing remained "but to set
it up as a principal subject of mirth and ridicule" No one would
say that such broad and coarse infidelity is now at all common.
It is sometimes supposed that there are many infidels among our
working men. I can only say that when I was the Rector of a
London Parish, and was familiar with the condition of a large
number of working men of various grades, I found many who were
addicted to drink, and many who rarely if ever set foot inside a
church, but I cannot recall even one of them who had the smallest
leaning towards infidel opinions.
Infidelity is sometimes confused with Agnosticism, but they
xvi THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM
are wide as the poles asunder. " Agnosticism " is a word of recent
birth. It has as yet hardly found its way into our dictionaries.
It does not occur either in Latham's edition of Johnson's
Dictionary, or in Littre's French Dictionary.1 It was, I believe,
first suggested by the late Professor Huxley in a meeting of the
Metaphysical Society in 1869. But as one who had the privilege
of knowing Professor Huxley for many years, and of frequently
meeting him, I can say that, so far from being an infidel, he was
a man of a reverent and even of a religious mind. Never in his
life did he, or Darwin, or Tyndall, dream of denying the existence
of God. Their scientific enquiries had no doubt deepened in their
minds the sense of the uncertainties of all human belief ; the con-
viction that the limits of truth are vaster and more vague than
is allowed for in many systems; the feeling that if the curtain
which hangs between us and the unseen world be but " thin as a
spider's web," it is yet " dense as midnight." But a reverent and
limited Agnosticism is by no means an unmitigated evil. Even the
ancient Jewish Eabbis, whom none can accuse of a spirit of
incredulity, had the apothegm "Learn to say, I do not know"
A sense of our human limitations may serve as a counterpoise to
the easy familiarity which, as it has been said, talks of God
"as though He were a man in the next room," or writes
scholastic folios of minute dogmatism which have about as much
stability as a pyramid built upon its apex. " Agnosticism " may
be no more than a strengthened conviction that " what we know is
little, what we are ignorant of is immense." In the most solemn
parts of Scripture we are warned of this truth. In Exodus we are
told that " the people stood afar off," and only Moses " drew near
into the thick darkness, where God was." " Canst thou by search-
ing find out God ? " asks Zophar in the Book of Job.
Canst thou find out the Almighty to perfection ?
It is as high as Heaven, what canst thou do ?
Deeper than Sheol : what canst thou know ?
" Verily thou art a God that hidest Thyself," says Isaiah. " How
1 It is fully handled in Dr. Murray's New English Dictionary. An Agnostic is
one w^o holds " that God is unknown and unknowable."
THE LITERATURE OP RELIGIOUS CRITICISM xvii
unsearchable are God's judgments," says St. Paul, " and His ways
past finding out ! " l For who hath known the mind of the Lord,
and who hath been his counsellor? But the greatest and best
Agnostic men of science of modern days, even while with the
Psalmist they would say of God that "clouds and darkness are
round about Him," would nevertheless have been the first to add
that "righteousness and judgment are the habitation of His throne."
And this gradually became the mental attitude even of J. S. Mill,
in spite of the effects of his early training. If he held that we
are built around by an impenetrable wall of darkness, and that
" omnia exeunt in mysterium" his later writings show that he also
believed that man has a lamp in his hand, and may walk safely
in the little circle of its light. It may, I think, be truly said
that many great Agnostics inclined to believe and did believe,
even when they were unable to say that they knew. They would
have sympathised with the condemned criminal, who, though he
had been denying the existence of God, was heard to fling himself
on his knees, a moment afterwards, in an agony of prayer; and
they would have been inclined to utter, though without its tone
of despair, the wild cry which he uttered on the scaffold, " 0 God,
if there be a God, save my soul, if I have a soul ! " If, with the
late Sir James Stephen, they might have compared life to "a
mountain pass, in the midst of whirling snow and blinding mist,
through which we get glimpses now and then of paths which may
be deceptive," they would have added with him — in answer to the
question " What must we do ? "— " Be strong and of a good courage.
Act for the best ; hope for the best ; and take what comes."
Next to the fundamental conviction that there is a God of
Love and Kighteousness, who cares for the people of His pasture,
and the sheep of His hands, religious enquiry in our century has
mainly turned on three subjects — the nature of Inspiration as
regards the Holy Scriptures ; the character of future Eetribution ;
and the Divinity of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.
1 See Bom. xi. 33 ; Job xi. 7-9 ; Ps. xxxvi. 6 ; Col. ii 2, 3, ete.
VOL. IV. — 2
xyiii THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM
II
As to the belief in man's immortality and the doctrine of a
future life, little need here be said. All that study and criticism
have done for us in this direction has resulted in pure gain. The
all-but-universal belief in a future life is instinctive in human
nature, and has never been shaken. It is a conviction which
transcends disproof, and does not depend on logical demonstration.
The heart of man cries aloud to God with perfect confidence.
Thou wilt not leave us in the dust ;
Thou madest man, he knows not why ;
He thinks he was not made to die ;
And Thou hast made him : — Thou art just !
As to the belief in the nature and conditions of our future life,
modern thought has inclined more and more to the view that they
can only be described in symbols which cannot be crudely inter-
preted— that Heaven does not mean a golden city in the far-off
blue, but the state of a soul cleansed from the stain of sin, and
enjoying the Grace and Presence of God ; and that Hell is not a
crude and glaring everlasting bonfire, where those who are the
creatures of God's hand writhe in the interminable anguish of
torturing flames, but the misery of alienation from all that is pure
and holy, which must continue until that alienation has been
removed, and God has become all in all
III
As regards the Scriptures, enough books have been written in
the nineteenth century alone to stock a very large library. Has
the time come in which we can form a true estimate as to their
general results ?
1. Unquestionably the theoretic conception of the manner in
which Scripture has been given to us has undergone a wide and
permanent change. The notion of what is called " Verbal Inspir-
ation " in its narrowest sense, does not seem to have prevailed in
the Early Church. The later forms of Judaism, after the days of
Ezra, had indeed made a sort of fetish of the Old Testament, much
THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM xix
as the Mussulman makes of his Qu'ran. The Scribes had counted
the number of letters which the book contained ; they could tell
you the middle letter of the whole volume ; they could say how
many verses began with this or that letter ; and that there were
only three verses which began with the letter S. They observed
that the word Vau ("and") occurs fourteen times in Gen. ix.
20-25 ; and that in the first and last verses of the Old Testament,
such and such a letter occurred exactly the same number of times.
Yet even in the midst of this stereotyped fetishism, there were
occasional gleams of biblical criticism. They did not place the
book of Daniel among the prophets, but in the KethuUm, or
Hagiographa. It was a very long time before the book of Esther
was admitted into the Canon. Great doubts were felt about
Ecclesiastes ; the school of Shammai pronounced against it.1 The
final and secure admission of Ezekiel as one of the sacred books
was only secured by the elaborate ingenuity of Eabbi Chananiah
ben Chiskiyah.2 It " would have been suppressed because of its
contradictions to the law, but the Kabbi by the help of 300
bottles of oil prolonged his lucubrations till he succeeded in recon-
ciling all the discrepancies." And biblical criticism took the form
of " explaining away " all that was felt to be obsolete or undeniable
even in the regulations of the Levitic law.
By means of the ingenious shufflings known as " Erubhin " or
" mixtures," the school of Hillel managed to get rid of limitations
as soon as they were found to be disagreeable. In the New Testa-
ment we find absolutely nothing to sanction the utterly false,
meaningless, and fanatical dogma, that (as Dean Burgon expressed
it) " every book, every chapter, every verse, every word — what say
I ?— every letter " of the Holy Book came direct from God ! The
Apostles had never been encouraged in any such doctrines by their
Lord. On the contrary, He freely criticised fundamental positions
of the Mosaic law. He told the Jews that Moses had given them
divorce because of the hardness of their hearts, but that in the
beginning it was not so ; and He not only treated as a matter of
1 Shalbath, f. 30. 2 ; Mishnah Yadaim, iii. 5. * Shabbath, f. 13. 2.
XX THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM
indifference, but completely abrogated, so far-reaching a regulation
as that of "clean" and "unclean" meats — that law of Kashar
and Tamb which continues valid among Jews to this day. For
when He taught that it is only that which cometh from within
which defileth a man, "this He said, making all meats clean."1
Many of the early Christians indeed gave up, in great measure, all
respect for the authority of Mosaic dispensation. So early and
widely popular a book as the Epistle of Barnabas, went so far as to
say that circumcision of the flesh had been enacted, not by God,
but by an evil Demiurge.2 In course of time something of the
former Judaic notion of mechanical inspiration was reintroduced.
Yet St. Augustine said even of the Evangelists that they wrote " ut
quisque meminerat vel ut cuique cordi erat" — which is a notion
widely different from that of " verbal dictation." St. Jerome was
imbued with the spirit of a critic ; and when his contemporaries
raged against him as a "corruptor sanctarumscripturarum" he called
them " two-footed asses " (aselli lipedes) \ There was of course no
" biblical criticism " amid the sacerdotal despotism, and during the
" deep slumber of decided opinions " which prevailed in the Middle
Ages. But with the revival of learning came the New Testament of
Erasmus, and — heedless of the outrageous clamour excited by fear-
less truthfulness, he rightly omitted the spurious text about the
"three heavenly witnesses" in St. John's Epistles. Luther was
an even audacious critic. He attached supreme authority to his
own subjective views ; and unable to see the importance and glory
of the Epistle of St. James, he called it " A right-down strawy
Epistle, which contained no evangelic truth." Like many in the
Keformed Churches, he also slighted the Book of Eevelation as an
insoluble enigma, and scarcely regarded it as a true part of canonical
Scripture. Even in the Eoman Church, E. Simon, in his Critical
History of the Old Testament, pointed out the remarkable difference
between the Jehovistic and Elohistic documents in Genesis. That
difference had been noticed as far back as the thirteenth century by
the Jew Kalonymus, who wrote these remarkable words : " From the
beginning of Genesis up to the passage of the Sabbatic rest (ii 1-3)
1 Mark rii. 19. 2 Ep. Barn. c. 9.
THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM xxi
only Mohim occurs, and not once Jehovah. From ii. 4, 5, we find
Jehovah - Mohim ; from v.-vi. 9, only Jehovah. This strange
use of the names of God cannot be accidental, but gives, according
to my opinion, some hidden hints which are too wonderful for me
to understand." K. Simon's Histoire Critique was suppressed in
France by the influence of Bossuet, but his hint was followed up
by the physician Astruc (d. 1766), who first developed in his
anonymous " Conjectures " the theory of four separate documents
(A.B.C.D. and A.B.) which had been already mentioned by Simon,
Le Clerc, and Fleury. In spite of the frantic screams of ignorant
opposition, the labour and genius of open-minded scholars, such as
Mill, Bentley, Bengel, Wetstein, and in this century of Griesbach,
Lachmann, Tregelles, and Tischendorf, slowly but inevitably paved
the way for the broader, yet deeply reverent views of the nature
of inspiration which have been established by the greatest biblical
writers of the present day, such as "Westcott, Hort, Lightfoot,
Driver, and Cheyne ; and by hosts of German scholars, of whom it
may now be said that there is not one of the smallest fame or
distinction who does not believe (as did Bishop Colenso), that in
the gift of inspiration there are human elements commingling with
the divine.
The labours of several generations of eminent and holy scholars,
who have loved Truth more than Tradition, have broken down the
ignorant bigotry of mechanical and untenable hypotheses, and have
shown that the facts which result from the criticism and history
of each book and part of the Old Testament must be carefully con-
sidered apart from a supposed orthodoxy, which is often no better
than stereotyped unprogressiveness and opinionated infallibility.
God's Orthodoxy, it has been well said, " is the truth." Hence it is
now regarded as a matter of established fact, among all serious
and competent scholars, that the Pentateuch is composed of com-
posite documents. Professor Cheyne, in a paper read before the
Church Congress in 1883, did not hesitate to make the confident
assertion that, if either exegesis or the church's representation of
religious truth is to make any decided progress, the results of the
literary analysis of the Pentateuch and the Book of Joshua into
xxii THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM
several documents must be accepted as facts ; and that the Book of
Deuteronomy was not known as a whole till the age of Josiah ;
and that some of those Levitic ordinances which are not so much
as alluded to in the entire Old Testament, may not have been
established till after the days of the prophet Ezekiel. There is a
general acceptance among scholars of the opinion that the Books
of Isaiah and Zechariah, respectively, were the works of at
least two writers, one of whom (in each instance) wrote at a con-
siderably later date than the other. It is a view which is becoming
daily more widely accepted, that there are " Haggadistic " elements
in the Books of Jonah and of Daniel, and that both books are of
much later dates than those of the prophets whose name they bear.
These opinions have long been regarded as indisputable by leading
scholars. Defence after defence has been written of the authen-
ticity of the Book of Daniel, both before and since the elaborate
volume of Dr. Pusey ; but the defenders differ from each other on
the most important questions, and now even the most conservative
theologians are beginning to see that the old positions are entirely
untenable. Professor Stanton of Cambridge, a cautious student, yet
says, in his Hulsean Lectures on the Jewish Messiah, that the
Book of Daniel is assigned to the Maccabean era even by many
orthodox critics ; and that " the chief difficulty which the earlier
date must have, consists in the fact that the communication of
such detailed information about events in a comparatively distant
future would not be according to the laws of Divine Kevelation
which we trace in other cases."
I have used the word " Haggadistic " ; and a right appreciation
of the meaning of the word is of the utmost importance.
There were among the Jews two schools of ancient commentary
— the one called the Halcwha, which consisted of minute exposition
of, and inferences from, the written and oral law ; the other called
Haggada, which dealt more with moral and religious teaching, and
gave play to the imagination. The latter method of instruction
had practically existed in all ages, and there is nothing whatever
derogatory to the sacred majesty of the Bible in the beliefs that
divine truths should have been sometimes conveyed in the form of
THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM xxiii
allegory or Parable. Our Lord's parables convey the divinest
lessons which God has ever communicated to man ; yet they are
confessedly " Parables " — i.e. they are truths conveyed by imaginary
stories. The notion that some of the biblical narratives are of
this Haggadistic character goes back even to the days of the
Fathers. For instance, St. Gregory of Nyssa, the brother of St.
Basil of Csesarea, and a writer of learning and genius, goes so far
as to apply the terms 'lovSatKrj <[>Xvapia, " Jewish babble " to a merely
literal acceptance of the story of Babel ; and even as far back as
1782, we find Bishop Horsley (Sermon XVI.) saying of the earliest
narratives of Genesis, that they are not necessarily meant to be
literally taken. " Divines of the most unimpeachable orthodoxy,
says Coleridge, " and most averse to the allegorising of scripture
history in general, have held without blame the allegoric explan-
ation. And indeed no unprejudiced man can pretend to doubt
that if, in any other book of Eastern origin, he met with trees of
life and knowledge, or talking snakes, he would want no other
proofs that it was an allegory that he was reading, and intended
to be understood as such." Imaginations which are not yet wholly
paralysed by the arrogant infallibility of self-satisfied nescience,
will soon get to see that the grandeur and value of the uniquely
noble lessons conveyed by the Book of Jonah are not in the
slightest degree impaired by the supposition that they are conveyed
under the form of imaginary incidents. That the book was
written, in whole or in part, after the Exile is the view of Kleinert,
Ewald, Bleek, Noldeke, Schrader, Eeuss, Orelli, Hitzig, Kohler, and
many others. Gesenius, De Wette, Knobel, Orelli, Cheyne, Kuenen,
Dean Plumptre, and most modern critics admit the legendary
element. Dr. Otto Zockler says that the book is " didactic, not
historic/' and it is now generally held that the idea of the sea-
monster is derived from the metaphoric language in such passages
as Isa. xxvii. 1 ; Jer. ii. 34.1
Human language is and must be an imperfect medium for the
conveyance of truth. " Language," it has been said, " is but an
1 For further information I may refer to my little book on The Minor
Prophets (" Men of the Bible," Nisbet).
THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM
asymptote to thought." Ages ago the wisest Eabbis said and
taught that " the law speaks in the tongue of the sons of men."
There is nothing which, in the light of history and criticism,
we have learnt respecting the Bible which is not involved in the
principle that in inspired utterances there is still a human element.
At any rate, knowledge is knowledge. The light which comes
from heaven — the light which is derived from earnest and truthful
study — cannot lead us astray. The grandeur of that which is
uttered to us by the voice of God has not been in the smallest
degree impaired by any of the certain conclusions which study has
revealed. We feel none the less the thrill and splendour of
Isaiah's magnificent utterances, if we are convinced that there are
two Isaiahs, of whom the second may have lived a century later
than the first ; nor do we lose the large lessons of toleration, of
pity, of the impossibility of flying from. God, of God's abounding
tenderness, of the shaming into fatuity of man's little hatreds, if
advancing knowledge compels us to recognise that the book of
Jonah is, as a whole, a Jewish Haggadah.
2. Let us turn to the New Testament. It may now be
regarded as indisputable that the Epistle to the Hebrews was not
written by St. Paul. No critic worth the name would any longer
maintain that it is. It may also be regarded as certain that if St.
Peter had any hand at all in the Second Epistle which goes by
his name, yet other hands have been at work upon it. There are
still unsettled problems about the Apocalypse. But on the whole
the assaults of criticism on the stronghold of the New Testament
have been defeated all along the line. There are arguments of
overwhelming strength to prove that the thirteen Epistles which
are attributed to St. Paul are the genuine expressions of his
teeming intellect. The authenticity and credibility of the three
Synoptists have been fiercely attacked, but have never been shaken.
Book after book has been written to prove that the Fourth Gospel
was not the work of the Apostle St. John ; but those books have
not brought conviction to the most learned and open-minded
critics. If any one will read the introduction to this Gospel by
Bishop Westcott in the Speaker's Commentary, he will see how
THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM XXT
marvellously strong, how varied, how minute, and in many
particulars how unexpected, is the mass of cogent evidence to
convince us that in the Gospel we are reading the very words of
the " Disciple whom Jesus loved " ; — and, in any case, we can say
with Herder, " That little book is a still, deep sea in which the
heavens, with the sun and stars, are mirrored ; and if there are
eternal truths — and such there are — for the human race, they
are to be found in the Gospel of St. John."
It is no longer disputable that the last sixteen verses of St.
Mark are a later and dubious appendix to that Gospel ; that the
narrative of the woman taken in adultery, in John viii. 1-11,
— though bearing evidence of its own truth — was no part of the
original Gospel : that the text about the three heavenly witnesses
(1 John v. 7, 8) is spurious; that the verse about the angel
troubling the water of the Pool of Bethesda (John v. 4) should
have no place in the genuine text of the Fourth Gospel ; that the
Eunuch's confession is an interpolation into the text of Acts viii.
37 ; and that the word " fasting " has been introduced by ascetic
scribes into Matt. xvii. 21, Mark ix. 29, 1 Cor. vii. 5, Acts x. 30.
But although criticism has, in hundreds of instances, amended the
text and elucidated the meaning of almost every page of the New
Testament, it has done nothing to shake, but rather much to
enhance, our conviction that throughout its treatises the witness of
God standeth sure. And, as a general result, we may affirm that
the Jewish race possessed an insight respecting the nature of God
and His relations to men, which was a special gift to them,
for the dissemination of which they were set apart ; and that by
this inspired mission they have rendered higher and deeper
services to mankind than it gained from the aesthetic suscepti-
bilities of Greece, or the strong imperialism of Eome. When
we read their sacred books, we are listening to the Prophets of a
prophetic race. Nor are these the mere assertions of believers;
they have been stated quite as strongly by advanced sceptics. If
Cardinal Newman said of the Bible that " its light is like the body
of heaven in its clearness, its vastness like the bosom of the sea, its
variety like scenes of nature," Eenan said with no less strength of con-
Xivi THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM
viction, " C'est apres tout le grand livre consolateur de 1'Humanite'.''
Heinrich Heine, after a day spent in the unwonted task of
reading it, exclaimed with a burst of enthusiasm, " What a book !
vast and wide as the world, rooted in the abysses of creation, and
towering up beyond the blue secrets of heaven ! Sunrise and sun-
set, promise and fulfilment, birth and death, the whole drama of
humanity are all in this book ! Its eclipse would be the return of
chaos ; its extinction the epitaph of history." And to quote but
one more testimony, Professor Huxley, one of the most candid-minded
of men, in a speech, delivered, if I remember rightly, before the
London School Board, said, " I have been seriously perplexed to
know how the religious feeling, which is the essential basis of
conduct, can be kept up without the use of the Bible. For three
centuries this book has been woven into the life of all that is best
and noblest in English history. It forbids the veriest hind who
never left his village to be ignorant of the existence of other
countries and other civilisations, and of a great past stretching
back to the farthest limits of the oldest nations of the world. By
the study of what other book could children be so much humanised,
and made to feel that each figure in that vast historical procession
fills like themselves but a momentary interspace between the two
eternities, and earns the blessings or the curses of all time
according to its efforts to do good and hate evil, even as they are
also earning the payment for their work ? "
Let all humble and earnest believers rest assured that biblical
criticism, so far as it is reverent, earnest, and well founded, may
remove many errors, but cannot rob them of one precious and
eternal truth. As Bishop Butler so wisely said a century ago,
"the only question concerning the authority of Scripture is
whether it be what it claims to be, not whether it be a book of
such sort and so promulged as weak men are apt to fancy." l He
also quotes with approval the remark which Origen deduced from
analogical reasoning, that " He who believes the Scripture to have
proceeded from Him who is the Author of Nature may well
expect to find the same sort of difficulties in it as are found in the
1 Analogy, ii. 3.
THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM xxvii
constitution of Nature." And he adds, "He who denies the
Scripture to have been from God, upon account of these difficulties,
may for the very same reason deny the world to have been formed
by Him."1
IV
We now approach the central subject of our religion — our
belief in the Lord Jesus Christ. With the belief in Him, the
belief in Christianity must stand or fall. It is but a few months
since we committed to the grave, amid a nation's tears, the fore-
most statesman of our century — Mr. W. E. Gladstone. He was a
man of splendid intellectual power, as well as of the loftiest
eloquence ; and it is one sign of the unshaken dominance of the
faith in Christ that he — familiar as he was with the literature of
almost every nation — could yet say from his heart, " All I write,
and all I think, and all I hope, is based upon the Divinity of our
Lord, the one central hope of our poor wayward race." It is not
long since we lost in Kobert Browning one of the deepest and
greatest of our poets ; and Mr. Browning wrote that —
The acknowledgment of God in Christ,
Accepted by thy reason, solves for thee
All problems in the world, and out of it.
Now the Divinity of Christ has been the subject of vehement
attack in all ages. The Jews from the first represented Him as a
mezith or "deceiver"; and besides the angry and disdainful
allusions to Him in Talmudic writings, which spoke of Him as a
Mamzer, and as " that man," Jewish hatred in the Middle Ages
concentrated itself into an amazing mixture of nonsense and
blasphemy in the Toldoth Jeshu. Among Gentiles, Celsus, the
Epicurean Philosopher, wrote his famous "True Discourse," to
destroy all His claims for ever ; and he was effectually answered
by Origen. In the thirteenth century appeared the book now
only known by its name, " De tribus impostoribus" which was
attributed to the Emperor Frederick II., and ranked Christ with
Moses and Mahomet. All these attacks have fallen absolutely
ild.lntrod.
xxTiii THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM
flat and dead, and have ceased to have a particle of significance.
But in the eighteenth century in England — through the writings of
Hobbes, Bolingbroke, and Hume ; in France, by those of Voltaire,
Von Holbach and the Encyclopaedists ; in Germany as the gradual
outcome of systems of philosophy which culminated in Hegel, and
of which the sceptical elements were brought to a head by the
Wolfenbtittel Fragments and the Leben Jesu of Strauss, — the belief
of thousands was for a time impaired, if not finally destroyed.
Out of a mass of sceptical literature two books may be selected as
representing the culmination of disbelief in the Divinity of Christ,
and as having been specially influential in the spread of that
disbelief — the Leben Jesu of Strauss, and the Vie de Jesus of
Ernest Eenan. To these I will not add the anonymous work on
Supernatural Religion, for it was full of the grossest inaccuracies,
and it ceased to have any influence when its many instances of
sciolism were exposed by the learning and power of Bishop
Lightfoot.
Strauss was a pupil of Hegel, and the main position of his
once famous, but already half forgotten, Life of Jesus, was that it
was not history but " a myth " : in other words, that it was nothing
but a series of symbols dressed up in an historic form, — con-
victions thrown into the form of poetry and legend. He went
much farther than Hegel, or De Wette, or Schleiermacher, and
instead of urging that Jesus had created round him an atmosphere
of imagination and excitement, tried to show " that Christ had not
founded the Church, but that the Church had invented Christ,
and formed him out of the predictions of the Old Testament, and
the hopes and expectations of the days founded on them." ! He
admitted little or nothing which was truly historical in the
Gospel miracles. The attempt to establish this opinion broke
down under its own baselessness. It was seen in its naked
absurdity when Bruno Bauer attributed Christianity to the direct
invention of an individual, and Feuerbach treated all human
religion as self-deception. Herder truly said that " If the fisher-
men of Galilee invented such a history, God be praised that they
1 See Hagcnbach's German Rationalism, p. 371.
THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM xxix
invented it " ; and further, we may say that if they did invent it,
the inventors would be as great as the hero. Strauss himself tore
to shreds the old attempts of Dr. Paulus to represent the miracles
as mere natural events; but how impossible it was to support
anything like a religion on views such as his, he himself showed in
his subsequent Glaubenslehre (1840), in which he expressed his
belief that no reconciliation was possible between science and
Christianity. Strauss's whole method is vitiated by his two pre-
assumptions — (1) that all miracles are impossible; and (2) that
the Gospels have no pretence to historical authority. The readers
of the Gospels have felt that " It is the Spirit that beareth witness,
because the Spirit is truth " ; and ordinary reasoners realise at once
that the trivial and fantastic hypotheses of a rationalising scepticism
are shattered on the two vast facts of Christianity and Christendom.
And, like all who have attacked the Divinity of our Lord, even
Strauss seems almost compelled to fall down on his knees before
Him. He says that "Jesus stands foremost among those who
have given a higher ideal to Humanity ; " that " It is impossible to
refrain from admiring and loving Him ; and that never at any
time will it be possible to rise above Him, nor to imagine any one
who shall be even equal with Him."
Eenan's Vie de Jdsus appeared in 1865. In many respects, if
its scepticism be subtracted from it, it was a beautiful book.
The author was a learned and brilliant man of genius, and was the
master of an eminently fascinating style, through which breathes a
charming personality. Yet how utterly inefficient were the
deplorable methods by which he tried to set at naught the faith of
Christians! Let two instances suffice. For nearly nineteen
centuries the religion, the history, and the moral progress of man-
kind have been profoundly affected by the Kesurrection. And yet
Kenan thinks it sufficient to account for the Eesurrection by
saying, "Divine power of love! sacred moments in which the
passion of an hallucin<!e gives to the world a resuscitated God!"
Such a mode of treating the convictions of centuries of Christians,
who have numbered in their ranks some of the keenest and most
brilliant thinkers in the race of man, can only be regarded as
XXX THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM
utterly frivolous. For the sake of a subjective prejudice it sets
aside all the records of the New Testament, and the nineteen
centuries of splendid progress which have had their origin in the
faith which those records founded. So far was " la passion d'une
hallucinee," from having founded the belief in the Eesurrection
that the Apostles, who had found it impossible to realise the
prophecies of Eesurrection which they had heard from the lips of
their Lord, were most reluctant, and most slow of heart to believe
the most positive evidence. So far from being prepared beforehand
to accept or to invent a Eesurrection, " they were terrified and
affrighted, and supposed that they had seen a Spirit," when Christ
Himself stood before them. When Mary of Magdala and the
other women told them that they had seen Jesus, so far from
being credulous enough to be carried away by hallucinations, they
regarded their words as " idle talk " (Ar}/>os " babble," a word of entire
contempt) — and they disbelieved them : nay, they even rejected the
witness of the two disciples to whom He had appeared on the way
to Emmaus, and Thomas was dissatisfied with the affirmation of
the whole Apostolic band. So far from "regarding it as the
height of absurdity to suppose that Jesus could be held by death,"
their despairing conviction that the bridegroom had indeed been
taken from them, was so all but insuperable that it required the
most decisive personal eye-witness to overcome it. Again, consider
the way in which Eenan treats the Eesurrection of Lazarus!
Although Eleazar was one of the commonest of Jewish names, he
assumes that the story of the resuscitation of Lazarus rose from
some confusion about the Lazarus of the Parable who was carried
into Abraham's bosom ; and in some very confused sentences he
more than hints that the story of his death and resurrection was
the result of u, noiVuioi: between Jesus, Mary, and Martha, and that
Jesus in some way or other gave way to the suggestion of the
sisters, because, in the impure city of Jerusalem he had lost " some-
thing of his original transparent clearness," l " Peut-etre 1'ardent
de"sir de fermer la bouche a ceux qui niaient outrageusement la
mission divine le leur ami, entraina-t-elle ces personnes passionne'es
1 Fie de Jtsus, 372.
THE LITERATURE OF RELIGIOUS CRITICISM xxxi
au del& de toutes les bornes. II faut se rappeler que, dans cette
ville impure et pesante de Jerusalem, Jtsus n'ttait pas Iui-m6mt.
Sa conscience, par la faute des hommes, et non par la sienne, avait
perdu quelque chose de la limpidiU primordiale." Strange that a
man of even ordinary intelligence could expect any one to get rid
of a miracle by the hypothesis that the Lord of truth, — He whose
life and teaching have created in the world the conviction that " it
is better to die than lie," — lent Himself to a coarse and vulgar make-
believe! Christianity surely has nothing to fear from such
reconstructions of the Gospel History as these !
Most of the books written to disprove the Divinity of the
Saviour suggest some Irand-new hypothesis ; one after another they
have their brief vogue, are trumpeted by unbelievers as a refutation
of Christianity, and then pass into oblivion, if not into contempt.
They have not shaken the belief reigning in millions of hearts in
every region of the habitable globe ; and the Christian world, with-
out the smallest misgiving, will still exclaim, in the words of the
inscription on the obelisk reared by the Pope Sixtus in front of
St. Peter's at Eome, on soil once wet with the blood of martyrs : —
« CHEISTUS VINCIT, CHEISTUS EEGNAT, CHEISTUS
IMPEEAT, CHEISTUS AB OMNI MALO
PLEBEM SUAM DEFENDAT."
The Christian world continues, and will for long ages hence
continue, to offer up the prayer —
Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen Thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove ;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade ;
Thou madest Life in man and brute ;
Thou madest Death ; and lo, Thy foot
Is on the skull which Thou hast made !
THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS.
BY EURIPIDES.
(From the "Bacchae " : translated by Arthur S. Way.)
[EURIPIDES : The last of the three Greek tragic poets ; born on the island
of Salamis in B.C. 480, according to popular tradition, on the day of the famous
naval battle. He received instruction in physics from Anaxagoras, in rhetoric
from Prodicus, and was on terms of intimate friendship with Socrates. He early
devoted his attention to dramatic composition, and at the age of twenty-five
obtained a prize for his first tragedy. After a successful career at Athens, he
retired for unknown reasons to Magnesia in Thessaly, and thence proceeded to
the court of Archelaus, king of Macedonia, where he died in B.C. 405. Of over
seventy-five tragedies there have come down to us only eighteen, the best known
being "Alcestis," "Medea," " Hippolytus," "Hecuba," "Andromache,"
"Iphigenia at Aulis," "Iphigenia among the Tauri," "Electra," "Orestes,"
" Bacchse."]
[ARGUMENT. — SemelS the daughter of Kadmus, a mortal bride of Zeus, was per-
suaded by Hera to pray the God to promise her with an oath to grant her what-
soever she would. And when he had consented, she asked that he would appear
to her in all the splendor of his godhead, even as he visited Hera. Then Zeus,
not of his will, but constrained by his oath, appeared to her amidst intolerable
light and flashings of heaven's lightning, whereby her mortal body was cou-
sumed. But the God snatched her unborn babe from the flames, and hid him
in a cleft of his thigh, till the days were accomplished wherein he should be
born. And so the child Dionysus sprang from the thigh of Zeus, and was hidden
from the jealous malice of Hera till he was grown. Then did he set forth in
victorious march through all the earth, bestowing upon men the gift of the vine,
and planting his worship everywhere. But the sisters of Semele scoffed at tbe
story of the heavenly bridegroom, and mocked at the worship of Dionysus.
And when Kadmus was now old, Pentheus his grandson reigned in his stead, and
he too defied tbe Wine giver, saying that he was no god, and that none in Thebes
should ever worship him. And herein is told how Dionysus came in human guise
to Thebes, and filled her women with the Bacchanal possession, and how Pentheus,
essaying to withstand him, was punished by strange and awful doom.— WAY.]
Pentheus —
We must not overcome by force
The women. I will hide me midst the pines.
Dionysus —
Such hiding shall be thine as fate ordains,
Who com'st with guile, a spy on Bacchanals.
VOL. IT. —3 83
34 THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS.
Pentheus —
Methinks I see them mid the copses caught,
Like birds, in toils of their sweet dalliance.
Dionysus —
To this end then art thou appointed watchman :
Perchance shalt catch them — if they catch not thee.
Pentheus —
On through the midst of Thebes' town usher me,
For I, I only of them, dare such deed.
Dionysus —
Alone for Thebes thou travailest, thou alone ;
Wherefore for thee wait tug and strain foredoomed.
Follow : all safely will I usher thee.
Another thence shall bring thee, —
Pentheus — Ay, my mother.
Dionysus —
To all men manifest —
Pentheus — For this I come.
Dionysus —
High borne shalt thou return —
Pentheus — 0 silken ease I
Dionysus —
On a mother's hands.
Pentheus — Thou wouldst thrust pomp on me !
Dionysus —
Nay, 'tis but such pomp —
Pentheus— As is my desert.
Dionysus —
Strange, strange man ! Strange shall thine experience be.
So shalt thou win renown that soars to heaven.
[Exit PENTHEUS.
Agav§, stretch forth hands ; ye sisters, stretch,
Daughters of Kadmus ! To a mighty strife
I bring this prince. The victor I shall be
And Bromius. All else shall the issue show.
Chorus— [.Eta* DIONYSUS.
Up, ye swift hell hounds of Madness ! Away to the mountain glens
where
Kadmus's daughters hold revel, and sting them to fury, to tear
Him who hath come woman-vestured to spy on the Bacchanals there,
Frenzy-struck fool that he is ! — for his mother shall foremost descry
Him, as from waterworn scaur or from storm-riven tree he would spy
That which they do, and her shout to the Maenads shall peal from
on high : —
THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS. 35
" Who hath come hither, hath trodden the paths to the mountain
that lead,
Spying on Kadmus's daughters, the maids o'er the mountains that
Bacchanal sisters ? — what mother .hath brought to the birth such a
seed?
Who was it ? — who ? — for I ween he was born not of womankind's
blood:
Eather he sprang from the womb of a lioness, scourge of the
wood;
Haply is spawn of the Gorgons of Libya, the demon brood."
Justice, draw nigh us, draw nigh, with the sword of avenging
appear :
Slay the unrighteous, the seed of Echion the earth born, and shear
Clean through his throat, for he feareth not God, neither law doth
he fear.
Lo, how in impious mood, and with lawless intent, and with spite
Madness distraught, with thy rites and thy mother's he cometh to
fight,
Bacchus — to bear the invincible down by his impotent might !
Thus shall one gain him a sorrowless life, if he keepeth his soul
Sober in spirit, and swift in obedience to heaven's control,
Murmuring not, neither pressing beyond his mortality's goal.
No such presumptuous wisdom I covet : I seek for mine own —
Yea, in the quest is mine happiness — things that not so may be
known,
Glorious wisdom and great, from the days everlasting forth shown,
Even to fashion in pureness my life and in holiness aye,
Following ends that are noble from dawn to the death of the day,
Honoring Gods, and refusing to walk in injustice's way.
Justice, draw nigh us, draw nigh, with the sword of avenging
appear :
Slay the unrighteous, the seed of Echion the earthborn, and shear
Clean through his throat ; for he f earebh not God, neither law doth
he fear.
0 Dionysus, reveal thee ! — appear as a bull to behold,
Or be thou seen as a dragon, a monster of heads manifold,
Or as a lion with splendors of flame round the limbs of him rolled.
36 THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS.
Come to us, Bacchus, and smiling in mockery compass him round
Now with the toils of destruction, and so shall the hunter be bound,
Trapped mid the throng of the Maenads, the quarry his questing
hath found.
Enter MESSENGER.
Messenger —
0 house of old through Hellas prosperous
Of that Sidonian patriarch, who sowed
The earthborn serpent's dragon teeth in earth,
How I bemoan thee ! What though thrall I be,
Their lords' calamities touch loyal thralls.
Chorus —
What now ? — hast tidings of the Bacchanals ?
Messenger —
Peritheus is dead : Echion's son is dead.
Chorus —
Bromius, my King ! thou hast made thy godhead plain !
Messenger —
How, what is this thou say'st ? Dost thou exult,
Woman, upon my lord's calamities ?
Chorus —
An alien I, I chant glad outland strain,
Who cower no more in terror of the chain.
Messenger — •
Deemest thou Thebes so void of men [that ills
Have left her powerless all to punish thee ?]
Chorus —
Dionysus it is, 'tis the King of the Vine
That hath lordship o'er me, no Thebes of thine !
Messenger —
This might be pardoned, save that base it is,
Women, to joy o'er evils past recall.
Chorus —
Tell to me, tell, — by what doom died he,
The villain devising villainy ?
Messenger —
When, from the homesteads of this Theban land
Departing, we had crossed Asopus' streams,
Then we began to breast Kithairon's steep,
Pentheus and I, — for to my lord I clave, —
And he who ushered us unto the scene.
First in a grassy dell we sat us down «
With footfall hushed and tongues refrained from speech.
That so we might behold, all unbeheld.
THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS. 87
There was a glen crag-walled, with rills o'erstreamed,
Closed in with pine shade, where the Maenad girls
Sat with hands busied with their blithesome toils.
The faded thyrsus some with ivy sprays
Twined, till its tendril tresses waved again.
Others, like colts from carven wain yokes loosed,
Reechoed each to each the Bacchic chant.
But hapless Pentheus, seeing ill the throng
Of women, spake thus : " Stranger, where we stand,
Are these mock-maenad maids beyond my ken.
Some knoll or pine high-crested let me climb,
And I shall see the Maenads' lewdness well."
A marvel then I saw the stranger do.
A soaring pine branch by the top he caught,
And dragged down — down — still down to the dark earth.
Arched as a bow it grew, or curving wheel
That on the lathe sweeps out its circle's round :
So bowed the stranger's hands that mountain branch,
And bent to earth — a deed past mortal might !
Then Pentheus on the pine boughs seated he,
And let the branch rise, sliding through his hands
Gently, with heedful care to unseat him not.
High up into the heights of air it soared,
Bearing my master throned upon its crest,
More by the Maenads seen than seeing them.
For scarce high-lifted was he manifest,
When lo, the stranger might no more be seen ;
And fell from heaven a voice — the voice, most like,
Of Dionysus, — crying : " 0 ye maids,
I bring him who would mock at you and me,
And at my rites. Take vengeance on him ye ! "
Even as he cried, up heavenward, down to earth,
He flashed a pillar splendor of awful flame.
Hushed was the welkin : that fair grassy glen
Held hushed its leaves ; no wild thing's cry was heard.
But they, whose ears not clearly caught the sound,
Sprang up, and shot keen glances right and left.
Again he cried his hest : then Kadrnus' daughters
Knew certainly the Bacchic God's command,
And darted : and the swiftness of their feet
Was as of doves in onward-straining race —
His mother Agav§ and her sisters twain,
And all the Bacchanals. Through torrent gorge,
O'er bowlders, leapt they, with the God's breath mad.
When seated on the pine they saw my lord,
38 THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS.
First torrent stones with might and main they hurled,
Scaling a rock, their counter bastion,
And javelined him with branches of the pine :
And others shot their thyrsi through the air
At Pentheus- — woeful mark ! — yet naught availed.
For, at a height above their fury's pitch,
Trapped in despair's gin, horror-struck he sat.
Last, oak limbs from their trunks they thundered down,
And heaved at the roots with levers — not of iron.
But when they won no end of toil and strain,
Agav§ cried, "Ho, stand we round the trunk,
Maenads, and grasp, that we may catch the beast
Crouched there, that he may not proclaim abroad
Our God's mysterious rites ! " Their countless hands
Set they unto the pine, tore from the soil : —
And he, high-seated, crashed down from his height :
And earthward fell with frenzy of shriek on shriek
Pentheus, for now he knew his doom at hand.
His mother first, priestlike, began the slaughter,
And fell on him : but from his hair the coif
He tore, that she might know and slay him not, —
Hapless Agave ! — and he touched her cheek,
Crying, " 'Tis I — 0 mother ! — thine own son
Pentheus — thou bar'st me in Echion's halls !
Have mercy, O my mother ! — for my sin
Murder not thou thy son — thy very son ! "
But she, with foaming lips and eyes that rolled
Wildly, and reckless madness-clouded soul,
Possessed of Bacchus, gave no heed to him ;
But his left arm she clutched in both her hands,
And set against the wretch's ribs her foot,
And tore his shoulder out — not by her strength,
But the God made it easy to her hands.
And Ino labored on the other side,
Rending his flesh : Autonoe pressed on — all
The Bacchanal throng. One awful blended cry
Rose — the king's screams while life was yet in him,
And triumph yells from them. One bare an arm,
One a foot sandal-shod. His ribs were stripped
In mangled shreds : with blood-bedabbled hands
Each to and fro was tossing Pentheus' flesh.
Wide-sundered lies his corse : part 'neath rough rocks.
Part mid the tangled depths of forest shades : —
Hard were the search. His miserable head
Which in her hands his mother chanced to seize,
THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS 39
Impaled upon her thyrsus point she bears,
Like mountain lion's, through Kithairon's mid
Leaving her sisters in their Msenad dance ;
And, in her ghastly quarry exulting, comes
Within these walls, to Bacchus crying aloud,
Her fellow-hunter, helper in the chase
Triumphant — all its triumph-prize is tears ! . <,
Enter AGAVE, carrying the head of PENTHEUS.
Agave —
Asian Bacchanals !
Chorus — Why dost thou challenge me ? — say.
Agave —
Lo, from the mountain side I bear
A newly severed ivy spray
Unto our halls, a goodly prey.
Chorus —
I see — to our revels I welcome thee.
Agave —
I trapped him, I, with never a snare !
'Tis a lion — the whelp of a lion, plain to see.
Chorus —
Where in the wilderness, where ?
Agave —
Kithairon —
Chorus — What hath Kithairon wrought ?
Agave —
Him hath Kithairon to slaughter brought.
Chorus —
Who was it smote him first ?
Agave — Mine, mine is the guerdon.
Their revel rout singeth me — " Happy Agav§ ! " their
burden.
Chorus —
Who then ?
Agave —
Of Kadmus —
Chorus —
Of Kadmus what wilt thou tell ?
Agave —
His daughter after me smote the monster fell —
After me ! 0 fortunate hunting ! Is it not well ?
Now share in the banquet ! —
Chorus — Alas ! wherein shall I share ?
40 THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS.
This whelp is yet but a tender thing,
And over its jaws yet sprouteth fair
The down 'neath the crest of its waving hair.
Chorus —
Yea, the hair of a beast of the wold might it be.
Agav& —
Uproused was the Maenad gathering
To the chase, by a cunning hunter full cunningly.
Chorus —
Yea, a hunter is Bacchus our King.
Dost thou praise me ?
Chorus — How can I choose but praise ?
Agav& —
Ay, and full soon shall Kadmus' race —
Chorus —
And Pentheus thy son —
Yea, I shall have praise of my scion
For the prey that is taken, even this whelp of a lion.
Chorus —
Strange quarry ! —
Agav& — And strangely taken. . . .
Where is mine ancient sire ? Let him draw near.
And my son Pentheus where ? Let him upraise
A ladder's stair against the palace wall,
That to the triglyphs he may nail this head,
This lion's head that I from hunting bring.
Enter KADMUS, with ATTENDANTS carrying a bier.
Kadmus —
Follow me, henchmen, to the palace front ;
Follow me, bearing Pentheus' ghastly load,
Whose limbs by toilsome searchings manifold,
About Kithairon's glens all rent apart
I found, and bring — no twain in one place found,
But lying all about the trackless wood. . . .
A _
My father, proudest boast is thine to make,
To have begotten daughters best by far
Of mortals — all thy daughters, chiefly me,
Me who left loom and shuttle, and pressed on
To high emprise, to hunt beasts with mine hands.
And in mine arms I bring, thou seest, this
THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS. 4)
The prize I took, against thy palace wall
To hang : receive it, father, in thine hands.
And now, triumphant in mine hunting's spoil,
Bid to a feast thy friends ; for blest art thou,
Blest verily, since we have achieved such deeds.
Kadmus —
0 anguish measureless that blasts the sight !
O murder compassed by those wretched hands I
Fair victim this to cast before the Gods,
And bid to such a banquet Thebes and me !
Woe for our sorrows ! — first for thine, then mine I
How hath the God, King Bromius, ruined us 1 —
Just stroke — yet ruthless — is he not our kin?
How sour of mood is graybeard eld in men,
How sullen-eyed ! Framed in his mother's mold
A mighty hunter may my son become,
When with the Theban youths he speedeth forth
Questing the quarry ! — But he can do naught
Save war with Gods ! Father, onr part it is
To warn him not to joy in baneful wisdom.
Where is he ? Who will call him hitherward
To see me, and behold mine happiness ?
Kadmus —
Alas ! when ye are ware what ye have done,
With sore grief shall ye grieve ! If to life's end
Ye should abide on aye in this your state,
Ye should not, though unblest, seem all accurst
What is not well here ? — what that calls for grief ?
Kadmus —
First cast thou up thine eye to yonder heaven.
Lo, so I do. Why bid me look thereon ?
Kadmus —
Seems it the same ? Or hath it changed to thee ?
Brighter it is — more clear than heretofore.
Kadmus —
Is this delirium tossing yet thy soul ?
Agavb —
This comprehend I not: yet — yet — it passes,
My late mood — I am coming to myself.
Kadmus —
Canst hearken aught then ? Clearly canst reply ?
42 THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS.
Our words late-spoken — father, I forget them.
Kadmus —
To what house earnest thou with bridal hymns ?
Agav& —
Echion's — of the Dragon seed, men say.
Kadmus —
Thou barest — in thine halls, to thy lord — whom ?
Agav& —
Pentheus — born of my union with his sire.
Kadmus —
Whose head — whose? — art thou bearing in thine
arms?
A lion's — so said they which hunted it.
Kadmus —
Look well thereon : small trouble this, to look.
Agav$ —
Ah-h ! what do I see ? What bear I in mine hands ?
Kadmus —
Gaze, gaze on it, and be thou certified.
Agav& —
I see — mine uttermost anguish ! Woe is me I
Kadmus —
Seems it to thee now like a lion's head ?
ISTo ! — wretched ! — wretched ! — Pentheus' head I hold !
Kadmus —
Of me bewailed ere recognized of thee.
Agav& —
Who murdered him ? How came he to mine hands ?
Kadmus —
0 piteous truth that so untimely dawns !
Agav& —
Speak ! Hard my heart beats, waiting for its doom.
Kadmus —
Thou! — thou, and those thy sisters murdered him.
Agav& —
Where perished he ? — at home, or in what place ?
Kadmus —
There, where Aktaion erst by hounds was torn.
Agav& —
How to Kithairon went this hapless one ?
Kadmus —
To mock the God and thy wild rites he went.
THE VENGEANCE OF DIONYSUS. 43
Agavl —
But we — for what cause thither journeyed we ?
Kadmus —
Ye were distraught : all Thebes went Bacchant- wild.
Agav6 —
Dionysus ruined us ! I see it now.
Kadmus —
Ye flouted him, would not believe him God.
Agav& —
Where, father, is my son's beloved corse ?
Kadmus —
Here do I bear it, by hard searching found.
Agav6 —
Is it all meetly fitted limb to limb ?
Kadmus —
[Yea — now I add thereto this dear-loved head.]
Agav£ —
But — in my folly what was Pentheus' part ?
Kadmus —
He was as ye, revering not the God,
Who therefore in one mischief whelmed you all,
You, and this prince, so ruining all our house
And me, who had no man child of mine own,
Who see now, wretched daughter, this the fruit
Of thy womb horribly and foully slain.
To thee our house looked up, 0 son, the stay
Of mine old halls ; my daughter's offspring thou,
Thou wast the city's dread : was none dared mock
The old man, none that turned his eyes on thee,
0 gallant head ! — thou hadst well requited him.
Now from mine halls shall I in shame be cast —
Kadmus the great, who sowed the seed of Thebes,
And reaped the goodliest harvest of the world.
0 best beloved ! — for, though thou be no more,
Thou shalt be counted best beloved, 0 child,
Thou who shalt fondle never more my head,
Nor clasp and call me " Mother's father," child,
Crying, "Who wrongs thee, ancient ? — flouts thee who?
Who vexeth thee to trouble thine heart's peace ?
Speak, that I may chastise the wrong, my sire."
Now am I anguish-stricken, wretched thou,
Woeful thy mother, and her sisters wretched !
If any man there be that scorns the Gods,
This man's death let him note, and so believe.
44 CHORUSES FROM ARISTOPHANES.
CHORUSES FROM ARISTOPHANES.
WOMEN.
(From the *' Thesmophoriazusse " : translated by W. Lucas Collins.)
THEST'RE always abusing the women,
As a terrible plague to men;
They say we're the root of all evil,
And repeat it again and again ;
Of war and quarrel and bloodshed,
All mischief, be what it may :
And pray then why do you marry us,
If we're all the plagues you say ?
And why do you take such care of us,
And keep us safe at home,
And are never easy a moment
If ever we chance to roam ?
When you ought to be thanking heaven
That your Plague is out of the way,
You all keep fussing and fretting —
Where is my Plague to-day ?
If a Plague peeps out of the window,
Up go the eyes of the men ;
If she hides, then they all keep staring
Until she looks out again.
SONG OP THE CLOUDS.
(From "The Clouds'* : translated by Andrew Lang.)
Immortal Clouds from the echoing shore
Of the father of streams from the sounding sea,
Dewy and fleet, let us rise and soar ;
Dewy and gleaming and fleet are we !
Let us look on the tree-clad mountain crest,
On the sacred earth where the fruits rejoice,
On the waters that murmur east and west,
On the tumbling sea with his moaning voice,
For unwearied glitters the Eye of the Air,
And the bright rays gleam;
Then cast we our shadows of mist, and fare
In our deathless shapes to glance everywhere
From the height of the heaven, on the land and air,
And the Ocean Stream.
CHORUSES FROM ARISTOPHANES. 45
Let us on, ye Maidens that bring the Rain,
Let us gaze on Pallas' citadel,
In the country of Cecrops fair and dear,
The mystic land of the holy cell,
Where the Rites unspoken securely dwell,
And the gift of the gods that know not stain,
And a people of mortals that know not fear.
For the temples tall and the statues fair,
Ajid the feasts of the gods are holiest there ;
The feasts of Immortals, the chaplets of flowers,
And the Bromian mirth at the coming of spring,
And the musical voices that fill the hours,
And the dancing feet of the maids that sing I
THE BIKDS' COSMOLOGY.
(From "The Birds " : translated by John Hookham Frere.)
Ye Children of Man ! whose life is a span,
Protracted with sorrow from day to day,
Naked and featherless, feeble and querulous,
Sickly calamitous creatures of clay !
Attend to the words of the Sovereign Birds
(Immortal, illustrious, lords of the air),
Who survey from on high, with a merciful eye,
Your struggles of misery, labor, and care.
Whence you may learn and clearly discern
Such truths as attract your inquisitive turn ;
Which is busied of late with a mighty debate,
A profound speculation about the creation,
And organical life, and chaotical strife,
With various notions of heavenly motions,
And rivers and oceans, and valleys and mountains,
And sources of fountains, and meteors on high,
And stars in the sky. . . . We propose by and by
(If you'll listen and hear) to make it all clear.
And Prodicus henceforth shall pass for a dunce,
When his doubts are explained and expounded at once.
Before the creation of Ether and Light,
Chaos and Night together were plight,
In the dungeon of Erebus foully bedight,
Nor Ocean, or Air, or substance was there,
Or solid or rare, or figure or form,
But horrible Tartarus ruled in the storm :
At length, in the dreary chaotical closet
Of Erebus old, was a privy deposit,
46 CHORUSES FROM ARISTOPHANES.
By Night the primeval in secrecy laid —
A mystical egg, that in silence and shade
Was brooded and hatched, till time came about,
And Love, the delightful, in glory flew out,
In rapture and light, exulting and bright,
Sparkling and florid, with stars in his forehead,
His forehead and hair, and a flutter and flare,
As he rose in the air, triumphantly furnished
To range his dominions on glittering pinions,
All golden and azure, and blooming and burnished •
He soon, in the murky Tartarean recesses,
With a hurricane's might, in his fiery caresses
Impregnated Chaos ; and hastily snatched
To being and life, begotten and hatched
The primitive Birds : but the Deities all,
The celestial Lights, the terrestrial Ball,
Were later of birth, with the dwellers on earth
More tamely combined, of a temperate kind ;
When chaotical mixture approached to a fixture.
Our antiquity proved ; it remains to be shown
That Love is our author and master alone,
Like him we can ramble, and gambol and fly
O'er ocean and earth, and aloft to the sky ;
And all the world over, we're friends to the lover,
And when other means fail, we are found to prevail,
When a Peacock or Pheasant is sent as a present.
All lessons of primary daily concern
You have learned from the Birds, and continue to learn,
Your best benefactors and early instructors ;
We give you the warning of seasons returning.
When the Cranes are arranged, and muster afloat
In the middle air, with a creaking note,
Steering away to the Libyan sands,
Then careful farmers sow their lands ;
The crazy vessel is hauled ashore,
The sail, the ropes, the rudder, and oar
Are all unshipped, and housed in store.
The shepherd is warned, by the Kite reappearing,
To muster his flock, and be ready for shearing,
You quit your old cloak at the Swallow's behest,
In assurance of summer, and purchase a vest.
For Delphi, for Ammon, Dodona, in fine
For every oracular temple and shrine,
The Birds are a substitute equal and fair,
For on us you depend, and to us you repair
CHORUSES FROM ARISTOPHANES. 47
For counsel and aid when a marriage is made,
A purchase, a bargain, a venture in trade :
Unlucky or lucky, whatever has struck ye,
An ox or an ass that may happen to pass,
A voice in the street, or a slave that you meet,
A name or a word by chance overheard,
If you deem it an omen, you call it a Bird ;
And if birds are your omens, it clearly will follow,
That birds are a proper prophetic Apollo.
Then take us as gods, and you'll soon find the odds,
We'll serve for all uses, as prophets and muses ;
We'll give ye fine weather, we'll live here together ;
We'll not keep away, scornful and proud, atop of a cloud
(In Jupiter's way) ; but attend every day
To prosper and bless all you possess,
And all your affairs, for yourselves and your heirs.
And as long as you live, we shall give
You wealth and health, and pleasure and treasure,
In ample measure ;
And never bilk you of pigeon's milk
Or potable gold ; you shall live to grow old,
In laughter and mirth, on the face of the earth,
Laughing, quaffing, carousing, boozing,
Your only distress shall be the excess
Of ease and abundance and happiness.
His VINDICATION.
(Prom "The Acharnians" : same translation.)
Our poet has never as yet
Esteemed it proper or fit
To detain you with a long,
Encomiastic song,
On his own superior wit.
But being abused and accused,
And attacked of late,
As a foe to the state,
He makes an appeal in his proper defense
To your voluble humor and temper and sense,
With the following plea :
Namely, that he
Never attempted or ever meant
To scandalize
In any wise
48 CHORUSES FROM ARISTOPHANES.
Tour mighty imperial government.
Moreover he says,
That in various ways
He presumes to have merited honor and praise^
Exhorting you still to stick to your rights,
And no more to be fooled with rhetorical nights;
Such as of late each envoy tries
On the behalf of your allies,
That come to plead their cause before ye,
With fulsome phrase, and a foolish story
Of violet crowns, and Athenian glory ;
With " sumptuous Athens " at every word ;
" Sumptuous Athens " is always heard,
" Sumptuous " ever ; a suitable phrase
For a dish of meat or a beast at graze.
He therefore affirms,
In confident terms,
That his active courage and earnest zeal
Have usefully served your common weal :
He has openly shown
The style and tone
Of your democracy ruling abroad.
He has placed its practices on record ;
The tyrannical arts, the knavish tricks
That poison all your politics.
Therefore we shall see, this year,
The allies with tribute arriving here,
Eager and anxious all to behold
Their steady protector, the bard so bold :
The bard, they say, that has dared to speak,
To attack the strong, to defend the weak.
His fame in foreign climes is heard,
And a singular instance lately occurred.
It occurred in the case of the Persian king,
Sifting and cross-examining
The Spartan envoys. He demanded
Which of the rival states commanded
The Grecian seas ? He asked them next
(Wishing to see them more perplext)
Which of the two contending powers
Was chiefly abused by this bard of ours ?
For he said, " Such a bold, so profound an adviser
By dint of abuse would render them wiser,
More active and able ; and briefly that they
Must finally prosper and carry the day."
CHORUSES FROM ARlSTOPHANEa 49
Now mark the Lacedaemonian guile I
Demanding an insignificant isle !
" JSgina," they say, " for a pledge of peace,
As a means to make all jealousy cease."
Meanwhile their privy design and plan
Is solely to gain this marvelous man, —
Knowing his influence on your fate, —
By obtaining a hold on his estate
Situate in the isle aforesaid.
Therefore there needs to be no more said.
You know their intention, and know that you know it.
You'll keep to your island, and stick to the poet
And he for his part
Will practice his art
With a patriot heart,
With the honest views
That he now pursues,
And fair buffoonery and abuse ;
Not rashly bespattering, or basely beflattering,
Not pimping, or puffing, or acting the ruffian j
Not sneaking or fawning;
But openly scorning
All menace and warning,
All bribes and suborning :
He will do his endeavor on your behalf ;
He will teach you to think, he will teach you to laugh.
So Cleon again and again may try j
I value him not, nor fear him, I !
His rage and rhetoric I defy.
His impudence, his politics,
His dirty designs, his rascally tricks
No stain of abuse on me shall fix.
Justice and right, in his despite,
Shall aid and attend me, and do me right ?
With these to friend, I ne'er will bend,
Nor descend
To an humble tone
(Like his own),
As a sneaking loon,
A knavish, slavish, poor poltroon.
VOL. IV. — 4
50 THE MOCK HERCULES.
THE MOCK HERCULES.
BY ARISTOPHANES.
[For biographical sketch, see Vol. 3, p. 385.]
(From '* The Frogs ": translated by John Hookham Frere.)
BACCHUS and his slave XANTHIAS go to Hades to bring back EURIP-
IDES, whose death has taken away Athens' last great tragic artist.
BACCHUS, having called on HERCULES for directions, is eager to
emulate him. Scene : the gate of PLUTO'S palace.
Bacchus [going up to the door with considerable hesitation] —
Well, how must I knock at the door now ? Can't ye tell me ?
How do the native inhabitants knock at doors ?
Xanthias —
Pah ! don't stand fooling there ; but smite it smartly, with the
very spirit and air of Hercules.
Bacchus —
Holloh!
^Eacus [from within, with the voice of a royal and infernal porter"] —
Who's there ?
Bacchus [with a forced voice] — 'Tis I, the valiant Hercules I
[coming out] —
Thou brutal, abominable, detestable,
Vile, villainous, infamous, nefarious scoundrel !
— How durst thou, villain as thou wert, to seize
Our watch-dog, Cerberus, whom I kept and tended,
Hurrying him off, half strangled in your grasp ?
— But now, be sure we have you safe and fast,
Miscreant and villain ! — Thee, the Stygian cliffs,
With stern adamantine durance, and the rocks
Of inaccessible Acheron, red with gore,
Environ and beleaguer ; and the watch,
And swift pursuit of the hideous hounds of hell ;
And the horrible Hydra, with her hundred heads,
Whose furious ravening fangs shall rend and tear thee;
Wrenching thy vitals forth, with the heart and midriff;
While inexpressible Tartesian monsters
And grim Tithrasian Gorgons toss and scatter
With clattering claws, thine intertwined intestines.
To them, with instant summons, I repair,
Moving in hasty march with steps of speed.
[^EACUS departs with a tremendous tragical exit, and BACCHUS
falls to the ground in a fright.]
THE MOCK HEBCULES. 61
Xanthias —
Holloh, you ! What's the matter there — f
Bacchus —
Oh dear, Fve had an accident.
Xanthias — Poh ! poh ! jump up I
Come ! you ridiculous simpleton ! don't lie there,
The people will see you.
Bacchus — Indeed, Pm sick at heart; lah! . . .
Xanthias —
Was there ever in heaven or earth such a coward ?
Bacchus — Me?
A coward ! Did not I show my presence of mind —
And call for a sponge and water in a moment ?
Would a coward have done that ?
Xanthias — What else would he do fi
Bacchus —
He'd have lain there like a nasty coward ;
But I jumped up at once, like a lusty wrestler,
And looked about, and wiped myself, withal.
Xanthias —
Most manfully done !
Bacchus — By Jove, and I think it was ;
But tell me, weren't you frightened with that speech ? — -
Such horrible expressions !
Xanthias [coolly, but with conscious and intentional coolness] —
No, not I ; I took no notice
Bacchus— Well, I'll tell you what,
Since you're such a valiant-spirited kind of fellow —
Do you be me — with the club and the lion skin,
Now you're in this courageous temper of mind ;
And I'll go take my turn and carry the bundles.
Xanthias —
Well — give us hold — I must honor you forsooth;
Make haste [he changes his dress~] : and now behold the
Xanthian Hercules,
And mind if I don't display more heart and spirit.
Bacchus —
Indeed and you look the character completely.
Enter PROSERPINE'S Servant Maid (a kind of Dame Quickly), whc
immediately addresses XANTHIAS.
Dear Hercules. Well, you're come at last. Come in,
For the goddess, as soon as she heard of it, set to work,
Baking peck loaves and frying stacks of pancakes,
And making messes of furmety ; there's an ox
52 THE MOCK HERCULES.
Besides, she has roasted whole, with a relishing stuffing,
If you'll only just step in this way.
Xanthias [with dignity and reserve} — I thank you,
I'm equally obliged.
Servant Maid — No, no, by Jupiter !
We musf- not let you off, indeed. There's wild fowl
And sweetmeats for the dessert, and the best of wine j
Only walk in.
Xanthias [as before] — I thank you. You'll excuse me.
Servant Maid — No, no, we can't excuse you, indeed we can't;
There are dancing and singing girls besides.
Xanthias [with dissembled emotion] — What ! dancers ?
Servant Maid —
Yes, that there are ; the sweetest, charmingest things that evei
you saw — and there's the cook this moment
Is dishing up the dinner.
Xanthias (with an air of lofty condescension) — Go before, then,
And tell the girls — those singing girls you mentioned —
To prepare for my approach in person presently.
[To BACCHUS] — You, sirrah I follow behind me with the bundles.
Bacchus —
Holloh, you 1 what, do you take the thing in earnest,
Because, for a joke, I drest you up like Hercules?
[XANTHIAS continues to gesticulate as HERCULES.
Come, don't stand fooling, Xanthias. You'll provoke me.
There, carry the bundles, sirrah, when I bid you.
Xanthias [relapsing at once into his natural air~\ —
Why, sure ? do you mean to take the things away
That you gave me yourself of your own accord this instant ?
Bacchus —
I never mean a thing ; I do it at once.
Let go of the lion's skin directly, I tell you.
Xanthias [resigning his heroical insignia with a tragical air and tone] —
To you, just Gods, I make my last appeal,
Bear witness !
Bacchus — What ! the Gods ? — do you think they mind you ?
How could you take it in your head, I wonder—
Such a foolish fancy for a fellow like you,
A mortal and a slave, to pass for Hercules ?
Xanthias — [God
There. Take them. — There — you may have them — but please
You may come to want my help some time or other.
Enter Two WOMEN, Sutlers or Keepers of an Eating House.
1 Woman —
What, Platana! Goody Platana! there! that's he,
THE MOCK HERCULES. 58
The fellow that robs and cheats poor victualers;
That came to our house and eat those nineteen loaveg.
2 Woman —
Ay, sure enough that's he, the very man.
Xanthias [tauntingly to Bacchus'] —
There's mischief in the wind for somebody 1
1 Woman —
And a dozen and a half of cutlets and fried chops,
At a penny halfpenny a piece —
Xanthias {significantly'] — There are pains and penalties
Impending —
1 Woman — And all the garlic : such a quantity
As he swallowed —
Bacchus [delivers this speech with Herculean dignity, after his fash-
iont having hitherto remained silent on the same principle'] —
Woman, you're beside yourself ;
You talk you know not what —
2 Woman — No, no ! you reckoned
I should not know you again with them there buskins.
1 Woman —
Good lack ! and there was all that fish besides.
Indeed — with the pickle, and all — and the good green cheese
That he gorged at once, with the rind, and the rush baskets ;
And then, when I called for payment, he looked fierce,
And stared at me in the face, and grinned, and roared —
Xanthias —
Just like him ! That's the way wherever he goes.
1 Woman —
And snatched his sword out, and behaved like mad.
Xanthias —
Poor souls I you suffered sadly !
1 Woman — Yes, indeed;
And then we both ran off with the fright and terror,
And scrambled into the loft beneath the roof ;
And he took up two rugs and stole them off.
Xanthias —
Just like him again — but something must be done.
Go call me Cleon, he's my advocate.
2 Woman —
And Hyperbolus, if you meet him send him here.
He's mine ; and we'll demolish him, I warrant.
1 Woman [going close up to BACCHUS in the true attitude of rage
and defiance, with the arms akimbo, and a neck and chin thrust
out] —
How I should like to strike those ugly teeth out
With a good big stone, you ravenous greedy villain !
54 THE MOCK HERCULES.
You gormandizing villain, that I should —
Yes, that I should ; your wicked ugly fangs
That have eaten up my substance, and devoured me,
2 Woman —
And I could toss you into the public pit
With the malefactors' carcasses ; that I could,
With pleasure and satisfaction ; that I could.
1 Woman —
And I should like to rip that gullet out
With a reaping hook that swallowed all my tripe,
And liver and lights, — but I'll fetch Cleon here,
And he shall summon him. He shall settle him,
And have it out with him this very day.
[Exeunt 1st and 2d Woman.
Bacchus \_in a pretended soliloquy~\ —
I love poor Xanthias dearly, that I do ;
I wish I might be hanged else.
Xanthias — Yes, I know —
I know your meaning — No ; no more of that,
I won't act Hercules -
Bacchus — Now pray don't say so,
My little Xanthias.
Xanthias — How should I be Hercules ?
A mortal and a slave, a fellow like me ?
Bacchus —
I know you're angry, and you've a right to be angry :
And if you beat me for it I'd not complain ;
But if ever I strip you again, from this time forward,
I wish I may be utterly confounded,
With my wife, my children, and my family,
And the blear-eyed Archedemus into the bargain.
Xanthias —
I agree, then, on that oath and those conditions.
JEAcus enters again as a vulgar executioner of the law, with suitable
understrappers in attendance.
[^acus is exhibited in the following scene as the ideal character of a perfect
and accomplished bailiff and thief-taker, and is marked by traits which prove
that the genus has remained unchanged in the two thousand years between the
times of Aristophanes and Fielding. The true hardness of mind is most strik-
ingly apparent in those passages where he means to be civil and accommodating.
Thus Foote has characterized his Miser by traits of miserly liberality.]
Arrest me there that fellow that stole the dog.
There ! — Pinion him ! — Quick !
THE MOCK HERCULES. 5o
Bacchus [tauntingly to XANTHIAS] —
There's somebody in a scrape.
Xanthias [in a menacing attitude] —
Keep off, and be hanged.
^Bacus — Oh, hoh ! do you mean to fight for it ?
Here ! Pardokas, and Skeblias, and the rest of ye,
Make up to the rogue, and settle him. Come, be quick.
[A scuffle ensues, in which XANTHIAS succeeds in obliging J^ACUS'S
runners to keep their distance.]
Bacchus [mortified at XANTHIAS'S prowess] —
Well, is not this quite monstrous and outrageous —
To steal the dog, and then to make an assault
In justification of it.
Xanthias [triumphantly and ironically'] — Quite outrageous !
jffiacus [gravely, and dissembling his mortification] —
An aggravated case !
Xanthias [with candor and gallantry'] — Well, now — by Jupiter,
May I die ; but I never saw this place before —
Nor ever stole the amount of a farthing from you :
Nor a hair of your dog's tail — But you shall see now,
I'll settle all this business nobly and fairly.
— This slave of mine — you may take and torture him ;
And if you make out anything against me,
You may take and put me to death for aught I care.
jSHacus [in an obliging tone, softened into deference and civility by
the liberality of XANTHIAS'S proposal] —
But which way would you please to have him tortured ?
Xanthias [with a gentlemanly spirit of accommodation] —
In your own way — with .... the lash — with .... knots and
screws,
With .... the common usual customary tortures.
With the rack — with .... the water torture — any way —
With fire and vinegar — all sorts of ways.
[After a very slight pause.
There's only one thing I should warn you of :
I must not have him treated like a child,
To be whipt with fennel, or with lettuce leaves.
That's fair — and if so be .... he's maimed or crippled
In any respect — the valy shall be paid you.
Xanthias —
Oh no ! — by no means ! not to me ! — by no means !
You must not mention it ! — Take him to the torture.
56 THE MOCK HERCULES.
jEacus —
It had better be here, and under your own eye.
[To BACCHUS.
Come you — put down your bundles and make ready.
And mind — let me hear no lies !
Bacchus — I'll tell you what :
Fd advise people not to torture me ;
I give you notice — Fm a deity.
So mind now — you'll have nobody to blame
But your own self
jEacus — Wnat's that you're saying there ?
Bacchus —
Why, that Fm Bacchus, Jupiter's own son :
That fellow there's a slave. [Pointing to XANTHIAS.
^Eacus [to Xanthias] — Do you hear ?
Xanthias — I hear him —
A reason the more to give him a good beating ;
If he's immortal, he need never mind it.
Bacchus —
Why should not you be beat as well as I, then,
If you're immortal, as you say you are ?
Xanthias —
Agreed — and him, the first that you see flinching,
Or seeming to mind it at all, you may set him down
For an impostor and no real deity.
jflacus [to XANTHIAS, with warmth and cordiality'] —
Ah, you're a worthy gentleman, I'll be bound f or't ;
You're all for the truth and the proof. Come — strip there,
both o' ye.
Xanthias —
But how can ye put us to the question fairly,
Upon equal terms ?
jEacus [in the tone of a person proposing a convenient, agreeable
arrangement'] — Oh, easily enough.
Conveniently enough — a lash apiece,
Each in your turn : you can have 'em one by one.
Xanthias —
That's right [putting himself in an attitude to receive the blows'].
Now mind if you see me flinch or swerve.
jflacus [strikes him, but without producing any expression of
pain] —
I've struck.
Xanthias — Not you!
Why, it seems as if I had not.
I'll smite this other fellow. [Strikes BACCHUS.
THE MOCK HERCULES. 57
Bacchus [pretending not to feel} — When will you do it ?
perseveres, and applies his discipline alternately to Bacchus and
Xanthias, and extorts from them various involuntary exclamations of pain, which
they immediately account for, and justify in some ridiculous way. The passage
cannot be translated literally, but an idea may be given of it. Suppose Bacchus
to receive a blow, he exclaims — ]
Oh dear! [and immediately subjoins] companions of my
youthful years —
Xanthias [tc ^EACUS] • —
Did ye hear ? he made an outcry.
jEacus — What was that ?
Bacchus —
A favorite passage from Archilochus.
[XANTHIAS receives a blow, and exclaims] —
0 Jupiter ! [and subjoins] that on the Idean height — [and
contends that he has been repeating the first line of a
well-known hymn.]
^Eacus [at length gives the matter up] —
Well, after all my pains, I'm quite at a loss
To discover which is the true, real deity.
By the Holy Goddess — I'm completely puzzled ;
1 must take you before Proserpine and Pluto :
Being gods themselves, they're likeliest to know.
Bacchus —
Why, that's a lucky thought. I only wish
It had happened to occur before you beat us.
Scene : XANTHIAS and J3Acus.
[When two persons, perfectly strangers, are thrown together in a situation
which makes it advisable for them to commence an immediate intimacy, they
commonly begin by discovering a marvelous coincidence of taste and judgment
upon all current topics. This observation, which is not wholly superfluous here,
appears to have been so far trite and hackneyed in the time of Aristophanes as
to allow of its being exemplified in a piece of very brief burlesque. Xanthias
and ^Eacus are the strangers ; they discover immediately an uniformity of feel-
ing and sentiment upon the topics most familiar to them as slaves, and conclude
by a sudden pledge of friendship. It is to be observed that, in the dialogue
which follows, JEacus never departs from the high ground of superiority in
point of local information. All his answers have a slight tinge of irony, as
if he was saying, " Yes — much you know about it I "]
By Jupiter ! but he's a gentleman,
That master of yours.
Xanthias — A gentleman ! To be sure he is :
Why, he does nothing but wench and drink.
58 THE MOCK HERCULES.
His never striking you when you took his name—
Outfacing him and contradicting him I —
Xanthias —
It might have been worse for him if he had.
jfflacus —
Well, that's well spoken, like a true-bred slave.
It's just the sort of language I delight in.
Xanthias —
You love excuses ?
jEacus — Yes, but I prefer
Cursing my master quietly in private.
Xanthias —
Mischief you're fond of ?
JEacus — Very fond, indeed.
Xanthias —
What think ye of muttering as you leave the room
After a beating ?
^acus — Why, that's pleasant, too.
Xanthias —
By Jove, is it ! But listening at the door
To hear their secrets ?
jflacus — Oh, there's nothing like it
Xanthias —
And then the reporting them in the neighborhood ..
That's beyond everything. — That's quite ecstatic.
Xanthias —
Well, give me your hand. And there, take mine — and
buss me —
And there again — and now for Jupiter's sake ! —
(For he's the patron of our cuffs and beatings)
Do tell me what's that noise of people quarreling
And abusing one another there within ?
^Eacus [as if to say, "You're a new man — we're used to this"]—
^Eschylus and Euripides only !
Xanthias — Heh ? — ? — ?
JEacus —
Why, there's a desperate business has broke out
Among these here dead people ; — quite a tumult
Xanthias —
As how ?
— First, there's a custom we have established
In favor of professors of the arts.
When any one, the first in his own line,
Comes down amongst us here, he stands entitled
THE MOCK HERCULES. 59
To privilege and precedence, with a seat
At Pluto's royal board.
Xanthias — I understand you.
So he maintains it, till there comes a better
Of the same sort, and then resigns it up.
Xanthias —
But why should JSschylus be disturbed at this?
He held the seat for tragedy, as the master
In that profession.
Xanthias — Well, and who's there now ?
He kept it till Euripides appeared:
But he collected audiences about him,
And flourished, and exhibited, and harangued
Before the thieves, and housebreakers, and rogues,
Cut-purses, cheats, and vagabonds, and villains,
That make the mass of population here ;
[Pointing to the audience.
And they — being quite transported and delighted
With his equivocations and evasions,
His subtleties and niceties and quibbles —
In short — they raised an uproar, and declared him
Arch-poet, by a general acclamation.
And he with this grew proud and confident,
And laid a claim to the seat where ^Eschylus sat
Xanthias —
And did not he get pelted for his pains ?
jffiacus [with the dry concise importance of superior local informa*
tion] —
Why, no — the mob called out, and it was carried,
To have a public trial of skill between them.
Xanthias —
You mean the mob of scoundrels that you mentioned ?
Scoundrels indeed I Ay, scoundrels without number.
Xanthias —
But jEschylus must have had good friends and hearty ?
Yes ; but good men are scarce both here and elsewhere.
Xanthias —
Well, what has Pluto settled to be done ?
us —
To have an examination and a trial
In public.
60 THE MOCK HERCULES.
Xanthias — But how comes it ? — Sophocles ?
Why does not he put forth his claim amongst them ?
No, no ! — He's not the kind of man — not he !
I tell ye ; the first moment that he came,
He went up to -£5schylus and saluted him
And kissed his cheek and took his hand quite kindly ;
And ^Eschylus edged a little from his seat
To give him room, so now the story goes
(At least I had it from Cleidemides) ;
He means to attend there as a stander-by,
Proposing to take up the conqueror ;
If ^Eschylus gets the better, well and good,
He gives up his pretensions — but if not
He'll stand a trial, he says, against Euripides.
Xanthias —
There'll be strange doings.
jEacus — That there will — and shortly
— Here — in this place — strange things, I promise you ;
A kind of thing that no man could have thought of ;
Why, you'll see poetry weighed out and measured.
Xanthias —
What, will they bring their tragedies to the steelyards ?
jSSacus —
Yes, will they — with their rules and compasses
They'll measure, and examine, and compare,
And bring their plummets, and their lines and levels,
To take the bearings — for Euripides
Says that he'll make a survey, word by word.
Xanthias —
^schylus takes the thing to heart, I doubt
He bent his brows and pored upon the ground;
I saw him.
Xanthias — Well, but who decides the business ?
Why, there the difficulty lies — for judges,
True learned judges, are grown scarce, and ^Eschylus
Objected to the Athenians absolutely.
Xanthias —
Considering them as rogues and villains mostly.
s —
As being ignorant and empty generally;
And in their judgment of the stage particularly.
In fine, they've fixed upon that master of yours,
As having had some practice in the business.
GREEK WIT AND PHILOSOPHY. 61
GREEK WIT AND PHILOSOPHY.
(Mainly from Diogenes Lafirtius.)
MAXIMS OF PYTHAGORAS.
Do not stir the fire with a sword [roil the powerful],
Do not sit down on a bushel [idle in daily labor] .
Do not eat your heart [poison your life with envy].
Do not help men to lay down burdens, but to bear heavier
ones.
Keep your bed packed up [be ready for misfortune].
Do not wear a god's image on a ring [trivialize sacred
things].
Efface the traces of a pot in the ashes [keep your private
affairs secret].
Do not wipe a seat with a lamp [use unsuitable or dangerous
means] .
Do not walk in the main street [be independent in judgment].
Do not offer your right hand lightly.
Do not cherish swallows under your roof [? for fear those
trying to smoke them out may fire the thatch: a warning
against one-sided alliances?]
Do not cherish birds with crooked talons [birds of prey].
Defile nothing.
Do not stand upon your nail parings or hair cuttings [sweep
away all traces of cast-off foibles; make each advance in charac-
ter permanent].
Avoid a sharp sword [as dangerous to the owner as to the
foe].
When traveling, do not look back at your own borders
["let the dead past bury its dead"].
ARISTIPPUS.
The tyrant Dionysius asked him why philosophers infest
rich men's houses, not rich men philosophers' houses. Aristip-
pus answered, "Because philosophers know what they need
and rich men don't." The same sneer being uttered at another
time, he answered, " Yes, and physicians infest sick men's
houses; but nobody would be the patient rather than the
doctor."
62 GREEK WIT AND PHILOSOPHY.
He once asked Dionysius for money. Dionysius replied, " I
thought philosophers had no need of money." " Give," said
Aristippus, " and I will answer you." Dionysius gave him
some gold pieces. " Now" said Aristippus, " I have no need of
money."
Being censured for wasting money on costly food, he an-
swered, " If you could buy the same things for a dime, wouldn't
you do it ? " " Yes," was the reply. " Then," he said, " it is
you that are stingy, not I that am a gourmet."
In a storm on shipboard, he showed such fright that another
passenger said to him, " We common people keep our heads ;
it takes you philosophers to play coward." "That is because
we risk losing something more than such worthless lives as
yours," was the reply.
Having vainly tried to gain Dionysius' consent to a request,
he at last threw himself at the tyrant's feet, and was successful.
On being reproached for so meanly humiliating himself, he re-
plied, " It is not my fault, but that of Dionysius, who carries
his ears in his feet."
He said he took his friends' money, not so much to use it
himself as to teach them how to use it.
His capricious obedience now to lofty theoretic principles
and now to self-indulgent practical action caused Plato to say
to him, " You are the only one who can wear a sound cloak and
a mass of rags at once."
BIAS.
He too was once overtaken by a storm on shipboard.
Among his companions were some very bad characters, who
began to call on the gods for help. Bias said, " Hold your
tongues ; don't let them know you are on board ! "
An unprincipled man asked him what piety was. He made
no answer ; and on being asked the reason for his silence, re-
plied, " Because you are inquiring about things you have no
concern with."
Being shown a temple where votive offerings were hung,
from sailors who had been saved from shipwreck after
prayers to the gods for help, he asked, " But where are
the offerings from those who were drowned after praying for
help?"
GREEK WIT AND PHILOSOPHY. 63
DIOGENES.
Some one asked him why people gave money to beggars and
would not give it to philosophers. He replied, " Because they
think they are much more likely to become beggars than phi-
losophers themselves."
Plato had denned man as a featherless biped. Diogenes
picked the feathers off a chicken and brought it to Plato's
school, saying, as he showed it, "This is one of Plato's men."
Asked when people should marry, he said, "Young men,
not yet; old men, never."
Asked the best hour to dine, he answered, " If you are rich,
when you like ; if you are poor, when you can."
It being argued that there was no such thing as motion, he
got on his feet and walked off.
Urged to be initiated into the religious mysteries for his
good after death, he answered, " It is ridiculous to suppose
Agesilaus and Epaminondas will stay in the dirt, and any scrub
who has been initiated will live in the 4 Islands of the Blest.' '
At a banquet of Plato's where there were costly carpets,
Diogenes stamping on them remarked, "Thus I trample on
Plato's pride" ; to which Plato retorted, "With equal pride."
Being captured and put up for sale as a slave, when asked
what he could do, he replied, " Govern men " ; and told the
crier to announce that if any one wished to buy a master, here
was a chance.
Being shown around the ostentatiously furnished house of
a vulgar man, and asked not to spit on anything that would
hurt, he spit in the owner's face ; and on being asked the rea-
son, replied, " Because I had to spit, and there was no other
suitable place."
Alexander the Great came to see him, when he was sitting
in the sun, and asked if there was any favor he could do him.
Diogenes replied, "Only to stand out of my sunshine." Alex-
ander asking, " Are you not afraid of me ? " Diogenes replied,
" Why, are you a calamity ? "
A profligate put the inscription above his door, " Let noth-
ing evil enter." Said Diogenes to the master, "Where are you
going to live ? "
He once went around with a lighted candle in daytime ;
and on being asked the reason, answered, " I am looking for
an honest man."
64 GREEK WIT AND PHILOSOPHY.
At another time he called out, " Holloa, men " ; when they
came, he beat them off with a stick, saying, " I called men, not
scum."
The bystanders once pitying his forlorn condition, Plato
said, " If you want him to be really an object of pity, come
away and don't notice him."
Perdiccas threatened to put Diogenes to death for not
coming to him when ordered. Diogenes answered, " A scor-
pion could do as much : a real threat would be that you would
be very happy if I stayed away."
He said that an ignorant rich man was like a sheep with a
golden fleece (a temptation to shear him).
He praised a bad harp player on the ground that at least he
took to harp playing instead of stealing.
Being taunted, " The people of Sinope condemned you to
banishment," he answered, " And I condemned them to remain
in Sinope." Heine copied this when, after telling of the bad
ends his early bdtes noire had come to, he closed, "and
Professor is still a professor at Gottingen."
He asked for a public statue, and explained later that he
was practicing how to bear disappointment.
To a man of whom he was begging, he said, " If you have
ever given to any one, give to me too ; if not, then begin with
me."
He said Dionysius treated his friends like bags : he hung
up the full ones and threw away the empty ones.
Seeing a ruined profligate making a meal of a few olives, he
said to him, " If you had dined so, you would not be supping
so."
He said a flatterer's speech was like a honeyed halter.
Asked what wine he liked best, he said, " Another man's."
Advised to search for his runaway slave, he said, " It is
absurd if my slave can live without me and I can't without
him."
A man reproaching him with previous bad conduct, he
replied, " Yes, there was a time when I was like you ; but there
never was and never will be one when you are like me."
Censured for eating in the streets, he replied, "Why, it was
there I got hungry."
When told, " People laugh at you," he replied, " And very
likely the asses laugh at them : and both of us pay the same
attention to it."
GREEK WIT AND PHILOSOPHY. 65
He said debauchees were like figs growing on a precipice :
the fruit cannot be gathered by men, but only by crows and
vultures.
He was the first to call himself a citizen of the world.
Hearing a handsome youth talking nonsense, he said, " Aren't
you ashamed to draw a leaden sword out of an ivory scabbard ? "
He begged a mina ($20) of a spendthrift, instead of the
usual obol (penny). Asked his reason, he said, "I can get
something from the rest another time."
Listening to two men quibbling over an alleged theft, in-
stead of talking straightforwardly, he said they were evidently
both guilty : the first was lying when he said he had lost the
article, the second when he said he had not stolen it.
Seeing an unskillful archer shooting, he went and sat down
by the target.
He said education was good behavior to the young, comfort
to the old, riches to the poor, and decoration to the rich.
ANTISTHENES.
He counseled the Athenians to vote that asses were horses.
On their protesting that it was absurd, he rejoined, " But you
make generals the same way."
Told that Plato spoke ill of him, he said, " It is a royal
privilege to do well and be slandered."
Jeered at as not the son of free citizens, he said, "And
I am not the son of good wrestlers ; but I can beat you at
wrestling."
He said that envious people were disarmed by their own
dispositions, as iron is by rust.
Asked the most needful branch of learning, he said it was
to unlearn one's bad habits.
MISCELLANEA.
Aristotle, being told that some one had slandered him in
his absence, replied, " He may beat me too — in my absence."
Asked why we linger around beautiful things, he answered,
"That is a blind man's question."
Theophrastus said to a man who kept silence at a symposium,
" If you don't know anything, you are acting wisely ; if you do,
you are acting foolishly."
VOL, IV. —5
66 GREEK WIT AND PHILOSOPHY.
Demetrius, told that the Athenians had pulled down his
statues, answered, " But not my virtues, which they set them
up for."
He said young men ought to show respect to their parents
at home, to the public in public, to themselves when alone.
He said that men ought to visit prosperous friends when
invited, distressed ones of their own accord.
Alexander the Great ordering the Greek cities to proclaim
him a god, the Spartans gave out the decree, " If Alexander
wishes to be a god, let him be a god."
When Phocion was applauded by the crowd, he said, " What
bad action have I done now ? "
Zeno taught the doctrine of foreordination. One of his ser-
vants, caught in a theft, said, "It was fated that I should
steal ; " Zeno replied, " Yes, and that you should be beaten for
it."
He said a friend was another I.
Asked why he never corrected a certain one of his pupils,
he answered, " Because there is nothing to be made of him."
Lacydes, sent for by Attalus, replied, " Statues ought to be
seen at a distance."
Some one sneering at his studying geometry late in life, and
asking, " Is this a time to be studying ? " he replied, " If it isn't
now, when will it be ? " So Diogenes, when he was told,
"You ought to rest in your old age," replied, "If I had run
a race to reach the goal, should I stop instead of pressing
on?"
Bion, blamed for failure to keep a pupil interested, said,
"You can't draw up cheese with a hook till it is hard."
(Collected by Lord Bacon.)
Agesilaus was told that there was a man who could imi-
tate the nightingale to perfection. " Why," he said, " I have
heard the nightingale herself."
Themistocles, when the representative of a slender estate
put on a lofty tone, said, " Friend, your words would require a
whole state to back them up."
Demosthenes was taunted by JEschines that his speeches
smelt of the lamp. "Yes," he answered, "there is a vast
difference between what you and I do by lamplight."
GREEK WIT AND PHILOSOPHY. 67
Alexander the Great had great offers made him by Darius
of Persia after the battle of Issus, if he would retire from Per-
sia. One of his generals, Parmenio, said, " I would accept them
if I were Alexander." Alexander replied, "So would I if I
were Parmenio."
His father Philip wished him to compete in the foot race at
the Olympian Games. He said he would if he could have
kings for competitors.
Philip of Macedon was advised to banish a nobleman for
speaking ill of him. He replied, "Better have him speak
where we are both known than where we are both unknown."
During the trial of a certain prisoner Philip was drowsy
with drink, and at the end sentenced the accused to death.
The prisoner said, "I appeal." Philip, rousing up, asked, " To
whom ? " The prisoner answered, " From Philip drunk to
Philip sober."
After the battle of Chaeronea, he sent triumphant letters
to Archidamus, king of Sparta. Archidamus wrote back that
if he measured his shadow he would find it no longer than
before.
He was once peremptorily disputing some technical point
with a musician. The latter said, " Sire, God forbid you should
have had such hard fortunes as to learn these things better
than I."
He refused to hear an old woman's petition because he hac
no time. She replied, "Then quit being king."
When Croesus, the Lydian king, showed Solon his vast
treasures, Solon said, " If some one attacks you that has better
iron than you, he will have all this gold himself." Crossus was
in fact conquered by Cyrus.
At a banquet to which the " Seven Wise Men of Greece "
had been invited by a barbarian king's ambassador, he told
them his master was menaced with destruction by a neighbor-
ing king, who made impossible demands under threat of war.
The last order was that he should drink up the sea. One of
the wise men said, "Let him agree to do it." "How?" said the
ambassador. " Why," said the Greek sage, " let him tell the
other king to first shut off all the rivers which run into the sea,
as being no part of the bargain, and then he will fulfill his
part."
68 THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER.
THE CAMPAIGN OP CYRUS THE YOUNGER.
BY XENOPHON.
(Translated by H. G. Dakyns.)
[XENOPHON, the famous Greek general and historian, was born at Athens
about B.C. 450. He was a pupil and friend of Socrates, whose biography he
wrote in the "Memorabilia." He joined the expedition of Cyrus the Younger
as a volunteer, and on the murder of the generals after the battle of Cunaxa
was made commander of the retreat, the celebrated " Retreat of the Ten Thou-
sand." Later he served in the Spartan army and was banished by Athens ; he
lived some twenty years in Elis, but the time and place of his death are not
known. His chief work is the "Anabasis," describing the expedition of Cyrus
and the retreat. He also wrote a history of Grecian affairs, the "Hellenica" ;
the " Cyropsedia," a pretended biography of Cyrus the Great, really an ideal
dream of a boy's education and a social state ; and other things.]
DARIUS and Parysatis had two sons : the elder was named
Artaxerxes, and the younger Cyrus. Now, as Darius lay sick
and felt that the end of life drew near, he wished both his sons
to be with him. The elder, as it chanced, was already there,
but Cyrus he must needs send for from the province over which
he had made him satrap, having appointed him general, more-
over, of all the forces that muster in the plain of the Castolus.
Thus Cyrus went up, taking with him Tissaphernes as his
friend, and accompanied also by a body of Hellenes, three hun-
dred heavy armed men, under the command of Xenias the
Parrhasian.
Now when Darius was dead, and Artaxerxes was established
in the kingdom, Tissaphernes brought slanderous accusation
against Cyrus before his brother, the king, of harboring designs
against him. And Artaxerxes, listening to the words of Tissa-
phernes, laid hands upon Cyrus, desiring to put him to death ;
but his mother made intercession for him, and sent him back
again in safety to his province. He then, having so escaped
through peril and dishonor, fell to considering, not only how
he might avoid ever again being in his brother's power, but
how, if possible, he might become king in his stead. Parysatis,
his mother, was his first resource ; for she had more love
for Cyrus than for Artaxerxes upon his throne. Moreover,
Cyrus's behavior towards all who came to him from the king's
THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER. 89
court was such that when he sent them away again, they were
better friends to himself than to the king his brother. Nor did
he neglect the barbarians in his own service ; but trained them,
at once to be capable as warriors and devoted adherents of him-
self. Lastly, he began collecting his Hellenic armament, but
with the utmost secrecy, so that he might take the king as far
as might be at unawares.
The manner in which he contrived the levying of the troops
was as follows : First, he sent orders to the commandants of
garrisons in the cities (so held by him), bidding them to get
together as large a body of picked Peloponnesian troops as they
severally were able, on the plea that Tissaphernes was plotting
against their cities ; and truly these cities of Ionia had origi-
nally belonged to Tissaphernes, being given to him by the king ;
but at this time, with the exception of Miletus, they had all
revolted to Cyrus. In Miletus, Tissaphernes, having become
aware of similar designs, had forestalled the conspirators by
putting some to death and banishing the remainder. Cyrus,
on his side, welcomed these fugitives, and, having collected an
army, laid siege to Miletus by sea and land, endeavoring to
reinstate the exiles ; and this gave him another pretext for
collecting an armament. At the same time he sent to the king,
and claimed, as being the king's brother, that these cities should
be given to himself rather than that Tissaphernes should con-
tinue to govern them ; and in furtherance of this end, the
queen, his mother, cooperated with him, so that the king not
only failed to see the design against himself, but concluded
that Cyrus was spending his money on armaments in order
to make war on Tissaphernes. Nor did it pain him greatly
to see the two at war together, and the less so because Cyrus
was careful to remit the tribute due to the king from the
cities which belonged to Tissaphernes.
A third army was being collected for him in the Chersonese,
over against Abydos, the origin of which was as follows : There
was a Lacedaemonian exile, named Clearchus, with whom Cyrus
had become associated. Cyrus admired the man, and made him
a present of ten thousand darics [150,000]. Clearchus took
the gold, and with the money raised an army, and using the
Chersonese as his base of operations, set to work to fight the
Thracians north of the Hellespont, in the interests of the Hel-
lenes, and with such happy result that the Hellespontine cities,
of their own accord, were eager to contribute funds for the
70 THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER.
support of his troops. In this way, again, an armament was
being secretly maintained for Cyrus.
Then there was the Thessalian Aristippus, Cyrus's friend,
who, under pressure of the rival political party at home, had
come to Cyrus and asked him for pay for two thousand mer-
cenaries, to be continued for three months, which would enable
him, he said, to gain the upper hand of his antagonists. Cyrus
replied by presenting him with six months' pay for four thou-
sand mercenaries, only stipulating that Aristippus should not
come to terms with his antagonists without final consultation
with himself. In this way he secured to himself the secret
maintenance of a fourth armament.
Further, he bade Proxenus, a Boeotian, who was another
friend, get together as many men as possible, and join him on
an expedition which he meditated against the Pisidians, who
were causing annoyance to his territory. Similarly two other
friends, Sophsenetus the Stymphalian, and Socrates the Achaean,
had orders to get together as many men as possible and come
to him, since he was on the point of opening a campaign, along
with the Milesian exiles, against Tissaphernes. These orders
were duly carried out by the two in question.
But when the right moment seemed to him to have come,
at which he should begin his march into the interior, the
pretext which he put forward was his desire to expel the
Pisidians utterly out of the country ; and he began collect-
ing both his Asiatic and his Hellenic armaments, avowedly
against that people. From Sardis in each direction his orders
sped. . . .
But Tissaphernes did not fail to note these proceedings.
An equipment so large pointed to something more than an
invasion of Pisidia : so he argued ; and with what speed he
might, he set off to the king, attended by about five hundred
horse. The king, on his side, had no sooner heard from Tissa-
phernes of Cyrus's great armament, than he began to make
counter preparations. . . .
As Cyrus advanced from this point (opposite Charmande),
he came upon the hoof prints and dung of horses at frequent
intervals. It looked like the trail of some two thousand horses.
Keeping ahead of the army, these fellows burned up the grass
and everything else that was good for use. Now there was a
Persian, named Orontas ; he was closely related to the king by
birth : and in matters pertaining to war reckoned among the
THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER. 71
best of Persian warriors. Having formerly been at war with
Cyrus, and afterwards reconciled to him, he now made a con-
spiracy to destroy him. He made a proposal to Cyrus : if
Cyrus would furnish him with a thousand horsemen, he would
deal with these troopers, who were burning down everything
in front of them ; he would lay an ambuscade and cut them
down, or he would capture a host of them alive : in any case,
he would put a stop to their aggressiveness and burnings ;
he would see to it that they did not ever get a chance of
setting eyes on Cyrus's army and reporting its advent to the
king.
The proposal seemed plausible to Cyrus, who accordingly
authorized Orontas to take a detachment from each of the
generals, and be gone. He, thinking that he had got his
horsemen ready to his hand, wrote a letter to the king, an-
nouncing that he would erelong join him with as many troopers
as he could bring ; he bade him, at the same time, instruct the
royal cavalry to welcome him on arrival as a friend. The letter
further contained certain reminders of his former friendship and
fidelity. This dispatch he delivered into the hands of one who
was a trusty messenger, as he thought ; but the bearer took and
gave it to Cyrus. Cyrus read it. Orontas was arrested. Then
Cyrus summoned to his tent seven of the noblest Persians among
his personal attendants, and sent orders to the Hellenic generals
to bring up a body of hoplites. These troops were to take up
a position round his tent. This the generals did, bringing
up about three thousand hoplites. Clearchus was also invited
inside, to assist at the court martial : a compliment due to the
position he held among the other generals, in the opinion not
only of Cyrus, but also of the rest of the court. When he
came out, he reported the circumstances of the trial (as to
which, indeed, there was no mystery) to his friends.
He said that Cyrus opened the inquiry with these words :
" I have invited you hither, my friends, that I may take advice
with you, and carry out whatever, in the sight of God and man,
it is right for me to do, as concerning the man before you, Oron-
tas. The prisoner was, in the first instance, gi^en to me by my
father, to be my faithful subject. In the next place, acting, to
use his own words, under the orders of my brother, and having
hold of the acropolis of Sardis, he went to war with me. I met-
war with war, and forced him to think it more prudent to desist
from war with me : whereupon we shook hands, exchanging
T2 THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER.
solemn pledges. After that," and at this point Cyrus turned
to Orontas, and addressed him personally, — " After that, did
I do you any wrong?" Answer, "Never." Again, another
question, "Then later on, having received, as you admit, no
injury from me, did you revolt to the Mysians and injure my
territory, as far as in you lay?" — "I did," was the reply.
" Then, once more having discovered the limits of your power,
did you flee to the altar of Artemis, crying out that you re-
pented ? and did you thus work upon my feelings, that we a
second time shook hands and made interchange of solemn
pledges ? Are these things so ? " Orontas again assented.
" Then what injury have you received from me," Cyrus asked,
"that now, for the third time, you have been detected in a
treasonous plot against me ? " — " No injury," Orontas replied.
And Cyrus asked once more, "You plead guilty to having
sinned against me?" — "I must needs do so," he answered.
Then Cyrus put one more question, " But the day may come,
may it not, when you will once again be hostile to my brother,
and a faithful friend to myself ? " The other answered, " Even
if I were, you could never be brought to believe it, Cyrus."
At this point Cyrus turned to those who were present and
said : " Such has been the conduct of the prisoner in the past :
such is his language now. I now call upon you, and you first,
Clearchus, to declare your opinion — what think you ? " And
Clearchus answered, "My advice to you is to put this man
out of the way as soon as may be, so that we may be saved the
necessity of watching him, and have more leisure, as far as he
is concerned, to requite the services of those whose friendship
is sincere." — "To this opinion," he told us, "the rest of the
court adhered." After that, at the bidding of Cyrus, each of
those present, in turn, including the kinsmen of Orontas, took
him by the girdle ; which is as much as to say, " Let him die
the death," and then those appointed led him out ; and they
who in old days were wont to do obeisance to him, could not
refrain, even at that moment, from bowing down before him,
albeit they knew he was being led forth to death.
After they had conducted him to the tent of Artapates, the
trustiest of Cyrus's wand bearers, none set eyes upon him ever
again, alive or dead. No one, of his own knowledge, could
declare the manner of his death ; though some conjectured one
thing and some another. No tomb to mark his resting place,
either then or since, was ever seen. . . .
THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER. 73
From this place Cyrus advanced one stage — three par-
asangs — with his troops in order of battle. He expected
the king to give battle the same day; for in the middle of
this day's march a deep sunk trench was reached, thirty feet
broad and eighteen feet deep. The trench was carried inland
through the plain, twelve parasangs' distance, to the wall of
Media. Here are canals, flowing from the river Tigris ; they
are four in number, each a hundred feet broad, and very deep,
with corn ships plying upon them ; they empty themselves
into the Euphrates, are at intervals of one parasang apart, and
spanned by bridges.
Between the Euphrates and the trench was a narrow pas-
sage, twenty feet only in breadth. The trench itself had been
constructed by the great king upon hearing of Cyrus's approach,
to serve as a line of defense. Through this narrow passage then
Cyrus and his army passed, and found themselves safe inside the
trench. So there was no battle to be fought with the king that
day ; only there were numerous unmistakable traces of horse
and infantry in retreat.
As the king had failed to hinder the passage of Cyrus's army
at the trench, Cyrus himself and the rest concluded that he must
have abandoned the idea of offering battle, so that next day
Cyrus advanced with less than his former caution. On the third
day he was conducting the march, seated in his carriage, with
only a small body of troops drawn up in front of him. The
mass of the army was moving on in no kind of order, the sol-
diers having consigned their heavy arms to be carried in the
wagons or on the backs of beasts.
It was already about full market time and the halting place
at which the army was to take up quarters was nearly reached,
when Pategyas, a Persian, a trusty member of Cyrus's personal
staff, came galloping up at full speed on his horse, which was
bathed in sweat, and to every one he met he shouted in Greek
and Persian, as fast as he could ejaculate the words, " The king
is advancing with a large army ready for battle." Then ensued
a scene of wild confusion. The Hellenes and all alike were ex-
pecting to be attacked on the instant, and before they could
form their lines. Cyrus sprang from his carriage and donned
his corselet ; then leaping on to his charger's back, with the
javelins firmly clutched, he passed the order to the rest, to arm
themselves and fall into their several ranks.
The orders were carried out with alacrity ; the ranks shaped
74 THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER.
themselves. Clearchus held the right of the wing resting on
the Euphrates, Proxenus was next, and after him the rest, while
Menon with his troops held the Hellenic left. Of the Asiatics,
a body of Paphlagonian cavalry, one thousand strong, were
posted beside Clearchus on the right, and with them stood the
Hellenic peltasts. On the left was Ariseus, Cyrus's second in
command, and the rest of the barbarian host. Cyrus was with
his bodyguard of cavalry about six hundred strong, all armed
with corselets like Cyrus, and cuisses and helmets ; but not so
Cyrus : he went into battle with head unhelmeted. So, too, all
the horses with Cyrus wore forehead pieces and breast pieces,
and the troopers carried short Hellenic swords.
It was now midday, and the enemy was not yet in sight ;
but with the approach of afternoon was seen dust like a white
cloud, and after a considerable interval a black pall as it were
spread far and high over the plain. As they came nearer, very
soon was seen here and there a glint of bronze and spear points,
and the ranks could plainly be distinguished. On the left were
troopers wearing white cuirasses. That is Tissaphernes in com-
mand, they said, and next to these a body of men bearing wicker
shields, and next again heavy-armed infantry, with long wooden
shields reaching to the feet. These were the Egyptians, they
said, and then other cavalry, other bowmen ; all were in national
divisions, each nation marching in densely crowded squares.
And all along their front was a line of chariots at considerable
intervals from one another, — the famous scythe chariots, as
they were named, — having their scythes fitted to the axletrees
and stretching out slantwise, while others protruded under the
chariot seats, facing the ground, so as to cut through all they
encountered. The design was to let them dash full speed into
the ranks of the Hellenes and cut them through.
Curiously enough the anticipation of Cyrus, when at the
council of war he admonished the Hellenes not to mind the
shouting of the Asiatics, was not justified. Instead of shout-
ing, they came on in deep silence, softly and slowly, with even
tread. At this instant, Cyrus, riding past in person, accom-
panied by Pigres, his interpreter, and three or four others,
called aloud to Clearchus to advance against the enemy's center,
for there the king was to be found. " And if we strike home
at this point," he added, "our work is finished." Clearchus.
though he could- see the compact body at the center, and had
been told by Cyrus that the king lay out* de the Hellenic left
THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER. 75
(for, owing to numerical superiority, the king, while holding
his own center, could well overlap Cyrus's extreme left), still
hesitated to draw off his right wing from the river, for fear of
being turned on both flanks ; and he simply replied, assuring
Cyrus that he would take care all went well.
At this time the barbarian army was evenly advancing, and
the Hellenic division was still riveted to the spot, completing
its formation as the various contingents came up. Cyrus, rid-
ing past at some distance from the lines, glanced his eye first
in one direction and then in the other, so as to take a complete
survey of friends and foes : when Xenophon the Athenian, see-
ing him, rode up from the Hellenic quarter to meet him, asking
whether he had any orders to give. Cyrus, pulling up his
horse, begged him to make the announcement generally known
that the omens from the victims, internal and external alike,
were good. While he was still speaking, he heard a confused
murmur passing through the ranks, and asked what it meant.
The other replied that it was the watchword being passed down
for the second time. Cyrus wondered who had given the or-
der, and asked what the watchword was. On being told it was
" Zeus our Savior and Victory," he replied, " I accept it ; so
let it be," and with that remark rode away to his own position.
And now the two battle lines were no more than three or four
furlongs apart, when the Hellenes began chanting the psean,
and at the same time advanced against the enemy.
But with the forward movement a certain portion of the line
curved onwards in advance, with wavelike sinuosity, and the
portion left behind quickened to a run ; and simultaneously a
thrilling cry burst from all lips, like that in honor of the war
god — eleleu ! eleleu ! and the running became general. Some
say they clashed their shields and spears, thereby causing ter-
ror to the horses ; and before they had got within arrow shot
the barbarians swerved and took to flight. And now the Hel-
lenes gave chase with might and main, checked only by shouts
to one another not to race, but to keep their ranks. The
enemy's chariots, reft of their charioteers, swept onwards, some
through the enemy themselves, others past the Hellenes.
They, as they saw them coming, opened a gap and let them
pass. One fellow, like some dumfoundered mortal on a race
course, was caught by the heels, but even he, they said,
received no hurt ; nor indeed, with the single exception of
some one on the left wing who was said to have been wounded
76 THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER.
by an arrow, did any Hellene in this battle suffer a single
hurt.
Cyrus, seeing the Hellenes conquering, as far as they at any
rate were concerned, and in hot pursuit, was well content;
but in spite of his joy and the salutations offered him at that
moment by those about him, as though he were already king,
he was not led away to join in the pursuit, but keeping his
squadron of six hundred horsemen in close order, waited and
watched to see what the king himself would do. The king,
he knew, held the center of the Persian army. Indeed, it is
the fashion for the Asiatic monarch to occupy that position
during action, for this twofold reason : he holds the safest
place, with his troops on either side of him, while, if he has
occasion to dispatch any necessary order along the lines, his
troops will receive the message in half the time. The king
accordingly on this occasion held the center of his army, but
for all that he was outside Cyrus's left wing ; and seeing that
no one offered him battle in front, nor yet the troops in front
of him, he wheeled as if to encircle the enemy. It was then
that Cyrus, in apprehension lest the king might get round to
the rear and cut to pieces the Hellenic body, charged to meet
him. Attacking with his six hundred, he mastered the line of
troops in front of the king, and put to flight the six thousand,
cutting down, as is said, with his own hand their general,
Artagerses.
But as soon as the rout commenced, Cyrus's own six
hundred themselves, in the ardor of pursuit, were scattered,
with the exception of a handful who were left with Cyrus him-
self — chiefly his table companions, so called. Left alone with
these, he caught sight of the king and the close throng about
him. Unable longer to contain himself, with a cry, " I see the
man," he rushed at him and dealt a blow at his chest, wound-
ing him through the corselet. This according to the statement
of Ctesias the surgeon, who further states that he himself
healed the wound. As Cyrus delivered the blow, some one
struck him with a javelin under the eye severely ; and in the
struggle which then ensued between the king and Cyrus and
those about them to protect one or other, we have the state-
ment of Ctesias as to the number slain on the king's side, for
he was by his side. On the other, Cyrus himself fell, and
eight of his bravest companions lay on the top of him. The
story says that Artapates, the trustiest esquire among his wand
THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER. 77
bearers, when he saw that Cyrus had fallen to the ground, leaped
from his horse and threw his arms about him. Then, as one
account says, the king bade one slay him as a worthy victim to
his brother : others say that Artapates drew his scimeter and
slew himself by his own hand. A golden scimeter it is true, he
had ; he wore also a collar and bracelets and the other ornaments
such as the noblest Persians wear ; for his kindliness and fidelity
had won him honors at the hands of Cyrus.
So died Cyrus; a man the kingliest and most worthy to
rule of all the Persians who have lived since the elder Cyrus :
according to the concurrent testimony of all who are reputed
to have known him intimately. To begin from the beginning,
when still a boy, and whilst being brought up with his brother
and the other lads, his unrivaled excellence was recognized.
For the sons of the noblest Persians, it must be known, are
brought up, one and all, at the king's portals. Here lessons of
sobriety and self-control may largely be laid to heart, while
there is nothing base or ugly for eye or ear to feed upon.
There is the daily spectacle ever before the boys of some
receiving honor from the king, and again of others receiving
dishonor ; and the tale of all this is in their ears, so that from
earliest boyhood they learn how to rule and to be ruled.
In this courtly training Cyrus earned a double reputation ;
first he was held to be a paragon of modesty among his fellows,
rendering an obedience to his elders which exceeded that of
many of his own inferiors ; and next he bore away the palm for
skill in horsemanship and for love of the animal itself. Nor
less in matters of war, in the use of the bow and the javelin,
was he held by men in general to be at once the aptest of
learners and the most eager practicer. As soon as his age per-
mitted, the same preeminence showed itself in his fondness
for the chase, not without a certain appetite for perilous ad-
venture in facing the wild beasts themselves. Once a bear
made a furious rush at him, and without wincing he grappled
with her, and was pulled from his horse, receiving wounds the
scars of which were visible through life ; but in the end he
slew the creature, nor did he forget him who first came to his
aid, but made him enviable in the eyes of many.
After he had been sent down by his father to be satrap of
Lydia and Great Phrygia and Cappadocia, and had been ap-
pointed general of the forces, whose business it is to muster in
the plain of the Castolus, nothing was more noticeable in his
T8 THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER.
conduct than the importance which he attached to the faithful
fulfillment of every treaty or compact or undertaking entered
into with others. He would tell no lies to any one. Thus
doubtless it was that he won the confidence alike of individuals
and of the communities intrusted to his care; for in case of
hostility, a treaty made with Cyrus was a guarantee sufficient
to the combatant that he would suffer nothing contrary to its
terms. Therefore, in the war with Tissaphernes, all the states
of their own accord chose Cyrus in lieu of Tissaphernes, except
only the men of Miletus, and these were only alienated through
fear of him, because he refused to abandon their exiled citi-
zens ; and his deeds and words bore emphatic witness to his
principle : even if they were weakened in number or in for-
tune, he would never abandon those who had once become his
friends.
He made no secret of his endeavor to outdo his friends and
his foes alike in reciprocity of conduct. The prayer has been
attributed to him : " God grant I may live long enough to
recompense my friends and requite my foes with a strong arm."
However this may be, no one, at least in our days, ever drew
together so ardent a following of friends, eager to lay at his
feet their money, their cities, their own lives and persons ;
nor is it to be inferred from this that he suffered the malefactor
and the wrongdoer to laugh him to scorn ; on the contrary,
these he punished most unflinchingly. It was no rare sight
to see on the well-trodden highways men who had forfeited
hand or foot or eye ; the result being that throughout the
satrapy of Cyrus any one, Hellene or barbarian, provided he
were innocent, might fearlessly travel wherever he pleased, and
take with him whatever he felt disposed. However, as all
allowed, it was for the brave in war that he reserved especial
honor. To take the first instance to hand, he had a war
with the Pisidians and Mysians. Being himself at the head
of an expedition into those territories, he could observe those
who voluntarily encountered risks; these he made rulers of
the territory which he subjected, and afterwards honored them
with other gifts. So that, if the good and brave were set on
a pinnacle of fortune, cowards were recognized as their natural
slaves ; and so it befell that Cyrus never had lack of volunteers
in any service of danger, whenever it was expected that his
eye would be upon them.
So again, wherever he might discover any one ready to dis-
THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER. 79
tinguish himself in the service of uprightness, his delight was
to make this man richer than those who seek for gain by unfair
means. On the same principle, his own administration was in
all respects uprightly conducted, and, in particular, he secured
the services of an army worthy of the name. Generals and
subalterns alike, came to him from across the seas, not merely
to make money, but because they saw that loyalty to Cyrus was
a more profitable investment than so many pounds a month.
Let any man whatsoever render him willing service, such en-
thusiasm was sure to win its reward. And so Cyrus could
always command the service of the best assistants, it was said,
whatever the work might be. .
Or if he saw any skillful and just steward who furnished
well the country over which he ruled, and created revenues, so
far from robbing him at any time, to him who had, he delighted
to give more. So that toil was a pleasure, and gains were
amassed with confidence, and least of all from Cyrus would a
man conceal the amount of his possessions, seeing that he
showed no jealousy of wealth openly avowed, but his endeavor
was rather to turn to account the riches of those who kept them
secret. Towards the friends he had made, whose kindliness he
knew, or whose fitness as fellow- workers with himself, in aught
which he might wish to carry out, he had tested, he showed
himself in turn an adept in the arts of courtesy. Just in pro-
portion as he felt the need of this friend or that to help him, so
he tried to help each of them in return in whatever seemed to
be their heart's desire.
Many were the gifts bestowed on him, for many and diverse
reasons ; no one man, perhaps, ever received more ; no one, cer-
tainly, was ever more ready to bestow them on others, with an
eye ever to the taste of each, so as to gratify what he saw to be
the individual requirement. Many of these presents were sent
to him to serve as personal adornments of the body or for
battle ; and as touching these he would say, " How am I to
deck myself out in all these ? to my mind a man's chief orna-
ment is the adornment of nobly adorned friends." Indeed,
that he should triumph over his friends in the great matters of
welldoing is not surprising, seeing that he was much more
powerful than they ; but that he should go beyond them in
minute attentions, and in an eager desire to give pleasure,
seems to me, I must confess, more admirable.
Frequently when he had tasted some specially excellent
80 THE CAMPAIGN OF CYRUS THE YOUNGER.
wine, he would send the half remaining flagon to some friend
with a message to say, "Cyrus says, this is the best wine he
has tasted for a long time, that is his excuse for sending it to
you. He hopes you will drink it up to-day with a choice party
of friends." Or, perhaps, he would send the remainder of a
dish of geese, half loaves of bread, and so forth, the bearer being
instructed to say : " This is Cyrus's favorite dish, he hopes you
will taste it yourself." Or, perhaps, there was a great dearth
of provender, when, through the number of his servants and
his own careful forethought, he was enabled to get supplies
for himself ; at such times he would send to his friends in
different parts, bidding them feed their horses on his hay, since
it would not do for the horses that carried his friends to go
starving. Then, on any long march or expedition, where the
crowd of lookers-on would be large, he would call his friends
to him and entertain them with serious talk, as much as to say,
"These I delight to honor."
So that, for myself, and from all that I can hear, I should be
disposed to say that no one, Greek or barbarian, was ever so
beloved. In proof of this, I may cite the fact that, though
Cyrus was the king's vassal and slave, no one ever forsook him
to join his master, if I may except the attempt of Orontas,
which was abortive. That man, indeed, had to learn that
Cyrus was closer to the heart of him on whose fidelity he re-
lied than he himself was. On the other hand, many a man
revolted from the king to Cyrus, after they went to war with
one another : nor were these nobodies, but rather persons high
in the king's affection ; yet for all that, they believed that their
virtues would obtain a reward more adequate from Cyrus than
from the king. Another great proof at once of his own worth
and of his capacity rightly to discern all loyal, loving, and
firm friendship is afforded by an incident which belongs to
the last moment of his life. He was slain, but fighting for his
life beside him fell also every one of his faithful bodyguard of
friends and table companions, with the sole exception of Ariaeus,
who was in command of the cavalry on the left ; and he no
sooner perceived the fall of Cyrus than he betook himself to
flight, with the whole body of troops under his lead.
ALCIBIADES' ACCOUNT OF SOCRATES. 81
ALCIBIADES' ACCOUNT OF SOCRATES.
(From Plato's "Symposium" : translated by Percy Bysshe Shelley.)
[ALCIBIADES was a celebrated Athenian politician and general ; born about
B.C. 450. He was brought up in the house of Pericles, and lived on terms of
intimacy with Socrates. A man of great personal charm and extraordinary abil-
ity, he soon became a popular leader ; but being involved in a suspicion of sacri-
lege, fled to Sparta and then to Persia. Recalled by the Athenian populace, and
intrusted with the command of their fleet, he won several important battles
for them, but was superseded for a defeat of his general at Notiuin B.C. 407.
After the fall of Athens he took refuge with the Persian satrap Pharnabazus, in
Phrygia, where he was treacherously murdered B.C. 404.]
I WILL begin the praise of Socrates by comparing him to a
certain statue. Perhaps he will think that this statue is intro-
duced for the sake of ridicule, but I assure you it is necessary
for the illustration of truth. I assert, then, that Socrates is
exactly like those Silenuses that sit in the sculptors' shops, and
which are holding carved flutes or pipes, but which when
divided in two are found to contain the images of the gods.
I assert that Socrates is like the satyr Marsyas. That your
form and appearance are like these satyrs, I think that even
you will not venture to deny ; and how like you are to them
in all other things, now hear. Are you not scornful and petu-
lant ? If you deny this, I will bring witnesses. Are you not
a piper, and far more wonderful a one than he ? For Marsyas,
and whoever now pipes the music that he taught (for it was
Marsyas who taught Olympus his music), enchants men through
the power of the mouth. For if any musician, be he skillful or
not, awakens this music, it alone enables him to retain the
minds of men, and from the divinity of its nature makes evident
those who are in want of the gods and initiation : you differ
only from Marsyas in this circumstance, that you effect with-
out instruments, by mere words, all that he can do. For when
we hear Pericles, or any other accomplished orator, deliver a
discourse, no one, as it were, cares anything about it. Bui
when any one hears you, or even your words related by another,
though ever so rude and unskillful a speaker, be that person a
woman, man, or child, we are struck and retained, as it were,
by the discourse clinging to our mind.
If I was not afraid that I am a great deal too drunk, I
would confirm to you by an oath the strange effects which I
VOL. IV. 6
82 ALCIBIADES' ACCOUNT OF SOCRATES.
assure you I have suffered from his words, and suffer still ; for
when I hear him speak my heart leaps up far more than the
hearts of those who celebrate the Corybantic mysteries ; my
tears are poured out as he talks, a thing I have often seen
happen to many others besides myself. I have heard Pericles
and other excellent orators, and have been pleased with their
discourses, but I suffered nothing of this kind; nor was my
soul ever on those occasions disturbed and filled with self-
reproach, as if it were slavishly laid prostrate. But this
Marsyas here has often affected me in the way I describe, until
the life which I lived seemed hardly worth living. Do not
deny it, Socrates ; for I know well that if even now I chose to
listen to you, I could not resist, but should again suffer the
same effects. For, my friends, he forces me to confess that
while I myself am still in need of many things, I neglect my
own necessities and attend to those of the Athenians. I stop
my ears, therefore, as from the Sirens, and flee away as fast as
possible, that I may not sit down beside him, and grow old in
listening to his talk. For this man has reduced me to feel the
sentiment of shame, which I imagine no one would readily
believe was in me. For I feel in his presence my incapacity of
refuting what he says or of refusing to do that which he
directs : but when I depart from him the glory which the mul-
titude confers overwhelms me. I escape therefore and hide
myself from him, and when I see him I am overwhelmed with
humiliation, because I have neglected to do what I have con-
fessed to him ought to be done : and often and often have I
wished that he were no longer to be seen among men. But if
that were to happen I well know that I should suffer far
greater pain ; so that where I can turn, or what I can do with
this man I know not. All this have I and many others suffered
from the pipings of this satyr.
And observe how like he is to what I said, and what a
wonderful power he possesses. Know that there is not one of
you who is aware of the real nature of Socrates ; but since I
have begun, I will make him plain to you. You observe how
passionately Socrates affects the intimacy of those who are
beautiful, and how ignorant he professes himself to be, appear-
ances in themselves excessively Silenic. This, my friends, is
the external form with which, like one of the sculptured Sileni,
he has clothed himself ; for if you open him you will find
within admirable temperance and wisdom. For he cares not
ALCIBIADES' ACCOUNT OF SOCRATES. 83
for mere beauty, but despises more than any one can imagine
all external possessions, whether it be beauty, or wealth, or
glory, or any other thing for which the multitude felicitates
the possessor. He esteems these things, and us who honor
them, as nothing, and lives among men, making all the objects
of their admiration the playthings of his irony. But I know
not if any one of you have ever seen the divine images which
are within, when he has been opened, and is serious. I have
seen them, and they are so supremely beautiful, so golden, so
divine, and wonderful, that everything that Socrates commands
surely ought to be obeyed, even like the voice of a god.
At one time we were fellow-soldiers, and had our mess
together in the camp before Potidsea. Socrates there overcame
not only me, but every one beside, in endurance of evils : when,
as often happens in a campaign, we were reduced to few provi-
sions, there were none who could sustain hunger like Socrates ;
and when we had plenty, he alone seemed to enjoy our military
fare. He never drank much willingly, but when he was com-
pelled, he conquered all even in that to which he was least
accustomed : and, what is most astonishing, no person ever saw
Socrates drunk either then or at any other time. In the depth
of winter (and the winters there are excessively rigid) he sus-
tained calmly incredible hardships : and amongst other things,
whilst the frost was intolerably severe, and no one went out of
their tents, or if they went out, wrapped themselves up care-
fully, and put fleeces under their feet, and bound their legs
with hairy skins, Socrates went out only with the same cloak
on that he usually wore, and walked barefoot upon the ice :
more easily, indeed, than those who had sandaled themselves
so delicately : so that the soldiers thought that he did it to
mock their want of fortitude. It would indeed be worth while
to commemorate all that this brave man did and endured in
that expedition. In one instance he was seen early in the
morning, standing in one place, wrapt in meditation ; and as
he seemed unable to unravel the subject of his thoughts, he
still continued to stand as inquiring and discussing within him-
self, and when noon came, the soldiers observed him, and said
to one another — " Socrates has been standing there thinking,
ever since the morning." At last some lonians came to the
spot, and having supped, as it was summer, they lay down to
84 ALCIBIADES' ACCOUNT OF SOCRATES.
sleep in the cool : they observed that Socrates continued to
stand there the whole night until morning, and that, when the
sun rose, he saluted it with a prayer and departed.
I ought not to omit what Socrates is in battle. For in
that battle after which the generals decreed to me the prize of
courage, Socrates alone of all men was the savior of my life,
standing by me when I had fallen and was wounded, and pre-
serving both myself and my arms from the hands of the enemy.
On that occasion I entreated the generals to decree the prize,
as it was most due, to him. And this, O Socrates, you cannot
deny, that when the generals, wishing to conciliate a person of
my rank, desired to give me the prize, you were far more ear-
nestly desirous than the generals that this glory should be
attributed not to yourself, but me.
But to see Socrates when our army was defeated and scat-
tered in flight at Delium was a spectacle worthy to behold.
On that occasion I was among the cavalry, and he on foot,
heavily armed. After the total rout of our troops, he and
Laches retreated together; I came up by chance, and seeing
them, bade them be of good cheer, for that I would not leave
them. As I was on horseback, and therefore less occupied by
a regard of my own situation, I could better observe than at
Potidsea the beautiful spectacle exhibited by Socrates on this
emergency. How superior was he to Laches in presence of
mind and courage ! Your representation of him on the stage,
O Aristophanes, was not wholly unlike his real self on this
occasion, for he walked and darted his regards around with a
majestic composure, looking tranquilly both on his friends and
enemies : so that it was evident to every one, even from afar,
that whoever should venture to attack him would encounter a
desperate resistance. He and his companions thus departed in
safety : for those who are scattered in flight are pursued and
killed, whilst men hesitate to touch those who exhibit such a
countenance as that of Socrates even in defeat.
THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES. 85
THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES.
B.C. 399.
(From the ** Euthyphron " and the " Apology " of Plato : translated by
F. J. Church.)
[PLATO, the great Greek philosopher, was born in or near Athens, B.C. 429,
the year of Pericles' death. His name was Aristocles ; Plato ("Broady ") was
a nickname, probably from his figure. He began to write poems; but after
meeting Socrates at twenty he burnt them, became Socrates' disciple for ten
years, and was with him at his trial and death. Afterwards he traveled widely,
and settled at Athens as a teacher of philosophy ; among his pupils was Aris-
totle. His " Dialogues" are still the noblest body of philosophical thought in
existence, and of matchless literary beauty. Emerson says, " Out of Plato come
all things that are still written and debated among men of thought. . . . Plato
is philosophy, and philosophy Plato."]
Socrates, on the eve of Us trial for impiety, wishes to show that the popular notions
about piety and impiety, or holiness and unholiness, will not bear testing.
Euthyphron — What in the world are you doing here at the
archon's porch, Socrates ? Why have you left your haunts in
the Lyceum ? You surely cannot have an action before him, as
I have.
Socrates — Nay, the Athenians, Euthyphron, call it a prose-
cution, not an action.
Euthyphron — What ? Do you mean that some one is prose-
cuting you? I cannot believe that you are prosecuting any
one yourself.
Socrates — Certainly I am not.
Euthyphron — Then is some one prosecuting you ?
Socrates — Yes.
Euthyphron — Who is he ?
Socrates — I scarcely know him myself, Euthyphron ; I
think he must be some unknown young man. His name, how-
ever, is Meletus, and his deme Pitthis, if you can call to mind
any Meletus of that deme, — a hook-nosed man with long hair,
and a rather scanty beard.
Euthyphron — I don't know him, Socrates. But, tell me,
what is lie prosecuting you for ?
Socrates — What for ? Not on trivial grounds, I think. It
is no small thing for so young a man to have formed an opinion
on such an important matter. For he, he says, knows how the
86 THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES.
young are corrupted, and who are their corrupters. He must
be a wise man, who, observing my ignorance, is going to accuse
me to the city, as his mother, of corrupting his friends. I think
that he is the only man who begins at the right point in his
political reforms : I mean whose first care is to make the young
men as perfect as possible, just as a good farmer will take care
of his young plants first, and, after he has done that, of the
others. And so Meletus, I suppose, is first clearing us off, who,
as he says, corrupt the young men as they grow up ; and then,
when he has done that, of course he will turn his attention to
the older men, and so become a very great public benefactor.
Indeed, that is only what you would expect, when he goes to
work in this way.
Euthyphron — I hope it may be so, Socrates, but I have very
grave doubts about it. It seems to me that in trying to injure
you, he is really setting to work by striking a blow at the heart
of the state. But how, tell me, does he say that you corrupt
the youth ?
Socrates — In a way which sounds strange at first, my friend.
He says that I am a maker of gods ; and so he is prosecuting
me, he says, for inventing new gods, and for not believing in
the old ones.
Euthyphron — I understand, Socrates. It is because you
say that you always have a divine sign. So he is prosecuting
you for introducing novelties into religion ; and he is going
into court knowing that such matters are easily misrepresented
to the multitude, and consequently meaning to slander you
there. Why, they laugh even me to scorn, as if I were out of
my mind, when I talk about divine things in the assembly, and
tell them what is going to happen : and yet I have never fore-
told anything which has not come true. But they are jealous
of all people like us. We must not think about them : we
must meet them boldly.
Socrates — My dear Euthyphron, their ridicule is not a very
serious matter. The Athenians, it seems to me, may think a
man to be clever without paying him much attention, so long as
they do not think that he teaches his wisdom to others. But as
soon as they think that he makes other people clever, they get
angry, whether it be from jealousy, as you say, or for some other
reason.
Euthyphron — I am not very anxious to try their disposition
towards me in this matter.
THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES. 87
Socrates — No, perhaps they think that you seldom show
yourself, and that you are not anxious to teach your wisdom to
others ; but I fear that they may think that I am ; for my love
of men makes me talk to every one whom I meet quite freely
and unreservedly, and without payment : indeed, if I could, I
would gladly pay people myself to listen to me. If then, as
I said just now, they were only going to laugh at me, as you
say they do at you, it would not be at all an unpleasant way of
spending the day, to spend it in court, jesting and laughing.
But if they are going to be in earnest, then only prophets like
you can tell where the matter will end.
Euthyphron — Well, Socrates, I dare say that nothing will
come of it. Very likely you will be successful in your trial,
and I think that I shall be in mine.
Socrates — And what is this suit of yours, Euthyphron?
Are you suing, or being sued?
Euthyphron — I am suing.
Socrates — Whom ?
Euthyphron — A man whom I am thought a maniac to be
suing.
Socrates — What ? Has he wings to fly away with ?
Euthyphron — He is far enough from flying ; he is a very
old man.
Socrates — Who is he ?
Euthyphron — He is my father.
[Then Euthyphron having stated that he was prosecuting
his father for having murdered a slave, Socrates asks him to
define holiness. Euthyphron becomes entangled, and Socrates
points out that he has not answered his question. He does
not want a particular example of holiness. He wants to know
what that is which makes all holy actions holy. Euthyphron,
at length, defines holiness as "that which is pleasing to the
gods." But Socrates, by a series of apparently innocent ques-
tions, compels Euthyphron to admit the absurdity of his defini-
tion. Euthyphron has no better fortune with a second and
third definition, and he passes from a state of patronizing self-
complacency to one of puzzled confusion and deeply offended
pride.]
Socrates — Then we must begin again, and inquire what is
holiness. I do not mean to give in until I have found out.
Do not deem me unworthy ; give your whole mind to the
question, and this time tell me the truth. For if any one
g3 THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES.
knows it, it is you ; and you are a Proteus whom I must not let
go until you have told me. It cannot be that you would ever
have undertaken to prosecute your aged father for the murder
of a laboring man unless you had known exactly what is
holiness and unholiness. You would have feared to risk the
anger of the gods, in case you should be doing wrong, and you
would have been afraid of what men would say. But now I
am sure that you think that you know exactly what is holiness
and what is not ; so tell me, my excellent Euthyphron, and do
not conceal from me what you hold it to be.
Euthyphron — Another time, then, Socrates. I am in a hurry
now, and it is time for me to be off.
Socrates — What are you doing, my friend ! Will you go
away and destroy all my hopes of learning from you what is
holy and what is not, and so of escaping Meletus ? I meant
to explain to him that now Euthyphron has made me wise
about divine things, and that I no longer in my ignorance
speak rashly about them or introduce novelties in them ; and
then I was going to promise him to live a better life for the
future.
II.
Socrates defends himself before the Athenians.
Socrates — I cannot tell what impression my accusers have
made upon you, Athenians : for my own part, I know that they
nearly made me forget who I was, so plausible were they ; and
yet they have scarcely uttered one single word of truth. But
of all their many falsehoods, the one which astonished me most,
was when they said that I was a clever speaker, and that you
must be careful not to let me mislead you. I thought that it
was most impudent of them not to be ashamed to talk in that
way ; for as soon as I open my mouth the lie will be exposed,
and I shall prove that I am not a clever speaker in any way
at all : unless, indeed, by a clever speaker they mean a man
who speaks the truth. If that is their meaning, I agree with
them that I am a much greater orator than they. My accusers,
then I repeat, have said little or nothing that is true ; but from
me you shall hear the whole truth. Certainly you will not
hear an elaborate speech, Athenians, drest up, like theirs, with
words and phrases. I will say to you what I have to say,
A Summer Night in Old Pompeii
From the painting by Sieminul/ki
THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES. 89
without preparation, and in the words which come first, for
I believe that my cause is just ; so let none of you expect
anything else. Indeed, my friends, it would hardly be seemly
for me, at my age, to come before you like a young man with
his specious falsehoods. But there is one thing, Athenians,
which I do most earnestly beg and entreat of you. Do not
be surprised and do not interrupt, if in my defense I speak in
the same way that I am accustomed to speak in the market
place, at the tables of the money changers, where many of you
have heard me, and elsewhere. The truth is this. I am more
than seventy years old, and this is the first time that I have
ever come before a Court of Law ; so your manner of speech
here is quite strange to me. If I had been really a stranger,
you would have forgiven me for speaking in the language and
the fashion of my native country : and so now I ask you to
grant me what I think I have a right to claim. Never mind
the style of my speech — it may be better or it may be worse
— give your whole attention to the question, Is what I say just,
or is it not ? That is what makes a good judge, as speaking
the truth makes a good advocate.
I have to defend myself, Athenians, first against the old
false charges of my old accusers, and then against the later
ones of my present accusers. For many men have been accus-
ing me to you, and for very many years, who have not uttered
a word of truth : and I fear them more than I fear Anytus
and his companions, formidable as they are. But, my friends,
those others are still more formidable ; for they got hold of
most of you when you were children, and they have been more
persistent in accusing me with lies, and in trying to persuade
you that there is one Socrates, a wise man, who speculates
about the heavens, and who examines into all things that are
beneath the earth, and who can " make the worse appear the
better reason."
These men, Athenians, who spread abroad this report, are
the accusers whom I fear ; for their hearers think that persons
who pursue such inquiries never believe in the gods. And
then they are many, and their attacks have been going on for
a long time : and they spoke to you when you were at the age
most readily to believe them : for you were all young, and
many of you were children : and there was no one to answer
them when they attacked me. And the most unreasonable
thing of all is that commonly I do not even know their names :
90 THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES.
I cannot tell you who they are, except in the case of the comic
poets.
But all the rest who have been trying to prejudice you
against me, from motives of spite and jealousy, and sometimes,
it may be, from conviction, are the enemies whom it is hardest
to meet. For I cannot call any one of them forward in Court,
to cross-examine him : I have, as it were, simply to fight with
shadows in my defense, and to put questions which there is no
one to answer. I ask you, therefore, to believe that, as I say,
I have been attacked by two classes of accusers — first by
Meletus and his friends, and then by those older ones of whom
I have spoken. And, with your leave, I will defend myself
first against my old enemies ; for you heard their accusations
first, and they were much more persistent than my present
accusers are.
Well, I must make my defense, Athenians, and try in the
short time allowed me to remove the prejudice which you
have had against me for a long time.
Let us begin again, then, and see what is the charge which
has given rise to the prejudice against me, which was what
Meletus relied on when he drew his indictment. What is the
calumny which my enemies have been spreading about me?
I must assume that they are formally accusing me, and read
their indictment. It would run somewhat in this fashion : —
" Socrates is an evil doer, who meddles with inquiries into
things beneath the earth, and in heaven, and who ' makes the
worse appear the better reason,' and who teaches others these
same things."
That is what they say ; and in the Comedy of Aristophanes
you yourselves saw a man called Socrates swinging round in a
basket, and saying that he walked the air, and talking a great
deal of nonsense about matters of which I understand nothing,
either more or less. I do not mean to disparage that kind of
knowledge, if there is any man who possesses it. I trust
Meletus may never be able to prosecute me for that. But, the
truth is, Athenians, I have nothing to do with these matters,
and almost all of you are yourselves my witnesses of this. I
beg all of you who have ever heard me converse, and they are
many, to inform your neighbors and tell them if any of you
have ever heard me conversing about such matters, either more
or less. That will show you that the other common stories
about me are as false as this one.
THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES. 91
[He is accused of being at once a wicked sophist who exacts
money for teaching and a natural philosopher. He distin-
guishes these characters, and shows that he is neither. He is
unpopular because he has taken on himself the duty of examin-
ing men, in consequence of a certain answer given by the
Delphic oracle, "that he was the wisest of men." He describes
the examination of men which he undertook to test the truth
of the oracle. This has gained him much hatred : men do not
like to be proved ignorant when they think themselves wise,
and so they call him a sophist and every kind of bad name
besides, because he exposes their pretense of knowledge.]
What I have said must suffice as my defense against the
charges of my first accusers. I will try next to defend myself
against that " good patriot " Meletus, as he calls himself, and
my later accusers. Let us assume that they are a new set of
accusers, and read their indictment, as we did in the case of the
others. It runs thus. He says that Socrates is an evil doer
who corrupts the youth, and who does not believe in the gods
whom the city believes in, but in other new divinities. Such
is the charge.
Let us examine each point in it separately. Meletus says
that I do wrong by corrupting the youth : but I say, Athenians,
that he is doing wrong ; for he is playing off a solemn jest by
bringing men lightly to trial, and pretending to have a great
zeal and interest in matters to which he has never given a
moment's thought. And now I will try to prove to you that
it is so.
Come here, Meletus. Is it not a fact that you think it
very important that the younger men should be as excellent as
possible ?
Meletus — It is.
Socrates — Come then : tell the judges, who is it who im-
proves them? You take so much interest in the matter that
of course you know that. You are accusing me, and bringing
me to trial, because, as you say, you have discovered that I
am the corrupter of the youth. Come now, reveal to the
judges who improves them. You see, Meletus, you have noth-
ing to say ; you are silent. But don't you think that this is a
scandalous thing? Is not your silence a conclusive proof of
what I say, that you have never given a moment's thought to
the matter ? Come, tell us, my good sir, who makes the young
men better citizens? ,
92 THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES.
Meletus — The laws.
Socrates — My excellent sir, that is not my question. What
man improves the young, who starts with a knowledge of the
laws?
Meletus — The judges here, Socrates.
Socrates — What do you mean, Meletus ? Can they educate
the young and improve them ?
Meletus — Certainly.
Socrates — All of them ? or only some of them ?
Meletus — All of them.
Socrates — By Here that is good news ? There is a great
abundance of benefactors. And do the listeners here improve
them, or not ?
Meletus — They do.
Socrates — And do the senators?
Meletus — Yes.
Socrates — Well then, Meletus, do the members of the
Assembly corrupt the younger men ? or do they again all im-
prove them?
Meletus — They too improve them.
Socrates — Then all the Athenians, apparently, make the
young into fine fellows except me, and I alone corrupt them.
Is that your meaning ?
Meletus — Most certainly ; that is my meaning.
Socrates — You have discovered me to be a most unfortunate
man. Now tell me : do you think that the same holds good in
the case of horses ? Does one man do them harm and every one
else improve them ? On the contrary, is it not one man only,
or a very few — namely, those who are skilled in horses — who
can improve them ; while the majority of men harm them, if
they use them, and have to do with them ? Is it not so, Mele-
tus, both with horses and with every other animal ? Of course
it is, whether you and Anytus say yes or no. And young men
would certainly be very fortunate persons if only one man cor-
rupted them, and every one else did them good. The truth is,
Meletus, you prove conclusively that you have never thought
about the youth in your life. It is quite clear, on your own
showing, that you take no interest at all in the matters about
which you are prosecuting me.
[He proves that it is absurd to say that he corrupts the
young intentionally, and if he corrupts them unintentionally,
the law does not call upon Meletus to prosecute him for an
THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES. 93
involuntary fault. With regard to the charge of teaching
young men not to believe in the gods of the city, he cross-
examines Meletus and involves him in several contradictions.]
But in truth, Athenians, I do not think that I need say very
much to prove that I have not committed the crime for which
Meletus is prosecuting me. What I have said is enough to
prove that. But, I repeat, it is certainly true, as I have al-
ready told you, that I have incurred much unpopularity and
made many enemies. And that is what will cause my condem-
nation, if I am condemned ; not Meletus, nor Anytus either,
but the prejudice and suspicion of the multitude. They have
been the destruction of many good men before me, and I think
that they will be so again. There is no fear that I shall be
their last victim.
Perhaps some one will say : " Are you not ashamed, Socrates,
of following pursuits which are very likely now to cause your
death?" I should answer him with justice, and say: "My
friend, if you think that a man of any worth at all ought to
reckon the chances of life and death when he acts, or that he
ought to think of anything but whether he is acting rightly or
wrongly, and as a good or a bad man would act, you are griev-
ously mistaken." According to you, the demigods who died at
Troy would be men of no great worth, and among them the
son of Thetis, who thought nothing of danger when the alter-
native was disgrace. For when his mother, a goddess, ad-
dressed him, as he was burning to slay Hector, I suppose in
this fashion, " My son, if thou avengest the death of thy com-
rade Patroclus, and slayest Hector, thou wilt die thyself, for
4 Fate awaits thee straightway after Hector's death ; ' " he heard
what she said, but he scorned danger and death ; he feared
much more to live a coward, and not to avenge his friend. " Let
me punish the evil doer and straightway die," he said, " that I
may not remain here by the beaked ships, a scorn of men, en-
cumbering the earth." Do you suppose that he thought of
danger or of death? For this, Athenians, I believe to be the
truth. Wherever a man's post is, whether he has chosen it of
his own will, or whether he has been placed at it by his com-
mander, there it is his duty to remain and face the danger,
without thinking of death, or of any other thing, except dis-
honor.
When the generals whom you chose to command me, Athe-
nians, placed me at my post at Potidoea, and at Amphipolis, and
94 THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES.
at Delium, I remained where they placed me, and ran the risk
of death, like other men : and it would be very strange conduct
on my part if I were to desert my post now from fear of death
or of any other thing, when God has commanded me, as I am
persuaded that he has done, to spend my life in searching for
wisdom, and in examining myself and others. That would in-
deed be a very strange thing : and then certainly I might with
justice be brought to trial for not believing in the gods : for I
should be disobeying the oracle, and fearing death, and thinking
myself wise, when I was not wise. For to fear death, my friends,
is only to think ourselves wise, without being wise : for it is
to think that we know what we do not know. For anything
that men can tell, death may be the greatest good that can
happen to them : but they fear it as if they knew quite well
that it was the greatest of evils. And what is this but that
shameful ignorance of thinking that we know what we do not
know ? In this matter too, my friends, perhaps I am different
from the mass of mankind : and if I were to claim to be at all
wiser than others, it would be because I do not think that I
have any clear knowledge about the other world, when, in fact,
I have none. But I do know very well that it is evil and base
to do wrong, and to disobey my superior, whether he be man
or god. And I will never do what I know to be evil, and
shrink in fear from what, for all that I can tell, may be a good.
And so, even if you acquit me now, and do not listen to Anytus'
argument that, if I am to be acquitted, I ought never to have
been brought to trial at all ; and that, as it is, you are bound
to put me to death, because, as he said, if I escape, all your
children will forthwith be utterly corrupted by practicing what
Socrates teaches ; if you were therefore to say to me, " Socrates,
this time we will not listen to Anytus : we will let you go ; but
on this condition, that you cease from carrying on this search
of yours, and from philosophy ; if you are found following those
pursuits again, you shall die : " I say, if you offered to let me
go on these terms, I should reply: "Athenians, I hold you in
the highest regard and love ; but I will obey God rather than
you : and as long as I have breath and strength I will not cease
from philosophy, and from exhorting you, and declaring the
truth to every one of you whom I meet, saying, as I am wont,
' My excellent friend, you are a citizen of Athens, a city which
is very great and very famous for wisdom and power of mind ;
are you not ashamed of caring so much for the making of money,
THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES. 95
and for reputation, and for honor ? Will you not think or care
about wisdom, and truth, and the perfection of your soul ? ' "
And if he disputes my words, and says that he does care
about these things, I shall not forthwith release him and go
away : I shall question him and cross-examine him and test
him : and if I think that he has not virtue, though he says that
he has, I shall reproach him for setting the lower value on the
most important things, and a higher value on those that are of
less account. This I shall do to every one whom I meet, young
or old, citizen or stranger : but more especially to the citizens,
for they are more nearly akin to me.
For, know well, God has commanded me to do so. And I think
that no better piece of fortune has ever befallen you in Athens
than my service to God. For I spend my whole life in going
about and persuading you all to give your first and chiefest
care to the perfection of your souls, and not till you have done
that to think of your bodies, or your wealth ; and telling you
that virtue does not come from wealth, but that wealth, and
every other good thing which men have, whether in public, or
in private, comes from virtue. If then I corrupt the youth by
this teaching, the mischief is great: but if any man says that I
teach anything else, he speaks falsely. And therefore, Athe-
nians, I say, either listen to Anytus, or do not listen to him :
either acquit me, or do not acquit me : but be sure that I shall
not alter my way of life ; no, not if I have to die for it many
times.
[If the Athenians put him to death, they will harm them-
selves more than him. The city is like a great and noble
horse rendered sluggish by its size and needing to be roused.
He was the gadfly sent by God to attack it. He explains why
he has not taken part in public life. If he had done so, he
would have perished without benefiting the city, because no
one could make him do wrong through fear of death. His con-
duct on two occasions shows this.]
Well, my friends, this, together it may be with other things
of the same nature, is pretty much what I have to say in my
defense. There may be some one among you who will be
vexed when he remembers how, even in a less important trial
than this, he prayed and entreated the judges to acquit him
with many tears, and brought forward his children and many
of his friends and relatives in Court, in order to appeal to your
feelings ; and then finds that I shall do none of these things,
96 THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES.
though I am in what he would think the supreme danger.
Perhaps he will harden himself against me when he notices
this : it may make him angry, and he may give his vote in
anger. If it is so with any of you — I do not suppose that it
is, but in case it should be so — I think that I should answer
him reasonably if I said : —
"My friend, I have kinsmen too, for, in the words of
Homer, ' I am not born of stocks and stones,' but of woman ; "
and so, Athenians, I have kinsmen, and I have three sons, one
of them a lad, and the other two still children. Yet I will not
bring any of them forward before you, and implore you to
acquit me.
And why will I do none of these things? It is not from
arrogance, Athenians, nor because I hold you cheap : whether
or no I can face death bravely is another question : but for my
own credit, and for your credit, and for the credit of our city, I
do not think it well, at my age, and with my name, to do any-
thing of that kind. Rightly or wrongly, men have made up
their minds that in some way Socrates is different from the
mass of mankind. And it will be a shameful thing if those of
you who are thought to excel in wisdom, or in bravery, or in
any other virtue, are going to act in this fashion. I have often
seen men with a reputation behaving in a strange way at their
trial, as if they thought it a terrible fate to be killed, and as if
they expected to live forever, if you did not put them to death.
Such men seem to me to bring discredit on the city : for any
stranger would suppose that the best and most eminent Athe-
nians, who are selected by their fellow-citizens to hold office,
and for other honors, are no better than women. Those of you,
Athenians, who have any reputation at all, ought not to do
these things : and you ought not to allow us to do them : you
should show that you will be much more merciless to men who
make the city ridiculous by these pitiful pieces of acting, than
to men who remain quiet.
But apart from the question of credit, my friends, I do not
think that it is right to entreat the judge to acquit us, or to
escape condemnation in that way. It is our duty to convince
his mind by reason. He does not sit to give away justice to
his friends, but to pronounce judgment : and he has sworn not
to favor any man whom he would like to favor, but to decide
questions according to law. And therefore we ought not to
teach you to forswear yourselves ; and you ought not to allow
THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES. 97
yourselves to be taught, for then neither you nor we would be
acting righteously. Therefore, Athenians, do not require me
to do these things, for I believe them to be neither good nor
just nor holy ; and, more especially, do not ask me to do them
to-day, when Meletus is prosecuting me for impiety. For were
I to be successful, and to prevail on you by my prayers to
break your oaths, I should be clearly teaching you to believe
that there are no gods; and I should be simply accusing my-
self by my defense of not believing in them. But, Athenians,
that is very far from the truth. I do believe in the gods as no
one of my accusers believes in them : and to you and to God I
commit my cause to be decided as is best for you and for me.
(He is found guilty by 281 votes to 220.)
I am not vexed at the verdict which you have given, Athe-
nians, for many reasons. I expected that you would find me
guilty; and I am not so much surprised at that, as at the
numbers of the votes. I, certainly, never thought that the
majority against me would have been so narrow. But now it
seems that if only thirty votes had changed sides, I should have
escaped.
[Meletus proposes the penalty of death. The law allows a
convicted criminal to propose an alternative penalty instead.
As he is a public benefactor, Socrates thinks that he ought to
have a public maintenance in the Prytaneum, like an Olympic
victor. Seriously, why should he propose a penalty? He is
sure that he has done no wrong. He does not know whether
death is a good or an evil. Why should he propose something
that he knows to be an evil ? Indeed, payment of a fine would
be no evil, but then he has no money to pay a fine with;
perhaps he can make up one mina (about twenty dollars) : that
is his proposal. Or, if his friends wish it, he offers thirty
minae, and his friends will be sureties for payment]
(He is condemned to death.)
You have not gained very much time, Athenians, and, as
the price of it, you will have an evil name from all who wish
to revile the city, and they will cast in your teeth that you put
Socrates, a wise man, to death. For they will certainly call
me wise, whether I am wise or not, when they want to reproach
you. If you would have waited for a little while, your wishes
would have been fulfilled in the course of nature ; for you see
VOL. iv. — 7
98 THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES.
that I am an old man, far advanced in years, and near to death.
I am speaking not to all of you, only to those who have voted
for my death. And now I am speaking to them still. Perhaps,
my friends, you think that I have been defeated because I was
wanting in the arguments by which I could have persuaded you
to acquit me, if, that is, I had thought it right to do or to say
anything to escape punishment.
It is not so. I have been defeated because I was wanting,
not in arguments, but in overboldness and effrontery : because
I would not plead before you as you would have liked to hear
me plead, or appeal to you with weeping and wailing, or say
and do many other things, which I maintain are unworthy of
me, but which you have been accustomed to from other men.
But when I was defending myself, I thought that I ought not
to do anything unmanly because of the danger which I ran, and
I have not changed my mind now. I would very much rather
defend myself as I did, and die, than as you would have had me
do, and live. Both in a lawsuit, and in war, there are some
things which neither I nor any other man may do in order to
escape from death. In battle a man often sees that he may at
least escape from death by throwing down his arms and falling
on his knees before the pursuer to beg for his life. And there
are many other ways of avoiding death in every danger, if a man
will not scruple to say and to do anything.
But, my friends, I think that it is a much harder thing to
escape from wickedness than from death ; for wickedness is
swifter than death. And now I, who am old and slow, have
been overtaken by the slower pursuer : and my accusers, who
are clever and swift, have been overtaken by the swifter pur-
suer, which is wickedness. And now I shall go hence, sen-
tenced by you to death ; and they will go hence, sentenced by
truth to receive the penalty of wickedness and evil. And I
abide by this award as well as they. Perhaps it was right
for these things to be so: and I think that they are fairly
measured.
And now I wish to prophesy to you, Athenians who have
condemned me. For I am going to die, and that is the time
when men have most prophetic power. And I prophesy to you
who have sentenced me to death, that a far severer punishment
than you have inflicted on me, will surely overtake you as soon
as I am dead. You have done this thing, thinking that you will
be relieved from having to give an account of your lives. But I
THE TRIAL OF SOCRATES. 99
say that the result will be very different from that. There will
be more men who will call you to account, whom I have held
back, and whom you did not see. And they will be harder
masters to you than I have been, for they will be younger, and
you will be more angry with them. For if you think that you
will restrain men from reproaching you for your evil lives by
putting them to death, you are very much mistaken. That
way of escape is hardly possible, and it is not a good one. It
is much better, and much easier, not to silence reproaches, but
to make yourselves as perfect as you can. This is my parting
prophecy to you who have condemned me.
[Having sternly rebuked those who have condemned him, he
bids those who have acquitted him to be of good cheer. No
harm can come to a good man in life or in death. Death is
either an eternal and dreamless sleep, wherein there is no sen-
sation at all ; or it is a journey to another and better world,
where are the famous men of old. In either case it is not an
evil, but a good.]
And you too, judges, must face death with a good courage,
and believe this as a truth, that no evil can happen to a good
man, either in life, or after death. His fortunes are not neg-
lected by the gods ; and what has come to me to-day has not
come by chance. I am persuaded that it was better for me to
die now, and to be released from trouble : and that was the
reason why the sign never turned me back. And so I am
hardly angry with my accusers, or with those who have con-
demned me to die. Yet it was not with this mind that they
accused me and condemned me, but meaning to do me an
injury. So far I may find fault with them.
Yet I have one request to make of them. When my sons
grow up, visit them with punishment, my friends, and vex
them in the same way that I have vexed you, if they seem to
you to care for riches, or for any other thing, before virtue :
and if they think that they are something, when they are
nothing at all, reproach them, as I have reproached you, for
not caring for what they should, and for thinking that they are
great men when in fact they are worthless. And if you will
do this, I myself and my sons will have received our deserts at
your hands.
But now the time has come, and we must go hence ; I to die,
and you to live. Whether life or death is better is known to
God, and to God only.
100 A GRECIAN SUNSET.
A GRECIAN SUNSET.
BY LORD BYRON.
[1788-1824.]
SLOW sinks, more lovely ere his race be run,
Along Morea's hills the setting sun ;
Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light :
O'er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws,
Gilds the green wave that trembles as it glows.
On old ^Egina's rock and Hydra's isle
The god of gladness sheds his parting smile :
O'er his own regions lingering loves to shine,
Though there his altars are no more divine.
Descending fast, the mountain shadows kiss
Thy glorious gulf, unconquered Salamis !
Their azure arches through the long expanse,
More deeply purpled, meet his mellowing glance,
And tenderest tints, along their summits driven,
Mark his gay course, and own the hues of heaven;
Till, darkly shaded from the land and deep,
Behind his Delphian rock he sinks to sleep.
On such an eve his palest beam he cast,
When, Athens ! here thy wisest breathed his last.
How watched thy better sons his farewell ray,
That closed their murdered sage's latest day !
Not yet — not yet — Sol pauses on the hill,
The precious hour of parting lingers still :
But sad his light to agonizing eyes,
And dark the mountain's once delightful dyes ;
Gloom o'er the lovely land he seems to pour —
The land where Phoebus never frowned before :
But ere he sunk below Cithseron's head,
The cup of woe was quaffed — the spirit fled :
The soul of him who scorned to fear or fly,
Who lived and died as none can live or die.
But lo ! from high Hymettus to the plain,
The queen of night asserts her silent reign ;
No murky vapor, herald of the storm,
Hides her fair face, or girds her glowing form.
With cornice glimmering as the moonbeams play,
Where the white column greets her grateful ray,
THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES. 101
And bright around, with quivering beams beset,
Her emblem sparkles o'er the minaret :
The groves of olive scattered dark and wide,
Where meek Cephisus sheds his scanty tide,
The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque,
The gleaming turret of the gay kiosk,
And sad and somber 'mid the holy calm,
Near Theseus7 fane, one solitary palm :
All, tinged with varied hues, arrest the eye,
And dull were his who passed them heedless by.
Again the JSgean, heard no more from far,
Lulls his chafed breast from elemental war :
Again his waves in milder tints unfold
Their long expanse of sapphire and of gold,
Mixed with the shades of many a distant isle,
That frown, where gentler ocean deigns to smile.
THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES.
BY CICERO.
[MARCUS TULLIUS CICERO, the greatest of Roman orators and perhaps the
second of all time, was born B.C. 106, of the nobility. Trained for the bar, his
first important case obliged him to go into exile for fear of the dictator Sulla.
Returning after Sulla's death, he became the leader of the bar and high in polit-
ical life ; rose to be consul, B.C. 63, and gained great credit for suppressing
Catiline's conspiracy. Later, he was again exiled for taking sides against the
tribune Clodius, and again recalled in a storm of popular enthusiasm. He sided
with Pompey against Csesar, but made peace with the latter after Pharsalia.
After the murder of Csesar, Cicero sided with Octavius, and thundered against
Antony, who on his coalition with Octavius demanded Cicero's life as the price
of the junction ; Octavius consented, and Cicero was assassinated by an officer
whose life he had once saved at the bar. His orations, his letters saved and
published by his freedman Tiro, and his varied disquisitions, keep his fame
unfailingly bright.]
THIS tyrant [Dionysius] showed himself how happy he
really was ; for once, when Damocles, one of his flatterers, was
dilating in conversation on his forces, his wealth, the greatness
of his power, the plenty he enjoyed, the grandeur of his royal
palaces, and maintaining that no one was ever happier, —
" Have you an inclination," said he, " Damocles, as this kind
of life pleases you, to have a taste of it yourself and to make a
trial of the good fortune that attends me ? " And when he
said that he should like it extremely, Dionysius ordered him
to be laid on a bed of gold with the most beautiful covering,
102 THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES.
embroidered and wrought with the most exquisite work, and
he dressed out a great many sideboards with silver and em-
bossed gold. He then ordered some youths, distinguished for
their handsome persons, to wait at his table, and to observe his
nod in order to serve him with what he wanted. There were
ointments and garlands ; perfumes were burned ; tables pro-
vided with the most exquisite meats, — Damocles thought him-
self very happy. In the midst of this apparatus Dionysius
ordered a bright sword to be let down from the ceiling, sus-
pended by a single horsehair, so as to hang over the head of
that happy man. After which he neither cast his eye on those
handsome waiters, nor on the well- wrought plate ; nor touched
any of the provisions; presently the garlands fell to pieces.
At last, he entreated the tyrant to give him leave to go, for
that now he had no desire to be happy. Does not Dionysius,
then, seem to have declared there can be no happiness for one
who is under constant apprehensions? But it was not now in
his power to return to justice, and restore his citizens their
rights and privileges ; for, by the indiscretion of his youth, he
had engaged in so many wrong steps, and committed such
extravagances, that had he attempted to have returned to a
right way of thinking he must have endangered his life.
Yet, how desirous he was of friendship, though at the
same time he dreaded the treachery of friends, appears from
the story of those two Pythagoreans : one of these had been
security for his friend, who was condemned to die ; the other,
to release his security, presented himself at the time appointed
for his dying: "I wish," said Dionysius, "you would admit
me as the third in your friendship." What misery was it for
him to be deprived of acquaintance, of company at his table,
and of the freedom of conversation, especially for one who was
a man of learning, and from his childhood acquainted with
liberal arts, very fond of music, and himself a tragic poet, —
how good a one is not to the purpose, for I know not how it
is, but in this way, more than any other, every one thinks his
own performances excellent, I never as yet knew any poet (and
I was very intimate with Aquinius), who did not appear to
himself to be very admirable. The case is this : you are pleased
with your own works, I like mine. But to return to Dionysius :
he debarred himself from all civil and polite conversation, and
spent his life among fugitives, bondmen, and barbarians, for
he was persuaded that no one could be his friend who was
worthy of liberty or had the least desire of being free.
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 103
DAMON AND PYTHIAS.
BY CHAELOTTE M. YONGE.
[CHARLOTTE M. YONGE, English novelist, was born in 1823. Her first cele-
brated novel, " The Heir of Redclyffe," was published in 1853 ; the equally well
known "Daisy Chain" in 1856 ; she has written many other and popular his-
torical sketches. Her " Book of Golden Deeds " appeared in 1864. J
MOST of the best and noblest of the Greeks held what was
called the Pythagorean philosophy. This was one of the many
systems framed by the great men of heathenism, when by the
feeble light of nature they were, as St. Paul says, "seeking
after God, if haply they might feel after Him," like men
groping in the darkness. Pythagoras lived before the time
of history, and almost nothing is known about him, though
his teaching and his name were never lost. There is a belief
that he had traveled in the East, and in Egypt, and as he lived
about the time of the dispersion of the Israelites, it is possible
that some of his purest and best teaching might have been
crumbs gathered from their fuller instruction through the
Law and the Prophets. One thing is plain, that even in deal-
ing with heathenism the Divine rule holds good, "By their
fruits ye shall know them." Golden deeds are only to be
found among men whose belief is earnest and sincere, and in
something really high and noble. Where there was nothing
worshiped but savage or impure power, and the very form of
adoration was cruel and unclean, as among the Canaanites and
Carthaginians, there we find no true self-devotion. The great
deeds of the heathen world were all done by early Greeks and
Romans before yet the last gleams of purer light had faded
out of their belief, and while their moral sense still nerved
them to energy ; or else by such later Greeks as had embraced
the deeper and more earnest yearnings of the minds that had
become a "law unto themselves."
The Pythagoreans were bound together in a brotherhood,
the members of which had rules that are now not understood,
but which linked them so as to form a sort of club, with com-
mon religious observances and pursuits of science, especially
mathematics and music. And they were taught to restrain
their passions, especially that of anger, and to endure with
patience all kinds of suffering ; believing that such self-
104 DAMON AND PYTHIAS.
restraint brought them nearer to the gods, and that death
would set them free from the prison of the body. The souls
of evil doers would, they thought, pass into the lower and
more degraded animals, while those of good men would be
gradually purified, and rise to a higher existence. This,
though lamentably deficient, and fulse in some points, was a
real religion, inasmuch as it gave a rule of life, with a motive
for striving for wisdom and virtue. Two friends of this
Pythagorean sect lived at Syracuse, in the end of the fourth
century before the Christian era. Syracuse was a great Greek
city, built in Sicily, and full of all kinds of Greek art and
learning ; but it was a place of danger in their time, for it had
fallen under the tyranny of a man of strange and capricious
temper, though of great abilities, namely, Dionysius. He is
said to have been originally only a clerk in a public office, but
his talents raised him to continually higher situations, and at
length, in a great war with the Carthaginians, who had many
settlements in Sicily, he became general of the army, and then
found it easy to establish his power over the city.
This power was not according to the laws, for Syracuse,
like most other cities, ought to have been governed by a coun-
cil of magistrates ; but Dionysius was an exceedingly able
man, and made the city much more rich and powerful ; he
defeated the Carthaginians, and rendered Syracuse by far the
chief city in the island, and he contrived to make every one
so much afraid of him that no one durst attempt to overthrow
his power. He was a good scholar, and very fond of phi-
losophy and poetry, and he delighted to have learned men
around him, and he had naturally a generous spirit ; but the
sense that he was in a position that did not belong to him,
and that every one hated him for assuming it, made him very
harsh and suspicious. It is of him that the story is told, that
he had a chamber hollowed in the rock near his state prison,
and constructed with galleries to conduct sounds like an ear,
so that he might overhear the conversation of his captives ;
and of him, too, is told that famous anecdote which has become
a proverb, that on hearing a friend, named Damocles, express
a wish to be in his situation for a single day, he took him at
his word, and Damocles found himself at a banquet with every-
thing that could delight his senses, delicious food, costly wine,
flowers, perfumes, music ; but with a sword with the point
almost touching his head, and hanging by a single horse-
DAMON AND PYTHIAS. 105
hair ! This was to show the condition in which a usurper
lived !
Thus Dionysius was in constant dread. He had a wide
trench round his bedroom, with a drawbridge that he drew
up and put down with his own hands ; and he put one barber
to death for boasting that he held a razor to the tyrant's throat
every morning. After this he made his young daughters
shave him ; but by and by he would not trust them with a
razor, and caused them to singe off his beard with hot nut-
shells ! He was said to have put a man named Antiphon to
death for answering him, when he asked what was the best
kind of brass, " That of which the statues of Harmodius and
Aristogiton were made." These were the two Athenians
who had killed the sons of Pisistratus the tyrant, so that the
jest was most offensive ; but its boldness might have gained
forgiveness for it. One philosopher, named Philoxenus, he
sent to a dungeon for finding fault with his poetry, but he
afterwards composed another piece, which he thought so supe-
rior, that he could not be content without sending for this
adverse critic to hear it. When he had finished reading it,
he looked to Philoxenus for a compliment ; but the philoso-
pher only turned round to the guards, and said dryly, " Carry
me back to prison." This time Dionysius had the sense to
laugh, and forgive his honesty.
All these stories may not be true ; but that they should
have been current in the ancient world shows what was the
character of the man of whom they were told, how stern and
terrible was his anger, and how easily it was incurred. Among
those who came under it was a Pythagorean called Pythias,
who was sentenced to death, according to the usual fate of
those who fell under his suspicion.
Pythias had lands and relations in Greece, and he entreated
as a favor to be allowed to return thither and arrange his
affairs, engaging to return within a specified time to suffer
death. The tyrant laughed his request to scorn. Once safe
out of Sicily, who would answer for his return ? Pythias made
reply that he had a friend, who would become security for his1
return ; and while Dionysius, the miserable man who trusted
nobody, was ready to scoff at his simplicity, another Pythago-
rean, by name Damon, came forward, and offered to become
surety for his friend, engaging, if Pythias did not return
according to promise, to suffer death in his stead.
106 DAMON AND PYTHIAS.
Dionysius, much astonished, consented to let Pythias go,
marveling what would be the issue of the affair. Time went
on, and Pythias did not appear. The Syracusans watched
Damon, but he showed no uneasiness. He said he was secure
of his friend's truth and honor, and that if any accident had
caused the delay of his return, he should rejoice in dying to
save the life of one so dear to him.
Even to the last day Damon continued serene and content,
however it might fall out ; nay, even when the very hour drew
nigh and still no Pythias. His trust was so perfect, that he
did not even grieve at having to die for a faithless friend who
had left him to the fate to which he had unwarily pledged him-
self. It was not Pythias' own will, but the winds and waves,
so he still declared, when the decree was brought and the instru-
ments of death made ready. The hour had come, and a few
moments more would have ended Damon's life, when Pythias
duly presented himself, embraced his friend, and stood forward
himself to receive his sentence, calm, resolute, and rejoiced that
he had come in time.
Even the dim hope they owned of a future state was
enough to make these two brave men keep their word, and
confront death for one another without quailing. Dionysius
looked on more struck than ever. He felt that neither of such
men must die. He reversed the sentence of Pythias, and call-
ing the two to his judgment seat, he entreated them to admit
him as a third in their friendship. Yet all the time he must
have known it was a mockery that he should ever be such as
they were to each other — he who had lost the very power of
trusting, and constantly sacrificed others to secure his own life,
whilst they counted not their lives dear to them in comparison
with their truth to their word, and love to one another. No
wonder that Damon and Pythias have become such a byword
that they seem too well known to have their story told here,
except that a name in every one's mouth sometimes seems to be
mentioned by those who have forgotten or never heard the tale
attached to it.
A DIALOGUE FROM PLATO. 107
A DIALOGUE FROM PLATO.
BY AUSTIN DOBSON.
[Born 1840.]
" Le temps le mieux employe est celui qu'on perd"
— CLAUDE TILLIEB.
PD " read " three hours. Both notes and text
Were fast a mist becoming ;
In bounced a vagrant bee, perplexed,
And filled the room with humming,
Then out. The casement's leafage sways,
And, parted light, discloses
Miss Di., with hat and book, — a maze
Of muslin mixed with roses.
" You're reading Greek ? " "I am — and you ? "
" 0, mine's a mere romancer ! "
" So Plato is." " Then read him — do ;
And I'll read mine in answer."
I read. " My Plato (Plato, too, —
That wisdom thus should harden !)
Declares ' blue eyes look doubly blue
Beneath a Dolly Varden.' "
She smiled. " My book in turn avers
(No author's name is stated)
That sometimes those Philosophers
Are sadly mis-translated."
" But hear, — the next's in stronger style :
The Cynic School asserted
That two red lips which part and smile
May not be controverted ! "
She smiled once more — " My book, I find,
Observes some modern doctors
Would make the Cynics out a kind
Of album-verse concocters."
108 PLATO AND BACON.
Then I — " Why not ? t Ephesian law,
No less than time's tradition,
Enjoined fair speech on all who saw
DIANA'S apparition.' "
She blushed — this time. " If Plato's page
No wiser precept teaches,
Then I'd renounce that doubtful sage,
And walk to Burnham Beeches."
"Agreed," I said. "For Socrates
(I find he too is talking)
Thinks Learning can't remain at ease
While Beauty goes a walking."
She read no more. I leapt the sill :
The sequel's scarce essential —
Nay, more than this, I hold it still
Profoundly confidential.
PLATO AND BACON.
BY LORD MACAULAY.
[THOMAS BABINGTON MACAULAY : An English historian and essayist ; born
October 25, 1800 ; son of a noted philanthropist and a Quaker lady ; died at
London, December 28, 1859. He was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge,
and called to the bar, but took to writing for the periodicals and to politics ;
became famous for historical essays, was a warm advocate of Parliamentary
Reform, and was elected to Parliament in 1830. In 1834 he was made a member
of the Supreme Legislative Council for India, residing there till 1838, and making
the working draft of the present Indian Penal Code. He was Secretary at War
in 1839. The first two volumes of his " History of England " were published in
December, 1848. His fame rests even more on his historical essays, his unsur-
passed speeches, and his "Lays of Ancient Rome."]
IT is altogether incorrect to say, as has often been said, that
Bacon was the first man who rose up against the Aristotelian
philosophy when in the height of its power. The authority of
that philosophy had received a fatal blow long before he was
born. The part which Bacon played in this great change was
the part, not of Robespierre, but of Bonaparte. The philosophy
which he taught was essentially new. It differed from that of
the celebrated ancient teachers, not merely in method, but also
in object. Its object was the good of mankind, in the sense in
which the mass of mankind always have understood and always
will understand the word "good."
PLATO AND BACON. 109
The difference between the philosophy of Bacon and that
of his predecessors cannot, we think, be better illustrated than
by comparing his views on some important subjects with those
of Plato. We select Plato, because we conceive that he did
more than any other person towards giving to the minds of
speculative men that bent which they retained till they received
from Bacon a new impulse in a diametrically opposite direction.
It is curious to observe how differently these great men
estimated the value of every kind of knowledge. Take arith-
metic for example. Plato, after speaking slightly of the con-
venience of being able to reckon and compute in the ordinary
transactions of life, passes to what he considers as a far more
important advantage. The study of the properties of numbers,
he tells us, habituates the mind to the contemplation of pure
truth, and raises us above the material universe. He would
have his disciples apply themselves to this study, not that they
may be able to buy or sell, not that they may qualify them-
selves to be shopkeepers or traveling merchants, but that they
may learn to withdraw their minds from the ever- shifting
spectacle of this visible and tangible world, and to fix them on
the immutable essences of things.
Bacon, on the other hand, valued this branch of knowledge
only on account of its uses with reference to that visible and
tangible world which Plato so much despised. He speaks with
scorn of the mystical arithmetic of the later Platonists, and
laments the propensity of mankind to employ, on mere matters
of curiosity, powers the whole exertion of which is required
for purposes of solid advantage. He advises arithmeticians to
leave these trifles, and to employ themselves in framing con-
venient expressions, which may be of use in physical researches.
The same reasons which led Plato to recommend the study
of arithmetic led him to recommend also the study of mathe-
matics. The vulgar crowd of geometricians, he says, will not
understand him. They have practice always in view. They do
not know that the real use of the science is to lead men to the
knowledge of abstract, essential, eternal truth. Indeed, if we
are to believe Plutarch, Plato carried this feeling so far that he
considered geometry as degraded by being applied to any pur-
pose of vulgar utility. Archytas, it seems, had framed machines
of extraordinary power on mathematical principles. Plato re-
monstrated with his friend, and declared that this was to degrade
a noble intellectual exercise into a low craft, fit only for carpen-
110 PLATO AND BACON.
ters and wheelwrights. The office of geometry, he said, was to
discipline the mind, not to minister to the base wants of the
body. His interference was successful ; and from that time,
according to Plutarch, the science of mechanics was considered
as unworthy of the attention of a philosopher.
Archimedes in a later age imitated and surpassed Archytas.
But even Archimedes was not free from the prevailing notion
that geometry was degraded by being employed to produce
anything useful. It was with difficulty that he was induced to
stoop from speculation to practice. He was half ashamed of
those inventions which were the wonder of hostile nations, and
always spoke of them slightingly as mere amusements, as trifles
in which a mathematician might be suffered to relax his mind
after intense application to the higher parts of his science.
The opinion of Bacon on this subject was diametrically
opposed to that of the ancient philosophers. He valued geome-
try chiefly, if not solely, on account of those uses which to
Plato appeared so base. And it is remarkabe that the longer
Bacon lived the stronger this feeling became. When in 1605
he wrote the two books on the Advancement of Learning, he
dwelt on the advantages which mankind derived from mixed
mathematics ; but he at the same time admitted that the bene-
ficial effect produced by mathematical study on the intellect,
though a collateral advantage, was "no less worthy than that
which was principal and intended." But it is evident that his
views underwent a change. When, near twenty years later, he
published the " De Augmentis," which is the Treatise on the
Advancement of Learning, greatly expanded and carefully cor-
rected, he made important alterations in the part which related
to mathematics. He condemned with severity the high preten-
sions of the mathematicians, "delicias et fastum mathemati-
corum." Assuming the well-being of the human race to be
the end of knowledge, he pronounced that mathematical science
could claim no higher rank than that of an appendage or aux-
iliary to other sciences. Mathematical science, he says, is the
handmaid of natural philosophy ; she ought to demean herself
as such ; and he declares that he cannot conceive by what ill
chance it has happened that she presumes to claim precedence
over her mistress. He predicts — a prediction which would
have made Plato shudder — that as more and more discoveries
are made in physics, there will be more and more branches of
mixed mathematics. Of that collateral advantage the value of
PLATO AND BACON. HI
which, twenty years before, he rated so highly, he says not one
word. This omission cannot have been the effect of mere inad-
vertence. His own treatise was before him. From that trea-
tise he deliberately expunged whatever was favorable to the
study of pure mathematics, and inserted several keen reflections
on the ardent votaries of that study. This fact, in our opinion,
admits of only one explanation. Bacon's love of those pursuits
which directly tend to improve the condition of mankind, and
his jealousy of all pursuits merely curious, had grown upon him,
and had, it may be, become immoderate. He was afraid of
using any expression which might have the effect of inducing
any man of talents to employ in speculations, useful only to
the mind of the speculator, a single hour which might be
employed in extending the empire of man over matter. If
Bacon erred here, we must acknowledge that we greatly prefer
his error to the opposite error of Plato. We have no patience
with a philosophy which, like those Roman matrons who swal-
lowed abortives in order to preserve their shapes, takes pains to
be barren for fear of being homely.
Let us pass to astronomy. This was one of the sciences
which Plato exhorted his disciples to learn, but for reasons far
removed from common habits of thinking. " Shall we set down
astronomy," says Socrates, "among the subjects of study?"
" I think so," answers his young friend Glaucon : " to know
something about the seasons, the months, and the years is of
use for military purposes, as well as for agriculture and naviga-
tion." "It amuses me," says Socrates, "to see how afraid you
are, lest the common herd of people should accuse you of recom-
mending useless studies." He then proceeds, in that pure and
magnificent diction which, as Cicero said, Jupiter would use if
Jupiter spoke Greek, to explain that the use of astronomy is
not to add to the vulgar comforts of life, but to assist in rais-
ing the mind to the contemplation of things which are to be
perceived by the pure intellect alone. The knowledge of the
actual motions of the heavenly bodies Socrates considers as of
little value. The appearances which make the sky beautiful at
night are, he tells us, like the figures which a geometrician
draws on the sand, mere examples, mere helps to feeble minds.
We must get beyond them ; we must neglect them ; we must
attain to an astronomy which is as independent of the actual
stars as geometrical truth is independent of the lines of an ill-
drawn diagram. This is, we imagine, very nearly, if not exactly,
112 PLATO AND BACON.
the astronomy which Bacon compared to the ox of Prometheus,
a sleek, well-shaped hide, stuffed with rubbish, goodly to look
at, but containing nothing to eat. He complained that astron-
omy had, to its great injury, been separated from natural phi-
losophy, of which it was one of the noblest provinces, and
annexed to the domain of mathematics. The world stood in
need, he said, of a very different astronomy, of a living astronomy,
of an astronomy which should set forth the nature, the motion,
and the influences of the heavenly bodies, as they really are.
On the greatest and most useful of all human inventions, the
invention of alphabetical writing, Plato did not look with much
complacency. He seems to have thought that the use of letters
had operated on the human mind as the use of the gocart in
learning to walk, or of corks in learning to swim, is said to
operate on the human body. It was a support which, in his
opinion, soon became indispensable to those who used it, which
made vigorous exertion first unnecessary and then impossible.
The powers of the intellect would, he conceived, have been
more fully developed without this delusive aid. Men would
have been compelled to exercise the understanding and the
memory, and, by deep and assiduous meditation, to make truth
thoroughly their own. Now, on the contrary, much knowl-
edge is traced on paper, but little is engraved in the soul. A
man is certain that he can find information at a moment's
notice when he wants it. He therefore suffers it to fade from
his mind. Such a man cannot in strictness be said to know
anything. He has the show without the reality of wisdom.
These opinions Plato has put into the mouth of an ancient king
of Egypt. But it is evident from the context that they were
his own ; and so they were understood to be by Quinctilian.
Indeed they are in perfect accordance with the whole Platonic
system.
Bacon's views, as may easily be supposed, were widely dif-
ferent. The powers of the memory, he observes, without the
help of writing, can do little towards the advancement of any
useful science. He acknowledges that the memory may be dis-
ciplined to such a point as to be able to perform very extraor-
dinary feats. But on such feats he sets little value. The
habits of his mind, he tells us, are such that he is not disposed
to rate highly any accomplishment, however rare, which is of
no practical use to mankind. As to these prodigious achieve-
ments of the memory, he ranks them with the exhibitions of
PLATO AND BACON. H3
ropedancers and tumblers. "These two performances," he
says, " are much of the same sort. The one is an abuse of the
powers of the body ; the other is an abuse of the powers of the
mind. Both may perhaps excite our wonder; but neither is
entitled to our respect."
To Plato, the science of medicine appeared to be of very
disputable advantage. He did not indeed object to quick cures
for acute disorders, or for injuries produced by accidents. But
the art which resists the slow sap of a chronic disease, which
repairs frames enervated by lust, swollen by gluttony, or inflamed
by wine, which encourages sensuality by mitigating the natural
punishment of the sensualist, and prolongs existence when the
intellect has ceased to retain its entire energy, had no share of
his esteem. A life protracted by medical skill he pronounced
to be a long death. The exercise of the art of medicine ought,
he said, to be tolerated, so far as that art may serve to cure
the occasional distempers of men whose constitutions are good.
As to those who have bad constitutions, let them die ; and the
sooner the better. Such men are unfit for war, for magistracy,
for the management of their domestic affairs, for severe study
and speculation. If they engage in any vigorous mental exer-
cise, they are troubled with giddiness and fullness of the head,
all which they lay to the account of philosophy. The best
thing that can happen to such wretches is to have done with
life at once. He quotes mythical authority in support of this
doctrine ; and reminds his disciples that the practice of the
sons of jEsculapius, as described by Homer, extended only to
the cure of external injuries.
Far different was the philosophy of Bacon. Of all the
sciences, that which he seems to have regarded with the greatest
interest was the science which, in Plato's opinion, would not
be tolerated in a well-regulated community. To make men
perfect was no part of Bacon's plan. His humble aim was to
make imperfect men comfortable. The beneficence of his phi-
losophy resembled the beneficence of the common Father, whose
sun rises on the evil and the good, whose rain descends for the
just and the unjust. In Plato's opinion man was made for
philosophy ; in Bacon's opinion philosophy was made for man ;
it was a means to an end ; and that end was to increase the
pleasures and to mitigate the pains of millions who are not and
cannot be philosophers. That a valetudinarian who took great
pleasure in being wheeled along his terrace, who relished his
VOL. IV. —8
114 PLATO AND BACON.
boiled chicken and hi§ weak wine and water, and who enjoyed
a hearty laugh over the Queen of Navarre's tales, should be
treated as a caput lupinum because he could not read the
Timseus without a headache, was a notion which the humane
spirit of the English school of wisdom altogether rejected.
Bacon would not have thought it beneath the dignity of a phi-
losopher to contrive an improved garden chair for such a vale-
tudinarian, to devise some way of rendering his medicines more
palatable, to invest repasts which he might enjoy, and pillows
on which he might sleep soundly ; and this though there might
not be the smallest hope that the mind of the poor invalid would
ever rise to the contemplation of the ideal beautiful and the
ideal good. As Plato had cited the religious legends of Greece
to justify his contempt for the more recondite parts of the art of
healing, Bacon vindicated the dignity of that art by appealing to
the example of Christ, and reminded men that the great Physi-
cian of the soul did not disdain to be also the physician of the
body.
When we pass from the science of medicine to that of legis-
lation, we find the same difference between the systems of these
two great men. Plato, at the commencement of the Dialogue
on Laws, lays it down as a fundamental principle that the end
of legislation is to make men virtuous. It is unnecessary to
point out the extravagant conclusions to which such a propo-
sition leads. Bacon well knew to how great an extent the
happiness of every society must depend on the virtue of its
members ; and he also knew what legislators can and what they
cannot do for the purpose of promoting virtue. The view which
he has given of the end of legislation, and of the principal means
for the attainment of that end, has always seemed to us emi-
nently happy, even among the many happy passages of the same
kind with which his works abound. "Finis et scopus quern
leges intueri atque ad quern jussiones et sanctiones suas dirigere
debent, non alius est quam ut cives feliciter degant. Id fiet si
pietate et religione recte instituti, moribus honesti, armis adver-
sus hostes externos tuti, legum auxilio adversus seditiones et
privatas injurias muniti, imperio et magistratibus obsequentes,
copiis et opibus locupletes et florentes fuerint." The end is
the well-being of the people. The means are the imparting of
moral and religious education; the providing of everything
necessary for defense against foreign enemies ; the maintaining
of internal order ; the establishing of a judicial, financial, and
PLATO AND BACON. 115
commercial system, under which wealth may be rapidly accu-
mulated and securely enjoyed.
Even with respect to the form in which laws ought to be
drawn, there is a remarkable difference of opinion between the
Greek and the Englishman. Plato thought a preamble essen-
tial ; Bacon thought it mischievous. Each was consistent with
himself. Plato, considering the moral improvement of the
people as the end of legislation, justly inferred that a law which
commanded and threatened, but which neither convinced the
reason, nor touched the heart, must be a most imperfect law.
He was not content with deterring from theft a man who still
continued to be a thief at heart, with restraining a son who
hated his mother from beating his mother. The only obedi-
ence on which he set much value was the obedience which an
enlightened understanding yields to reason, and which a virtu-
ous disposition yields to precepts of virtue. He really seems
to have believed that, by prefixing to every law an eloquent
and pathetic exhortation, he should, to a great extent, render
penal enactments superfluous. Bacon entertained no such
romantic hopes ; and he well knew the practical inconveniences
of the course which Plato recommended. " Neque nobis," says
he, " prologi legum qui inepti olim habiti sunt, et leges intro-
ducunt disputantes non jubentes, utique placerent, si priscos
mores ferre possemus. . . . Quantum fieri potest prologi evi-
tentur, et lex incipiat a jussione."
Each of the great men whom we have compared intended to
illustrate his system by a philosophical romance ; and each left
his romance imperfect. Had Plato lived to finish the " Critias,"
a comparison between that noble fiction and the " New Atlantis "
would probably have furnished us with still more striking
instances than any which we have given. It is amusing to
think with what horror he would have seen such an institution
as Solomon's House rising in his republic : with what vehe-
mence he would have ordered the brewhouses, the perfume
houses, and the dispensatories to be pulled down; and with
what inexorable rigor he would have driven beyond the frontier
all the Fellows of the College, Merchants of Light and Depre-
dators, Lamps and Pioneers.
To sum up the whole, we should say that the aim of the
Platonic philosophy was to exalt man into a god. The aim of
the Baconian philosophy was to provide man with what he
requires while he continues to be man. The aim of the Pla-
116 PLATO AND BACON.
tonic philosophy was to raise us far above vulgar wants. The
aim of the Baconian philosophy was to supply our vulgar wants.
The former aim was noble ; but the latter was attainable.
Plato drew a good bow ; but, like Acestes in Virgil, he aimed
at the stars ; and therefore, though there was no want of
strength or skill, the shot was thrown away. His arrow was
indeed followed by a track of dazzling radiance, but it struck
nothing.
Volans liquidis in imbibus arsit arundo
Signavitque viam flammis, tenuisque recessit
Consumta in ventos.
Bacon fixed his eye on a mark which was placed on the
earth, and within bowshot, and hit it in the white. The phi-
losophy of Plato began in words and ended in words, noble
words indeed, words such as were to be expected from the
finest of human intellects exercising boundless dominion over
the finest of human languages. The philosophy of Bacon began
in observations and ended in arts.
The boast of the ancient philosophers was that their doctrine
formed the minds of men to a high degree of wisdom and virtue.
This was indeed the only practical good which the most cele-
brated of those teachers even pretended to effect ; and undoubt-
edly, if they had effected this, they would have deserved far
higher praise than if they had discovered the most salutary
medicines or constructed the most powerful machines. But
the truth is that, in those very matters in which alone they pro-
fessed to do any good to mankind, in those very matters for the
sake of which they neglected all the vulgar interests of man-
kind, they did nothing, or worse than nothing. They promised
what was impracticable ; they despised what was practicable ;
they filled the world with long words and long beards; and
they left it as wicked and as ignorant as they found it.
An acre in Middlesex is better than a principality in Utopia.
The smallest actual good is better than the most magnificent
promises of impossibilities. The wise man of the Stoics would,
no doubt, be a grander object than a steam engine. But there
are steam engines. And the wise man of the Stoics is yet to
be born. A philosophy which should enable a man to feel per-
fectly happy while in agonies of pain would be better than a
philosophy which assuages pain. But we know that there are
remedies which will assuage pain ; and we know that the ancient
PLATO AND BACON. 117
sages liked the toothache just as little as their neighbors. A
philosophy which should extinguish cupidity would be better
than a philosophy which should devise laws for the security of
property. But it is possible to make laws which shall, to a
very great extent, secure property. And we do not understand
how any motives which the ancient philosophy furnished could
extinguish cupidity. We know indeed that the philosophers
were no better than other men. From the testimony of friends
as well as of foes, from the confessions of Epictetus and Seneca,
as well as from the sneers of Lucian and the fierce invectives
of Juvenal, it is plain that these teachers of virtue had all the
vices of their neighbors, with the additional vice of hypocrisy.
Some people may think the object of the Baconian philosophy
a low object, but they cannot deny that, high or low, it has
been attained. They cannot deny that every year makes an
addition to what Bacon called "fruit." They cannot deny
that mankind have made, and are making, great and constant
progress in the road which he pointed out to them. Was there
any such progressive movement among the ancient philoso-
phers? After they had been declaiming eight hundred years,
had they made the world better than when they began ? Our
belief is that, among the philosophers themselves, instead of a
progressive improvement there was a progressive degeneracy.
An abject superstition which Democritus or Anaxagoras would
have rejected with scorn, added the last disgrace to the long
dotage of the Stoic and Platonic schools. Those unsuccessful
attempts to articulate which are so delightful and interesting
in a child shock and disgust in an aged paralytic ; and in the
same way those wild and mythological fictions which charm
us, when we hear them lisped by Greek poetry in its infancy,
excite a mixed sensation of pity and loathing, when mumbled
by Greek philosophy in its old age. We know that guns,
cutlery, spyglasses, clocks, are better in our time than they
were in the time of our fathers, and were better in the time of
our fathers than they were in the time of our grandfathers.
We might, therefore, be inclined to think that, when a philoso-
phy which boasted that its object was the elevation and puri-
fication of the mind, and which for this object neglected the
sordid office of ministering to the comforts of the body, had
flourished in the highest honor during many hundreds of years,
a vast moral amelioration must have taken place. Was it so ?
Look at the schools of this wisdom four centuries before the
118 PLATO AND BACON.
Christian era and four centuries after that era. Compare the
men whom those schools formed at those two periods. Compare
Plato and Libanius. Compare Pericles and Julian. This phi-
losophy confessed, nay boasted, that for every end but one it
was useless. Had it attained that one end ?
Suppose that Justinian, when he closed the schools of Athens,
had called on the last few sages who still haunted the Portico
and lingered round the ancient plane trees, to show their title
to public veneration : suppose that he had said : " A thousand
years have elapsed since, in this famous city, Socrates posed
Protagoras and Hippias ; during those thousand years a large
proportion of the ablest men of every generation has been em-
ployed in constant efforts to bring to perfection the philosophy
which you teach, that philosophy has been munificently patron-
ized by the powerful ; its professors have been held in the
highest esteem by the public ; it has drawn to itself almost all
the sap and vigor of the human intellect : and what has it
effected? What profitable truth has it taught us which we
should not equally have known without it ? What has it en-
abled us to do which we should not have been equally able to
do without it ? " Such questions, we suspect, would have puz-
zled Simplicius and Isidore. Ask a follower of Bacon what
the new philosophy, as it was called in the time of Charles the
Second, has effected for mankind, and his answer is ready : " It
has lengthened life ; it has migitated pain ; it has extinguished
diseases ; it has increased the fertility of the soil ; it has given
new securities to the mariner ; it has furnished new arms to
the warrior ; it has spanned great rivers and estuaries with
bridges of form unknown to our fathers ; it has guided the
thunderbolt innocuously from heaven to earth ; it has lighted
up the night with the splendor of the day ; it has extended the
range of the human vision ; it has multiplied the power of the
human muscles ; it has accelerated motion ; it has annihilated
distance ; it has facilitated intercourse, correspondence, all
friendly offices, all dispatch of business ; it has enabled man
to descend to the depths of the sea, to soar into the air, to
penetrate securely into the noxious recesses of the earth, to
traverse the land in cars which whirl along without horses, and
the ocean in ships which run ten knots an hour against the
wind. These are but a part of its fruits, and of its first fruits.
For it is a philosophy which never rests, which has never at-
tained, which is never perfect. Its law is progress. A point
PLATO AND BACON. H9
which yesterday was invisible is its goal to-day, and will be its
starting post to-morrow."
Great and various as the powers of Bacon were, he owes his
wide and durable fame chiefly to this, that all those powers
received their direction from common sense. His love of the
vulgar useful, his strong sympathy with the popular notions of
good and evil, and the openness with which he avowed that
sympathy, are the secret of his influence. There was in his
system no cant, no illusion. He had no anointing for broken
bones, no fine theories definibus, no arguments to persuade men
out of their senses. He knew that men, and philosophers as
well as other men, do actually love life, health, comfort, honor,
security, the society of friends, and do actually dislike death,
sickness, pain, poverty, disgrace, danger, separation from those
to whom they are attached. He knew that religion, though it
often regulates and moderates these feelings, seldom eradicates
them ; nor did he think it desirable for mankind that they
should be eradicated. The plan of eradicating them by con-
ceits like those of Seneca, or syllogisms like those of Chrysippus,
was too preposterous to be for a moment entertained by a mind
like his. He did not understand what wisdom there could be
in changing names where it was impossible to change things ;
in denying that blindness, hunger, the gout, the rack, were
evils, and calling them aTroTrpoijyfjLeva ; in refusing to acknowl-
edge that health, safety, plenty, were good things, and dubbing
them by the name of aSid<f>opa. In his opinions on all these
subjects, he was not a Stoic, nor an Epicurean, nor an Academic,
but what would have been called by Stoics, Epicureans, and
Academics a mere iSicon??, a mere common man. And it was
precisely because he was so that his name makes so great an
era in the history of the world. It was because he dug deep
that he was able to pile high. It was because, in order to lay
his foundations, he went down into those parts of human nature
which lie low, but which are not liable to change, that the fabric
which he reared has risen to so stately an elevation, and stands
with such immovable strength.
We have sometimes thought that an amusing fiction might
be written, in which a disciple of Epictetus and a disciple of
Bacon should be introduced as fellow-travelers. They come
to a village where the smallpox has just begun to rage, and find
houses shut up, intercourse suspended, the sick abandoned,
mothers weeping in terror over their children. The Stoic
120 THE BATTLE OF LEUCTRA.
assures the dismayed population that there is nothing bad in
the smallpox, and that to a wise man disease, deformity, death,
the loss of friends, are not evils. The Baconian takes out a
lancet and begins to vaccinate. They find a body of miners in
great dismay. An explosion of noisome vapors has just killed
many of those who were at work ; and the survivors are afraid
to venture into the cavern. The Stoic assures them that such
an accident is nothing but a mere aTTOTrpoijyfjievov. The Baco-
nian, who has no such fine word at his command, contents him-
self with devising a safety lamp. They find a shipwrecked
merchant wringing his hands on the shore. His vessel with an
inestimable cargo has just gone down, and he is reduced in a
moment from opulence to beggary. The Stoic exhorts him not
to seek happiness in things which lie without himself, and
repeats the whole chapter of Epictetus TT/OO? TOV? rrjv airopiav
SeSoiKOTas. The Baconian constructs a diving bell, goes down
in it, and returns with the most precious effects from the wreck.
It would be easy to multiply illustrations of the difference be-
tween the philosophy of thorns and the philosophy of fruit,
the philosophy of words and the philosophy of works.
THE BATTLE OF LEUCTRA (B.C. r<n).
BY GEORGE GROTE.
[GEORGE GROTE, the greatest modern historian of ancient Greece, perhaps
the greatest man altogether who ever wrote history, was of mingled German,
Huguenot French, Irish, and English blood ; born in Kent, 1794 ; died in Lon-
don, 1871. Educated till sixteen at the Charterhouse School in London, he
then entered his father's banking house, still using all his leisure time for study.
A massive scholar, thinker, and logician, he was also (what even for his works
of pure scholarship was of the first value) a practical and experienced man of
affairs. He worked hard for Parliamentary reform, and was member of Parlia-
ment 1832-1841 ; strove annually to introduce voting by ballot, and was a great
humanist with a deep sympathy for the " dim common millions." This ardent
democratic feeling was the genesis of his immortal " History of Greece " (twelve
volumes, 1846-1856). In 1865 he brought out his " Plato " ; after his death his
unfinished "Aristotle " and two volumes of minor writings were published, and
his widow wrote a biography. In his later years he was president of University
College and vice-chancellor of London University (unsectarian).]
THE Thebans with their allied Boeotians were posted on a
declivity opposite to the Spartan camp. They were commanded
by the seven Bceotarchs of whom Epaminondas was one. But
THE BATTLE OF LEUCTRA. 121
such was the prevalent apprehension of joining battle with
the Spartans on equal terms, that even when actually on the
ground, three of these Boeotarchs refused to concur in the order
for fighting, and proposed to shut themselves up in Thebes for
a siege, sending their wives and families away to Athens.
Eparninondas was vainly combating their determination, when
the seventh Boeotarch, Branchylides, arrived from the passes of
Kithseron, where he had been on guard, and was prevailed upon
to vote in favor of the bolder course.
While others were comforted by the hope of superhuman
aid, Epaminondas, to whom the order of the coming battle had
been confided, took care that no human precautions should be
wanting. His task was arduous ; for not only were his troops
dispirited, while those of the enemy were confident, but their
numbers were inferior, and some of the Boeotians present were
hardly even trustworthy. What the exact numbers were on
either side we are not permitted to know. Diodorus assigns
about 6000 men to the Thebans ; Plutarch states the numbers
of Cleombrotus at 11,000. Without placing faith in these fig-
ures, we see good reason for believing that the Theban total
was decidedly inferior. For such inferiority Epaminondas
strove to make up by skillful tactics, and by a combination at
that time novel as well as ingenious. In all former Grecian
battles, the opposite armies had been drawn up in line, and
had fought along the whole line; or at least such had been the
intention of the generals — and if it was not realized, the cause
was to be sought in accidents of the ground, or backwardness
or disorder on the part of some division of the soldiers. Depart-
ing from this habit, Epaminondas now arrayed his troops so as
to bring his own left to bear with irresistible force upon the
Spartan right, and to keep back the rest of his army compara-
tively out of action. Knowing that Cleombrotus, with the
Spartans and all the official persons, would be on the right of
their own line, he calculated that, if successful on this point
against the best troops, he should find little resistance from the
remainder. Accordingly he placed on his own left wing chosen
Theban hoplites to the prodigious depth of fifty shields, with
Pelopidas and the Sacred Band in front. His order of advance
was disposed obliquely or in echelon, so that the deep column
on the left should join battle first, while the center and right
kept comparatively back and held themselves more in a defen-
sive attitude.
122 THE BATTLE OF LEUCTRA.
In 371 B.C. such a combination was absolutely new, and
betokened high military genius. It is therefore no disgrace to
Cleombrotus that he was not prepared for it, and that he ad-
hered to the ordinary Grecian tactics of joining battle at once
along the whole line. But so unbounded was the confidence
reigning among the Spartans, that there never was any occasion
on which peculiar precautions were less thought of. When,
from their entrenched camp on the Leuctrian eminence, they
saw the Thebans encamped on an opposite eminence, separated
from them by a small breadth of low ground and moderate de-
clivities, their only impatience was to hurry on the decisive
moment, so as to prevent the enemy from escaping. Both the
partisans and the opponents of Cleombrotus united in provok-
ing the order for battle, each in their own language. The
partisans urged him, since he had never yet done anything
against the Thebans, to strike a decisive blow, and clear him-
self from the disparaging comparisons which rumor instituted
between him and Agesilaus ; the opponents gave it to be un-
derstood that if Cleombrotus were now backward, their sus-
picions would be confirmed that he leaned in his heart towards
the Thebans. Probably the king was himself sufficiently eager
to fight, and so would any other Spartan general have been,
under the same circumstances, before the battle of Leuctra.
But even had he been otherwise, the impatience prevalent
among the Lacedaemonian portion of his army left him no
option. Accordingly, the decided resolution to fight was taken.
The last council was held, and the final orders issued by Cleom-
brotus after his morning meal, where copious libations of wine
both attested and increased the confident temper of every man.
The army was marched out of the camp, and arrayed on the
lower portion of the declivity : Cleombrotus with the Spartans
and most of the Lacedaemonians being on the right, in an order
of twelve deep. Some Lacedaemonians were also on the left,
but respecting the order of the other parts of the line we have
no information. The cavalry was chiefly posted along the front.
Meanwhile, Epaminondas also marched down his declivity
in his own chosen order of battle, his left wing being brought
forward and strengthened into very deep order for desperate
attack. His cavalry too were posted in front of his line. But
before he commenced his march, he sent away his baggage and
attendants home to Thebes, while at the same time he made
proclamation that any of his Boeotian hoplites who were not
THE BATTLE OF LEUCTRA. 123
hearty in the cause might also retire if they chose. Of such
permission the Thespians immediately availed themselves, so
many were there, in the Theban camp, who estimated the
chances to be all in favor of Lacedaemonian victory. But when
these men, a large portion of them unarmed, were seen retir-
ing, a considerable detachment from the army of Cleombrotus,
either with or without orders, ran after to prevent their escape,
and forced them to return for safety to the main Theban army.
The most zealous among the allies of Sparta present — the Pho-
cians, the Phliasians, and the Heracleots, together with a body
of mercenaries — executed this movement, which seems to have
weakened the Lacedaemonians in the main battle, without doing
any mischief to the Thebans.
The cavalry first engaged in front of both lines ; and here
the superiority of the Thebans soon became manifest. The
Lacedaemonian cavalry — at no time very good, but at this
moment unusually bad, composed of raw and feeble novices,
mounted on horses provided by the rich — was soon broken
and driven back upon the infantry, whose ranks were disturbed
by the fugitives. To reestablish the battle Cleombrotus gave
the word for the infantry to advance, himself personally lead-
ing the right. The victorious cavalry probably hung upon
the Lacedaemonian infantry of the center and left, and pre-
vented them from making much forward movement; while
Epaminondas and Pelopidas with their left advanced accord-
ing to their intention to bear down Cleombrotus and his right
wing. The shock here was terrible ; on both sides victory was
resolutely disputed, in a close hand combat, with pushing of
opposite shields and opposite masses. But such was the over-
whelming force of the Theban charge — with the Sacred Band
or chosen warriors in front, composed of men highly trained in
the palestra, and the deep column of fifty shields propelling
behind — that even the Spartans, with all their courage, obsti-
nacy, and discipline, were unable to stand up against it. Cle-
ombrotus, himself either in or near the front, was mortally
wounded, apparently early in the battle ; and it was only by
heroic and unexampled efforts on the part of his comrades around
that he was carried off yet alive, so as to preserve him from fall-
ing into the hands of the enemy. Around him also fell the most
eminent members of the Spartan official staff : Deinon the Pole-
march, Sphodrias with his son Cleonymus, and several others.
After an obstinate resistance and a fearful slaughter, the right
124 THE BATTLE OF LEUCTRA.
wing of the Spartans was completely beaten and driven back
to their camp on the higher ground.
It was upon the Spartan right wing, where the Theban left
was irresistibly strong, that all the stress of the battle fell, as
Epaminondas had intended that it should. In no other part
of the line does there appear to have been any serious fighting :
partly through his deliberate scheme of not pushing forward
either his center or his right — partly through the preliminary
victory of the Theban cavalry, which probably checked in part
the forward march of the enemy's line — and partly also
through the lukewarm adherence, or even suppressed hostility,
of the allies marshaled under the command of Cleombrotus.
The Phocians and Heracleots — zealous in the cause from
hatred of Thebes — had quitted the line to strike a blow at the
retiring baggage and attendants, while the remaining allies,
after mere nominal fighting and little or no loss, retired to the
camp as soon as they saw the Spartan right defeated and driven
back to it. Moreover, even some Lacedaemonians on the left
wing, probably astounded by the lukewarmness of those around
them, and by the unexpected calamity on their own right, fell
back in the same manner. The whole Lacedaemonian force,
with the dying king, was thus again assembled and formed
behind the intrenchment on the higher ground, where the
victorious Thebans did not attempt to molest them.
But very different were their feelings as they now stood
arrayed in the camp from that exulting boastfulness with which
they had quitted it an hour or two before, and fearful was the
loss when it came to be verified. Of seven hundred Spartans
who had marched forth from the camp, only three hundred re-
turned to it. One thousand Lacedaemonians, besides, had been
left on the field, even by the admission of Xenophon ; probably
the real number was even larger. Apart from this, the death of
Cleombrotus was of itself an event impressive to every one, the
like of which had never occurred since the fatal day of Ther-
mopylae. But this was not all. The allies who stood alongside
of them in arms were now altered men. All were sick of their
cause, and averse to further exertion ; some scarcely concealed
a positive satisfaction at the defeat. And when the surviving
polemarchs, now commanders, took counsel with the principal
officers as to the steps proper in the emergency, there were a
few, but very few, Spartans who pressed for renewal of the bat-
tle, and for recovering by force their slain brethren in the field,
THE BATTLE OF LEUCTRA. 125
or perishing in the attempt. All the rest felt like beaten men ;
so that the polemarchs, giving effect to the general sentiment,
sent a herald to solicit the regular truce for burial of their dead.
This the Thebans granted, after erecting their own trophy. But
Epaminondas, aware that the Spartans would practice every
stratagem to conceal the magnitude of their losses, coupled the
grant with the condition that the allies should bury their dead
first. It was found that the allies had scarcely any dead to
pick up, and that nearly every slain warrior on the field was a
Lacedaemonian. And thus the Theban general, while he placed
the loss beyond possibility of concealment, proclaimed at the
same time such public evidence of Spartan courage as to rescue
the misfortune of Leuctra from all aggravation on the score of
dishonor. What the Theban loss was Xenophon does not tell
us. Pausanias states it at forty-seven men, Diodorus at three
hundred. The former number is preposterously small, and
even the latter is doubtless under the truth, for a victory in
close fight, over soldiers like the Spartans, must have been
dearly purchased. Though the bodies of the Spartans were
given up to burial, their arms were retained, and the shields of
the principal officers were seen by the traveler Pausanias at
Thebes, five hundred years afterwards.
Twenty days only had elapsed, from the time when Epami-
nondas quitted Sparta after Thebes had been excluded from
the general peace, to the day when he stood victorious on the
field of Leuctra. The event came like a thunderclap upon
every one in Greece — upon victors as well as vanquished —
upon allies and neutrals, near and distant, alike. The general
expectation had been that Thebes would be speedily overthrown
and dismantled ; instead of which, not only she had escaped, but
had inflicted a crushing blow on the military majesty of Sparta.
It is in vain that Xenophon — whose account of the battle
is obscure, partial, and imprinted with that chagrin which the
event occasioned to him — ascribes the defeat to untoward acci-
dents, or to the rashness and convivial carelessness of Cleom-
brotus, upon whose generalship Agesilaus and his party at
Sparta did not scruple to cast ungenerous reproach, while
others faintly exculpated him by saying that he had fought
contrary to his better judgment, under fear of unpopularity.
Such criticisms, coming from men wise after the fact, and con-
soling themselves for the public calamity by censuring the
unfortunate commander, will not stand examination. Cleom-
126 THE BATTLE OF LEUCTRA.
brotus represented on this occasion the feeling universal among
his countrymen. He was ordered to march against Thebes
with the full belief, entertained by Agesilaus and all the Spar-
tan leaders, that her unassisted force could not resist him. To
fight the Thebans on open ground was exactly what he and
every other Spartan desired. While his manner of forcing the
entrance of Boeotia, and his capture of Creusis, was a creditable
maneuver, he seems to have arranged his order of battle in the
manner usual with Grecian generals at the time. There ap-
pears no reason to censure his generalship, except in so far as
he was unable to divine — what no one else divined — the su-
perior combinations of his adversary, then for the first time
applied to practice.
To the discredit of Xenophon, Epaminondas is never named
in his narrative of the battle, though he recognizes in substance
that the battle was decided by the irresistible Theban force
brought to bear upon one point of the enemy's phalanx — a
fact which both Plutarch and Diodorus expressly refer to the
genius of the general. All the calculations of Epaminondas
turned out successful. The bravery of the Thebans, cavalry as
well as infantry, seconded by the training which they had re-
ceived during the last few years, was found sufficient to carry
his plans into full execution. To this circumstance principally
was owing the great revolution of opinion throughout Greece
which followed the battle. Every one felt that a new military
power had arisen, and that the Theban training, under the gen-
eralship of Epaminondas, had proved itself more than a match
on a fair field, with shield and spear, and with numbers on the
whole inferior, for the ancient Lycurgean discipline; which
last had hitherto stood without a parallel as turning out artists
and craftsmen in war, against mere citizens in the opposite
ranks, armed, yet without the like training. Essentially sta-
tionary and old-fashioned, the Lycurgean discipline was now
overborne by the progressive military improvement of other
states, handled by a preeminent tactician — a misfortune pre-
dicted by the Corinthians at Sparta sixty years before, and
now realized, to the conviction of all Greece, on the field of
Leuctra.
EDUCATING A CITIZEN. 127
EDUCATING A CITIZEN.
BY PLATO.
(From the "Republic " : translated by Benjamin Jowett.)
SOCRATES — Is not war an art ?
Crlaucon — Certainly. . . .
But the mere handling of tools will not make a man a
skilled workman. How then will he who takes up a shield or
other implement of war all in a day become a good fighter ?
Yes, he said, the tools which would teach their own use
would be of rare value.
And the greater the business of the guardian is, I said, the
more time and art and skill will be needed by him ?
That is what I should suppose, he replied.
Will he not also require natural gifts ?
Certainly.
We shall have to select natures which are suited to their
task of guarding the city ?
That will be our duty.
And anything but an easy duty, I said ; but still we must
endeavor to do our best as far as we can ?
We must. . . .
Well, and your guardian must be brave if he is to fight
well?
Certainly.
And is he likely to be brave who has no spirit ? Did you
never observe how the presence of spirit makes the soul of any
creature absolutely fearless and invincible ?
Yes: I have observed that.
Then now we have a clear idea of the bodily qualities which
are required in the guardian ?
True.
And also of the mental ones ; his soul is to be full of spirit?
Yes.
But then, Glaucon, those spirited natures are apt to be
furious with one another, and with everybody else ?
There is the difficulty, he replied.
Whereas, I said, they ought to be gentle to their friends,
128 EDUCATING A CITIZEN.
and dangerous to their enemies ; or, instead of their enemies
destroying them, they will destroy themselves.
True, he said.
What is to be done then, I said ; how shall we find a gen-
tle nature which has also a great spirit, for they seem to be
inconsistent with one another ?
True.
And yet he will not be a good guardian who is wanting in
either of these two qualities ; and, as the combination of them
appears to be impossible, this is equivalent to saying that to be
a good guardian is also impossible.
I am afraid that what you say is true, he replied.
Here feeling perplexed I began to think over what had pre-
ceded. My friend, I said, we deserve to be in a puzzle; for
we have lost sight of the simile with which we started.
What do you mean ? he said.
I mean to say that there do exist natures gifted with those
opposite qualities.
And where do you find them ?
Many animals, I replied, furnish examples of them ; our
friend the dog is a very good one : you know that well-bred
dogs are perfectly gentle to their familiars and acquaintances,
and the reverse to strangers.
Yes, I know.
Then there is nothing impossible or out of the order of
nature in our finding a guardian who has a similar combination
of qualities.
Certainly not.
Would you not say that he should combine with the spirited
nature the qualities of a philosopher ?
I do not apprehend your meaning.
The trait of which I am speaking, I replied, may be also
seen in the dog, and is remarkable in an animal.
What trait ?
Why, a dog, whenever he sees a stranger, is angry ; when
an acquaintance, he welcomes him, although the one has never
done him any harm, nor the other any good. Did this never
strike you as curious ?
I never before thought of it, though I quite recognize the
truth of your remark.
And surely this instinct of the dog is very charming ; —
your dog is a true philosopher.
EDUCATING A CITIZEN. 129
Why?
Why, because he distinguishes the face of a friend and of
an enemy only by the criterion of knowing and not knowing.
And must not the creature be fond of learning who determines
what is friendly and what is unfriendly by the test of knowl-
edge and ignorance?
Most assuredly.
And is not the love of learning the love of wisdom, which
is philosophy ?
They are the same, he replied.
And may we not say confidently of man also, that he who
is likely to be gentle to his friends and acquaintances, must
by nature be a lover of wisdom and knowledge ?
That we may safely affirm.
Then he who is to be a really good and noble guardian of
the State will require to unite in himself philosophy and spirit
and swiftness and strength?
Undoubtedly.
Then we have found the desired natures ; and now that we
have found them, How are they to be reared and educated ? is
the inquiry which may be fairly expected to throw light on
the greater inquiry which is our final end — How do justice
and injustice grow up in States? for we do not want to be
tedious and irrelevant, or to leave out anything which is really
to the point.
Adeimantus thought that the inquiry would be of great
use to us.
Then, I said, my dear friend, the task must not be given
up, even if somewhat long.
Certainly not.
Come, then, and let us pass a leisure hour in story telling,
and our story shall be the education of our heroes.
By all means.
And what shall be their education ? Can we find a better
than the old-fashioned sort? — and this has two divisions,
gymnastic for the body and music for the soul.
True.
Shall we begin education with music, and go on to gym-
nastic afterwards ?
By all means.
And when you speak of music, do you rank literature under
oausic or not ?
VOL. IV. — 9
130 EDUCATING A CITIZEN.
I do.
And literature may be either true or false ?
Yes.
And the young are trained in both kinds, and in the false
before the true ?
I do not understand your meaning, he said.
You know, I said, that we begin by telling children stories
which, though not wholly destitute of truth, are in the main
fictitious ; and these stories are told them when they are not
of an age to learn gymnastics.
Very true.
That was my meaning in saying that we must teach music
before gymnastics.
Quite right, he said.
You know also that the beginning is the chiefest part of
any work, especially in a young and tender thing ; for that is
the time at which the character is being formed and most
readily receives the desired impression.
Quite true.
And shall we just carelessly allow children to hear any casual
tales which may be framed by casual persons, and to receive into
their minds notions which are the very opposite of those which
are to be held by them when they are grown up?
We cannot.
Then the first thing will be to have a censorship of the
writers of fiction, and let the censors receive any tale of fiction
which is good, and reject the bad ; and we desire mothers and
nurses to tell their children the authorized ones only. Let
them fashion the mind with their tales, even more fondly than
they form the body with their hands ; and most of those which
are now in use must be discarded.
Of what tales are you speaking ? he said.
You may find a model of the lesser in the greater, I said ;
for they are necessarily cast in the same mold, and there is
the same spirit in both of them.
That may be very true, he replied; but I do not as yet
know what you would term the greater.
Those, I said, which are narrated by Homer and Hesiod,
and the rest of the poets, who have ever been the great story-
tellers of mankind.
But which stories do you mean, he said ; and what fault do
you find with them?
EDUCATING A CITIZEN.
A fault which is most serious, I said ; the fault of telling a
lie, and, which is more, a bad lie.
But when is this fault committed ?
Whenever an erroneous representation is made of the nature
of gods and heroes, — like the drawing of a limner which has
not the shadow of a likeness to the truth.
Yes, he said, that sort of thing is certainly very blamable ;
but what are the stories which you mean ?
First of all, I said, there was that greatest of all lies in high
places, which the poet told about Uranus, and which was a bad
lie too, — I mean what Hesiod says that Uranus did and what
Cronus did to him. The doings of Cronus, and the sufferings
which in turn his son inflicted upon him, even if they were
true, ought certainly not to be lightly told to young and sim-
ple persons ; if possible, they had better be buried in silence.
But if there is an absolute necesssity for their mention, a chosen
few might hear them in a mystery, and in order to reduce the
number of hearers they should sacrifice not a common (Eleu-
sinian) pig, but some huge and unprocurable victim.
Why, yes, said he, those stories are certainly objectionable.
Yes, Adeimantus, they are stories not to be narrated in our
State ; the young man should not be told that in committing
the worst of crimes he is far from doing anything outrageous ;
and that if he chastises his father when he does wrong, in any
manner he likes, he will only be following the example of the
first and greatest among the gods.
I quite agree with you, he said ; in my opinion those stories
are not fit to be repeated.
Neither, if we mean our future guardians to regard the
habit of quarreling as dishonorable, should anything be said of
the wars in heaven and of the plots and fightings of the gods
against one another, which are quite untrue. Far be it from
us to tell them of the battles of the giants, and embroider them
on garments ; or of all the innumerable other quarrels of gods
and heroes with their friends and relations. If they would
only believe us we would tell them quarreling is unholy, and
that never up to this time has there been any quarrel between
citizens ; this is what c" i men and old women should begin by
telling children, and M same when they grow up. And the
poets should be r% ,red to compose accordingly. But the
narrative of Hephse .us binding Here his mother, or how on
another occasion Zeus sent him flying for taking her part v/hen
132 EDUCATING A CITIZEN.
she was being beaten, — such tales must not be admitted into
our State, whether they are supposed to have an allegorical
meaning or not. For the young man cannot judge what is
allegorical and what is literal ; anything that he receives into
his mind at that age is apt to become indelible and unalterable ;
and therefore the tales which they first hear should be models
of virtuous thoughts.
There you are right, he replied ; that is quite essential : but,
then, where are such models to be found ? and what are the
tales in which they are continued ? when that question is asked,
what will be our answer ?
I said to him, You and I, Adeimantus, are not poets in what
we are about just now, but founders of a State : now, the
founders of a State ought to know the general forms in which
poets should cast their tales, and the limits which should be
observed by them, but actually to make the tales is not their
business.
Very true, he said ; but what are those forms of theology
which you mean?
Something of this kind, I replied : God is always to be
represented as he truly is ; that is one form which is equally
to be observed in every kind of verse, whether epic, lyric, or
tragic.
Right.
And is he not truly good ? and must he not be represented
as such ?
Certainly.
And no good thing is hurtful?
No, indeed.
And that which is not hurtful hurts not ?
Certainly not.
And that which hurts not does no evil ?
No.
And that which does no evil is the cause of no eril ?
Impossible.
And the good is the advantageous ?
Yes.
And the good is the cause of well-being ?
Yes.
The good is not the cause of all things, but of the good
?nly, and not the cause of evil ?
Assuredly.
EDUCATING A CITIZEN. 183
Then God, if he be good, is not the author of all things,
as the many assert, but he is the cause of a few things
only, and not of most things that occur to men. For few are
the goods of human life, and many are the evils, and the good
is to be attributed to God alone ; of the evils the cause is to be
sought elsewhere, and not in him.
That appears to me to be most true, he said.
Then we must not listen to Homer or to any other poet
who is guilty of the folly of saying that two casks
" Lie at the threshold of Zeus, full of lots, one of good, the other
of evil lots,"
and that he to whom Zeus gives a mixture of the two
"Sometimes meets with evil fortune, at other times with good; "
but that he to whom is given the cup of unmingled ill,
" Him wild hunger drives over the divine earth."
And again
" Zeus, who is the dispenser of good and evil to us." . . .
And if a poet writes of the sufferings of Niobe, which is the
subject of the tragedy in which these iambic verses occur, or
of the house of Pelops, or of the Trojan war, or any similar
theme, either we must not permit him to say that these are the
works of God, or if they are of God, he must devise some ex-
planation of them such as we are seeking : he must say that
God did what was just and right, and they were the better for
being punished ; but that those who are punished are miserable
and that God is the author of their misery, the poet is not to
be permitted to say ; though he may say that the wicked are
miserable because they require to be punished, and are benefited
by receiving punishment from God ; but that God being good
is the author of evil to any one, is to be strenuously denied,
and not allowed to be sung or said in any well-ordered com-
monwealth by old or young. Such a fiction is suicidal, ruin-
ous, impious.
134 THE TEN ATTIC ORATORS.
THE TEN ATTIC ORATORS.
THE great critics of Alexandria placed ten names on their list, or
canon, of the Athenian orators best worth remembrance ; which, in
the order Plutarch afterward wrote their biographies (essentially
though not minutely chronological) were: Antiphon, Andocides,
Lysias, Isocrates, Isaeus, ^Eschines, Lycurgus, Demosthenes, Hy-
perides, Dinarchus. Specimens of the oratory of all are here col-
lected for the first time, four translated specially for this work, and
three of the orators represented in translation for the first time.
We have arranged them a little differently to bring the debates on
Demosthenes' public career together.
ANTIPHON, born about B.C. 480, was a pupil of Gorgias, the
famous teacher of rhetoric. He was of the oligarchic party. Says
Professor Jebb : " Antiphon was the ablest debater and pleader of
his day, and in his person the new Rhetoric first appears as a
political power at Athens. He took a chief part in organizing the
Revolution of the Four Hundred, and when they fell was put to
death by the people (B.C. 411)." Thucydides calls him one of the
three best (i.e. most useful) men in Athens; which the organized
assassinations by the Four Hundred make a strange adjective to our
ears. All his extant speeches are on trials for homicide.
ANDOCIDES, born about B.C. 467, and also belonging to the
oligarchic party, was involved in that great and never fully ex-
plained scandal, the mutilation of the Hermse just before the expe-
dition to Syracuse (B.C. 415). Thrown into prison, he saved his
life by denouncing four others, who were executed; but failed to
clear himself, and was banished. He made application for return
later on, again to the Four Hundred in 411, still again in 410 to
the Assembly after their downfall ; but failed, and was a traveling
merchant till 402, when he returned under the general amnesty.
He held important official positions thereafter, and died after 390,
when, as ambassador to Lacedaemon to treat for peace, he made on
his return the speech here excerpted.
LYSIAS, though born at Athens, (B.C. 459?) had a Syracusan
father, spent his early and middle life in southern Italy, and only
settled at Athens in 412, when growing old. He was a democrat.
In 404 the Thirty Tyrants put his brother to death, and he fled ;
the next year, on their expulsion by Thrasybulus, he came back and
impeached Eratosthenes, one of the Thirty, and some years later
impeached one of their tools. He made other speeches on public
affairs ; but as with most of the others, his chief work was legal.
ISOCRATES, born B.C. 436, was a wealthy and highly educated
youth, who lost his fortune in the troubles of the Peloponnesian
THE TEN ATTIC ORATORS. 135
War, wrote law speeches for ten years, and about 392 became a
teacher of elocution, continuing such till his death at nearly one
hundred, in 338. His school was far the most famous in ancient
Greece, drawing scholars from all parts, from Sicily to the Crimea.
Cicero says they were the foremost orators and authors of their
time. Among them were three of our ten (Isseus, Lycurgus, and
Hyperides), two leading historians (Ephorus and Theopompus), and
many others eminent in different departments. In the great rhetori-
cal contest of B.C. 351, in honor of Mausolus prince of Caria, only
his pupils dared enter. His life dream was of saving Greece from
destroying itself through internal feuds by uniting it against Asia ;
first by reconciling Athens and Sparta, then by some " tyrant " or
Spartan king as leader, lastly by Philip of Macedon; — he died in
the year of the battle of Chseronea.
IS^EUS, born about B.C. 420, probably at the Athenian colony in
Chalcis, was a professional writer of law speeches, and has little
known life outside his work. He is regarded as a master of logical
argument and jury tactics. Of the twelve extant speeches, eleven
are on will cases, and the other an appeal from arbitration.
LYCURGUS, born about B.C. 396-393, was one of the three chief
leaders of the anti-Macedonian party in Athens during the great
struggle with Philip — Demosthenes and Hyperides being the others.
His department was internal government, finances, city improvement
and order, etc. He was financial director of Athens about 341-329,
disbursing over $20,000,000 with clean hands, and raising the state
income to nearly $1,500,000 a year. He was so much trusted that he
was chosen banker for many private persons ; and when Alexander
the Great demanded his surrender, the people refused to comply.
He died about 323.
^ESCHINES, born B.C. 389, was in some respects the most remark-
able of all, his unassisted talents raising him from the lowest station
to the second place among classic orators. Even if not the son of a
courtesan, and at first a low comic actor, as Demosthenes asserted,
— which we should count to his honor, — he was certainly very
poor and uneducated, was a soldier till about forty, then clerk to
the Assembly, and began soon after to display mastery as a public
speaker. He took from the first, like Isocrates, the Macedonian side
in the bickerings and negotiations with Philip ; was twice envoy to
him, and probably disbursing agent for his money in Athens and
elsewhere, though Demosthenes failed to convict him of bribery;
and in 330, eight years after Chaeronea, attempting to prevent pub-
lic honors to Demosthenes for patriotism, was himself exiled, and
set up a school of elocution in Ehodes. He died in Samos, B.C. 314.
DEMOSTHENES, the greatest orator of antiquity, the son of a rich
Athenian manufacturer, was born about B.C. 385. His father dying
136 ANTIPHON.
when the boy was small, his education was neglected; but at seventeen
he began to train himself in oratory, in spite of a bad stammer and
weak lungs. His oratory was applied partly to law cases, but also to
politics, especially to opposing the attempts of Philip of Macedon to
form a league against Persia under Macedonian hegemony, which he
felt must result first or last, as it did, in destroying Grecian freedom.
He failed. The allied Athenian and Boeotian army was defeated at
Chseronea, B.C. 338, and Demosthenes was accused of cowardice,
bribery, etc., by his rival JSschines ; but turned the tables by his
oration " On the Crown," gaining a golden crown for his political
conduct, and sending his rival into exile. After several ups and
downs, — being once banished, but recalled with enthusiasm after
Alexander's death, — he poisoned himself, B.C. 322, to avoid being
delivered up to Antipater.
HYPERIDES, born probably about B.C. 390, began as a writer of
law speeches, and entered public life in a very usual fashion, by
prosecuting a general for treason. He was one of Demosthenes'
supporters against Philip ; but in the affair of Harpalus's money (see
note before extract from Dinarchus) was one of the public prosecu-
tors of Demosthenes, and on the latter's banishment succeeded to
his place as chief popular leader. He incited the Lamian War
against Antipater and Craterus; and on the success of Antipater
at Crannon, B.C. 322, was put to death.
DINARCHUS, born at Corinth about B.C. 361, early settled at
Athens as a writer of law speeches, and in 324 wrote three orations
against Demosthenes and others for the prosecutors in the Harpalus
case. He had been a pupil of Demetrius Phalereus, and on De-
metrius's accession to power, became a notable public figure, 317-
306. On his fall Dinarchus withdrew to Chalcis, returning only in
292. He died about 291.
ANTIPHON.
Arguments in a Case of Accidental Homicide.
(Translated for this work.)
[Two youths were throwing javelins in a school of gymnastics : one was
fatally wounded by a throw of the other. The father of the slain pros-
ecuted the slayer for homicide. It is to be remembered that these
speeches were to be spoken by the father.]
I. THE PLEADING.
NOTORIOUS facts, it has been decided under the law and by
public decrees, are in the hands of the city executive ; but any
case where the facts are disputed is assigned to you, citizen
ANTIPHON. 137
gentlemen, to decide. Now I think there is no dispute on this
action of mine ; for my son while in the gymnasium, pierced
through the side with a dart by this youth, died instantly. I
do not charge that he was slain intentionally, but unintention-
ally ; but the calamity fell on me none the less when uninten-
tional than if intentional. And nothing weighs on the dead ;
all inflictions are on the living. I ask of you who have been
stricken by the loss of children, that in pity for my son's pre-
mature death, you will interdict the slayer from what the law
interdicts him from, and not allow the whole city to be contam-
inated by him.
[The father of the accidental slayer put in the defense that there was no
homicide, as the slain youth was the cause of his own death by running
toward the target when the dart was thrown, and so getting in its way.
He also as matter of equity asked that his son, innocent of intentional
wrong, be not visited with unmerited punishment, and his own old age
be commiserated.]
H. REPLY TO THE DEFENSE.
That necessity forces everybody both to speak and act
against nature, it seems to me this party makes clear by deed as
well as by word. For before the trial he displayed very little
impudence or audacity ; but now he is forced by this event
to say what I never expected him to. Most foolishty, I did
not expect him to contradict my statement, or I should not
by making one speech against his two have robbed myself
of half my accusation ; and this man would have defended
himself by speech for speech, indeed, but not made unan-
swerable charges. He has done this many times over in his
speech, and now begs you against righteousness to accept
his defense. But I have committed no offense at all, only suf-
fered ills and wrongs, and now worse of the same sort in deed
and word ; and I too take refuge in your pity, and beg of you,
gentlemen, the punishers of unrighteous deeds, the discrimina-
tors of righteous ones, not to be persuaded in a plain matter by
tricky quibbles in words, but to give truth, in the mouths of
those telling it, the victory over falsehood : for we agree that
the latter is more plausible than what is truer, but the former
will be uttered more guilelessly and less skillfully.
Confiding in justice, then, I scorn this defense ; yet, dis-
trusting the cruelty of fate, I fear lest not alone I have lost
the service of a son, but also that I shall see him condemned
138 ANTIPHOtf.
by you as a suicide. For this man has reached that point
of impudence and audacity, where he denies that the thrower
and slayer either wounded or slew ? he alleges that the one
who neither touched the dart nor undertook to throw it, miss-
ing the whole earth and all the bodies on it, thrust the dart
through his own side. Even if I charged that the killing was
intentional, it seems to me it would be more plausible than his
story, that the other youth neither threw nor slew. For just
then, my son, called by his teacher of gymnastics to pick up
the darts for the throwers, coming in the way of that hostile
dart through the recklessness of the thrower, and committing
no error of any kind, perished miserably ; the other, though
miscalculating the time it took to pick up the darts, was not
prevented from hitting the mark — a hapless and bitter mark
for me. He did not slay intentionally ; but he had better
intentionally have neither thrown nor slain, for unintention-
ally not less than intentionally he slew my son.
This man denies the slaying altogether, and says he cannot
be held under the law, which prohibits all killing whether just
or unjust. But some one was the thrower ? Does the homi-
cide, then, belong to bystanders or teacher ? No one accuses
any of them ; for to me the death is not a mystery, but per-
fectly plain. I say the law rightfully declares that slayers
shall be punished ; for not only is it just that the unintentional
slayer shall come to unintentional grief, but the unintentionally
not less than intentionally slain suffers unjustly if he remains
unavenged. For even if the error happens through the god's
neglectfulness, yet, being an error, just retribution should fall
on the erring ; and if a divine stain rests upon a sacrilegious
culprit, it is unrighteous to hinder the divine visitations. But
the defense say, too, it is not befitting that those who practice
good deeds should be afflicted with ills : then how do we re-
ceive our deserts if we, no way inferior to them in practice,
are punished with death ? But admitting them to be blameless,
and the calamity to be accidental and not to be shifted to the
blameless, the fact makes for our side. For my son, who sinned
against no one in anything, but died at this youth's hands, will
fare unjustly if unavenged ; and I, more blameless even than
he, shall suffer unrighteously if I do not obtain what the law
es me.
Furthermore, I will make plain that the youth cannot be
acquitted of offense nor of unintentional slaying, as they
ANDOCIDES. 139
allege, but that both these are common to both boys. For if
it is correct to say that my boy was his own murderer for
running against the throw of the dart and not standing quiet,
the other youth is not clear of blame, since my boy died stand-
ing quiet, and not himself throwing a dart. The death took
place between the two : my boy, if erring, punished himself
more heavily than according to the measure of his error, by
death ; while he who had been his partner and companion in
the things which had nothing to do with the error — how is it
right that he should escape unpunished ?
Then on the defense of 'these defenders, that my son was
a partner in his own killing, you cannot justly or righteously
acquit this youth ; for we who have been ruined by their error
should suffer by you, not righteously but unrighteously, if
those who have brought death to us are not interdicted from
what has been theirs. You will not be acting religiously in
absolving the impious. As all the guilt of sacrilege will be
fixed upon you by every one, you must exercise great caution
in this matter. If you convict him, and interdict him from
what the law interdicts him from, you will be clean from such
a charge ; but if you acquit him you will stand accountable.
Then, regardful of your piety and the laws, you will remove
and punish him, and thus not partake in his defilement ; and
to us parents, who still living are buried with him, by your
judgment you will render the calamity more endurable.
ANDOCIDES.
On Making Peace with Lacedcemon (B.C. 390).
(Translated for this work.)
THAT making an honorable peace is better than war, fellow-
citizens, I presume you all realize ; that while your speakers
accede to the name of peace, they oppose the means by which
peace must come, you certainly do not all perceive. They tell
you a peace will be very injurious to the democracy, as the
present form of government may be abolished. Now, if the
Athenian democracy had never yet made peace with the Lace-
daemonians, you might reasonably hold such fear, from lack of
skill in the business or lack of faith in them ; but when you
have often already made peace under a democratic constitution,
how unreasonable it is not to look first at what happened then J
140 ANDOCIDES.
for we must use former events, fellow-citizens, as tokens of
those to come.
Here we were, then, at war in Euboea, and held Megara and
Pegae and Troezene ; and we wished for peace. Miltiades son
of Cimon, ostracized and resident in the Chersonesus, had been
received back as consul for the Lacedaemonians ; and we sent
him to Lacedaemon, having arranged a truce by herald. And
so a thirty-years' peace was made by us with the Lacedaemo-
nians, and both maintained the peace for thirteen years. You
should look at this one first, fellow-citizens. During that
peace, how was the Athenian democracy abolished? Nobody
can show. What benefits accrued from that peace, I will point
out. At that time we first built the Piraeus walls ; then the
northern Long Walls ; instead of the old and laid-up war-ships
we then had, — those with which we had won sea-fights over
the Persian king and the barbarians, — in their place we built
a hundred new war-ships ; and then for the first time we estab-
lished the force of three hundred cavalry and hired the three
hundred Scythian archers. These benefits accrued to the city
through the peace with the Lacedaemonians, and power over
Athens accrued to the democracy.
Subsequently we went to war on account of the jEginetans ;
and after enduring many hardships and inflicting many, we
again wished for peace, and chose ten aged citizens out of the
entire Athenian people, as plenipotentiaries to treat for peace
with the Lacedaemonians — one of whom was An decides my
grandfather. These made a thirty-years' peace with the Lace-
daemonians for you. And at that time too, fellow-citizens,
how was the democracy abolished? What then? Did any
persons capture the democracy and attempt its abolition ? No
one argues that, and the fact is the extreme reverse. For
this peace greatly exalted the democracy of Athens, and so
strengthened it that during those years, for the first time, hav-
ing gained peace, we carried a thousand talents [11,200,000] to
the Acropolis, and by law reserved it specially for public use ;
that we built a hundred more ships, and decreed them to be a
reserve also ; constructed docks ; established a force of twelve
hundred cavalry and as many archers ; and built the southern
Long Wall. These benefits accrued to the city from this peace
with the Lacedaemonians, and power over Athens accrued to the
democracy.
Again making war, on account of the Megarians? the land
ANDOCIDES. 141
ravaged by invaders, and we stripped of many comforts, we
finally made peace, which Nicias the son of Niceratus negotiated
for us. I believe you have all seen that through this peace
we carried seven thousand coined talents to the Acropolis, and
procured more than three hundred war-ships ; that more than
twelve hundred talents a year came in for tribute, and we
held the Chersonesus and Naxos and more than two-thirds of
Euboea — to enumerate the other colonies singly would be
tedious. Possessed of all these good things, we again went to
war with the Lacedaemonians, incited this time by the Argives.
Now, on this subject, fellow-citizens, remember first of all
the counsel I gave you at the beginning of my speech. Other
than these, has a peace ever been made where the Athenian
democracy has been abolished? It has not been shown, and
no one has argued against me, that these things are not the
truth. But I have heard some people saying that by our last
peace with the Lacedaemonians they set up the Thirty, and
many Athenians perished by drinking hemlock and others fled
into exile. Those who say this do not make the proper distinc-
tion ; for a peace and a capitulation often differ from each other.
A peace is made on equal terms, each harmonizing with the
other the points on which they disagree ; but a capitulation —
whichever wins in a war, the stronger enforces it on the
weaker by dictation. In this instance the Lacedaemonians,
conquering us in war, forced us to pull down our walls and
surrender our ships and receive back our refugees. Then, a
capitulation was made by force under dictation ; now, you are
consulted as to a peace. Note from the very terms then written
by you on the pillar, that under the ones now offered you will
make a peace. There it is written to pull down the walls,
here in these to build them ; there twelve ships are permitted
us, here as many as we wish ; then Lemnos, Imbros, and Scyros
were to be held by the possessors, now they are to be ours ; and
now it is not compulsory to receive back our refugees, then it
was compulsory — by which the democracy was abolished.
How do these terms resemble those? This, then, fellow-
citizens, is the distinction I make : peace is safety and strength
to the democracy, war brings about the abolition of the democ-
racy. So much on this point.
But some say that we are obliged to make war. We will
examine first, then, gentlemen of Athens, what we shall make
war about ; for I think everybody will agree on the things we
142 ANDOCIDES.
ought to make war about, — namely, being injured or assisting
the injured. Now both we ourselves were injured, and we
assisted the injured Boeotians. But if at present our affairs
with the Lacedaemonians are in such shape that we shall no
longer be injured, and proclamation is issued to the Boeotians
that peace will be made with them if they leave Orchomenus
self-governing, on what ground shall we make war? That
our city may be free ? that lies with ourselves. But how are
we to have walls? that will result from peace itself. Is it
that we may build war-ships, and repair and own those we
have ? that also lies with ourselves ; for it is agreed that self-
governing states may do this. But how shall we recover
Lemnos and Scyros and Imbros ? why, it is expressly written
that they are to belong to Athens. Well, but the Chersonesus
and colonies and foreign possessions and debts — how shall we
recover them ? but neither the Persian king nor our allies will
grant them to us, and it is with their help we must get those
things by war.
But in heaven's name, ought we to keep on making war till
we have beaten the Lacedaemonians and their allies ? It does
not seem to me that that can be done. And if we should
accomplish it, what do we suppose the barbarians will have to
bear when we have effected it ? And further, even if we ought
to make war for this, and we had resources enough and were
strong enough in men, we ought not to make war thus. But
if there is nothing through which or with which or for which
we are to make war, why is it not in every way our duty to
make peace ?
But consider, fellow-citizens, both this, that you are now
bringing common peace and freedom to all the Greeks, and
that you are giving power to all to share in all. Bear in mind
how the greatest of the cities are for ending the war in any
way ; the Lacedaemonians first, who when they began to make
war on us and our allies ruled both land and sea, but now by
this peace have neither. And they surrender them without
being conquered by us, but for the freedom of all Greece.
For in battle they have won three times : once at Corinth,
with all our allies present in a body, leaving no excuse, they
alone crushing the whole ; then in Boeotia they carried off the
victory in the same way ; thirdly, when they took Lechseum,
though all the Argives and Corinthians, ourselves and the
Boeotians, were present. Yet after exhibiting such deeds, they
ANDOCIDEa 143
are ready to make peace, holding only their own — they who
have fought and conquered ; the cities to be self-governing,
and themselves holding the sea in common with the weaker.
Now what kind of a peace would they have got from you if
they had lost one solitary battle ?
But how will the Boeotians make peace ? They went to war
on account of Orchomenus, not to allow it to be self-governing ;
now with a host of them slain, the land partially devastated,
heavy contributions paid both from private and public sources,
they impoverished, the war prolonged to the fourth year — now
they can make peace by leaving Orchomenus self-governing,
and will have suffered all this in vain, for at the outset they
could have made peace by leaving the Orchomenians their
self-government.
But how is it possible for us, fellow-citizens, to make peace ?
What kind of Lacedaemonians have we encountered ? Now if
any one of you shall be offended, I ask pardon ; for I shall
speak the truth. First, then, when we lost our ships in the
Hellespont while we were besieged, what sentence was passed
on you by those who are now our allies, but were then those
of the Lacedsenionians ? Was it not that our citizen body
should be sold into slavery and our country made a desert?
Were there not some who prevented these things from taking
place? Was it not the Lacedaemonians, diverting the allies
from the sentence, and themselves not even attempting to
deliberate on such proposals ? Then, swearing oaths to them
and having them erect a pillar, we made a capitulation on cer-
tain terms as the choice of evils at that time. Later, when we
had made an alliance drawing the Boeotians and Corinthians
away from them, and drawing the Argives into our friendship,
we were ourselves to blame for the battle at Corinth. Did
not certain ones turn the Persian king hostile to them ? and pre-
pare Conon's sea-fight by which they lost the control of the sea ?
Yet after suffering these things from us, they concede the same
as the allies, and will give us walls and ships and islands to
be ours. What need have we now to go sending ambassadors
for peace ? And should we procure by hostilities aught but
the same things which friends will give, and on account of
which we are to begin war that the city may have them?
Moreover, the others in making peace will lose their possessions,
while we shall win besides what we most desire.
144 LYSIAS.
LYSIAS.
Against the Younger Alcibiades for deserting his Battalion.
[The speech was written for and made by one Tisias.]
I AM persuaded, gentlemen, that you can expect no apol-
ogy from me for undertaking this impeachment of Alcibiades ;
for such has been the invariable tenor of his behavior toward
the state, that even had he avoided giving private cause for
offense to any individual among you, he would still deserve to
be regarded, on account of his political character, as the public
enemy of his country and of every citizen who loves it. His
crimes have not been inconsiderable, — they admit of no exten-
uation,— they leave no room to hope for his future amendment;
they are such that even his enemies, as men, must blush and
be ashamed of them.
For my own part, gentlemen, I will acknowledge that I
seek vengeance on him, not for your sakes only, but for my own.
His hatred toward me is deep-rooted ; it descends to him by
inheritance from his father, and of late he has put in execution
all the malicious purposes of his heart.
In many particulars, I have been anticipated by Archestra-
tides, who first moved this accusation. He has read and ex-
plained the laws, and adduced evidence the most unquestionable;
but whatever he may have omitted, it shall be my business to
supply. Read therefore the law. (It is read.) This is the first
time since the peace that you have sat in judgment, gentlemen,
upon such a trial ; and you ought on this account to regard
yourselves not merely as judges, but as legislators, convinced that
according to your present decision, and according as you either
enforce or invalidate the law now read, the consequences must
be important to the future happiness of this state. It is at all
times the part of a just judge and of a good citizen to take the
laws in that sense which is most for the interest of his coun-
try ; but his duty is more especially useful at the time when
they are first plead. Those who would defend Alcibiades have
asserted that he could not be guilty of leaving his rank or
of cowardice, because there was really no engagement ; and
the law, they pretend, runs, " that if any one leave his rank
through cowardice, while his companions are engaged with the
enemy, that in that case only he shall be subjected to a trial."
This observation, however, is exceedingly ill founded ; for the
LYSIAS. 145
law comprehends not only those who leave their ranks, but
such as, being summoned, have not appeared among the foot
soldiers. (It is read.) You hear then, gentlemen, that the
law does not more apply to those who fly from their ranks,
than to those who are not present among the infantry. But
who should be present ? Not those of the military age ? not
those whom the general has summoned ? To me, indeed, Al-
cibiades appears to be equally guilty under both heads of the
law. He is chargeable with deserting his rank, because, being
summoned to appear among the foot soldiers, he did not there
make his appearance, but abandoned that post which was as-
signed him ; and he is manifestly convicted of cowardice, be-
cause, being ordered to expose himself on the same footing with
his fellow-citizens, he alone mounted on horseback, and trusted
to the mettle of his steed.
This, however, is his defense : he denies to have injured the
state, because he was prepared to fight for it on horseback.
But this apology, itself contrary to law, deserves only your
indignation, for the law enacts: That whoever ranks with the
cavalry, without obtaining the necessary permission, shall be
deemed infamous. This, however, he has attempted ; and
this very thing he alleges as his excuse. Read also this law.
(It is read.) So abandoned then is his character, that rather
than serve as a foot soldier with his fellow- citizens, he has
shown his contempt for you, and his fear of your enemies ;
and equally despising the laws of this republic, and the sanc-
tions which confirm them, he has subjected himself to perpet-
ual infamy, to confiscation of goods, and to every punishment
which you may think proper to inflict. Yet the other citi-
zens, who had never before served on foot, but always among
the cavalry, and who, being well acquainted with their duty,
had signalized their valor in the execution of it, obeyed you
and the laws ; they expected not indemnity by the destruc-
tion of the republic ; they hoped for its greatness, its glory,
and its success. But Alcibiades, having never served on horse-
back, and even incapable of doing it with honor to himself or
advantage to his country, must, though unappointed and dis-
qualified, rank himself with the cavalry, thus trampling on
your laws because he hoped the misfortunes of the state would
not permit you to enforce them.
Consider, gentlemen, that if you permit such unbounded
licentiousness, there will no longer be any occasion for enact-
VOL. IV. — 10
146 LYSIAS.
ing laws, assembling the citizens, or appointing generals ; for
all these formalities have been established in order to restrain
it. And surely it would be unaccountable, that while a soldier
who quits the first rank for the second incurs the charge of
cowardice, he who quits not his rank, but his corps, and flies
from the infantry to the horse, should be deemed undeserving
of this reproach.
Nor are judges merely appointed for taking punishment on
the licentious, but in order, through the terror of their decrees,
to keep the rest of the citizens in obedience and submission.
If you punish obscure persons only, this advantage cannot be
attained ; few will even hear of your decrees, and none will
regard them : but if you chastise the most conspicuous offend-
ers, our citizens will be awed by the example ; the allies too
will hear of it ; and our enemies, informed of your severity, will
tremble at that state which thinks nothing so criminal as mili-
tary disorder.
It is not to be omitted, that of the soldiers in that army, a
great many were sick, and others in the utmost poverty. The
first would doubtless have chosen to return home, in order to
get advice ; the second to provide for their subsistence. Yet
none of them abandoned their ranks, or preferred the motives
of present convenience before the dread of your laws and the
imputation of cowardice. Be mindful of this in your decree,
and make it evident to the whole world that you still have no
feeling for those citizens who, disgracing the name of Athenian,
fly from the enemies of their country.
I am persuaded that both the law and the fact have been
stated in such a manner, that on neither of these grounds will
my adversaries oppose me. But you they will supplicate and
entreat not to condemn for cowardice the son of Alcibiades,
as if Alcibiades deserved any favor from you whose interest
he so shamefully abandoned; for if he had been cut off at the
age of his son, and on the first display of his evil genius, the
state would have avoided a thousand calamities. It would be
most extraordinary, gentlemen, that the son of that father
whom you condemned to death should be saved for his father's
merit; the son having fled from your enemies, the father hav-
ing fought in their defense. Such was once your opinion of
Alcibiades, that his son, yet a child and innocent, was delivered
by you to the criminal judge, merely for his father's guilt ; and
now when his own crimes are notorious, will you pity him for
LYSIAS. 147
his father? It would be fortunate indeed for such men to be
saved on account of their birth, while we, who by their licen-
tiousness and disorder are reduced to the state of suppliants,
meet with no mercy from our enemies. Will they spare us
because descended from ancestors the most illustrious and
deserving, and by whom all Greece has been far more bene-
fited than ever those men benefited their country? Yet it
might be a merit in them to take compassion on their friends,
but it is inconsistent with your honor not to take vengeance
on your enemies. If his relations, gentlemen, should inter-
cede in his behalf, let them not be able to prevail with you ;
for they did not intercede with him in behalf of the laws of
this country, or interceding, did not persuade him. And if
the generals, in order to make an ostentatious display of their
own influence, should think proper to use it in his favor, you
will suggest to them that, were all like Alcibiades, there
would be no occasion for generals, because there would be
none to obey them. Demand of them, whether it be their
duty to accuse and punish deserters, or to assist them in their
defense, and which conduct is most likely to insure obedience
to their orders.
The defendants, therefore, must prove either that he served
on foot, or that he did not rank himself with the cavalry
till he had obtained the necessary permission. In both cases,
they may justly plead for his acquittal. But if having noth-
ing of this kind to pretend, they entreat you to relent and
be merciful, remember they give you a counsel to violate the
oath which you have sworn, and to trample on the laws of
your country. Yet wonderful would it be, should you incline
to spare Alcibiades through the merit of his protectors, rather
than destroy him for his own wickedness. Being informed
of this, you will perceive that it is not a virtuous citizen you
punish for a single offense, but that his whole life and behavior
deserve the utmost weight of your resentment. And it is but
reasonable, gentlemen, that while the accused urge in their
defense their father's virtues and their own, the accuser may
make mention of their vices, and prove that both the defendant
and his ancestors deserve your detestation.
This deserter, while under the years of puberty, and living
with the blinkard Archedemus, that robber of his country, was
seen in broad day reveling with a courtesan, giving this early
testimony of his character, and thinking he should never be
148 LYSIAS.
famous when old, unless in youth he was most profligate. He
afterward entered into a conspiracy with Theotimus against
his own father, and betrayed to him the fort of Oreos. Theoti-
mus protected him for some time on account of his beauty;
but whether dreading his treachery, or thinking to extort
money from his father by way of ransom, he at length put
him in irons. His father, however, so much detested him that
he declared he would not ransom his bones ; and it was not till
a considerable time after the father's death that he was restored
to liberty by his lover Archedemus. Not long after, having
gambled away all his property, in hastening from the headland
of Leuce he drowned his companions.
But it would be tedious to relate all that he has committed
against the citizens in general, and even against his kindest
friends. Hipponicus was obliged on his account to part from
his wife, and to declare before many witnesses that Alci-
biades had entered his house as her brother, but had lived in
it as her husband. And the man convicted of these crimes,
and having perpetrated everything wicked and abominable,
shows not, even at present, that he repents of his past life or
intends to reform it. Yet above all the citizens it became
him to be most modest and regular, that the merit of the son
might have atoned for the guilt of the father — -that father
who advised the Lacedaemonians to fortify Decelia, who alien-
ated the isles, who was the source and contriver of our disgrace,
and who fought as successfully, in conjunction with the enemies
of this state, against his native country, as he was unhappy
in defending it. For these injuries, gentlemen, your venge-
ance should be wreaked on his whole race.
It is urged that it would be highly unjust to punish him
for the banishment of a father, whom upon his return you
honored with presents ; but it would surely be much more
unjust to acquit him for the merit of the father, whom you
afterward deprived of those presents which you had rashly
and undeservedly bestowed on him.
And were there no other reason for condemning him, the
following is sufficient. He compares your virtues, gentlemen,
to his father's guilt; and by them he attempts to excuse it.
Alcibiades, says he, did nothing so extraordinary in bearing
arms against his country ; for even you yourselves, when in a
state of exile, took possession of Phyle, destroyed the wood,
beat down the walls, and instead of heaping disgrace on your
LTSIAS. 149
posterity, have by these exploits acquired glory and renown.
Thus he compares your conduct, gentlemen, in returning lo
expel your enemies, with that of his father who returned by
their assistance. And it is known to all Greece that they en-
tered the city to tyrannize over you, and to procure the empire
of the sea to the Lacedaemonians ; whereas you, actuated by
opposite motives, expelled the Lacedaemonians and restored
liberty to them. There is no similarity then between your
actions and those of his father.
Still, however, he insists ; and when his father's merit can
no longer protect him, he triumphs in his crimes : for being the
most guilty of the citizens, he must also, says he, have been the
most powerful ; nor without the most distinguished abilities
could he have done more injuries to the state than all the rest
of the citizens. What abilities did it require, but determined
villainy, to give information to the enemy where to make a de-
scent, what posts were unoccupied, what worst defended, where
our affairs were most desperate, and which of our allies were
ripest for a revolt. All this indeed he performed, hurting us
still more by secret treachery than open violence. But, return-
ing and getting command of the fleet, what did he perform
against the enemy ? He was not able to drive them from our
coast, he could not even reduce to their duty the Chians whom
he had caused to revolt ; and in fine, while fighting for his
country he performed nothing worthy of applause. It is not,
therefore, in abilities, but in villainy, that he excelled : he
could discover your secrets and your weakness to the Lacedae-
monians, but the Lacedaemonians he was unable to overcome ;
and promising to obtain money from the king of Persia, he
robbed your treasury of two hundred talents. Nor did he
dare to disavow his crimes : though an accomplished orator,
abounding in wealth, surrounded with friends, he ventured not
to stand his trial before this people, but condemning himself by
a voluntary banishment, chose to be an inhabitant of Thrace
rather than a citizen of Athens.
But the last effort of his malice far excelled all that I have
hitherto described. By the assistance of Adimantus he betrayed
your fleet to Lysander. If you feel any compassion, therefore,
for such as perished in the sea engagement ; if you are ashamed
at the disgrace of those who were carried into slavery ; if you
are seized with indignation at the demolition of your walls,
with hatred against the Lacedaemonians, with rage against the
150 LYSIA&
Thirty Tyrants ; — all these you must ascribe to Alcibiades the
father, whose ancestors have been banished by you, and whom
the most aged of this assembly deliberately condemned to
death. Take vengeance, then, on your hereditary enemy, and
let neither pity, nor pardon, nor favor, prevail over the laws
which you have established and the oaths which you have re-
peatedly confirmed. Why should you spare such offenders ?
What pretense can excuse them ?
Their public character is obnoxious, and have their private
manners been blameless ? Have they not lived with prosti-
tutes, cohabited with their own sisters, begot children of their
daughters, treated our mysteries with contempt, maimed the
statues of Hermes, been impious toward all the gods, injuri-
ous to all the citizens, and behaved with a licentiousness so
rash and undistinguishing as even to involve themselves in
the common calamity ? From what deed, the most audacious,
have they abstained? What have they not perpetrated, in-
flicted, or suffered? Such was their disposition to hate the
very appearance of virtue, and to triumph in their crimes.
But will you pardon them, though thus unjust, in hopes of
their future reformation, and of the benefit that may thence
result to the state ? What benefit can he confer, convicted by
the present trial, a coward, and proved a villain by the whole
course of his life ? Nor allow fear, gentlemen, to awe you into
forgiveness. Banished from his country you have no occasion
to dread him ; a coward, a beggar, at variance with his kins-
men, detested by all the world ! Render him an example
then to the state, and to his own profligate companions, licen-
tious and dissolute as himself, who, having ruined their pri-
vate fortune by debauchery, now harangue you on public
affairs.
Thus have I spoken on the indictment to the best of my
abilities ; and while many of you may wonder how I could
collect such an aggregate of guilt, he himself will laugh be-
cause I have not related the thousandth part of his crimes.
Reflecting then, not only on what is said, but on what is still
omitted, you will assuredly condemn him ; considering that he
is guilty of the charge, and that it is for the advantage of the
state to be disburdened of such citizens. Read the laws, the
oaths, and the indictment, and remembering justice, pass your
decree.
I80CRATES.
ISOCRATES.
In Defense of the Same.
THAT my father did not take the span of horses from Tisias
by violence, but purchased them from the Argive state, you have
now learned by the testimony both of their ambassadors who
came hither, and of others who witnessed the transaction. It is
thus these informers persecute and harass me, first calling me
into court under pretense of some private wrong, and afterward
loading me with calumny as an enemy to the public. They
even spend more time in traducing the character of my father
than in examining the merits of the cause; and in contempt of
law and justice, they insist that I should be subjected to punish-
ment for the injuries which they impute to him. Though such
matters have no relation to the present subject, yet as Tisias
has insulted me on account of my father's exile, I think it my
duty to answer this reproach ; for I should be ashamed to ap-
pear less concerned for the fame of my father than for my own
danger.
To such as are advanced in years, few words will suffice.
They can easily recollect that Alcibiades was banished by the
same men who afterward subverted the democracy. But for
the sake of those who are too young to have any personal knowl-
edge of such transactions, and who have often heard them
misrepresented in this assembly, it is necessary that I should
fully explain them.
The cabal of the Four Hundred, the first invaders of our
rights, having discovered their views to my father, he con-
demned and opposed them. As they observed his attachment
to the interest of the people, and his ability to promote it, they
despaired of producing any revolution while he remained in
Athens, and accordingly took measures to remove him. They
knew that there were two circumstances which chiefly excited
your indignation — committing impiety with regard to the
mysteries of Demeter, and proposing to abolish your democ-
racy. These they laid to the charge of my father, accusing
him before the senate of having conspired with a faction against
the present constitution, and of having celebrated the mys-
teries of Demeter in the house of Pulytion, in company with
his impious partisans. But though the people were inflamed
by the atrocity of these accusations, he justified himself in a
152 ISOCRATES.
manner so satisfactory that they were disposed to punish his
accusers, and appointed him to sail as general into Sicily.
Thither accordingly he repaired, imagining himself fully cleared
from every imputation. But no sooner was he gone than his
enemies again brought on the affair before the senate, after
gaining the orators and bribing false witnesses. It is un-
necessary to describe the whole course of their iniquity : it
ended in recalling my father from his employment, and in the
murder or banishment of his friends. When he received in-
telligence of what had happened, of the success of his enemies,
and of the misfortunes of those who had been attached to him,
he was struck with the injustice of being condemned, in his
absence, for the same crimes of which he had before been honor-
ably acquitted. But even this could not excite his resentment
against the state, or make him court the protection of its
enemies : on the contrary, he preserved his affection for his
country even during this severe persecution ; and disdaining
vengeance, retired quietly to Argos.
The malignity of his enemies, however, still continued to
operate. They persuaded you to banish him out of all Greece,
to erect a monument denouncing his disgrace, and to send am-
bassadors to Argos requiring his expulsion from that country.
Then indeed, abandoned as he was, everywhere proscribed,
and seeing no other means of safety, he took refuge with the
Lacedaemonians. This is his only crime, and such are the
circumstances which produced it.
As to the other accusations against him, — that he fortified
Decelia, seduced our allies from their duty, and instructed our
enemies in the art of war, while his talents are declared to have
been most contemptible, — they are as inconsistent with one
another as with common sense. For how, without very un-
common abilities, could he have brought about such important
events ? Supposing him ever so well skilled in the art of war,
would the Spartans have received his lessons on a science in
which they were capable to instruct all mankind? Did the
time admit of it, I could prove that he had no share in many
transactions which are falsely ascribed to him, and that in those
in which he actually was concerned, he consulted the interest
of his country. But it would be hard indeed, if I should now
be subjected to punishment for the banishment of my father,
when the state thought proper that he himself should afterward
receive a compensation on that account. You, of all men,
ISOCRATES. 153
ought to have the greatest compassion for his afflictions ; for
when banished by the Thirty Tyrants, you had to struggle with
the same calamities. On that occasion, you united in sentiment
with my father. Were you not disposed to submit to every
inconvenience, and to expose yourselves to every danger, rather
than continue in exile ? What outrages did you not commit, in
order to return to the city and to inflict punishment on those
who had expelled you? To what state did you not sue for
assistance ? From what injury did you abstain ? After seizing
the Piraeus, did you not destroy the corn in the fields, desolate
the territory, set fire to the suburbs, and at last lay siege to
Athens ?
All these measures you thought so justifiable, that you ex-
pressed more indignation against the partners of your banish-
ment who did not concur in them, than against the original
authors of your misfortunes. You ought not, therefore, to
find fault with my father's conduct, which is authorized by
your own example, nor regard those men as criminal, who
during banishment desired to return to their country ; but
those who, while they remained in the country, maintained a
behavior deserving of banishment. Whether is it reasonable
to judge of my father's character as a citizen, by what he did
when cut off from the city, or by his conduct before that period ?
Consider that with two hundred soldiers, he made the most
considerable states of Peloponnesus revolt from the Lacedae-
monians, and become your allies ; that he reduced your ene-
mies to the utmost extremity, and carried on the war of Sicily
with uncommon success. Recollect his services after his return
from exile, and the situation of affairs at that period. The
democracy was dissolved, the citizens inflamed with sedition,
and the army unwilling to obey the orders of those who were
in power. The opposite factions had behaved with so much
violence, that both were in despair : the one regarded their
fellow- citizens, who remained in Athens, as enemies more
implacable than the Lacedaemonians ; the other sent for the
soldiers in Decelia, because they rather chose to be under the
power of the enemy, than to allow their countrymen to have
any share in the government. This was the disposition of the
citizens with regard to one another. Their enemies, again, had
been victorious by sea and land ; their wants were gratified or
prevented by the king of Persia : while we had no means
to supply an exhausted treasury ; and there were ninety ships
154 ISOCRATES.
daily expected from Phoenicia, which had been sent to assist
the Lacedaemonians. Amidst these dangers and misfortunes,
my father was recalled. He did not affect an importance
which the occasion, in some measure, might have justified ; he
did not show any resentment for the injuries which he had
received, nor adopt measures that might have secured him in
future against a similar treatment : on the contrary, he at
once discovered his resolution rather to share in the misfor-
tunes of his country than in the successes of Lacedsemon; for
it had never been his ambition to conquer the city, but only
to return into it. He had no sooner engaged in your interest,
than he dissuaded Tissaphernes from paying the supplies to the
Lacedaemonians, and effected a reconciliation with our allies.
He likewise paid the troops from his private fortune, reestab-
lished the government of the people, reconciled the citizens to
one another, and removed all danger on the side of Phoanicia.
It would require no small time to enumerate the galleys which
he took, the battles which he gained, the cities which he carried
by storm or compelled to surrender. It is remarkable, that of
all the military expeditions in which the state during that time
was engaged, none proved unfortunate under the conduct of my
father. These facts, however, are too recent to be insisted on ;
I pass over others which are no less publicly known.
But some men traduce his private life and manners with an
insolence of reproach, which, were he alive, they would not dare
to express. They are arrived at such a pitch of absurdity as
to imagine that the more they calumniate him, .the greater
favor they will gain with you and with the rest of the
Greeks ; as if all men did not know that it is in the power of
the most worthless not only to rail against the most respectable
characters, but to point their satire against Heaven itself. It
may not, perhaps, be worth while to take notice of their re-
proaches ; but I am prompted to support the reputation of my
father. I shall trace the matter from its source, that you may
be sensible of the consideration in which our family has been
held, from the earliest periods of the republic.
Alcibiades, then, was descended, by the father's side, of the
race of the Eupatridse, whose very name announces the dignity
of their extraction; by the mother's side, of the Alcmaeonidae.
This family was distinguished by its opulence, and its attach-
ment to the popular form of government. Alcmeeon was the
first Athenian citizen who conquered in the chariot races at the
ISOCKATES. 155
Olympic games. His family, though related to that of Pisistra-
tus, and though before the time of his usurpation many of them
lived in particular intimacy with the tyrant, disdained to have
any share in his government, and chose rather to banish them-
selves from their native country than behold the slavery of
their fellow-citizens. On this account they became so odious to
the usurper, that upon the prevalence of his faction, their houses
were leveled with the ground and even the tombs of their dead
sacrilegiously uncovered. But during the forty years that the
usurpation continued, they were always regarded as the leaders
of the people. At length Alcibiades and Clisthenes, great-grand-
fathers to my father, the one in the male, the other in the female
line, conducted the people to the city, expelled the tyrants,
and established that democracy under which we alone defended
all Greece against the barbarians. They rendered the citizens
so distinguished for justice, that we voluntarily received from
the Greeks the empire of the sea ; and they so nobly adorned the
city with everything subservient either to ornament or utility,
that those who called it, by way of eminence, the capital of
Greece, did not seem to exaggerate. Such then was the heredi-
tary friendship with the people transmitted to my father from
his ancestors ; an inheritance venerable for its antiquity, and
founded on the most important services.
He himself was left an orphan ; his father was killed at
Coronea, fighting against the enemies of his country. Pericles,
however, undertook the care of his education ; Pericles, whom
all considered as the most equitable, moderate, and prudent of
the citizens. It is surely not a small happiness to have sprung
from such ancestors, and to have been educated by such a
guardian: but my father disdained to owe his glory to the
merit of his connections ; and determined to rival, not to bor-
row, their renown. First of all, when Phormio led forth one
thousand chosen men against the Thracians, he distinguished
himself so much above his companions, that he was crowned by
universal consent, and received a complete suit of armor from
the general. What praises does not he deserve, who in his
youth was conspicuous amidst the bravest of his countrymen,
and who, when advanced in years, proved superior in every
engagement to the most skillful generals in Greece ?
Soon after, he married my mother, who was given to him as
the reward of his merit ; for her father Hipponicus, inferior to
none in extraction, was ill opulence the first of the Greeks, and
156 ISOCRATES.
in character the most respectable. An alliance so honorable
and so advantageous was coveted by all, and expected by the
most illustrious ; but Hipponicus preferred my father to all the
suitors, and chose him for his son-in-law and his friend.
At that time, the Olympic games were the chief theater of
glory. There the candidates for fame displayed their wealth,
their activity, and their accomplishments. The conquerors not
only rendered themselves famous, but reflected splendor on
the state to which they belonged. Alcibiades, observing this,
considered that the management of public affairs at home ad-
vanced the character of the private citizens in the opinion of
his country ; but that the glory acquired at Olympus raised
the reputation of the republic in the opinion of all Greece.
Upon this reflection, though inferior to none in bodily strength
and address, he despised the gymnastic exercises, as belonging
to men of mean extraction and narrow fortune, or to the mem-
bers of inconsiderable states ; and applying himself to the man-
agement of horses, which none but the most affluent could
undertake, he excelled all his competitors. He had more char-
iots than the greatest states. His horses so far excelled all
that entered the lists, that they came in the first, the second,
and the third. His sacrifices and other expenses in the festi-
val were more magnificent than those of whole nations ; and he
ended the entertainment by eclipsing the glory of all former
conquerors, and by leaving nothing greater for posterity to
perform. His largesses to the people, upon being elected into
public offices, and his magnificence in conducting the shows
within the city, it is unnecessary to mention. All others have
thought it sufficient honor to be ranked, in these respects, as
second to Alcibiades ; and the praises bestowed on such as are
distinguished for them in our days reflect a double luster on
him.
As to what regards the commonwealth (for this is by no
means to be omitted since he never neglected it), he behaved
with such public spirit that while others excited seditions from
views of profit or ambition, he exposed his life for the safety of
his country. It was not in being rejected by the oligarchy, but
in being called to share in it, that he showed his attachment to
the people. He might have shared in the government of the
few ; he might even have enjoyed more authority than any in-
dividual of their number ; but he chose to suffer injuries from
his fellow-citizens rather than to betray them. Of this it
1SOCRATES. 157
would have been impossible to have convinced you before the
late revolutions in our government ; but the commotions which
we have now experienced discover the true character of the
citizens, and enable us to distinguish the partisans of oligarchy
from the friends of the constitution, and the peaceable subjects
of both from those who are indifferent as to all forms of gov-
ernment provided they have a share in the administration. In
the course of these seditions he was twice expelled by your en-
emies. In the first instance, his banishment opened the way
to your servitude ; and in the second, it was the immediate con-
sequence of your misfortunes — so intimately were your for-
tunes connected, so much did you share in his advantages, and
so sensibly did he feel your adversity.
There were some who thought unfavorably of his public
character, not judging by his actions, but because they supposed
that supreme power was naturally coveted by all men, and that
he was most capable to obtain it. This however, is his greatest
praise, that while he possessed the means of enslaving his
fellow-citizens, he chose to live on an equality with them. The
variety of instances in which he demonstrated his principles,
makes me at a loss which of them to select : those omitted
always appear more considerable than such as I relate. One
thing is evident, that those are naturally most attached to any
government who are the greatest gainers by its continuance,
and who have the most to lose by its subversion. But who
was happier than he during the democracy ? Who was more
admired and respected ? Upon the dissolution of that form of
government, who was deprived of greater hopes, of a more
ample fortune, or of higher reputation and glory? Under
the last usurpation, the Thirty contented themselves with ban-
ishing other citizens from Athens, but him they proscribed
from all Greece. Did not Lysander and the Lacedaemonians
consider the death of my father, and the dissolution of your
democracy, as things so inseparably connected that they la-
bored equally for both ? It was to no purpose, they knew, to
make you agree to the demolition of your walls, while they left
alive the man who could rebuild them.
The misfortunes, therefore, to which he was exposed, no
less than the victories which he obtained, show his good will to
the people. He desired the same government with you, he had
the same friends, the same enemies, and he shared alike in your
good and bad fortune. He was ever involved in dangers, some-
158 ISOCRATES.
times with you, sometimes for you, but always in your behalf.
In every respect, surely, he behaved differently from Charicles,
who desired to be subject to the enemy and to tyrannize over
his fellow-citizens ; and who, though he remained inactive
during his banishment, had no sooner returned than he became
a misfortune to his country. And you, the friend and kins-
man of such a traitor, you, who sat in a senate with tyrants,
are now become audacious enough to traduce the citizens !
Have you no remembrance of the amnesty, by virtue of
which you are at present an inhabitant of Athens? Are you
not sensible, that, were the public to exact an account of what
is past, you would now be exposed to greater dangers than I
am? But the state, faithful to its oaths, will not only refuse
to punish me for the pretended injuries of my father, but will
pardon you for the crimes of which you are actually guilty.
You have not the same defense with him : it was not in banish-
ment but while in office, it was not by necessity but from
choice, it was not to avenge injuries but by being yourself
the author of them, that you brought ruin on your country.
Were this to be remembered, what defense could you plead,
what excuse could you make ?
But, perhaps, on some future occasion, gentlemen, when
he himself is in danger, I shall speak at more length of the
injuries he has committed. I now entreat you not to abandon
me to my enemies, nor to involve me in calamities too hard to
be borne. Already have I had my full measure of distress.
In my early infancy I was left an orphan by the death of my
mother and the banishment of my father. Before I had at-
tained four years of age, I was in danger of being cruelly mur-
dered. When a boy I was expelled from the city under the
Thirty Tyrants. After the citizens who seized the Pirseus were
recalled, the rest were indemnified for the loss of their property.
I alone, on account of the power and virulence of my enemies,
received no redress. Having suffered so many misfortunes,
and been twice deprived of all my possessions, I am now
defendant in an action for five talents. This cause, though
merely pecuniary, may drive me from my country. The same
accusations have not similar effects against persons in different
circumstances. The rich lose their fortunes, but those who are
poor as I am lose their honor and reputation ; a loss greater than
banishment itself, as it is more disagreeable to be despised by
our fellow-citizens than to be obliged to live among strangers.
ISMUB. 159
I now, therefore, crave your assistance ; I entreat that you
will not suffer me to be insulted by my enemies, to be
despised by my country, and to become remarkable above all
men for my misfortunes. There is no occasion for many
words; facts speak for themselves. It should be sufficient
to move your compassion, to see me involved in an unjust
accusation, endangered in whatever is most precious to me,
suffering what is unworthy both of myself and of my fore-
fathers, deprived of the most splendid fortune, and obnoxious
to all the vicissitudes of life. Though these considerations be
extremely grievous, yet there are others still more afflicting :
that I should be punished at the instance of a man from whom
I am entitled to demand justice ; that I should be dishonored
on account of my father's victory at Olympus, which to every
other son would have been the source of triumph and glory ;
that Tisias, who had no merit with the state, should have a
powerful influence both in the oligarchy and democracy, while
I, who injured neither, should be persecuted by both ; and that
you, who agree in no other respect with the Thirty, should
unite with them against me, and regard the partner of your
misfortune as the object of your resentment.
On the Estate of Cleonymus.
(Translated by Sir William Jones.)
Polyarchus left three sons, Cleonymus, Dinias, and the father of
those for whom Isseus composed the following speech. The third
son dying, his children were committed to the guardianship of
Dinias. These young men were heirs to Cleonymus by the laws of
Athens, and their grandfather had appointed them successors to
their uncle if he should die childless. Cleonymus had, however, a
power to dispose of his property : and in a fit of anger toward his
brother Dinias, for some real or imagined wrong, had made a will in
favor of two remoter kinsmen, Diocles and Posidippus, which, accord-
ing to the custom of the Athenians, he had deposited with one of the
magistrates; but after the death of Dinias he took his nephews
under his care, and determined to cancel the will by which they
were disinherited. With this intent he sent for the magistrate who
kept the testament, but died unexpectedly before an actual revoca-
tion of it. His nephews then entered upon his estate as heirs at
160 IS^US.
law; and the other claimants produced the will which, as Isseus
contends in the person of his clients, was virtually revoked by
Cleonymus.
GREAT has been the change which our fortunes have under-
gone by the decease of Cleonymus, who when he was alive
intended to leave us his estate, but has exposed us by his death
to the danger of losing it : and with so modest a reserve, judges,
were we bred under his care, that not even as hearers had we
at any time entered a court of justice, but now we come hither
to defend our whole property ; for our adversaries dispute our
right, not only to the possessions of the deceased, but also to
our paternal inheritance, of which they boldly assert that he
was a creditor. Their own friends, indeed, and relations think
it just that we should have an equal share even of those effects
which Cleonymus confessedly left them : but our opponents
themselves have advanced to such a height of impudence, that
they seek to deprive us even of our patrimony ; not ignorant,
judges, of what is right and equitable, but conceiving us to be
wholly defenseless against their attacks.
Consider, then, on what grounds the parties respectively
rest their claims. These men rely on a will which our uncle,
who imputed no blame to us, made in resentment against one
of our relations, but virtually canceled before his death, having
sent Posidippus to the magistrate for the purpose of solemnly
revoking it : but we who were his nearest kinsmen, and most
intimately connected with him, derive a clear title both from
the laws, which have established our right of succession, and
from Cleonymus himself, whose intention was founded on the
friendship subsisting between us ; not to urge that his father
and our grandfather, Polyarchus, had appointed us to succeed
him if he should die without children. Such and so just being
our claim, these associates, who are nearly related to us, and
who have no color of justice on their side, are not ashamed of
contesting our title to an estate about which it would be dis-
graceful for mere strangers to contend. Nor do we seem,
judges, in this cause to have the same dispositions toward each
other; for I do not consider it as the greatest of my present
misfortunes to be unjustly disturbed with litigation, but to be
attacked by those whom it would be improper even to repel
with any degree of violence ; nor should I think it a lighter
calamity to injure my relations in my own defense than to be
IS^US. 161
injured myself by their unprovoked assault : but they, judges,
have different sentiments, and appear against us with a formid-
able array of friends whom they have summoned and advocates
whom they have retained, leaving behind them no part of their
forces, as if they were going to inflict vengeance on open
enemies, and not to wrong those whom they were bound by
every natural and social tie to assist. Their shameless audacity
and sordid avarice will be more clearly perceived by you when
you have heard the whole case, which I shall begin to relate
from that part whence you will soonest and most easily learn
the state of our controversy.
Dinias, our father's brother, was our guardian, he being
our elder uncle, and we orphans ; at which time, judges, a vio-
lent enmity subsisted between him and Cleonymus. Whether
of the two had been the cause of the dissension, it is not, per-
haps, my business to determine; but so far, at least, I may
pronounce them both deservedly culpable, that having till then
been friends, and no just pretext arising for a breach of their
friendship, they so hastily became enemies on account of some
idle words. Now, Cleonymus himself when he recovered from
that illness, in which he made his will, declared that he wrote
it in anger: not blaming us, but fearing lest at his death he
should leave us under age, and lest Dinias our guardian should
have the management of our estate ; for he could not support
the pain of thinking that his property would be possessed dur-
ing our infancy, and that sacred rites would be performed at
his sepulchre by one whom of all his relations he most hated
while he lived. With these sentiments (whether laudable or
not, I leave undecided) he made a disposition of his fortune;
and when Dinias, immediately after, asked him publicly
whether we or our father had incurred his displeasure, he an-
swered in the presence of many citizens that he charged us
with no fault whatever, but made the will in resentment against
him, and not from any other motive. How indeed, judges,
could he have determined, if he preserved his senses, to injure
us who had given him no cause of complaint ?
But his subsequent conduct will afford the strongest proof
that by this he had no intention of wronging us; for when
Dinias was dead, and our affairs were in a distressed condition,
he was so far from neglecting us, or suffering us to want neces-
saries, that he bred us in his own house, whither he himself had
conducted us, and saved our patrimony from unjust creditors
TOI*. IV. 11
162 IS^US.
who sought insidiously to deprive us of it ; nor were our con.
cerns less attentively managed by him than his own. From
these acts, therefore, rather than from his written testament,
it is proper to collect his intention toward us ; and not to be
biased by what he did through anger, by which all of us are
liable to be hurried into faults, but to admit the clear evidence
of those facts which afterward explained his design. Still
farther : in his last hours he manifested the affection which he
bore us ; for, being confined by the disorder of which he died,
he was desirous of revoking his will, and with that intent
ordered Posidippus to bring the officer who had the care of
it, which order he not only disobeyed, but even refused admit-
tance to one of the magistrates who came by chance to the
door. Cleonymus, enraged at this, gave the same command on
the next day to Diocles ; but, though he seemed not dangerously
ill, and we had great hopes of his recovery, he suddenly expired
that very night.
First, then, I will prove by witnesses that he made this will,
not from any dislike to us, but from a settled aversion to Di-
nias ; next, that when Dinias was no more, he superintended
all our affairs, and gave us an education in his house, to which
he had removed us ; and thirdly, that he sent Posidippus for
the magistrate, but Posidippus was so far from obeying the
order that when one of the proper officers came to the door, he
refused to introduce him. Call those who will prove the truth
of my assertion. (It is done.) Call likewise those who will
swear that Cephisander and the other friends of our adversaries
were of opinion that the whole estate should be divided, and
that we should have a third part of all which Cleonymus pos-
sessed. (It is done.) Now, it seems to me, judges, that all
those who contend for the right of succession to estates, when
like us they have shown themselves to be both nearest in blood
to the person deceased and most connected with him in friend-
ship, may be excused from adding a superfluity of other argu-
ments ; but since men who have neither of those claims have
the boldness to dispute with us for that which is legally ours,
and to set up a fictitious title, I am willing in a few words to
give them an answer. They ground their pretensions on this
will, and admit that Cleonymus sent for the magistrate ; not,
say they, with an intent to cancel it, but with a resolution to
correct it, and to secure the legacy more strongly in their
favor.
I&EUS. 168
Now consider, whether it be more probable that our uncle,
at a time when he was most intimate with us, should wish
to recall a will made in anger or should meditate by what
means he might be surest to deprive us of his inheritance.
Other men, indeed, usually repent at length of the wrongs
which they have done their friends in their passion ; but our
opponents would convince you that when he showed the
warmest regard for us, he was most desirous of establishing
the will which, through resentment against our guardian, he
had made to our disadvantage. So that even should we confess
this idle fiction, and should you persuade yourselves to believe
it, you must suppose him to have been mad in the highest
degree ; for what madness could be greater than to injure us
because he had quarreled with Dinias, and to make a disposi-
tion of his property by which he took no revenge on his enemy,
but ruined his dearest friends, and afterward, when we lived
with him on terms of the strictest friendship, and he valued us
above all men, to intend that his nephews alone (for such is
their assertion) should have no share in his fortune? Could
any man, judges, in his senses entertain such a thought concern-
ing the distribution of his estate ?
Thus from their own arguments they have made it easy to
decide the cause against themselves : since if he sent for the
officer, as we contend, in order to cancel the will, they have
not a shadow of right ; and if he was so void of reason as to
regard us least who were most nearly connected with him, both
by nature and friendship, you would justly decree that his will
was not valid.
Consider farther, that the very men who now pretend
that Cleonymus designed to establish their legacy durst not
obey his order, but dismissed the magistrate who came to
the house ; and thus one of two most opposite things being
likely to happen, — either a stronger confirmation of the in-
terest bequeathed to them, or a total loss of all interest in the
fortune of the testator, — they gave a plain indication of what
they expected, by refusing to admit the person who kept the
will.
To conclude : since this cause has been brought before you,
and since you have power to determine the contest, give your
aid both to us and to him who lies in the grave; and suffer
him not, I adjure you by all the gods, to be thus despised and
insulted by these men ; but remembering the law by which you
164 LYCURGUS.
are to judge, the oath which you have solemnly taken, and the
arguments which have been used in the dispute, give a just and
pious judgment, conformably to the laws.
LYCTJBGUS.
Against Leocrates.
(Translated for this work.)
[Leocrates, who had fled the country after the battle of Chafironea, had been
condemned and disfranchised in his absence. Eight years afterward he
returned and tried to have the sentence rescinded, which Lycurgus
opposed. The decree mentioned in the first line was issued just after
the battle. The Piraeus is the seaport of Athens, five miles off.]
GENTLEMEN, you have heard the decree : that the senate of
five hundred should go down to the Piraeus under arms, acting
as a garrison to the Pirseus, and carry out such instructions as
seemed in the public judgment most helpful. And now, gen-
tlemen, if those exempt from military service on the ground of
governmental duties for the city passed their time in battle
array, would it seem to you that a few cowards could still
occupy the city ? Among them Leocrates here, slinking out of
the city, not only fled himself but carried off all his goods and
his household sanctities; and consummated such treason that,
following his example, the priests deserted the temples, the
guards deserted the walls — but the city and the country were
left.
At those times, gentlemen, who did not feel for the city —
not merely the citizen, but even the immigrant who had come
in the past to settle among us? Who was there with such
hatred of democracy or of Athens that he could bear to see
himself taking no hand in the struggle, when defeat and
befallen calamity were announced to the people, and the city
was on tiptoe as to what might yet befall, and the hope of
safety for the people lay in those born more than fifty years
before ; when noble ladies were seen at the gates terrified and
cowering, each asking if some one were still alive — a husband,
a father, or brothers — a sight unworthy of themselves and of
the city ; and men with decrepit bodies, venerable in age and
exempt by law from military service, all through the city could
LYCURGUS. 165
be seen on the street, utterly ruined in their old age and equipped
for the field ? But of the many sad things that befell the city,
and of all the misfortunes the citizens had to endure, the one
they deplored and wept over most was to see the people decree-
ing the slaves freemen, the immigrants Athenians, the disfran-
chised for crime reenfranchised ; — they who of old had prided
themselves on being natives and freemen.
To such altered fortunes was the city brought which had
formerly striven for the liberties of the other Greeks, but in
these times was content could it fight for the safety of its own ;
and she who had once lorded it over the vast territory of the
barbarians had now to fight against the Macedonians on her
own ; and the people whom formerly the Lacedaemonians and
Peloponnesians and the Greek inhabitants of Asia had besought
for aid, itself had now to ask aid from Andros, Ceos, Trcezene,
and Epidaurus. Now, gentlemen, as to him who in such terrors
and such dangers and such humiliation abandoned his city, and
would not put on armor for his country nor offer his person for
use by the generals, but turned runaway and betrayer of the
people's safety — what judge who loves his city and wishes to
do his duty will remit this sentence, what pleader summoned
here will defend this traitor to the city, who had not spirit to
lament his country's misfortunes, and would contribute nothing
to the safety of the city and the people?
"Why, at those times there was no age whatever that did not
offer itself for the safety of the city ; the land itself contributed
its trees, the very dead their graves, even the temples weapons
of war. Some gave their labor toward building the walls, some
to the trenches, some to the palisades ; none of those in the city
were idle. But for none of these purposes did Leocrates offer
the use of his person. Probably when you recall that he neither
saw fit to help in or even come to the funeral services of those
who laid down their lives at Chseronea for freedom and the
safety of the people, you will think death his proper punish-
ment ; since, for all him, those men would have had the fate of
lying unburied. And yet, passing by their graves eight years
after, he is not ashamed to call their country his own.
On this topic, gentlemen, I wish to speak a little more in
detail, and I beg you to listen without regarding such discourse
on the public wars irrelevant; for eulogies of patriots are
clearly a touchstone of the opposite. Moreover, the praise is
just which forms the one reward of patriots for peril ; in this
166 LYCURGUS.
case because they poured out their lives for the common safety
of the city, and were unremitting in the city's public and com-
mon wars. For they encountered the enemy at the confines of
Boeotia to fight for the freedom of the Greeks ; not trusting to
walls for safety, nor betraying the country to be pillaged by
the foe, but holding their own courage a surer safeguard than
catapults loaded with stones, and ashamed of seeing the land
that reared them ravaged. And rightly; for just as not all
have the same regard for parents by blood and those by adop-
tion, so men are less zealous for countries not theirs by birth
but of later acquirement.
But those with such resolves, and sharing dangers equally
with the bravest, are not equal participants in fortune ; for the
living do not profit by patriotism, but the dead leave glory
behind — not the vanquished, but those who die where they
stand arrayed in combat for freedom. And the great paradox
must be added, that they die victorious ; for the prizes of war-
fare to the patriot are freedom and his patriotism, and both
these belong to the dead. Nor can those be said to have been
vanquished who did not tremble in spirit for fear of what was
to come. Those then who die nobly in battle — no one rightly
calls them conquered ; since fleeing from slavery, they choose
a glorious death. The patriotism of these men has been con-
spicuous afar ; alone of all in Greece, they comprised freedom
in their own persons. For they alone surrendered life, and
Grecian existence sank into slavery; with their bodies was
buried the liberty of all remaining Greeks. Thus also they
made it clear to the world that they were not warring for
private ends, but bearing the foremost brunt of the contest for
the common freedom. Therefore, gentlemen, I am not ashamed
to say that their spirits are the crown of our fatherland.
And so it was anything but absurd that our fathers — as
you know, fellow-citizens — alone of the Greeks made a prac-
tice of honoring patriots ; for among others you will find the
statues of athletes placed in the forum, but among you those
of able generals and the slayers of a tyrant. True, it is not
easy to find many such in all Greece together ; while the win-
ners in the laureled games of athletics can easily be dis-
tinguished in place after place. Since, therefore, you assign
the greater honors to your benefactors, it is but just that those
who bring their fatherland to scorn and betray it should be
punished with the utmost severity.
JESCHINES. 167
And take notice, gentlemen, that it does not lie with you
to acquit this man Leocrates and do justice. For this crime
has been passed upon and sentenced ; the senate in the Areop-
agus (let no one howl at me : I reply that it was then the
chief salvation of the city) put to death, when it caught them,
those who fled their country and left it to the enemy. And
further, gentlemen, do not think that those who passed sen-
tence on the sacrilegious blood -guiltiness of others acted un-
justly toward any of the citizens. But you condemned a
certain Autolycus, though he had stood fast through peril,
because he was charged with having secretly conveyed away
his wife and children ; and you punished him. Now, if you
punished the man accused of having secretly conveyed away
those useless in the war, what ought this man to suffer, who
would not repay his country for having reared him ? The
people, moreover, holding the act most base, have rendered
liable to the pains of treason those who fly from danger to
their country, judging it worthy the severest punishment.
Then the things decided in the fairest of councils, decreed by
you who are allotted to give judgment, and finally agreed by
the people, to be worthy the heaviest punishment, ought you
yourselves now to pronounce the contrary ? You will be
thought by all the world to have lost your wits, and will find
very few to endanger themselves for you again.
JESCHINES.
Against Ctesiphon ("On the Crown").
(Translated for this work.)
[Ctesiphon, an adherent of Demosthenes, had proposed the conferring of
a golden crown upon him for useful service to the state. JEschines
indicted Ctesiphon under the Tra/oavo/xwv ypa<f>r), a law making the pro-
posal of an illegal measure a penal offense. The illegality of the
measure was not successfully contested ; but the real question at issue
being Demosthenes' public career, decision was given in Ctesiphon's
favor notwithstanding.]
I WISH now to speak briefly of the calumnies against myself.
I learn that Demosthenes will say the city has been much bene-
fited by him, but deeply injured by me ; and that he will load
Philip and Alexander and their delinquencies on me. For it
168 JESCHINES.
seems lie is so cunning an artist in words, that not satisfied
with defaming all my administrative acts for you, and all the
public speaking I have done, he traduces my retired life and
criminates my silence, that no item may be left undenounced
as treasonable ; even my sport with the youths in the gymnasia
he reviles. At the very outset of his speech he makes this
indictment itself a crime, alleging that I have brought the suit
not from public spirit, but to exhibit my hatred of him to
Alexander by means of it. And forsooth he is going to ask
why I condemn his administration as a whole, when I did not
oppose or impeach the acts of it singly ; but after a long inter-
val in which I have not attended closely to public business,
have now come forward with this prosecution.
I have not emulated the pursuits of Demosthenes, however,
am not ashamed of my own, and do not wish any of the words
I have addressed to you unsaid ; and if I had harangued you
like him, life would be unwelcome to me. My silence, Demos-
thenes, has become my wont from moderation of life ; for a
little suffices me, and I do not covet more through dishonor —
so that I both keep silence and speak when I choose, not when
I am forced by extravagant tastes. But you, I judge, keep
still on clutching a bribe and bellow when it is spent. And
you speak not when you think fit, nor what you wish, but as
the bribe-givers order you ; and you are not ashamed at setting
up a mare's-nest which is straightway proved false and you a
liar. For the suit on this decree, which you say was instituted
not for the the city's sake, but that I might make a show to
please Alexander, was in fact instituted in Philip's lifetime,
before Alexander's accession ; when you had not yet seen the
vision about Pausanias, nor held your many nocturnal collo-
quies with Athene and Hera. How then could I have been
showing off before Alexander, unless I and Demosthenes had
both seen the vision ?
You reproach me with not coming before the people contin-
uously, but at intervals ; and you think it a secret that this
rule of conduct is borrowed not from a democracy but from
another form of government. For in oligarchies, not the
desirous but the powerful man prosecutes ; in democracies, the
desirous and whenever he sees fit. And occasional speaking
is a mark of the man who serves the public opportunely and to
be useful ; but skipping no day, of the professional who works
for wages. As to your having never been prosecuted by
JESCHINES. 169
nor brought to justice for your misdeeds, — when you take
refuge in such talk, either you must suppose the audience have
no memory, or else you deceive your very self with words. For
your impious conduct toward the Amphissseans, your bribe-
taking in the matter of Eubcea — as the time is long past since
you were publicly convicted by me, you probably think the
people have forgotten. But the plundering job of the tri-
remes and trierarchs, what lapse of time can bury? When
you had carried a bill for three hundred of them, and induced
the Athenians to appoint you superintendent of marine, you
were convicted by me of having robbed the trierarchs of sixty-
five fast-sailing vessels — a greater naval armament than when
the Athenians won at Naxos the naval battle with the Lacedae-
monians and Pollis. Yet by your countercharges you so
diverted punishment from yourself that the risk of it fell not
on you, the culprit, but on the prosecutors ; while you heaped
libels on Alexander and Philip and denounced certain persons
who obstructed the interests of the city — you having on every
occasion damaged the present and held out promises for the
future. Did you not at last, when about to be indicted by me,
effect the arrest of Anaxinus the Oreitan, who was market-
ing goods for Olyinpias, and having racked him twice, with
your own hand write the decree consigning him to death ? And
it was by him you were given lodging at Oreion, and at his
table you ate and drank and poured libations, and clasped his
right hand and constituted that man your host. And you put
him to death ; and on being convicted of these things by me
before all Athens, and styled the murderer of your host, you
never denied the sacrilege, but made a reply which got you
hooted by the people and the foreign bystanders in the assem-
bly — you said you valued the city's salt more highly than the
foreigner's table.
I say nothing of the forged letters, the arrest of spies, the
tortures for uncommitted crimes, to make me out as wishing
with certain other citizens to innovate. He means to ask me
next, so I learn, what kind of a physician he would be who
should give no advice to a patient while sick, but after his
death should attend the obsequies, and detail to the household
the regimen which if practiced would have kept him in health.
But you do not ask yourself in turn what kind of a public
leader he would be who was able to flatter the people, but sold
every chance when the city might be saved, and while barring
170 -ESCHINES.
out those of honest purpose from counsel by his slanders, run-
ning away from perils, and entangling the city in desperate
evils, claimed the honor of a crown for civic virtue, though
having done naught of good but occasioned all our misfortunes ;
and then demanded of those driven from the government by
false accusations, at junctures when the state might have been
preserved, why they did not prevent his going wrong? and
lastly, concealed the fact that when the battle took place we
had no leisure for punishing him, but were negotiating for the
safety of the city. But since you are not content that justice
was not meted out to you, and claim honors too, rendering the
city ridiculous to all the Greeks, I have resisted you and
brought in this indictment.
But I solemnly swear that of all which I learn Demosthenes
intends to allege, I am most indignant at what I am going to
mention. It seems he compares my nature to the Sirens' ; for
their listeners are never called to them, it is said, except to be
destroyed, — wherefore the Sirens' music is not in good repute,
— and forsooth my practice in speaking and my native talent
exist for the ruin of the hearers. Now for my part, I think
this charge is in every way one it becomes no man to bring
against me, for it is shameful in accusers to have no proofs to
exhibit ; but if indispensable to be plead, it lies not in Demos-
thenes' mouth, but in that of some capable general who has
done good service to the city, unskilled in speaking and there-
fore envying his opponents' ability, and who recognizes that he
cannot explain what he has done, but sees the accuser able to
present to the judges acts he never committed, as things he
ordered. But when a man composed of words, and those at
once acrimonious and elaborated, takes refuge in artlessness
and bald fact, who can put up with it ? — a man from whom if
you take the tongue, as with a flute, nothing is left.
I wonder, fellow-citizens, and I ask you, on what ground
you could vote against this indictment. That the decree is not
illegal? no motion was ever more unlawful. Or that the
author of the decree does not deserve to be brought to justice ?
none can fairly be called to account by you for their conduct,
if you discharge him. Is it not deplorable, when formerly the
stage was filled with golden crowns with which our people were
crowned by the Greeks, — this season being assigned for for-
eigners' crowns, — that now through Demosthenes' administra-
tion you are all discrowned and disheralded, while he is to
171
be heralded? Why, if any of the tragic poets coming on
this stage after these proceedings should represent Thersites
crowned by the Greeks, none of you would endure it, because
Homer says he was a coward and false informer ; but when-
ever you shall have crowned this man, do you not think you
will be hissed by the judgment of all the Greeks ? . . .
I would gladly discuss this decree with the author before you,
fellow-citizens, as to what great service Demosthenes is worthy
to be crowned for.
If you say, as embodied in the opening of the decree, that
he has dug ditches around the walls well, I wonder at you, for
having been their cause is a heavier count than having executed
them well ; and it is not for palisading the wall circuit or oblit-
erating the public graves that an administrator should rightly
merit honors, but for generating some new good to the city.
If you take up the second item of the decree, in which you
have ventured to write him down a good citizen who has stead-
ily spoken and acted for the highest good of the people of
Athens, then strip the decree of humbug and boastfulness so
that it may stick to facts, and prove what you allege. I will
leave out the bribe-taking in the Amphisssean and Euboean
cases : but when you impute the merit of the Theban alliance
to Demosthenes, you impose on the ignorant and insult those
who know and understand ; for by suppressing the nature of
the crisis, and the reputation of those by whom the alliance
was effected, you think to conceal from us the credit due the
city and transfer it to Demosthenes. How great a fraud this
is, I will try to make plain by a notable instance. The king of
the Persians once, not long before the descent of Alexander
upon Asia, sent to this people a letter both arrogant and bar-
barian ; in which, after handling many other topics very boor-
ishly, he had written thus at the close : " I will give you no
gold," he said ; " do not ask me, for you will not get it." Yet
this same man, hemmed in by imminent dangers himself,
sent voluntarily three hundred talents to the people — which
they wisely declined to accept. What brought the gold was
the juncture and fear and the needs of allies ; and the very
same things brought about the alliance of the Thebans.
But while you bore us by harping on the name of the The-
bans and their luckless alliance, you are silent on your grab-
bing the seventy talents you stole of the royal gold. Was it
not for lack of money, for the sake of five talents, that the
172 ^SCHINES.
enemy would not restore the Thebans their citadel ? for lack
of nine talents of silver, that when all the Arcadians were
drawn out and the leaders ready to come to our aid, the ex-
pedition did not take place ? And you roll in wealth and
celebrate games for your own pleasures! And to crown all,
gentlemen, the royal gold is with him, the perils with you.
The ill-breeding of these men is also worth observing. If
Ctesiphon should dare call on Demosthenes to address you, and
he should rise and laud himself, listening to him would be a
heavier burden than his acts. For even when really superior
men, of whom many noble actions are known to us, recite their
own praises, we are impatient; but if one who is the disgrace
of the city were to eulogize himself, who that heard him could
endure it ?
But if you are wise now, Ctesiphon, you will abstain from
this impudent procedure, and make your defense in person ;
for you cannot set up the slightest pretense of being unequal
to public speaking. It would become you oddly enough, when
you have recently borne up under being appointed ambassador
to Cleopatra the daughter of Philip, for condolence with her
on the death of Alexander king of the Molossians, to pretend
now that you cannot make a speech. When you are able to con-
sole a mourning woman, a foreigner at that, can you not defend
a decree you have drawn up for pay ? or is this man you have
ordered crowned, one who would be unknown to those he has
benefited unless some one added his voice to yours ? Ask the
judges if they know Chabrias and Iphicrates and Timotheus,
and question them why they gave those men public honors and
erected their statues. All will reply to you with one voice —
to Chabrias for the naval battle at Naxos, to Iphicrates be-
cause he annihilated the Lacedaemonian battalion, to Timotheus
for circumnavigating Corcyra ; and to others because one by
one they have performed many brilliant feats in war. But
should any one ask, Why to Demosthenes ? — As bribe-taker,
as coward, as deserter from the ranks. And which will you be
doing — honoring him, or dishonoring yourselves and those
who fell for you in battle ? Imagine you see them protesting
fiercely if he shall be crowned. For it would be marvelous
indeed, fellow-citizens, if wood and stone and iron, things mute
and senseless, we banish when they fall on any one and kill
him ; and if whoever slays himself, the hand that did the
deed we bury apart from the body : yet Demosthenes, fellow-
DEMOSTHENES. 173
citizens, who indeed ordered this expedition, but betrayed the
soldiers — this man you should honor. By this not only the
dead are insulted, but the living disheartened, on seeing that
death is constituted the reward of patriotism, and their mem-
ory is to perish.
DEMOSTHENES.
On the Crown.
I HOLD the fortune of our commonwealth to be good, and
so I find the oracles of Dodonsean Jupiter and Pythian Apollo
declaring to us. The fortune of all mankind, which now pre-
vails, I consider cruel and dreadful: for what Greek, what
barbarian, has not in these times experienced a multitude of
evils ? That Athens chose the noblest policy, that she fares
better than those very Greeks who thought, if they abandoned
us, they should abide in prosperity, I reckon as part of her
good fortune : if she suffered reverses, if all happened not to
us as we desired, I conceive she has had that share of the
general fortune which fell to our lot. As to my fortune (per-
sonally speaking) or that of any individual among us, it should,
as I conceive, be judged of in connection with personal matters.
Such is my opinion upon the subject of fortune, a right and
just one, as it appears to me, and I think you will agree with
it. jEschines says that my individual fortune is paramount to
that of the commonwealth, the small and mean to the good and
great. How can this possibly be ?
However, if you are determined, ^Eschines, to scrutinize my
fortune, compare it with your own, and, if you find my fortune
better than yours, cease to revile it. Look then from the very
beginning. And I pray and entreat that I may not be con-
demned for bad taste. I don't think any person wise who
insults poverty, or who prides himself on having been bred
in affluence : but by the slander and malice of this cruel man
I am forced into such a discussion ; which I will conduct with
all the moderation which circumstances allow.
I had the advantage, JEschines, in my boyhood of going to
proper schools, and having such allowance as a boy should have
who is to do nothing mean from indigence. Arrived at man's
estate, I lived suitably to my breeding ; was choir master, ship
commander, ratepayer ; backward in no acts of liberality pub-
lic or private, but making myself useful to the commonwealth
174 DEMOSTHENES.
and to my friends. When I entered upon state affairs, I chose
such a line of politics, that both by my country and many
people of Greece I have been crowned many times, and not
even you my enemies venture to say that the line I chose was
not honorable. Such then has been the fortune of my life :
I could enlarge upon it, but I forbear, lest what I pride myself
in should give offense.
But you, the man of dignity, who spit upon others, look
what sort of fortune is yours compared with mine. As a boy
you were reared in abject poverty, waiting with your father
on the school, grinding the ink, sponging the benches, sweep-
ing the room, doing the duty of a menial rather than a free-
man's son. After you were grown up, you attended your
mother's initiations, reading her books and helping in all the
ceremonies : at night wrapping the novitiates in fawn skin,
swilling, purifying, and scouring them with clay and bran,
raising them after the lustration, and bidding them say, " Bad
I have scaped, and better I have found ; " priding yourself that
no one ever howled so lustily — and I believe him ! for don't
suppose that he who speaks so loud is not a splendid howler !
In the daytime you led your noble orgiasts, crowned with
fennel and poplar, through the highways, squeezing the big-
cheeked serpents, and lifting them over your head, and shout-
ing Evoa Saboe, and capering to the words Hyes Attes, Attes
Hyes, saluted by the beldames as Leader, Conductor, Chest
Bearer, Fan Bearer, and the like, getting as your reward tarts
and biscuits and rolls ; for which any man might well bless
himself and his fortune !
When you were enrolled among your fellow-townsmen — by
what means I stop not to inquire — when you were enrolled
however, you immediately selected the most honorable of em-
ployments, that of clerk and assistant to our petty magistrates.
From this you were removed after a while, having done your-
self all that you charge others with ; and then, sure enough,
you disgraced not your antecedents by your subsequent life,
but hiring yourself to those ranting players, as they were
called, Simylus and Socrates, you acted third parts, collecting
tigs and grapes and olives like a fruiterer from other men's
farms, and getting more from them than from the playing,
in which the lives of your whole company were at stake ; for
there was an implacable and incessant war between them and
the audience, from whom you received so many wounds, that
Demosthenes
From the statue in the Louvre
DEMOSTHENES. 175
no wonder you taunt as cowards, people inexperienced in such
encounters.
But passing over what may be imputed to poverty, I will
come to the direct charges against your character. You es-
poused such a line of politics (when at last you thought of
taking to them), that, if your country prospered, you lived the
life of a hare, fearing and trembling and ever expecting to be
scourged for the crimes of which your conscience accused you,
though all have seen how bold you were during the misfor-
tunes of the rest. A man who took courage at the death of a
thousand citizens — what does he deserve at the hands of the
living? A great deal more that I could say about him I shall
omit, for it is not all I can tell of his turpitude and infamy
which I ought to let slip from my tongue, but only what is not
disgraceful to myself to mention.
Contrast now the circumstances of your life and mine, gently
and with temper, ^Eschines ; and then ask these people whose
fortune they would each of them prefer. You taught read-
ing, I went to school : you performed initiations, I received
them : you danced in the chorus, I furnished it : you were
assembly clerk, I was a speaker : you acted third parts, I heard
you : you broke down, and I hissed : you have worked as a
statesman for the enemy, I for my country. I pass by the rest ;
but this very day I am on my probation for a crown, and am
acknowledged to be innocent of all offense ; while you are
already judged to be a pettifogger, and the question is, whether
you shall continue that trade, or at once be silenced by not
getting a fifth part of the votes. A happy fortune, do you see,
you have enjoyed, that you should denounce mine as miser-
able !
Come now, let me read the evidence to the jury of public
services which I have performed. And by way of comparison
do you recite me the verses which you murdered : —
From Hades and the dusky realms I come.
And
111 news, believe me, I am loath to bear.
Ill betide thee, say I, and may the Gods, or at least the Athe-
nians, confound thee for a vile citizen and a vile third-rate
actor !
Read the evidence.
[Evidence.]
176 DEMOSTHENES.
Such has been my character in political matters. In private,
if you do not all know that I have been liberal and humane
and charitable to the distressed, I am silent, I will say not a
word, I will offer no evidence on the subject, either of persons
whom I ransomed from the enemy, or of persons whose daugh-
ters I helped to portion, or anything of the kind. For this
is my maxim. I hold that the party receiving an obligation
should ever remember it, the party conferring should forget it
immediately, if the one is to act with honesty, the other with-
out meanness. To remind and speak of your own bounties is
next door to reproaching. I will not act so; nothing shall
induce me. Whatever my reputation is in these respects, I am
content with it.
I will have done then with private topics, but say another
word or two upon public. If you can mention, jJEs chines, a
single man under the sun, whether Greek or barbarian, who
has not suffered by Philip's power formerly and Alexander's
now, well and good; I concede to you that my fortune, or
misfortune (if you please), has been the cause of everything.
But if many that never saw me or heard my voice have been
grievously afflicted, not individuals only, but whole cities and
nations, how much juster and fairer is it to consider that
to the common fortune apparently of all men, to a tide of
events overwhelming and lamentable, these disasters are to
be attributed. You, disregarding all this, accuse me whose
ministry has been among my countrymen, knowing all the
while that a part (if not the whole) of your calumny falls
upon the people, and yourself in particular. For if I assumed
the sole and absolute direction of our counsels, it was open to
you the other speakers to accuse me: but if you were con-
stantly present in all the assemblies, if the state invited public
discussion of what was expedient, and if these measures were
then believed by all to be the best, and especially by you (for
certainly from no good will did you leave me in possession of
hopes and admiration and honors, all of which attended on my
policy, but doubtless because you were compelled by the truth
and had nothing better to advise), is it not iniquitous and
monstrous to complain now of measures, than which you could
suggest none better at the time ?
Among all other people I find these principles in a manner
defined and settled — Does a man willfully offend ? He is the
object of wrath and punishment. Has a man erred uninten-
DEMOSTHENES. 177
tionally? There is pardon instead of punishment for him.
Has a man devoted himself to what seemed for the general
good, and without any fault or misconduct been in common
with all disappointed of success? Such a one deserves not
obloquy or reproach, but sympathy. These principles will
not be found in our statutes only : Nature herself has defined
them by her unwritten laws and the feelings of humanity.
JEschines however has so far surpassed all men in brutality
and malignity; that even things which he cited himself as mis-
fortunes he imputes to me as crimes.
And besides — as if he himself had spoken everything with
candor and good will — he told you to watch me, and mind
that I did not cajole and deceive you, calling me a great orator,
a juggler, a sophist, and the like : as though, if a man says of
another what applies to himself, it must be true, and the hearers
are not to inquire who the person is that makes the charge.
Certain am I, that you are all acquainted with my opponent's
character, and believe these charges to be more applicable to
him than to me. And of this I am sure, that my oratory — let
it be so : though indeed I find that the speaker's power depends
for the most part on the hearers ; for according to your recep-
tion and favor it is, that the wisdom of a speaker is esteemed —
if I however possess any ability of this sort, you will find it
has been exhibited always in public business on your behalf,
never against you or on personal matters ; whereas that of
JEschines has been displayed not only in speaking for the enemy,
but against all persons who ever offended or quarreled with
him. It is not for justice or the good of the commonwealth
that he employs it. A citizen of worth and honor should not
call upon judges impaneled in the public service to gratify his
anger or hatred or anything of that kind ; nor should he come
before you upon such grounds. The best thing is not to have
these feelings ; but, if it cannot be helped, they should be
mitigated and restrained.
On what occasions ought an orator and statesman to be
vehement ? Where any of the commonwealth's main interests
are in jeopardy, and he is opposed to the adversaries of the
people. Those are the occasions for a generous and brave
citizen. But for a person who never sought to punish me for
any offense either public or private, on the state's behalf or
on his own, to have got up an accusation because I am crowned
and honored, and to have expended such a multitude of words
VOL. IV. — 12
178 DEMOSTHENES.
— this is a proof of personal enmity and spite and meanness,
not of anything good. And then his leaving the controversy
with me, and attacking the defendant, comprises everything
that is base.
I should conclude, jEschines, that you undertook this cause
to exhibit your eloquence and strength of lungs, not to obtain
satisfaction for any wrong. But it is not the language of an
orator, JEschines, that has any value, nor yet the tone of his
voice, but his adopting the same views with the people, and
his hating and loving the same persons that his country does.
He that is thus minded will say everything with loyal inten-
tion : he that courts persons from whom the commonwealth
apprehends danger to herself rides not on the same anchorage
with the people, and therefore has not the same expectation
of safety. But — do you see ? — I have : for my objects are
the same with those of my countrymen; I have no interest
separate or distinct. Is that so with you ? How can it be —
when immediately after the battle you went as ambassador to
Philip, who was at that period the author of your country's
calamities, notwithstanding that you had before persisted in
refusing that office, as all men know ?
And who is it that deceives the state ? Surely the man
who speaks not what he thinks. On whom does the crier pro-
nounce a curse ? Surely on such a man. What greater crime
can an orator be charged with, than that his opinions and his
language are not the same ? Such is found to be your char-
acter. And yet you open your mouth, and dare to look these
men in the face ! Do you think they don't know you ?
or are sunk all in such slumber and oblivion, as not to remem-
ber the speeches which you delivered in the assembly, cursing
and swearing that you had nothing to do with Philip, and that
I brought that charge against you out of personal enmity
without foundation ? No sooner came the news of the battle,
than you forgot all that ; you acknowledged and avowed that
between Philip and yourself there subsisted a relation of hos-
pitality and friendship — new names these for your contract
of hire. For upon what plea of equality or justice could
./Eschmes, son of Glaucothea the timbrel player, be the friend
or acquaintance of Philip ? I cannot see. No ! You were
hired to ruin the interests of your countrymen : and yet,
though you have been caught yourself in open treason, and
informed against yourself after the fact, you revile and re-
DEMOSTHENES. 179
proach me for things which you will find any man is charge*
able with sooner than I.
Many great and glorious enterprises has the commonwealth,
^Eschines, undertaken and succeeded in through me ; and she
did not forget them. Here is the proof : On the election of
a person to speak the funeral oration immediately after the
event, you were proposed, but the people would not have you,
notwithstanding your fine voice, nor Demades, though he had
just made the peace, nor Hegemon, nor any other of your
party — but me. And when you and Pythocles came forward
in a brutal and shameful manner (O merciful heaven !), and
urged the same accusations against me which you now do,
and abused me, they elected me all the more. The reason —
you are not ignorant of it — yet I will tell you. The Athe-
nians knew as well the loyalty and zeal with which I conducted
their affairs, as the dishonesty of you and your party ; for
what you denied upon oath in our prosperity, you confessed
in the misfortunes of the republic. They considered, there-
fore, that men who got security for their politics by the public
disasters had been their enemies long before, and were then
avowedly such. They thought it right also, that the person
who was to speak in honor of the fallen and celebrate their
valor should not have sat under the same roof or at the same
table with their antagonists ; that he should not revel there
and sing a paean over the calamities of Greece in company
with their murderers, and then come here and receive dis-
tinction ; that he should not with his voice act the mourner
of their fate, but that he should lament over them with his
heart. This they perceived in themselves and in me, but not
in any of you : therefore they elected me, and not you. Nor,
while the people felt thus, did the fathers and brothers of the
deceased, who were chosen by the people to perform their
obsequies, feel differently. For having to order the funeral
banquet (according to custom) at the house of the nearest
relative to the deceased, they ordered it at mine. And with
reason : because, though each to his own was nearer of kin than
I was, none was so near to them all collectively. He that had
the deepest interest in their safety and success had upon their
mournful disaster the largest share of sorrow for them all.
Read him this epitaph, which the state chose to inscribe on
their monument, that you may see even by this, ^Eschines,
what a heartless and malignant wretch you are. Read.
180 DEMOSTHENES.
THE EPITAPH.
These are the patriot brave, who side by side
Stood to their arms, and dashed the f oeman's pride :
Firm in their valor, prodigal of life,
Hades they chose the arbiter of strife ;
That Greeks might ne'er to haughty victors bow,
Nor thraldom's yoke, nor dire oppression know ;
They fought, they bled, and on their country's breast
(Such was the doom of heaven) these warriors rest.
Gods never lack success, nor strive in vain,
But man must suffer what the fates ordain.
Do you hear, JEschines, in this very inscription, that " Gods
never lack success, nor strive in vain ? " Not to the states-
man does it ascribe the power of giving victory in battle, but
to the Gods. Wherefore then, execrable man, do you reproach
me with these things? Wherefore utter such language? I
pray that it may fall upon the heads of you and yours.
Many other accusations and falsehoods he urged against
me, O Athenians, but one thing surprised me more than all,
that, when he mentioned the late misfortunes of the country,
he felt not as became a well-disposed and upright citizen, he
shed no tear, experienced no such emotion : with a loud voice
exulting, and straining his throat, he imagined apparently that
he was accusing me, while he was giving proof against himself,
that our distresses touched him not in the same manner as the
rest. A person who pretends, as he did, to care for the laws
and constitution, ought at least to have this about him, that he
grieves and rejoices for the same cause as the people, and not
by his politics to be enlisted in the ranks of the enemy, as
^Eschines has plainly done, saying that I am the cause of all,
and that the commonwealth has fallen into troubles through
me, when it was not owing to my views or principles that you
began to assist the Greeks ; for, if you conceded this to me,
that my influence caused you to resist the subjugation of
Greece, it would be a higher honor than any that you have
bestowed upon others. I myself would not make such an
assertion — it would be doing you injustice — nor would you
allow it, I am sure ; and JEschines, if he acted honestly, would
never, out of enmity to me, have disparaged and defamed the
greatest of your glories.
But why do I censure him for this, when with calumny far
DEMOSTHENES. 181
more shocking has he assailed me ? He that charges me with
Philippizing — O heaven and earth I — what would he not say ?
By Hercules and the Gods ! if one had honestly to inquire,
discarding all expression of spite and falsehood, who the per-
sons really are, on whom the blame of what has happened may
by common consent fairly and justly be thrown, it would be
found, they are persons in the various states like ^Eschines,
not like me — persons who, while Philip's power was feeble and
exceedingly small, and we were constantly warning and exhort-
ing and giving salutary counsel, sacrificed the general interests
for the sake of selfish lucre, deceiving and corrupting their
respective countrymen, until they made them slaves — Daochus,
Cineas, Thrasylaus, the Thessalians ; Cercidas, Hieronymus,
Eucampidas, the Arcadians ; Myrtis, Teledamus, Mnaseas, the
Argives; Euxitheus, Cleotimus, Aristsechmus, the Eleans;
Neon and Thrasylochus, sons of the accursed Philiades, the
Messenians ; Aristratus, Epichares, the Sicyonians ; Dinarchus,
Demaratus, the Corinthians ; Ptoeodorus, Helixus, Perilaus, the
Megarians ; Timolaus, Theogiton, Anemoetas, the Thebans ;
Hipparchus, Clitarchus, Sosistratus, the Euboeans. The day
will not last me to recount the names of the traitors. All
these, O Athenians, are men of the same politics in their own
countries as this party among you, — profligates, and parasites,
and miscreants, who have each of them crippled their father-
lands ; toasted away their liberty, first to Philip and last to
Alexander ; who measure happiness by their belly and all that
is base, while freedom and independence, which the Greeks of
olden time regarded as the test and standard of well-being,
they have annihilated.
Of this base and infamous conspiracy and profligacy — or
rather, O Athenians, if I am to speak in earnest, of this betrayal
of Grecian liberty — Athens is by all mankind acquitted, owing
to my counsels ; and I am acquitted by you. Then do you ask
me, JEschines, for what merit I claim to be honored ? I will
tell you. Because, while all the statesmen in Greece, begin-
ning with yourself, have been corrupted formerly by Philip and
now by Alexander, me neither opportunity, nor fair speeches,
nor large promises, nor hope, nor fear, nor anything else could
tempt or induce to betray aught that I considered just and
beneficial to my country. Whatever I have advised my fellow-
citizens, I have never advised like you men, leaning as in a
balance to the side of profit : all my proceedings have been
182 DEMOSTHENES.
those of a soul upright, honest, and incorrupt : intrusted with
affairs of greater magnitude than any of my contemporaries, I
have administered them all honestly and faithfully. Therefore
do I claim to be honored.
As to this fortification, for which you ridiculed me, of the
wall and fosse, I regard them as deserving of thanks and praise,
and so they are ; but I place them nowhere near my acts of
administration. Not with stones nor with bricks did I fortify
Athens : nor is this the ministry on which I most pride myself.
Would you view my fortifications aright, you will find arms,
and states, and posts, and harbors, and galleys, and horses, and
men for their defense. These are the bulwarks with which
I protected Attica, as far as was possible by human wisdom ;
with these I fortified our territory, not the circle of Piraeus or
the city. Nay, more : I was not beaten by Philip in estimates
or preparations ; far from it ; but the generals and forces of
the allies were overcome by his fortune. Where are the proofs
of this ? They are plain and evident. Consider.
What was the course becoming a loyal citizen — a states-
man serving his country with all possible forethought and zeal
and fidelity ? Should he not have covered Attica on the sea-
board with Euboea, on the midland frontier with Bceotia, on
the Peloponnesian with the people of that confine ? Should he
not have provided for the conveyance of corn along a friendly
coast all the way to Piraeus? preserved certain places that
belonged to us by sending off succors, and by advising and
moving accordingly, — Proconnesus, Chersonesus, Tenedos ?
brought others into alliance and confederacy with us, — By-
zantium, Abydus, Euboea? — cut off the principal resources of
the enemy, and supplied what the commonwealth was deficient
in ? All this has been accomplished by my decrees and meas-
ures ; and whoever will examine them without prejudice, men
of Athens, will find they were rightly planned and faithfully
executed ; that none of the proper seasons were lost or missed
or thrown away by me, nothing which depended on one man's
ability and prudence was neglected. But if the power of
some deity or of fortune, or the worthlessness of commanders,
or the wickedness of you that betrayed your countries, or all
these things together, injured and eventually ruined our cause,
of what is Demosthenes guilty? Had there in each of the
Greek cities been one such man as I was in my station among
you ; or rather, had Thessaly possessed one single man, and
DEMOSTHENES. 183
Arcadia one, of the same sentiments as myself, none of the
Greeks either beyond or within Thermopylae would have suf-
fered their present calamities ; all would have been free and
independent, living prosperously in their own countries with
perfect safety and security, thankful to you and the rest of the
Athenians for such manifold blessings through me.
To show you that I greatly understate my services for fear
of giving offense, here — read me this — the list of auxiliaries
procured by my decrees.
[The list of auxiliaries.']
These and the like measures, ^Eschines, are what become
an honorable citizen (by their success — O earth and heaven !
— we should have been the greatest of people incontestably,
and deserved to be so : even under their failure the result
is glory, and no one blames Athens or her policy : all condemn
fortune that so ordered things) : but never will he desert the
interests of the commonwealth, nor hire himself to her adver-
saries, and study the enemy's advantage instead of his coun-
try's; nor on a man who has courage to advise and propose
measures worthy of the state, and resolution to persevere in
them, will he cast an evil eye, and, if any one privately offends
him, remember and treasure it up; no, nor keep himself in
a criminal and treacherous retirement, as you so often do.
There is indeed a retirement just and beneficial to the state,
such as you, the bulk of my countrymen, innocently enjoy:
that however is not the retirement of JEschines ; far from it.
Withdrawing himself from public life when he pleases (and
that is often), he watches for the moment when you are tired
of a constant speaker, or when some reverse of fortune has
befallen you, or anything untoward has happened (and many
are the casualties of human life) : at such a crisis he springs
up an orator, rising from his retreat like a wind ; in full voice,
with words and, phrases collected, he rolls them out audibly
and breathlessly, to no advantage or good purpose whatsoever,
but to the detriment of some or other of his fellow-citizens and
to the general disgrace.
Yet from this labor and diligence, ^Eschines, if it proceeded
from an honest heart, solicitous for your country's welfare,
the fruits should have been rich and noble and profitable to all
— alliances of states, supplies of money, conveniences of com-
merce, enactment of useful laws, opposition to our declared
184 DEMOSTHENES.
enemies. All such things were looked for in former times j
and many opportunities did the past afford for a good man and
true to show himself ; during which time you are nowhere to
be found, neither first, second, third, fourth, fifth, nor sixth —
not in any rank at all — certainly on no service by which your
country was exalted. For what alliance has come to the state
by your procurement? What succors, what acquisition of
good will or credit? What embassy or agency is there of
yours, by which the reputation of the country has been in-
creased? What concern domestic, Hellenic, or foreign, of
which you have had the management, has improved under it ?
What galleys ? what ammunition ? what arsenals ? what repair
of walls? what cavalry? What in the world are you good
for? What assistance in money have you ever given, either
to the rich or the poor, out of public spirit or liberality?
None. But, good sir, if there is nothing of this, there is at all
events zeal and loyalty. Where? when? You infamous fel-
low ! Even at a time when all who ever spoke upon the plat-
form gave something for the public safety, and last Aristonicus
gave the sum which he had amassed to retrieve his franchise,
you neither came forward nor contributed a mite — not from
inability — no ! for you have inherited above five talents from
Philo, your wife's father, and you had a subscription of two
talents from the chairmen of the Boards for what you did to
cut up the navy law. But, that I may not go from one thing
to another and lose sight of the question, I pass this by. That
it was not poverty prevented your contributing, already appears :
it was, in fact, your anxiety to do nothing against those to
whom your political life is subservient. On what occasions
then do you show your spirit ? When do you shine out ? When
aught is to be spoken against your countrymen ! — then it is
you are splendid in voice, perfect in memory, an admirable actor,
a tragic Theocrines.
You mention the good men of olden times ; and you are
right so to do. Yet it is hardly fair, O Athenians, that he
should get the advantage of that respect which you have for
the dead, to compare and contrast me with them, — me who
am living among you ; for what mortal is ignorant that toward
the living there exists always more or less of ill will, whereas
the dead are no longer hated even by an enemy ? Such being
human nature, am I to be tried and judged by the standard of
my predecessors ? Heaven forbid ! It is not just or equitable,
DEMOSTHENES. 185
.^Eschines. Let me be compared with you, or any persons you
like of your party who are still alive. And consider this —
whether it is more honorable and better for the state, that
because of the services of a former age, prodigious though
they are beyond all power of expression, those of the present
generation should be unrequited and spurned, or that all who
give proof of their good intentions should have their share of
honor and regard from the people ? Yet indeed — if I must say
so much — my politics and principles, if considered fairly, will
be found to resemble those of the illustrious ancients, and to
have had the same objects in view, while yours resemble those
of their calumniators ; for it is certain there were persons in
those times, who ran down the living, and praised people dead
and gone, with a malignant purpose like yourself.
You say that I am nothing like the ancients. Are you like
them, ^schines ? Is your brother, or any of our speakers ? I
assert that none is. But pray, my good fellow (that I may give
you no other name), try the living with the living and with his
competitors, as you would in all cases — poets, dancers, athletes.
Philammon did not, because he was inferior to Glaucus of
Carystus and some other champions of a bygone age, depart
uncrowned from Olympia, but, because he beat all who entered
the ring against him, was crowned and proclaimed conqueror.
So I ask you to compare me with the orators of the day, with
yourself, with any one you like : I yield to none. When the
commonwealth was at liberty to choose for her advantage, and
patriotism was a matter of emulation, I showed myself a better
counselor than any, and every act of state was pursuant to my
decrees and laws and negotiations : none of your party was to
be seen, unless you had to do the Athenians a mischief. After
that lamentable occurrence, when there was a call no longer for
advisers, but for persons obedient to command, persons ready
to be hired against their country and willing to flatter strangers,
then all of you were in occupation, grand people with splendid
equipages ; I was powerless, I confess, though more attached
to my countrymen than you.
Two things, men of Athens, are characteristic of a well-
disposed citizen — so may I speak of myself and give the least
offense : In authority, his constant aim should be the dignity
and preeminence of the commonwealth ; in all times and cir-
cumstances his spirit should be loyal. This depends upon
nature ; power and might upon other things. Such a spirit,
186 DINARCHUS.
you will find, I have ever sincerely cherished. Only see.
When my person was demanded — when they brought Amphic-
tyonic suits against me — when they menaced — when they
promised — when they set these miscreants like wild beasts
upon me — never in any way have I abandoned my affection
for you. From the very beginning I chose an honest and
straightforward course in politics, to support the honor, the
power, the glory of my fatherland, these to exalt, in these to
have my being. I do not walk about the market place gay and
cheerful because the stranger has prospered, holding out my
right hand and congratulating those who I think will report
it yonder, and on any news of our own success shudder and
groan and stoop to the earth, like these impious men, who rail
at Athens, as if in so doing they did not rail at themselves ;
who look abroad, and if the foreigner thrives by the distresses
of Greece, are thankful for it, and say we should keep him so
thriving to all time.
Never, O ye Gods, may those wishes be confirmed by you !
If possible, inspire even in these men a better sense and feeling !
But if they are indeed incurable, destroy them by themselves ;
exterminate them on land and sea ; and for the rest of us, grant
that we may speedily be released from our present fears, and
enjoy a lasting deliverance !
DlNAKCHUS.
Oration against Demosthenes.
[In the winter of B.C. 325-4, Harpalus, Alexander's treasurer in Asia, de-
camped with a vast sum of money, and ultimately took refuge in Athens,
which he tried to raise in revolt. Demosthenes opposed him, and had
him imprisoned and his remaining money — stated at 700 talents —
placed in the Parthenon in trust for Alexander, in charge of a special
commission of which Demosthenes was one. Harpalus escaped, and in
the investigation which followed, only 350 talents could be found. The
commission were prosecuted for embezzlement ; Demosthenes was fined
fifty talents and imprisoned in default of payment, but escaped in a few
days. Professor Holm thinks the money was taken for secret party use
to prepare for a war of liberation in case of Alexander's death, and that
Demosthenes was an understood scape-goat.]
THIS minister of yours, Athenians, who has pronounced
sentence of death upon himself should he be convicted of
receiving anything from Harpalus — this very man has been
clearly convicted of accepting bribes from those whom he
DLNARCHUS. 187
formerly pretended to oppose with so much zeal. . . . You
are not to give up the general rights and laws of the commu-
nity, or exchange the general welfare, for the speeches of the
accused. You see that in this assembly it is Demosthenes that
is tried ; in all other places your own trial is depending. On
you men turn their eyes, and wait with eagerness to see how
far the interest of your country will engage your care ; whether
you are to take upon yourselves the corruption and iniquity of
these men, or whether you are to manifest to the world a just
resentment against those who are bribed to betray the state.
This last is fully in your power. The assembly has made
a fair decree, committing the cognizance of the charge to the
court of Areopagus ; . . . and although the dignity and pro-
priet}7- of this procedure have received the approbation of the
people, Demosthenes has recourse to complaints, to appeals, to
malicious accusations, now that he finds himself convicted of
receiving twenty talents of gold. Shall .hen this council, on
whose faith and justice we rely, even in the important case of
premeditated murder ; to whom we commit the vengeance due
to this crime ; who have an absolute power over the persons
and lives of our citizens ; who can punish every violation
of our laws, either by exile or by death, — shall this council,
I say, on an inquiry into a case of bribery, at once lose all its
authority ? " Yes ; for the Areopagus has reported falsely of
Demosthenes." Extravagant and absurd ! What ! report
falsely of Demosthenes and Demades, against whom even the
truth seems scarcely to be declared with safety? You, who
have in former times moved that this council should take cog-
nizance of public affairs, and have applauded their reports ; you,
whom this whole city has not been able to restrain within the
bounds of justice, — has the council reported falsely against you ?
Why then did you declare to the people that you were ready
to submit to death, if condemned by the report of this council ?
Why have you availed yourself of their authority, to take off
so many of our citizens ? . . .
For now, when the council of the Areopagus have nobly and
equitably proceeded to a full detection of this man, and his
accomplices ; when, regardless of the power of Demosthenes
and Demades, they have adhered inviolably to truth and justice ;
— still Demosthenes goes round the city, utters his invectives
against this council, and boasts of his services, in those speeches
which you shall hear him instantly use to deceive the assembly.
188 DINAKCHUS.
" It was I who gained you the alliance of Thebes ! " No ! you
it was who ruined the common interest of both states. — "I
drew out the forces of Chaeronea ! " No, you were the only
person who there fled from your post. — " For you have I en-
gaged in several embassies." And what would he do, what
would he demand, had these negotiations of his been successful,
when, having ranged through the world only to involve us in
such calamities and misfortunes, he expects to be rewarded
with a liberty of receiving bribes against his country, and the
privilege of speaking and of acting in this assembly as he
pleases ? With Timotheus, who awed all Peloponnesus by his
fleet ; who gained the naval victory at Corcyra over the Lace-
daemonians ; who was the son of Conon, the man who restored
liberty to Greece ; who gained Samos, and Methone, and Pydna,
and Potidsea, and, besides these, twenty cities more, — with him
you did not allow those important benefits he had conferred on
us to have any weight against the integrity of your tribunals,
against the oaths you swore by in pronouncing sentence. No :
you imposed a fine of one hundred talents on him, because by
his own acknowledgment he had received money from the Chians
and the Rhodians. . . .
Such was this citizen that he might reasonably, Demosthenes,
have expected pardon and favor from his fellow-citizens of those
days. Not in words, but in actions, did he perform important
services to his country. His principles were steady, his conduct
uniform, not various and changeable like yours. He never
made so unreasonable a request to the people as to be raised
above the laws. He never required that those who had sworn
to give sentence justly should break through that sacred tie ;
but submitted to stand condemned, if such was the judgment
of his tribunal. He never pleaded the necessity of times ; nor
thought in one manner and harangued in another. And shall
this miscreant live, who, besides his other numerous and heinous
crimes, has abandoned the state of Thebes to its destruction,
when for the preservation of that state he had received three
hundred talents from the king of Persia ?
For when the Arcadians marched to the Isthmus, refused
to treat with the ambassadors of Antipater, and received those
of the unfortunate Thebans — who with difficulty gained access
to them by sea, appeared before them in the form of wretched
supplicants, declared that their present motions were not in-
tended to dissolve their connections with Greece or to oppose
DINARCHUS. 189
the interest of that nation, but to free themselves from the in-
tolerable yoke of Macedonian tyranny, from slavery, from the
horrid insults to which freemen were exposed ; — when the
Arcadians were disposed to assist them, when they commiser-
ated their wretched state, when they discovered that by the
necessities of the times alone they had been obliged to attend on
Alexander, but that their inclinations were invariably attached
to Thebes and to the liberties of Greece ; when Astylus, their
mercenary general, demanded (as Stratocles has informed you)
ten talents for leading a reenforcement to the Thebans ; when
the ambassadors applied to this man, who they well knew had
received the king's money, and requested and besought him to
grant such a sum for the preservation of the state ; — then did
this abandoned, this impious, this sordid wretch (when there
was so fair a prospect of saving Thebes) refuse to part with
ten talents out of all the vast treasures which he received ;
insensible to the affecting consideration, urged by Stratocles,
that there were those who would give as great a sum to divert
the Arcadians from this expedition, and to prevent them from
assisting Thebes. . . .
A city of our neighbors and our allies has been torn from
the very heart of Greece. The plower and the sower now
traverse the city of the Thebans, who united with us in the
war against Philip. I say the plower and the sower traverse
their habitations : nor has this hardened wretch discovered the
least remorse at the calamities of a people, to whom he was sent
as our ambassador ; with whom he lived, conversed, and enjoyed
all that hospitality could confer ; whom he pretends to have
himself gained to our alliance ; whom he frequently visited in
their prosperity, but basely betrayed in their distress. Our
elder citizens can inform us, that at a time when our constitu-
tion was destroyed ; when Thrasybulus was collecting our ex-
iles in Thebes in order to possess himself of Phyle ; when the
Lacedaemonians, now in the height of power, issued their man-
date forbidding all states to receive the Athenians or to con-
duct them through their territories, — this people assisted our
countrymen in their expedition, and published their decree, so
often recited in this assembly, "that they would not look
on with unconcern, should any enemy invade the Athenian
territory."
Far different was the conduct of this man, who affects such
attention to the interests of our allies (as you shall soon hear
190 DINARCHUS.
him boast). The very money, which he received to preserve
this people from ruin, he refused to part with. Let these
things sink deep into your minds. Think on the calamities
which arise from traitors ; let the wretched fate of the Olyn-
thians and the Thebans teach you to make just provision for
your own security. Cut off the men who are ever ready to
sell the interests of their country for a bribe, and rest your
hopes of safety upon yourselves and the gods. These are the
means, Athenians, the only means, of reforming our city ; to
bring offenders of eminence to justice, and to inflict a punish-
ment adequate to their offenses. When common criminals are
detected, no one knows, no one inquires, their fate. But the
punishment of great delinquents commands men's attention ;
and a rigid adherence to justice, without regard to persons, is
sure to meet with due applause. — Read the decree of the
Thebans ; produce the testimonies ; read the letter.
[The clerk reads them.]
He is a corrupted traitor, Athenians ! of old a corrupted
traitor ! This is the man who conducted Philip's ambassadors
from Thebes to this city ; who was the occasion of putting an
end to the former war ; who was the accomplice of Philocrates,
the author of the decree for making peace with Philip for which
you banished him ; the man who hired carriages for the ambas-
sadors that came hither with Antipater ; who entertained them,
and introduced the custom of paying obsequious flattery to the
Macedonians. Do not, Athenians ! do not suffer this man, whose
name is subscribed to the misfortunes of this state [i.e., to the
decrees which caused them] and of all the states of Greece, to
escape unpunished. . . .
For what occasion should we reserve this man ? When may
we hope that he will prove of advantage to us? From the
moment that he first began to direct our affairs, has any one in-
stance of good fortune attended us ? Has not all Greece, and
not this state alone, been plunged in dangers, calamities, and
disgrace? Many were the fair occasions which occurred to
favor his administration ; and all these occasions, of such mo-
ment to our interests, he neglected. . . Shall not then the
experience of the past direct your judgments of the future?
Can any services be expected from him ? Yes ; the service of
forming contrivances in favor of our enemies, on some critical
emergency. Such was the time when the Lacedaemonians had
DINARCHUa 191
encamped, when the Eleans united with them, when they were
reenforced with ten thousand mercenaries ; Alexander said to
be in India ; all Greece inflamed with indignation at the state
to which traitors had reduced every community ; impatient of
distress, and earnest for relief. In this conjuncture, who was
the man, Demosthenes, that had the direction of our councils ?
In this perilous conjuncture (not to mention other like occa-
sions) did you, whom we shall hear expressing the utmost
indignation at the present fallen state of Greece — did you
propose any decree? Did you assist us with your counsels?
Did you supply us with your treasures? Not at all ! You
were employed in ranging through the city, providing your
whisperers, forging letters — [to the judges'] — he, the disgrace
of his illustrious country, was then seen trimly decked with his
rings, indulging in effeminacy and luxury amidst the public
calamities ; borne through our streets in his sedan, and insulting
the distresses of the poor. And can we expect future services
from him who has neglected all past occasions of serving
us? . . .
Let us suppose the case that, agreeably to the decree of De-
mosthenes, Alexander should by his ambassadors demand the
gold which Harpalus brought hither : that to confirm the sen-
tence of the Areopagus, he should send back the slaves and
direct us to extort the truth from them. What should we then
say? Would you, Demosthenes, then move for a declaration
of war ? you, who have so nobly conducted our former wars ?
And if such should be the resolution of the assembly, which
would be the fairer procedure : to take that money to ourselves,
which you secreted, in order to support our war ; or to load
our citizens with taxes, to oblige our women to send in their
ornaments, to melt down our plate, to strip our temples of their
offerings, as your decree directed ? Though from your houses
in the Piraeus and in the city you yourself contributed just fifty
drachmae [110] ; and nobly have the twenty talents [124,000]
you took repaid such bounty. Or would you move that we
should not declare war; but that agreeably to your decree,
we should return to Alexander the gold conveyed hither ? In
that case the community must pay your share. And is this
just, is this equal dealing, is this constitutional, that our use-
ful citizens should be taxed to glut your avarice, that men of
avowed property should contribute while your property lies
concealed, — notwithstanding you have received 150 talents,
192 DINARCHUS.
partly from the king's, partly from Alexander's, treasure, — all
carefully secreted, as you justly dread the consequences of your
conduct ? that our laws should direct that every public speaker,
every leader of our forces, should recommend himself to the
confidence of the public by educating children, and by possess-
ing land within our territory, nor assume the direction of our
affairs until he had given these pledges of his fidelity; and
that you should sell your patrimonial lands, and adopt the
children of strangers, to elude the force of laws and oaths?
that you should impose military service on others, you who
basely fled from your own post? . . .
And now, my fellow-citizens, consider how you are to act.
The people have returned to you an information of a crime
lately committed. Demosthenes stands first before you, to suf-
fer the punishment denounced against all whom this informa-
tion condemns. We have explained his guilt, with an unbiased
attention to the laws. Will you then discover a total disregard
of all these offenses? Will you, when intrusted with so im-
portant a decision, invalidate the judgment of the people, of
the Areopagus, of all mankind? Will you take upon your-
selves the guilt of these men? or will you give the world an
example of that detestation in which this state holds traitors
and hirelings that oppose our interests for a bribe ? This en-
tirely depends on you. You, the fifteen hundred judges, have
the safety of our country in your hands. This day, this sen-
tence you are to pronounce, must establish this city in full se-
curity, if it be consonant to justice ; or must entirely defeat
all our hopes, if it gives support to such iniquitous practices.
Do not let the false tears of Demosthenes make an impression
on your minds, nor sacrifice our rights and laws to his suppli-
cations. Necessity never forced him to receive his share of this
gold : he was more than sufficiently enriched by your treasure.
Necessity has not forced him now to enter on his defense : his
crimes are acknowledged ; his sentence pronounced by himself.
The sordid baseness, the guilt of all his past life, have at length
brought down vengeance upon his head. Let not then his tears
and lamentations move you. It is your country that much more
deservedly claims your pity ; your country, which his practices
have exposed to danger ; your country, which now supplicates
its sons, presents your wives and children before you, beseech-
ing you to save them by punishing this traitor; that coun-
try in which your ancestors with a generous zeal encountered
HYPERIDES. 193
numberless dangers, that they might transmit it free to their
posterity ; in which we find many and noble examples of an-
cient virtue. Here fix your attention. Look to your religion,
the sacred rites of antiquity, the sepulchres of your fathers ;
and give sentence with an unshaken integrity.
HYEERIDBS.
Against Athenogenes.
The manuscript of this speech was discovered in Egypt, 1888. The date of
the speech was B.C. 328 to 330. The translation is by F. G. Kenyon, who
says : —
THE recovery of the speech against Athenogenes is especially
welcome, because there is excellent reason to believe that in it we
have a thoroughly characteristic specimen of that class of oratory in
which Hyperides especially excelled.
The argument is as follows : Hyperides' client, whose name does
not appear, desired to obtain possession of a boy slave, who, with his
father Midas and his brother, was the property of an Egyptian resi-
dent in Athens, named Athenogenes. Midas was employed by
Athenogenes as manager of a perfumery, one of three such shops
of which the latter was the owner, and his two sons appear to have
assisted him in the work. The plaintiff, a young man whose father
was still alive, was not a habitual resident in Athens, but cultivated
an estate in the country. His original proposal to Athenogenes was
to purchase the liberty of the boy in question. Athenogenes enter-
tained this suggestion at first, but subsequently (according to the
plaintiff's story, which was, however, traversed by the defendant on
this point) sent the boy to say that he could not be separated from
his brother and father, and that if he bought one he must buy all.
To this the plaintiff assented ; whereupon (as it appears, though the
mutilation of the papyrus makes the exact course of the trans-
action doubtful) Athenogenes, presuming on the eagerness of the
would-be purchaser, developed a considerable reluctance to sell.
With the view, evidently, of raising his price, he held back from
concluding any bargain; while at the same time he employed a
woman named Antigona, a person of many attractions but more
than doubtful antecedents, to lure the young man further into the
snare. Antigona acted as go-between, stimulating his anxiety on
the one hand, while she pretended to intercede in his favor with
Athenogenes, and the plaintiff alleges that he fell a complete victim
to her wiles. At any rate, he agreed to buy the freedom of the
three slaves for a sum of forty minas ($800) ; and Antigona pro-
fessed to have won an unwilling consent from Athenogenes. The
VOL. IV. — 13
194 HYPERIDES.
two principals then met to conclude the bargain; when Athenogenes
out of sheer consideration, as he declared, for the young man's
interests — suddenly suggested that instead of paying for the free-
dom of the three slaves, he should buy them right out, whereby he
would have fuller control over them at the time, and could give
them their liberty whenever he chose. Purchasing the slaves would
carry with it any liabilities Midas might have incurred in connection
with the perfumery ; but these debts, Athenogenes affirmed, were
trifling, and would be more than covered by the value of the stock
in the concern. The proposed change of plan had some advantages
and no visible disadvantages, since the business of the perfumery,
according to Athenogenes' representations, could be closed at a
profit ; and the plaintiff accepted it. Athenogenes, with a prompt-
ness which afterward appeared suspicious, produced a draft agree-
ment already drawn up ; it was read over in due form, witnessed,
and sealed, and the bargain was complete. Then came the dtnoue-
ment. No sooner had the plaintiff acquired the perfumery than
creditors sprang up on all sides, of whose existence no word had
hitherto been breathed ; and in a very short time he discovered that
he was liable for debts amounting to five talents ($6000), in addi-
tion to the forty minas which he had already paid. Such a sum
meant ruin. Accordingly he took counsel with his friends, and
after failing to obtain satisfaction by a personal interview with
Athenogenes, brought the present action against him.
[The beginning of the speech is lost.]
WHEN I told her the whole story, and complained how hard
Athenogenes was to deal with, and how he refused to make
even the most reasonable concessions, she answered that he
was always like that, and told me to be of good heart, as she
would cooperate with me in everything. This she said in the
most earnest manner possible, and confirmed her words with
the most solemn oaths that she was entirely devoted to my
interests and was telling me the simple truth. And so, gen-
tlemen,— I will hide nothing from you, — I was persuaded.
Great indeed, as experience shows, is the power of love to
beguile our reason, when it is reenforced by a woman's wiles.
Certain it is that by her plausible cajolements she managed to
pocket for herself three hundred drachmas, professedly to buy
a slave girl, just as an acknowledgment of her good- will toward
me. And when one comes to think of it, gentlemen, perhaps
there is nothing so marvelous in my being thus twisted around
the finger of Antigona, considering that in her youth she was
held to be the most accomplished courtesan of the day, and
HYPERIDES. 195
that since her retirement she has been continually practicing
as a procuress.
[Instance of her abilities quoted, but passage mutilated.]
If, then, she achieved so much by her own unassisted efforts,
what might she not reasonably be expected to accomplish in
the present case, with Athenogenes as her partner, — a profes-
sional attorney by trade, and what is more, an Egyptian ?
Gentlemen, you have now heard the whole story in all its
details. Possibly, however, Athenogenes will plead, when his
turn comes, that the law declares all agreements between man
and man to be binding. Just agreements, my dear sir. Unjust
ones, on the contrary, it declares shall not be binding. I will
make this clearer to you from the actual words of the law.
You need not be surprised at my acquaintance with them.
You have brought me to such a pass, and have filled me with
such a fear of being ruined by you and your cleverness, that I
make it my first and main duty to search and study the laws
night and day.
Now one law forbids falsehood in the market place, and a
very excellent injunction it is, in my opinion ; yet you have
in open market concluded a contract with me to my detriment
by means of falsehoods. For if you can show that you told
me beforehand of all the loans and debts, or that you men-
tioned in the contract the full amount of them, as I have since
found it to be, I will abandon the prosecution and confess that
I have done you an injustice.
There is, however, also a second law bearing on this point,
which relates to bargains between individuals by verbal agree-
ments. It provides that " when a party sells a slave he shall
declare beforehand if he has any blemish ; if he omit to do so,
he shall be compelled to make restitution." If, then, the vendor
of a slave can be compelled to make restitution because he has
omitted to mention some chance infirmity, is it possible that
you should be free to refuse responsibility for the fraudulent
bargain which you have deliberately devised? Moreover, an
epileptic slave does not involve in ruin all the rest of his
owner's property ; whereas Midas, whom you sold to me, has
ruined not me alone but even my friends as well.
And now, Athenogenes, proceed to consider how the law
stands, not only with respect to slaves, but also concerning free
men. Even you, I suppose, know that children born of a
196 HYPERIDES.
lawfully betrothed wife are legitimate? The lawgiver, how-
ever, was not content with merely providing that a wife should
be betrothed by her father or brother, in order to establish
legitimacy. On the contrary, he expressly enacts that "if a
man shall give a woman in betrothal justly and equitably, the
children born of such marriage shall be legitimate," but not if
he betroths her on false representations and inequitable terms.
Thus the law makes just betrothals valid, and unjust ones it
declares invalid.
Again, the law relating to testaments is of a similar nature.
It enacts that a man may dispose of his own property as he
pleases, "provided that he be not disqualified by old age or
disease or insanity, or be influenced by a woman's persuasions,
and that he be not in bonds or under any other constraint."
In circumstances, then, in which marriages and testaments
relating solely to a man's own property are invalidated, how
can it be right to maintain the validity of such an agreement
as I have described, which was drawn up by Athenogenes in
order to steal property belonging to me ?
Can it be right that the disposition of one's property by
will should be nullified if it is made under the persuasions of
a woman, while if I am persuaded by Athenogenes' mistress,
and am entrapped by them into this agreement, I am thereby
to be ruined, in spite of the express support which is given me
by the law ? Can you actually dare to rest your case on the
contract of which you and your mistress procured the signature
by fraud, which is also the very ground on which I am now
charging you with conspiracy, since my belief in your good
faith induced me to accept the conditions which you proposed ?
You are not content with having got the forty minas which I
paid for the slaves, but you must needs plunder me of five
talents in addition, plucking me like a bird taken in a snare.
To this end you have the face to say that you could not
inform me of the amount of the debts which Midas had con-
tracted, because you had not the time to ascertain it. Why,
gentlemen, I, who brought absolute inexperience into the man-
agement of commercial matters, had not the slightest difficulty
in learning the whole amount of the debts and the loans within
three months ; but he, with a hereditary experience of three
generations in the business of a perfumery — he, who was at
his place in the market every day of his life — he, who owned
three shops and had his accounts made up every month — he,
HYPERIDES. 197
forsooth, was not aware of the debts ! He is no fool in other
matters, but in his dealings with his slave it appears he at once
became a mere idiot, knowing of some of the debts, while
others, he says, he did not know of — those, I take it, which
he did not want to know of. Such a contention, gentlemen, is
not a defense, but an admission that he has no sound defense
to offer. If he states that he was not aware of the debts, it is
plain that he cannot at the same time plead that he told me
all about them; and it is palpably unjust to require me to
discharge debts of the existence of which the vendor never
informed me. . . .
If, however, you did not inform me of the total amount of
the debts simply because you did not know it yourself, and I
entered into the contract under the belief that what I had heard
from you was the full sum of them, which of us ought in fair-
ness to be liable for them — I, who purchased the property after
their contraction, or you, who originally received the sum bor-
rowed ? In my opinion it should be you ; but if we differ on
this point, let the law be our arbiter. The law was not made
either by infatuated lovers or by men engaged in conspiracy
against their neighbors' property, but by the most public-
spirited of statesmen, Solon. Solon, knowing that sales of
property are common in the city, enacted a law — and one uni-
versally admitted to be just — to the effect that fines and
expenditures incurred by slaves should be discharged by the
master for whom they work. And this is only reasonable ; for
if a slave effect a good stroke of business or establish a flourish-
ing industry, it is his master who reaps the benefit of it. You,
however, pass over the law in silence, and are eloquent about
the iniquity of breaking contracts. Whereas Solon held that a
law was more valid than a temporary ordinance, however just
that ordinance might be, you demand that a fraudulent con-
tract should outweigh all law and all justice alike.
Now, I am no professional perfume seller, neither have I
learnt any other trade. I simply till the land which my father
gave me. It was solely by this man's craft that I was entrapped
into the sale. Which is more probable on the face of things,
Athenogenes — that I was coveting your business (a business
of which I had no sort of experience), or that you and your
mistress were plotting to get my money? I certainly think the
design was on your side.
198 ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST.
ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST.
BY PLUTARCH.
[PLUTARCH : A Greek writer of biographies and miscellaneous works ; born
about A.D. 60. He came of a wealthy and distinguished family and received
a careful philosophical training at Athens under the Peripatetic philosopher
Ammonius. After this he made several journeys, and stayed a considerable
time in Rome, where he enjoyed friendly intercourse with persons of distinction,
and conducted the education of the future Emperor Hadrian. He died about
A.D. 120 hi his native town, in which he held the office of archon and priest of the
Pythian Apollo. His fame as an author is founded upon the celebrated « ' Parallel
Lives," consisting of the biographies of forty-six Greeks and Romans, divided
into pairs. Each pair contains the life of a Greek and a Roman, and generally
ends with a comparison of the two. Plutarch's other writings, more than sixty
short treatises on a great variety of subjects, are grouped under the title of
"Morals."]
THE BATTLE OF ARBELA AND AFTERWARD.
His oldest generals, and especially Parmenio, when they
beheld all the plain between Niphates and the Gordysean
mountains shining with the lights and fires which were made
by the barbarians, and heard the uncertain and confused sounds
of voices out of their camp, like the distant roaring of a vast
ocean, were so amazed at the thoughts of such a multitude, that
after some conference among themselves, they concluded it an
enterprise too difficult and hazardous for them to engage so
numerous an enemy in the day, and therefore, meeting the king
as he came from sacrificing, besought him to attack Darius by
night, that the darkness might conceal the danger of the ensu-
ing battle. To this he gave them the celebrated answer, "I
will not steal a victory " : which, though some at the time
thought a boyish and inconsiderate speech, as if he played with
danger, others regarded as an evidence that he confided in his
present condition, and acted on a true judgment of the future ;
not wishing to leave Darius, in case he were worsted, the pre-
text of trying his fortune again, which he might suppose him-
self to have if he could impute his overthrow to the disadvantage
of the night, as he did before to the mountains, the narrow
passages, and the sea. For while he had such numerous forces
and large dominions still remaining, it was not any want of
men or arms that could induce him to give up the war, but
ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST. 199
only the loss of all courage and hope upon the conviction of an
undeniable and manifest defeat.
After they were gone from him with this answer, he laid
himself down in his tent and slept the rest of the night more
soundly than was usual with him, to the astonishment of the
commanders, who came to him early in the morning, and were
fain themselves to give order that the soldiers should break-
fast. But at last, time not giving them leave to wait any
longer, Parmenio went to his bedside, and called him twice or
thrice by his name till he waked him, and then asked him how
it was possible, when he was to fight the most important battle
of all, he could sleep as soundly as if he were already victorious.
"And are we not so indeed," replied Alexander, smiling,
" since we are at last relieved from the trouble of wandering in
pursuit of Darius through a wide and wasted country, hoping
in vain that he would fight us ? "
And not only before the battle, but in the height of the
danger, he showed himself great, and manifested the self-pos-
session of a just foresight and confidence. For the battle for
some time fluctuated and was dubious. The left wing, where
Parmenio commanded, was so impetuously charged by the
Bactrian horse that it was disordered and forced to give ground,
at the same time that Mazseus had sent a detachment round
about to fall upon those who guarded the baggage, which so
disturbed Parmenio, that he sent messengers to acquaint Alex-
ander that the camp and baggage would be all lost unless he imme-
diately relieved the rear by a considerable ree'nf orcement drawn
out of the front. This message being brought him just as he was
giving the signal to those about him for the onset, he bade them
tell Parmenio that he must have surely lost the use of his
reason, and had forgotten, in his alarm, that soldiers if victori-
ous became masters of their enemies' baggage ; and if de-
feated, instead of taking care of their wealth or their slaves,
have nothing more to do but to fight gallantly and die with
honor.
He made the longest address that day to the Thessalians
and other Greeks, who answered him with loud shouts, desiring
him to lead them on against the barbarians, upon which he shifted
his javelin into his left hand, and with his right lifted up
towards heaven, besought the gods, as Callisthenes tells us, that
if he was of a truth the son of Jupiter, they would be pleased
to assist and strengthen the Grecians. At the same time the
200 ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST.
augur Aristander, who had a white mantle about him, and a
crown of gold on his head, rode by and showed them an eagle
that soared just over Alexander and directed his flight towards
the enemy ; which so animated the beholders, that after mutual
encouragements and exhortations, the horse charged at full
speed, and were followed in a mass by the whole phalanx of the
foot. But before they could well come to blows with the first
ranks, the barbarians shrank back, and were hotly pursued by
Alexander, who drove those that fled before him into the middle
of the battle, where Darius himself was in person, whom he saw
from a distance over the foremost ranks, conspicuous in the
midst of his life guard, a tall and fine-looking man, drawn in a
lofty chariot, defended by an abundance of the best horse, who
stood close in order about it ready to receive the enemy. But
Alexander's approach was so terrible, forcing those who gave
back upon those who yet maintained their ground, that he beat
down and dispersed them almost all. Only a few of the brav-
est and valiantest opposed the pursuit, who were slain in their
king's presence, falling in heaps upon one another, and in the
very pangs of death striving to catch hold of the horses.
Darius now seeing all was lost, that those who were placed
in front to defend him were broken and beaten back upon him,
that he could not turn or disengage his chariot without great
difficulty, the wheels being clogged and entangled among the
dead bodies, which lay in such heaps as not only stopped, but
almost covered the horses, and made them rear and grow so
unruly that the frightened charioteer could govern them no
longer, in this extremity was glad to quit his chariot and his
arms, and mounting, it is said, upon a mare that had been
taken from her foal, betook himself to flight. But he had not
escaped so either, if Parmenio had not sent fresh messengers
to Alexander, to desire him to return and assist him against a
considerable body of the enemy which yet stood together and
would not give ground. For, indeed, Parmenio is on all hands
accused of having been sluggish and unserviceable in this battle,
whether age had impaired his courage, or that, as Callisthenes
says, he secretly disliked and envied Alexander's growing great-
ness. Alexander, though he was not a little vexed to be so
recalled and hindered from pursuing his victory, yet concealed
the true reason from his men, and causing a retreat to be
sounded, as if it were too late to continue the execution any
longer, marched back towards the place of danger, and by the
ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST. 201
way met with the news of the enemy's total overthrow and
flight.
This battle being thus over, seemed to put a period to the
Persian empire ; and Alexander, who was now proclaimed king
of Asia, returned thanks to the gods in magnificent sacrifices,
and rewarded his friends and followers with great sums of money,
and places, and governments of provinces. And eager to gain
honor with the Grecians, he wrote to them that he would have
all tyrannies abolished, that they might live free according to
their own laws, and specially to the Platseans, that their city
should be rebuilt, because their ancestors had permitted their
countrymen of old to make their territory the seat of the war,
when they fought with the barbarians for their common liberty.
He sent also part of the spoils into Italy, to the Crotoniats, to
honor the zeal and courage of their citizen Phayllus, the wrestler,
who, in the Median war, when the other Grecian colonies in
Italy disowned Greece, that he might have a share in the danger,
joined the fleet at Salamis, with a vessel set forth at his own
charge. So affectionate was Alexander to all kind of virtue,
and so desirous to preserve the memory of laudable actions.
In this place [Susa] he took up his winter quarters, and stayed
four months to refresh his soldiers. It is related that the first
time he sat on the royal throne of Persia under the canopy of
gold, Demaratus the Corinthian, who was much attached to
him and had been one of his father's friends, wept, in an old
man's manner, and deplored the misfortune of those Greeks
whom death had deprived of the satisfaction of seeing Alexan-
der seated on the throne of Darius.
From hence designing to march against Darius, before he
set out, he diverted himself with his officers at an entertain-
ment of drinking and other pastimes, and indulged so far as to
let every one's mistress sit by and drink with them. The most
celebrated of them was Thais, an Athenian, mistress of Ptolemy,
who was afterwards king of Egypt. She, partly as a sort of
well-turned compliment to Alexander, partly out of sport, as
the drinking went on, at last was carried so far as to utter a
saying, not misbecoming her native country's character, though
somewhat too lofty for her own condition. She said it was
indeed some recompense for the toils she had undergone in
following the camp all over Asia, that she was that day treated
in, and could insult over, the stately palace of the Persian
monarchs. But, she added, it would please her much better if,
202 ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST.
while the king looked on, she might in sport, with her own
hands, set fire to the court of that Xerxes who reduced the city
of Athens to ashes, that it might be recorded to posterity that
the women who followed Alexander had taken a severer revenge
on the Persians for the sufferings and affronts of Greece, than
all the famed commanders had been able to do by sea or land.
What she said was received with such universal liking and
murmurs of applause, and so seconded by the encouragement
and eagerness of the company, that the king himself, persuaded
to be of the party, started from his seat, and with a chaplet
of flowers on his head and a lighted torch in his hand led
them the way, while they went after him in a riotous manner,
dancing and making loud cries about the place ; which when the
rest of the Macedonians perceived, they also in great delight
ran thither with torches ; for they hoped the burning and
destruction of -the royal palace was an argument that he looked
homeward, and had no design to reside among the barbarians.
Thus some writers give their account of this action, while others
say it was done deliberately ; however, all agree that he soon
repented of it, and gave orders to put out the fire.
Alexander was naturally most munificent, and grew more so
as his fortune increased, accompanying what he gave with that
courtesy and freedom which, to speak truth, is necessary to
make a benefit really obliging. I will give a few instances of
this kind. Ariston, the captain of the Pfeonians, having killed
an enemy, brought his head to show him, and told him that in
his country such a present was recompensed with a cup of gold.
" With an empty one," said Alexander, smiling, " but I drink to
you in this, which I give you full of wine." Another time, as
one of the common soldiers was driving a mule laden with some
of the king's treasure, the beast grew tired, and the soldier took
it upon his own back, and began to march with it, till Alexander
seeing the man so overcharged asked what was the matter ; and
when he was informed, just as he was ready to lay down his
burden for weariness, "Do not faint now," said he to him,
" but finish the journey, and carry what you have there to your
own tent for yourself."
He was always more displeased with those who would not
iiccept of what he gave than with those who begged of him.
And therefore he wrote to Phocion, that he would not own
him for his friend any longer, if he refused his presents. He
had never given anything to Serapion, one of the youths that
ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST. 203
played at ball with him, because he did not ask of him, till one
day, it coming to Serapion's turn to play, he still threw the ball
to others, and when the king asked him why he did not direct
it to him, " Because you do not ask for it," said he ; which
answer pleased him so that he was very liberal to him after-
wards. One Proteas, a pleasant, jesting, drinking fellow,
having incurred his displeasure, got his friends to intercede
for him, and begged his pardon himself with tears, which at
last prevailed, and Alexander declared he was friends with him.
" I cannot believe it," said Proteas, " unless you first give me
some pledge of it." The king understood his meaning, and
presently ordered five talents to be given him.
How magnificent he was in enriching his friends, and those
who attended on his person, appears by a letter which Olympias
wrote to him, where she tells him he should reward and honor
those about him in a more moderate way. "For now," said
she, " you make them all equal to kings, you give them power
and opportunity of making many friends of their own, and in
the mean time you leave yourself destitute." She often wrote
to him to this purpose, and he never communicated her letters
to anybody, unless it were one which he opened when Hephses-
tion was by, whom he permitted, as his custom was, to read it
along with him ; but then as soon as he had done, he took off
his ring, and set the seal upon Hephsestion's lips.
Mazseus, who was the most considerable man in Darius'
court, had a son who was already governor of a province.
Alexander bestowed another upon him that was better; he,
however, modestly refused, and told him, instead of one Darius,
he went the way to make many Alexanders. To Parmenio he
gave Bagoas' house, in which he found a wardrobe of apparel
worth more than a thousand talents. He wrote to Antipater,
commanding him to keep a life guard about him for the security
of his person against conspiracies. To his mother he sent many
presents, but would never suffer her to meddle with matters of
State or war, not indulging her busy temper, and when she fell
out with him on this account, he bore her ill humor very
patiently. Nay more, when he read a long letter from Antipa-
ter, full of accusations against her, "Antipater," he said, "does
not know that one tear of a mother effaces a thousand such
letters as these."
But when he perceived his favorites grow so luxurious and
extravagant in their way of living and expenses, that Hagnon,
204 ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST.
the Teian, wore silver nails in his shoes, that Leonnatus em-
ployed several camels, only to bring him powder out of Egypt
to use when he wrestled, and that Philotas had hunting nets a
hundred furlongs in length, that more used precious ointment
than plain oil when they went to bathe, and that they carried
about servants everywhere with them to rub them and wait
upon them in their chambers, he reproved them in gentle and
reasonable terms, telling them he wondered that they who had
been engaged in so many single battles did not know by experi-
ence that those who labor sleep more sweetly and soundly than
those who are labored for, and could fail to see by comparing the
Persians' manner of living with their own, that it was the most
abject and slavish condition to be voluptuous, but the most
noble and royal to undergo pain and labor. He argued with
them further, how it was possible for any one who pretended to
be a soldier, either to look well after his horse, or to keep his
armor bright and in good order, who thought it much to let his
hands be serviceable to what was nearest to him, his own body.
" Are you still to learn," said he, " that the end and perfection
of our victories is to avoid the vices and infirmities of those
whom we subdue?" And to strengthen his precepts by ex-
ample, he applied himself now more vigorously than ever to
hunting and warlike expeditions, embracing all opportunities of
hardship and danger, insomuch that a Lacedaemonian, who was
there on an embassy to him, and chanced to be by when he
encountered with and mastered a huge lion, told him he had
fought gallantly with the beast, which of the two should be king.
Craterus caused a representation to be made of this adventure,
consisting of the lion and the dogs, of the king engaged with
the lion, and himself coming in to his assistance, all expressed
in figures of brass, some of which were by Lysippus, and the
rest by Leochares ; and had it dedicated in the temple of Apollo
at Delphi. Alexander exposed his person to danger in this
manner, with the object both of inuring himself and inciting
others to the performance of brave and virtuous actions.
But his followers, who were grown rich, and consequently
pro ad, longed to indulge themselves in pleasure and idleness,
and were weary of marches and expeditions, and at last went on
so far as to censure and speak ill of him. All which at first
he bore very patiently, saying it became a king well to do good
to others, and be evil spoken of. Meantime, on the smallest
occasions that called for a show of kindness to his friends, there
ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST. 205
was every indication on his part of tenderness and respect.
Hearing Peucestes was bitten by a bear, he wrote to him that
he took it unkindly he should send others notice of it, and not
make him acquainted with it ; " But now," said he, " since it is
so, let me know how you do, and whether any of your compan-
ions forsook you when you were in danger, that I may punish
them." He sent Hephaestion, who was absent about some busi-
ness, word how while they were fighting for their diversion
with an ichneumon, Craterus was by chance run through both
thighs with Perdiccas' javelin. And upon Peucestes' recovery
from a fit of sickness, he sent a letter of thanks to his physician
Alexippus. When Craterus was ill, he saw a vision in his
sleep, after which he offered sacrifices for his health, and bade
him do so likewise. He wrote also to Pausanias, the physician,
who was about to purge Craterus with hellebore, partly out of
an anxious concern for him, and partly to give him a caution
how he used that medicine. He was so tender of his friends'
reputation that he imprisoned Ephialtes and Cissus, who brought
him the first news of Harpalus' flight and withdrawal from
his service, as if they had falsely accused him. When he
sent the old and infirm soldiers home, Eurylochus, a citizen
of ^Egse, got his name enrolled among the sick, though he
ailed nothing, which being discovered, he confessed he was
in love with a young woman named Telesippa, and wanted to
go along with her to the seaside. Alexander inquired to whom
the woman belonged, and being told she was a free courtesan,
" I will assist you," said he to Eurylochus, " in your amour if
your mistress be to be gained either by presents or persuasions ;
but we must use no other means, because she is freeborn."
It is surprising to consider upon what slight occasions he
would write letters to serve his friends. As when he wrote
one in which he gave orders to search for a youth that belonged
to Seleucus, who was run away into Silicia ; and in another
thanked and commanded Peucestes for apprehending Nicon, a
servant of Craterus ; and in one to Megabyzus, concerning a
slave that had taken sanctuary in a temple, gave directions that
he should not meddle with him while he was there, but if he
could entice him out by fair means, then he gave him leave to
seize him. It is reported of him that when he first sat in judg-
ment upon capital causes, he would lay his han^. upon one of
his ears while the accuser spoke, to keep it free and unpreju-
diced in behalf of the party accused. But afterwards such a
206 ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST.
multitude of accusations were brought before him, and so many
proved true, that he lost his tenderness of heart, and gave credit
to those also that were false ; and especially when anybody
spoke ill of him, he would be transported out of his reason, and
show himself cruel and inexorable, valuing his glory and repu-
tation beyond his life or kingdom.
He now, as we said, set forth to seek Darius, expecting he
should be put to the hazard of another battle, but heard he was
taken and secured by Bessus, upon which news he sent home
the Thessalians, and gave them a largess of two thousand tal-
ents over and above the pay that was due to them. This long
and painful pursuit of Darius — for in eleven days he marched
thirty-three hundred furlongs — harassed his soldiers so that
most of them were ready to give it up, chiefly for want of water.
While they were in this distress, it happened that some Mace-
donians who had fetched water in skins upon their mules from
a river they had found out, came about noon to the place where
Alexander was, and seeing him almost choked with thirst, pres-
ently filled a helmet and offered it him. He asked them to
whom they were carrying the water : they told him to their
children, adding, that if his life were but saved, it was no mat-
ter for them, they should be able well enough to repair that
loss, though they all perished. Then he took the helmet into
his hands, and looking round about, when he saw all those who
were near him stretching their heads out and looking earnestly
after the drink, he returned it again with thanks without tast-
ing a drop of it. " For," said he, " if I alone should drink, the
rest will be out of heart."
The soldiers no sooner took notice of his temperance and
magnanimity upon this occasion, but they one and all cried out
to him to lead them forward boldly, and began whipping on
their horses. For whilst they had such a king they said they
defied both weariness and thirst, and looked upon themselves
to be little less than immortal. But though they were all
equally cheerful and willing, yet not above threescore horse
were able, it is said, to keep up, and to fall in with Alexander
upon the enemy's camp, where they rode over abundance of
gold and silver that lay scattered about ; and passing by a great
many chariots full of women that wandered here and there for
want of drivers, they endeavored to overtake the first of those
that fled, in hopes to meet with Darius among them. And at
last, after much trouble, they found him lying in a chariot,
ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST. 207
wounded all over with darts, just at the point of death. How-
ever, he desired they would give him some drink, and when he
had drunk a little cold water, he told Polystratus, who gave it
him, that it had become the last extremity of his ill fortune, to
receive benefits and not be able to return them. " But Alexan-
der," said he, " whose kindness to my mother, my wife, and my
children, I hope the gods will recompense, will doubtless thank
you for your humanity to me. Tell him, therefore, in token of
my acknowledgment, I give him this right hand," with which
words he took hold of Polystratus' hand and died. When
Alexander came up to them, he showed manifest tokens of sor-
row, and taking off his own cloak, threw it upon the body to
cover it. And some time afterwards, when Bessus was taken,
he ordered him to be torn in pieces in this manner. They fas-
tened him to a couple of trees which were bound down so as to
meet, and then being let loose, with a great force returned to
their places, each of them carrying that part of the body along
with it that was tied to it. Darius' body was laid in state, and
sent to his mother with pomp suitable to his quality. His
brother Exathres, Alexander received into the number of his
intimate friends. . . .
Noticing that among his chief friends and favorites, Hephaes-
tion most approved all that he did, and complied with and imi-
tated him in his change of habits, while Craterus continued
strict in the observation of the customs and fashions of his own
country, he made it his practice to employ the first in all trans-
actions with the Persians, and the latter when he had to do
with the Greeks or Macedonians. And in general he showed
more affection for Hephsestion, and more respect for Craterus, —
Hephsestion, as he used to say, being Alexander's, and Craterus
the king's friend. And so these two friends always bore in
secret a grudge to each other, and at times quarreled openly,
so much so, that once in India they drew upon one another,
and were proceeding in good earnest, with their friends on each
side to second them, when Alexander rode up and publicly
reproved Hephsestion, calling him fool and madman, not to be
sensible that without his favor he was nothing. He rebuked
Craterus, also, in private, severely, and then causing them both
to come into his presence, he reconciled them, at the same time
swearing by Ammon and the rest of the gods, that he loved
them two above all other men, but if ever he perceived them
fall out again he would be sure to put both of them to death,
208 ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST.
or at least the aggressor. After which they neither ever did
or said anything, so much as in jest, to offend one another.
There was scarcely any one who had greater repute among
the Macedonians than Philotas, the son of Parmenio. For
besides that he was valiant and able to endure any fatigue of
war, he was also next to Alexander himself the most munifi-
cent, and the greatest lover of his friends, one of whom ask-
ing him for some money, he commanded his steward to give it
him ; and when he told him he had not wherewith, " Have you
not any plate, then," said he, " or any clothes of mine to sell ? "
But he carried his arrogance and his pride of wealth and his
habits of display and luxury to a degree of assumption unbe-
coming a private man ; and affecting all the loftiness without
succeeding in showing any of the grace or gentleness of true
greatness, by this mistaken and spurious majesty he gained so
much envy and ill will, that Parmenio would sometimes tell
him, " My son, to be not quite so great would be better." For
he had long before been complained of, and accused to Alex-
ander. Particularly when Darius was defeated in Cilicia, and
an immense booty was taken at Damascus, among the rest of
the prisoners who were brought into the camp, there was one
Antigone of Pydna, a very handsome woman, who fell to Philo-
tas' share. The young man one day in his cups, in the vaunt-
ing, outspoken, soldier's manner, declared to his mistress that
all the great actions were performed by him and his father, the
glory and benefit of which, he said, together with the title of
king, the boy Alexander reaped and enjoyed by their means.
She could not hold, but discovered what he had said to one of
her acquaintance, and he, as is usual in such cases, to another,
till at last the story came to the ears of Craterus, who brought
the woman secretly to the king.
When Alexander had heard what she had to say, he com-
manded her to continue her intrigue with Philotas, and give
him an account from time to time of all that should fall from
him to this purpose. He, thus unwittingly caught in a snare,
to gratify sometimes a fit of anger, sometimes a mere love of
vainglory, let himself utter numerous foolish, indiscreet speeches
against the king in Antigone's hearing, of which, though Alex-
ander was informed and convinced by strong evidence, yet he
would take no notice of it at present, whether it was that he
confided in Parmenio's affection and loyalty, or that he appre-
hended their authority and interest in the army. But about
ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST. 209
this time, one Limnus, a Macedonian of Chalastra, conspired
against Alexander's life, and communicated his design to a
youth whom he was fond of, named Nicomachus, inviting him
to be of the party. But he, not relishing the thing, revealed it
to his brother Balinus, who immediately addressed himself to
Philotas, requiring him to introduce them both to Alexander,
to whom they had something of great moment to impart which
very nearly concerned him. But he, for what reason is uncer-
tain, went not with them, professing that the king was engaged
with affairs of more importance. And when they had urged
him a second time, and were still slighted by him, they applied
themselves to another, by whose means being admitted into
Alexander's presence, they first told about Limnus' conspiracy,
and by the way let Philotas' negligence appear, who had twice
disregarded their application to him.
Alexander was greatly incensed, and on finding that Limnus
had defended himself, and had been killed by the soldier who
was sent to seize him, he was still more discomposed, thinking
he had thus lost the means of detecting the plot. As soon as
his displeasure against Philotas began to appear, presently all his
old enemies showed themselves, and said openly, the king was
too easily imposed on, to imagine that one so inconsiderable as
Limnus, a Chalastrian, should of his own head undertake such
an enterprise ; that in all likelihood he was but subservient to
the design, an instrument that was moved by some greater
spring ; that those ought to be more strictly examined about
the matter whose interest it was so much to conceal it. When
they had once gained the king's ear for insinuations of this sort,
they went on to show a thousand grounds of suspicion against
Philotas, till at last they prevailed to have him seized and put
to the torture, which was done in the presence of the principal
officers, Alexander himself being placed behind some tapestry
to understand what passed. Where, when he heard in what
a miserable tone, and with what abject submissions Philotas
applied himself to Hephsestion, he broke out, it is said, in this
manner : " Are you so mean-spirited and effeminate, Philotas,
and yet can engage in so desperate a design ? " After his
death, he presently sent into Media, and put also Parmenio,
his father, to death, who had done brave service under Philip,
and was the only man, of his older friends and counselors,
who had encouraged Alexander to invade Asia. Of three
sons whom he had had in the army, he had already lost two,
TOL. IV. — 14
210 ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST.
and now was himself put to death with the third. These
actions rendered Alexander an object of terror to many of
his friends, and chiefly to Antipater, who, to strengthen him-
self, sent messengers privately to treat for an alliance with the
J2tolians, who stood in fear of Alexander, because they had
destroyed the town of the CEniadse ; on being informed of
which, Alexander had said the children of the CEniadse need
not revenge their father's quarrel, for he would himself take
care to punish the JEtolians.
Not long after this happened the deplorable end of Clitus,
which, to those who barely hear the matter-of-fact, may seem
more inhuman than that of Philotas ; but if we consider the
story with its circumstance of time, and weigh the cause, we
shall find it to have occurred rather through a sort of mis-
chance of the king's, whose anger and overdrinking offered
an occasion to the evil genius of Clitus. The king had a
present of Grecian fruit brought him from the seacoast, which
was so fresh and beautiful that he was surprised at it, and
called Clitus to him to see it, and to give him a share of it.
Clitus was then sacrificing, but he immediately left off and
came, followed by three sheep, on whom the drink offering
had been already poured preparatory to sacrificing them.
Alexander, being informed of this, told his diviners, Aris-
tander and Cleomantis the Lacedaemonian, and asked them
what it meant ; on whose assuring him it was an ill omen, he
commanded them in all haste to offer sacrifices for Clitus'
safety, forasmuch as three days before he himself had seen
a strange vision in his sleep, of Clitus all in mourning, sitting
by Parmenio's sons who were dead.
Clitus, however, stayed not to finish his devotions, but
came straight to supper with the king, who had sacrificed to
Castor and Pollux. And when they had drunk pretty hard,
some of the company fell a singing the verses of one Prani-
chus, or as others say of Pierion, which were made upon those
captains who had been lately worsted by the barbarians, on
purpose to disgrace and turn them to ridicule. This gave
offense to the older men who were there, and they upbraided
both the author and the singer of the verses, though Alexan-
der and the younger men about him were much amused to
hear them, and encouraged them to go on, till at last Clitus,
who had drunk too much, and was besides of a froward and
willful temper, was so nettled that he could hold no longer,
ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST. 211
saying it was not well done to expose the Macedonians before
the barbarians and their enemies, since though it was their
unhappiness to be overcome, yet they were much better men
than those who laughed at them. And when Alexander
remarked that Clitus was pleading his own cause, giving
cowardice the name of misfortune, Clitus started up : " This
cowardice, as you are pleased to term it," said he to him,
" saved the life of a son of the gods, when in flight from
Spithridates' sword ; it is by the expense of Macedonian
blood, and by these wounds, that you are now raised to such
a height as to be able to disown your father Philip, and call
yourself the son of Ammon."
"Thou base fellow," said Alexander, who was now thor-
oughly exasperated, " dost thou think to utter these things
everywhere of me, and stir up the Macedonians to sedition,
and not be punished for it ? "
"We are sufficiently punished already," answered Clitus, " if
this be the recompense of our toils ; and we must esteem theirs
a happy lot who have not lived to see their countrymen scourged
with Median rods, and forced to sue to the Persians to have
access to their king." While he talked thus at random, and
those near Alexander got up from their seats and began to
revile him in turn, the elder men did what they could to
compose the disorder. Alexander, in the mean time turning
about to Xenodochus, the Cardian, and Artemius, the Colo-
phonian, asked them if they were not of opinion that the
Greeks, in comparison with the Macedonians, behaved them-
selves like so many demigods among wild beasts.
But Clitus for all this would not give over, desiring Alex-
ander to speak out, if he had anything more to say, or else
why did he invite men who were freeborn and accustomed
to speak their minds openly without restraint, to sup with
him ? He had better live and converse with barbarians and
slaves who would not scruple to bow the knee to his Persian
girdle and his white tunic. Which words so provoked Alex-
ander that, not able to suppress his anger any longer, he threw
one of the apples that lay upon the table at him, and hit him,
and then looked about for his sword. But Aristophanes, one
of his life guard, had hid that out of the way, and others came
about him and besought him, but in vain. For breaking from
them, he called out aloud to his guards in the Macedonian lan-
guage, which was a certain sign of some great disturbance in
212 ALEXANDER AT HIS BEST AND WORST.
him, and commanded a trumpeter to sound, giving him a blow
with his clenched fist for not instantly obeying him ; though
afterwards the same man was commended for disobeying an
order which would have put the whole army into tumult and
confusion.
Clitus still refusing to yield, was with much trouble forced
by his friends out of the room. But he came in again immedi-
ately at another door, very irreverently and confidently singing
the verses out of Euripides' " Andromache " : —
In Greece, alas ! how ill things ordered are !
Upon this, at last, Alexander, snatching a spear from one of
the soldiers, met Clitus as he was coming forward and was
putting by the curtain that hung before the door, and ran him
through the body. He fell at once with a cry and a groan.
Upon which the king's anger immediately vanishing, he came
perfectly to himself, and when he saw his friends about him
all in a profound silence, he pulled the spear out of the dead
body, and would have thrust it into his own throat, if the
guards had not held his hands, and by main force carried him
away into his chamber, where all that night and the next day
he wept bitterly, till being quite spent with lamenting and
exclaiming, he lay as it were speechless, only fetching deep
sighs.
His friends, apprehending some harm from his silence, broke
into the room, but he took no notice of what any of them said,
till Aristander putting him in mind of the vision he had seen
concerning Clitus, and the prodigy that followed, as if all had
come to pass by an unavoidable fatality, he then seemed to
moderate his grief. They now brought Callisthenes, the phi-
losopher, who was the near friend of Aristotle, and Anaxarchus
of Abdera, to him. Callisthenes used moral language, and
gentle and soothing means, hoping to find access for words of
reason, and get a hold upon the passion. But Anaxarchus,
who had always taken a course of his own in philosophy, and
had a name for despising and slighting his contemporaries, as
soon as he came in, cried out aloud, "Is this the Alexander
whom the whole world looks to, lying here weeping like a
slave, for fear of the censure and reproach of men to whom
he himself ought to be a law and measure of equity, if he
would use the right his conquests have given him as supreme
lord and governor of all, and not be the victim of a vain and
ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR THE POWER OF MUSIC. 213
idle opinion? Do not you know," said he, "that Jupiter is
represented to have Justice and Law on each hand of him,
to signify that all the actions of a conqueror are lawful and
just ? " With these and the like speeches, Anaxarchus indeed
allayed the king's grief, but withal corrupted his character,
rendering him more audacious and lawless than he had been.
ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR THE POWER OF
MUSIC.
AN ODE ON ST. CECILIA'S DAY.
BY JOHN DRYDEN.
[JOHN DRYDEN : An English poet ; born August 9, 1631 ; educated under Dr.
Busby at Westminster School, and at Trinity College, Cambridge. The son of
a Puritan, he wrote eulogistic stanzas on the death of Cromwell ; but his versatile
intellect could assume any phase of feeling, and he wrote equally glowing ones
on the Restoration of 1660. His "Annus Mirabilis" appeared in 1667, and in
1668 he was made poet laureate. His " Essay on Dramatic Poesy " is excellent ;
but as a dramatist, though voluminous, he has left nothing which lives. His
satire "Absalom and Achitophel" is famous; and his "Ode for St. Cecilia's
Day " is considered the finest in the language.]
'TWAS at the royal feast, for Persia won,
By Philip's warlike son :
Aloft in awful state
The godlike hero sate
On his imperial throne :
His valiant peers were placed around ;
Their brows with roses and with myrtle bound :
So should desert in arms be crowned.
The lovely Thais by his side
Sat, like a blooming eastern bride,
In flower of youth and beauty's pride.
Happy, happy, happy pair !
None but the brave,
None but the brave,
None but the brave deserves the fair.
Timotheus placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire,
With flying fingers touched the lyre :
The trembling notes ascend the sky,
And heavenly joys inspire.
214 ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR THE POWER OF MUSIC.
The song began from Jove ;
Who left his blissful seats above,
(Such is the power of mighty love ! )
A dragon's fiery form belied the god :
Sublime on radiant spheres he rode,
When he to fair Olympia pressed,
And stamped an image of himself, a sovereign of the world.
The listening crowd admire the lofty sound.
A present deity ! they shout around :
A present deity ! the vaulted roofs rebound.
With ravished ears,
The monarch hears,
Assumes the god,
Affects to nod,
And seems to shake the spheres.
The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung ;
Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young ;
The jolly god in triumph comes ;
Sound the trumpets, beat the drums :
Flushed with a purple grace
He shows his honest face.
Now give the hautboys breath. He comes, he comes !
Bacchus, ever fair and young,
Drinking joys did first ordain :
Bacchus7 blessings are a treasure,
Drinking is the soldier's pleasure j
Eich the treasure,
Sweet the pleasure ;
Sweet is pleasure after pain.
Soothed with the sound the king grew vain ;
Fought all his battles o'er again ;
And thrice he routed all his foes ; and thrice he slew the slain.
The master saw the madness rise ;
His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes :
And while he heaven and earth defied,
Changed his hand and checked his pride.
He chose a mournful muse
Soft pity to infuse :
He sung Darius great and good,
By too severe a fate.
ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR THE POWER OF MUSIC. 215
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high, estate,
And weltering in his blood :
Deserted at his utmost need,
By those his former bounty fed,
On the bare earth exposed he lies,
With not a friend to close his eyes.
With downcast look the joyless victor sat,
Revolving in his altered soul
The various turns of fate below ;
And now and then a sigh he stole ;
And tears began to flow.
The mighty master smiled, to see
That love was in the next degree ;
'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
For pity melts the mind to love.
Softly sweet in Lydian measures,
Soon he soothed his soul to pleasures.
War he sung is toil and trouble ;
Honor but an empty bubble ;
Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying :
If the world be worth thy winning,
Think, 0, think it worth enjoying !
Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
Take the good the gods provide thee.
The many rend the skies with loud applause ;
So love was crowned, but music won the cause.
The prince, unable to conceal his pain,
Gazed on the fair,
Who caused his care,
And sighed and looked, sighed and looked,
Sighed and looked, and sighed again :
At length with love and wine at once oppressed,
The vanquished victor sunk upon her breast.
Now strike the golden lyre again ;
A louder yet, and yet a louder strain.
Break his bands of sleep asunder,
And rouse him, like a rattling peal of thunder.
Hark, hark, the horrid sound
Has raised up his head ;
As awaked from the dead,
And amazed he stares around.
216 ALEXANDER'S FEAST; OR THE POWER OF MUSIC,
Eevenge ! revenge ! Timotheus cries,
See the furies arise !
See the snakes that they rear,
How they hiss in their hair !
And the sparkles that flash from their eyes !
Behold a ghastly band,
Each a torch in his hand !
These are Grecian ghosts, that in battle were slain,
And unburied remain
Inglorious on the plain :
Give the vengeance due
To the valiant crew.
Behold how they toss their torches on high,
How they point to the Persian abodes,
And glittering temples of their hostile gods.
The princes applaud, with a furious joy ;
And the king seized a flambeau, with zeal to destroy ;
Thais led the way,
To light him to his prey,
And, like another Helen, fired another Troy.
Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learned to blow,
While organs yet were mute ;
Timotheus to his breathing flute
And sounding lyre,
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
At last divine Cecilia came,
Inventress of the vocal frame ;
The sweet enthusiast, from her sacred store,
Enlarged the former narrow bounds,
And added length to solemn sounds,
With nature's mother wit, and arts unknown before.
Let old Timotheus yield the prize,
Or both divide the crown ;
He raised a mortal to the skies ;
She drew an angel down.
ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 217
ALEXANDER THE GREAT.
BY J. P. MAHAFFY.
(From "Greek Life and Thought.")
[JOHN PBNTLAND MAHAFFY, born in Switzerland of Irish parentage, February
26, 1839, is one of the most brilliant of recent scholars and writers on classical
Greek subjects ; especially the literature, habits, and morals of the Hellenic or
Hellenized peoples down to the time of Christ. He is professor of ancient his-
tory in Trinity College, Dublin. He has written only one formal history of
events, " The Empire of the Ptolemies " (1896) ; though much valuable incidental
historic and biographic matter is contained in his other works, the chief of which
are "Social Life in Greece," " Greek Life and Thought" (a continuation of
the former), "Greece under Eoman Sway," "Problems in Greek History,"
"History of Greek Classical Literature," etc.]
THERE was no king throughout all the Eastern world in the
third century B.C. who did not set before him Alexander as
the ideal of what a monarch ought to be. His transcendent
figure so dominates the imagination of his own and the follow-
ing age, that from studying his character we can draw all the
materials for the present chapter. For this purpose the bril-
liant sketch of Plutarch, who explicitly professes to write the
life and not the history of the king, is on the whole more
instructive than the detailed chronicle of Arrian. From both
we draw much that is doubtful and even fabulous, but much
also which is certain and of unparalleled interest, as giving us
a picture of the most extraordinary man that ever lived. The
astonishing appearance of this lad of twenty, hurried to the
throne by his father's death, in the midst of turmoil within
and foes without, surrounded by doubtful friends and timid
advisers, without treasury, without allies — and yet at once and
without hesitation asserting his military genius, defeating his
bravest enemies, cowing his disloyal subjects, crushing sedition,
and then starting to conquer Asia, and to weld together two
continents by a new policy — this wonder was indeed likely to
fascinate the world, and if his successors aped the leftward in-
clination of his head and the leonine sit of his hair, they were
sure enough to try to imitate what was easier and harder — the
ways of his court and the policy of his kingdom.
Quite apart from his genius, which was unique, his position
in Greece was perfectly novel, in that he combined Hellenic
training, language, and ideas with a totally un-Hellenic thing
— royalty. For generations, the Macedonian kings had been
trying to assert themselves as real Greeks. They had sue-
218 ALEXANDER THE GREAT.
ceeded in having their splendid genealogy accepted — an un-
deniable gain in those days, but their other claims were as yet
hardly established. It is true they had entertained great poets
at their court, and had odes and tragedies composed for the
benefit of their subjects, but none of them, not even Philip, who
was just dead, had yet been accepted as a really naturalized
Greek. Yet Philip had come closer to it than his predecessors;
he had spent his youth in the glorious Thebes of Epaminondas ;
he trained himself carefully in the rhetoric of Athens, and
could compose speeches and letters which passed muster even
with such fastidious stylists as Demosthenes. But though he
could assume Greek manners and speak good Greek in his seri-
ous moments, when on his good behavior, it was known that
his relaxations were of a very different kind. Then he showed
the Thracian — then his Macedonian breeding came out.
Nevertheless he saw so clearly the importance of attaining
this higher level that he spared no pains to educate his son, and
with him his son's court, in the highest culture. We know
not whether it was accident or his clear judgment of human
character which made him choose Aristotle as Alexander's
tutor — there were many other men employed to instruct him
— but we feel how foreign must have been Aristotle's conver-
sation at the palace and among the boon companions of Philip,
and hence Mieza, a quiet place away from court, was chosen for
the prince's residence. There Aristotle made a Hellene of him
in every real sense. It is certain, if we compare Alexander's
manifesto to Darius with what is called Philip's letter, that he
did not write so well as his father ; but he learned to know
and love the great poets, and to associate with men of culture
and of sober manners. Every one testifies to the dignity and
urbanity of his address, even if at late carouses with intimates
he rather bored the company with self-assertion and boasting.
But this social defect was not unknown among the purest
Hellenes. All through his life he courted Greek letters, he
attended Greek plays, he talked in Greek to Greek men, and
we can see how deep his sympathy with Hellenedom was from
his cutting remark — in vino veritas — to two Greeks sitting at
the fatal banquet where the Macedonian veteran, Clitus, broke
out into indecent altercation. " Don't you feel like demigods
among savages when you are sitting in company with these
Macedonians ? " It may be said that Hellenedom was less fas-
tidious in the days of Alexander than in the days of his prede-
ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 219
cessors. I need not argue that question ; suffice it to say that
even had he made no world conquests he would have been
recognized as a really naturalized Hellene, and fit to take his
place among the purest Greeks, in opposition to the most re-
spectable barbarians. The purest Hellene, such as the Spartan
Pausanias, was liable to degradation of character from the
temptations of absolute power no less than a Macedonian or a
Roman.
But on the other hand he was a king in a sense quite novel
and foreign to the Greeks. They recognized one king, the King
of Persia, as a legitimate sovereign, ruling in great splendor,
but over barbarians. So they were ready to grant such a thing
as a king over other barbarians of less importance ; but a king
over Greeks, in the proper sense of the word, had not existed
since the days of legendary Greece. There were indeed tyrants,
plenty of them, and some of them mild men and fond of culture,
friends of poets, and respectable men ; and there were the
kings of Sparta. But the former were always regarded as
arch heretics were regarded by the Church in the Middle Ages,
as men whose virtues were of no account and whose crime was
unpardonable ; to murder them was a heroic deed, which wiped
out all the murderer's previous sins. On the other hand, the
latter were only hereditary, respected generals of an oligarchy,
the real rulers of which were the ephors. Neither of these
cases even approached the idea of a sovereign, as the Macedo-
nians and as the kingdoms of mediaeval and modern Europe have
conceived it.
For this implied in the first place a legitimate succession,
such as the Spartan kings indeed possessed, and with it a divine
right in the strictest sense. As the Spartan, so the Macedonian
kings came directly from Zeus, through his greatest hero sons,
Heracles and ^Eacus. But while the Spartan kings had long
lost, if they ever possessed, the rights of Menelaus, who could
offer to give a friend seven inhabited towns as a gift, while
they only retained the religious preeminence of their pedigree,
the kings of Macedonia had preserved all their ancient privi-
leges. Grote thinks them the best representatives of that pre-
historic sovereignty which we find in the Greece of Homer. But
all through his history he urges upon us the fact that there was
no settled constitutional limit to the authority of the kings
even in cases of life and death. On the other hand, German
inquirers, who are better acquainted with absolute monarchy,
220 ALEXANDER THE GREAT.
see in the assembly of free Macedonians — occasionally con-
vened, especially in cases of high treason or of a succession to
the throne — a check like that of the Commons in earlier Eng-
land. There seem in fact to have been two powers, both
supreme, which could be brought into direct collision any day,
and so might produce a deadlock only to be removed by a trial
of strength. Certain it is that Macedonian kings often ordered
to death, or to corporal punishment and torture, free citizens
and even nobles. It is equally certain that the kings often
formally appealed to an assembly of soldiers or of peers to
decide in cases of life and death. Such inconsistencies are not
impossible where there is a recognized divine right of kings,
and when the summoning of an assembly lies altogether in the
king's hands. Except in time of war, when its members were
together under arms, the assembly had probably no way of
combining for a protest, and the low condition of their civiliza-
tion made them indulgent to acts of violence on the part of their
chiefs.
Niebuhr, however, suggests a very probable solution of this
difficulty. He compares the case of the Frankish kings, who
were only princes among their own free men, but absolute lords
over lands which they conquered. Thus many individual kings
came to exercise absolute power illegally by transferring their
rights as conquerors to those cases where they were limited
monarchs. It is very possible too that both they and the
Macedonian kings would prefer as household officers nobles of
the conquered lands, over whom they had absolute control.
Thus the constitutional and the absolute powers of the king
might be confused, and the extent of either determined by the
force of the man who occupied the throne.
That Alexander exerted his supreme authority over all his
subjects is quite certain. And yet in this he differed absolutely
from a tyrant, such as the Greeks knew, that he called together
his peers and asked them to pass legal sentence upon a subject
charged with grave offenses against the crown. No Greek
tyrant ever could do this, for he had around him no halo of
legitimacy, and, moreover, he permitted no order of nobility
among his subjects.
It appears that for a long time back the relations of king
and nobles had been in Macedonia much as they were in the
Middle Ages in Europe. There were large landed proprietors,
and many of them had sovereign rights in their own provinces.
ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 221
Not only did the great lords gather about the king as their
natural head, but they were proud to regard themselves as his
personal servants, and formed the household, which was known
as the therapeia in Hellenistic times. Earlier kings had
adopted the practice of bringing to court noble children, to be
the companions of the prince, and to form an order of royal
pages ; so no doubt Greek language and culture had been dis-
seminated among them, and perhaps this was at first the main
object. But in Alexander's time they were a permanent part
of the king's household, and were brought up in his personal
service, to become his aids-de-camp and his lords in waiting as
well as his household brigade of both horse and foot guards,
and perform for him many semi-menial offices which great lords
and ladies are not ashamed to perform for royalty, even up to
the present day.
I will add but one more point, which is a curious illustration
of the position of the Macedonian kings among their people.
None of them contented himself with one wife, but either
kept concubines, like all the kings in Europe, and even in Eng-
land till George III., or even formally married second wives, as
did Philip and Alexander. These practices led to constant and
bloody tragedies in the royal family. Every king of Macedon
who was not murdered by his relatives was at least conspired
against by them. What is here, however, of consequence, is
the social position of the royal bastards. They take their
place not with the dishonored classes, but among the nobles,
and are all regarded as pretenders to the throne.
I need not point out to the reader the curious analogies of
mediseval European history. The facts seem based on the idea
that the blood of kings was superior to that of the highest
noble, and that even when adulterated by an ignoble mother, it
was far more sacred than that of any subject. The Macedo-
nians had not indeed advanced to the point of declaring all mar-
riages with subjects morganatic, but they were not very far
from it; for they certainly suffered from all the evils which
English history as well as other histories can show, where
alliances of powerful subjects with the sovereign are permitted.
Thus Alexander the Great, the third Macedonian king of
his name, stood forth really and thoroughly in the position
assigned by Herodotus to his elder namesake — a Greek man in
pedigree, education, and culture, and king of the Macedonians^ a
position unknown and unrecognized in the Greek world since
222 ALEXANDER THE GREAT.
the days of that Iliad which the conqueror justly prized, as to
him the best and most sympathetic of all Hellenic books. Let
us add that in the text, which Aristotle revised for him, there
were assertions of royalty, including the power of life and
death, which are expunged from our texts. He had the
sanction of divine right, but what was far more important, the
practical control of life and death, regarding the nobility as his
household servants, and the property of his subjects as his own,
keeping court with considerable state, and in every respect
expressing, as Grote says, the principle VEtat Jest moi.
A very few words will point out what changes were made
in this position by his wonderful conquests. Though brought
up in considerable state, and keeping court with all the splen-
dor which his father's increased kingdom and wealth could
supply, he was struck with astonishment, we are told, at the
appointments of Darius' tents, which he captured after the
battle of Issus. When he went into the bath prepared for his
opponent, and found all the vessels of pure gold, and smelt the
whole chamber full of frankincense and myrrh, and then passed
out into a lofty dining tent with splendid hangings, and with
the appointments of an oriental feast, he exclaimed to his staff :
"Well, this is something like royalty." Accordingly there
was no part of Persian dignity which he did not adopt. We
hear that the expenses of his table — he always dined late —
rose to about X400 daily, at which limit he fixed it. Nor is
this surprising when we find that he dined as publicly as the
kings of France in the old days, surrounded by a brilliant staff
of officers and pages, with a bodyguard present, and a trumpeter
ready to summon the household troops. All manner of deli-
cacies were brought from the sea and from remote provinces for
his table.
In other respects, in dress and manners, he drifted gradually
into Persian habits also. The great Persian lords, after a gal-
lant struggle for their old sovereign, loyally went over to his
side. Both his wives were oriental princesses, and perhaps too
little has been said by historians about the influence they must
have had in recommending to him Persian officers and pages.
The loyalty of these people, great aristocrats as they were, was
quite a different thing from that of the Macedonians, who had
always been privileged subjects, and who now attributed to
their own prowess the king's mighty conquests. The orien-
tals, on the other hand, accepted him as an absolute monarch,
ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 223
nay, as little short of a deity, to whom they readily gave the
homage of adoration. It is a characteristic story that when
the rude and outspoken Casander had just arrived at Babylon
for the first time, on a mission from his father Antipater, the
regent of Macedonia, he saw orientals approaching Alexander
with their customary prostrations, and burst out laughing.
Upon this Alexander was so enraged that he seized him by the
hair and dashed his head against the wall, and there can be
little doubt that the king's death, which followed shortly, saved
Casander from a worse fate. Thus the distinction pointed out
by Niebuhr would lead Alexander to prefer the orientals, whom
he had conquered, and who were his absolute property, to the
Macedonians, who were not only constantly grumbling but had
even planned several conspiracies against him.
There was yet another feature in Alexander's court which
marks a new condition of things. The keeping of a regular court
journal, Ephemerides, wherein the events of each day were care-
fully registered, gave an importance to the court which it had
never before attained within Greek or Macedonian experience.
The daily bulletins of his last illness are still preserved to us
by Arrian and Plutarch from these diaries. In addition to this
we hear that he sent home constant and detailed public dis-
patches to his mother and Antipater, in which he gave the
minutest details of his life.
In these the public learned a new kind of ideal of pleasure
as well as of business. The Macedonian king, brought up in a
much colder climate than Greece, among mountains which gave
ample opportunity for sport, was so far not a " Greek man " that
he was less frugal as regards his living, and had very differ-
ent notions of amusement. The Hellene, who was mostly a
townsman, living in a country of dense cultivation, was beholden
to the gymnasium and palestra for his recreation, of which the
highest outcome was the Olympic and other games, where he
could attain glory by competition in athletic meetings. The
men who prize this sort of recreation are always abstemious and
careful to keep in hard condition by diet and special exercising
of muscles. The Macedonian ideal was quite different, and
more like that of our country gentleman, who can afford to
despise bodily training in the way of abstinence, who eats and
drinks what he likes, nay, often drinks to excess, but works off
evil effects by those field sports which have always produced
the finest type of man — hunting, shooting, fishing — in fact
224 ALEXANDER THE GREAT.
the life of the natural or savage man reproduced with artificial
improvements.
Alexander took the Macedonian side strongly against the
Greek in these matters. He is said to have retorted upon the
people who advised him to run in the sprint race at Olympia,
that he would do so when he found kings for competitors. But
the better reason was that he despised that kind of bodily train-
ing; he would not have condescended to give up his social
evenings, at which he drank freely ; and above all he so
delighted in hunting that he felt no interest in athletic meet-
ings. When he got into the preserves of Darius he fought the
lion and the bear, and incurred such personal danger that his
adventures were commemorated by his fellow-sportsmen in
bronze. He felt and asserted that this kind of sport, requiring
not only courage and coolness but quick resource, was the
proper training for war, in contrast to the athletic habit of
body, which confessedly produced dullness of mind and sleepi-
ness of body.
This way of spending the day in the pursuit of large game,
and then coming home to a late dinner and a jovial carouse,
where the events of the day are discussed and parallel anec-
dotes brought out, was so distinctive as to produce a marked
effect on the social habits of succeeding generations. The older
Spartans had indeed similar notions ; they despised competi-
tions in the arena, and spent their time hunting in the wilds
of Mount Taygetus ; but the days for Sparta to influence the
world were gone by, and indeed none but Arcadians and JEto-
lians among the Greeks had like opportunities.
It would require a separate treatise to discuss fully the
innovations made by Alexander in the art of war. But here
it is enough to notice, in addition to Philip's abandonment of
citizen for professional soldiers, the new development Alex-
ander gave to cavalry as the chief offensive branch of military
service. He won all his battles by charges of heavy cavalry,
while the phalanx formed merely the defensive wing of his line.
He was even breaking up the phalanx into lighter order at the
time of his death. So it came that the noblest and most
esteemed of his Companions were cavalry officers, and from
this time onward no general thought of fighting, like Epami-
nondas, a battle on foot. Eastern warfare also brought in the
use of elephants, but this was against the practice of Alex-
ander, who did not use them in battle, so far as we know.
ALEXANDER THE GREAT. 225
I believe I was the first to call attention to the curious anal-
ogies between the tactics of Alexander and those of Cromwell.
Each lived in an age when heavy cavalry were found to be
superior to infantry, if kept in control, and used with skill.
Hence each of them fought most of his battles by charging
with his cavalry on the right wing, overthrowing the enemy's
horse, and then, avoiding the temptation to pursue, charging
the enemy's infantry in flank, and so deciding the issue.
Meanwhile they both felt strong enough to disregard a defeat
on their left wing by the enemy's horse, which was not under
proper discipline, and went far away out of the battle in pur-
suit. So similar is the course of these battles, that one is
tempted to believe that Cromwell knew something of Alex-
ander. It is not so. Each of these men found by his genius
the best way of using the forces at his disposal. Alexander's
Companions were Cromwell's Ironsides.
In one point, however, he still held to old and chivalrous
ways, and so fell short of our ideal of a great commander. He
always charged at the head of his cavalry, and himself took part
in the thickest of the fight. Hence in every battle he ran the
risk of ending the campaign with his own life. It may be said
that he had full confidence in his fortune, and that the king's
valor gave tremendous force to the charge of his personal com-
panions. But nothing can convince us that Hannibal's view
of his duties was not far higher, of whom it was noted that he
always took ample care for his own safety, nor did he ever, so
far as we know, risk himself as a combatant. Alexander's
example, here as elsewhere, gave the law, and so a large pro-
portion of his successors found their death on the battlefield.
The aping of Alexander was apparently the main cause of this
serious result.
Modern historians are divided as regards Alexander into
two classes: First those like Grote, who regard him as a partly
civilized barbarian, with a lust for conquest, but with no ideas
of organization or of real culture beyond the establishment of
a strong military control over a vast mass of heterogeneous
subjects. Secondly, those like Droysen, who are the majority,
and have better reasons on their side, feel that the king's
genius in fighting battles was not greater than his genius in
founding cities, not merely as outposts, but as marts, by which
commerce and culture should spread through the world. He
is reported to have disputed with Aristotle, who wished him to
VOL. IV. — 16
226 ALEXANDER THE GREAT.
treat the orientals like a master and to have asserted that his
policy was to treat them as their leader. We know from Aris-
totle's " Politics " that with all his learning, the philosopher had
not shaken off Hellenic prejudices, and that he regarded the
Eastern nations as born for slavery. Apart from the question-
able nature of his theory, he can have known little of the great
Aryan barons of Bactriana or Sogdiana, who had for centuries
looked on the Greek adventurers they met as the Romans did
in later days. But Alexander belongs to a different age from
Aristotle, as different as Thucydides from Herodotus, contem-
porary though they were in their lives, and he determined to
carry out the "marriage of Europe and Asia." To a Hellene
the marriage with a foreigner would seem a more or less dis-
graceful concubinage. The children of such a marriage could
not inherit in any petty Greek state. Now the greatest Mace •
donian nobles were allied to Median and Persian princesses,
and the Greeks who had attained high official position at court,
such as Eumenes, the chief secretary, were only too proud to be
admitted to the same privilege.
The fashion of making or cementing alliances by marriages
becomes from this time a feature of the age. The kings who
are one day engaged in deadly war are the next connected as
father and son-in-law, or as brothers-in-law. No solemn peace
seems to be made without a marriage, and yet these marriages
seldom hinder the breaking out of new wars.
All the Greek historians blame the Persian tendencies of
Alexander, his assumption of oriental dress and of foreign
ceremonial. There was but one of his officers, Peucestas, who
loyally followed his chief, and who was accordingly rewarded
by his special favor. Yet if we remember Greek prejudices,
and how trivial a fraction of the empire the Greeks were in
population, we may fairly give Alexander credit for more
judgment than his critics. No doubt the Persian dress
was far better suited to the climate than the Macedonian.
No doubt he felt that a handful of Macedonians could never
hold a vast empire without securing the sympathy of the con-
quered. At all events he chose to do the thing his own way,
and who will say that he should have done it as his critics
prescribe ?
THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS. 227
THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS.
BY ARBIAN.
[NEARCHUS, "son of Androtimus," is the only known navigator of an-
tiquity who singly added much to the stock of the world's knowledge. He was
a Cretan who migrated to Macedonia, became a favored companion of Alexander,
and in the Asiatic invasion was made governor of Lycia and vicinity, where he
remained five years. In B.C. 329, he joined Alexander in Bactria with a body
of troops, and took a prominent part in the Indian campaign, whence arose his
immortal voyage, B.C. 325.
The terror which this sail of a few hundred miles inspired in every one,
even Alexander, is a curious proof of the unfitness of the old war galleys for
serious navigation, and their inability to carry any store of provisions. The
crew were nearly starved in a few days after they left victualing places behind.
The voyage added the coast of Baluchistan to the known map. Alexander was
so pleased that he proposed to equip a similar expedition under Nearchus to
circumnavigate Arabia ; but his own death put an end to it. In the break-up,
Nearchus took service with Antigonus, who was defeated and killed at Ipsus,
B.C. 301. We know nothing further of him.
ARRIAN (Lucius Flavius Arrianus) was born in Nicomedia, Asia Minor,
about A.D. 100 ; died under Marcus Aurelius, not far from A.D. 180. He lived
in Rome and Athens, and held high office under Hadrian and the Antonines in
Rome ; being governor of Cappadocia under the former in 136 (repelling an
invasion of the Mongol Alani), and consul under Antoninus Pius in 146. He
then retired to a priesthood in his native city, devoting himself to philosophy and
literary work. He wrote an abstract of Epictetus's philosophy, a work on
India, and a " Voyage around the Euxine " ; but his chief and only extant work
is the "Anabasis of Alexander," modeled on Xenophon.]
THIS narrative is a description of the voyage which Near-
chus made with the fleet, starting from the outlet of the Indus
through the Great Sea as far as the Persian Gulf, which some
call the Red Sea.
Nearchus has given the following account of this. He
says that Alexander had a great wish to sail right round the
sea from India as far as the Persian sea, but was alarmed at
the length of the voyage. He was afraid that his army would
perish, lighting upon some uninhabited country, or one desti-
tute of roadsteads, or not sufficiently supplied with the ripe
crops. He thought that this great disgrace following upon his
mighty exploits would annihilate all his success. But the
desire he always felt to do something new and marvelous won
the day. However, he was in perplexity whom to choose as
competent to carry out his projects, and how he was to remove
the fear of the sailors and of those sent on such an expedition
228 THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS.
that they were being sent out recklessly to a foreseen and
manifest danger.
Nearchus says that Alexander consulted him as to whom he
should choose to conduct the expedition, mentioning one after
another as having declined, some not being willing to run the
risk of losing their reputation by failure, others because they
were cowardly at heart, others being possessed by a yearning
for their own land. The king accused one of making one
excuse, and another of making another. Then Nearchus him-
self undertook the office and said : " O king, I undertake to
conduct this expedition, and if God assists me, I will bring the
ships and the men safely round as far as the land of Persis, at
any rate if the sea in that quarter is navigable ; and if the
enterprise is not an impossible one for the human intellect."
Alexander in reply said he was unwilling to expose any of his
friends to such great hardship and such great danger ; but
Nearchus, all the more on this account, refused to give in, and
persevered in his resolve. Alexander was so pleased with the
zeal of Nearchus, that he appointed him commander of the
whole expedition.
VOYAGE FROM THE INDUS.
As soon as the annual winds were lulled to rest, they
started on the twentieth day of the month Boedromion (Octo-
ber) [B.C. 325]. These annual winds continue to blow from
the sea to the land the whole season of summer, and thereby
render navigation impossible. Before commencing the voyage,
Nearchus offered sacrifice to Zeus the Preserver, and celebrated
a gymnastic contest. Having started from the roadstead down
the river Indus, on the first day they moored near a large canal,
and remained there two days. Departing on the third day
they sailed 30 stades (3J miles), as far as another canal, the
water of which was salt. For the sea came up into it, espe-
cially with the tide, and the water mingling with the river
remained salt even after the ebb. Thence still sailing down
the river 20 stades (2J miles) they moored at Coreestis.
Starting thence they sailed not far ; for they saw a reef at the
mouth of the river, and the waves dashed against the shore, and
this shore was rugged. But they made a canal through a soft
part of the reef for 5 stades and got the ships through it,
when the tide reached them from the sea. Having sailed
THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS. 229
right round 150 stades (1TJ miles) they moored at a sandy
island called Crocala, and stayed there the rest of the day.
Near this island lives an Indian nation called Arabians.
From Crocala they sailed, having on their right the mountain
called by them Eirus, and on their left an island lying level
with the sea. The island, stretching along the shore, makes a
narrow strait. Having sailed through this they moored in a
harbor affording good anchorage. There is an island near the
mouth of the harbor, about two stades off; the island lying
athwart the sea has made a natural harbor. Here great and
continuous winds blew from the sea ; and Nearchus, fearing
that some of the barbarians might band together and turn to
plunder his camp, fortified the place with a stone wall. The
stay here was twenty-four days. He says that his soldiers
caught sea mice, oysters, and a shellfish called solenes, wonder-
ful in size if compared with those in this sea of ours ; and the
water was salt to the taste.
VOYAGE ALONG THE COAST OP INDIA.
As soon as the wind ceased they put to sea, and having
proceeded 60 stades (7 miles), they cast anchor near a sandy
coast; and near the coast was an uninhabited island, named
Domse. Using this as a breakwater, they anchored. But on
the shore there was no water ; so they advanced into the inte-
rior about 20 stades (2J miles), and lighted on some good
water. On the next day they sailed 300 stades (35 miles) to
Saranga, and anchored at night near the shore, about 8 stades
(1 mile) from which there was water. Sailing thence they
anchored at Sacala, an uninhabited spot ; and sailing between
two cliffs so near each other that the oars of the ships touched
the rocks on both sides, they anchored at Morontobara, having
advanced 300 stades. The harbor was large, circular, deep,
and sheltered from the waves ; and the entrance into it was
narrow. This is called in the native tongue, the Woman's
Harbor, because a woman first ruled over this place. While
they were sailing between the rocks, they met with great waves
and the sea had a swift current ; so that it appeared a great
undertaking to sail out beyond the rocks. On the next day
they sailed, having on their left an island like a breakwater
to the sea, so close to the shore that one might conjecture that
a canal had been cut between it and the shore. The channel
230 THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS.
extends 70 stades (8J miles). Upon the shore were dense
woods, and the island was covered with every sort of tree.
At the approach of dawn they sailed beyond the island over
the narrow surf ; for the ebb tide was still running. Having
sailed 120 stades (14 miles) they anchored in the mouth of the
river Arabis. There was a large and fine harbor near the
mouth. The water was not drinkable ; for the water discharged
by the river had been mixed with that of the sea. But having
advanced into the interior 40 stades (4J miles), they came
upon a pond, and having got water from it they returned.
Near the harbor is an elevated uninhabited island, round which
oysters and every kind of fish are caught.
THE COAST OF BALUCHISTAN.
Starting from the outlet of the Arabis, they sailed along
the land of the Oreitians. They anchored in a river swollen
by winter rain, the name of which was Tomerus. And at the
outlet of the river was a lake. Men in stifling huts inhabited
the narrow strip of land near the shore. When they saw the
fleet approaching they were amazed, and, extending themselves
in line along the shore, they formed into military array to pre-
vent the men from landing. They carried thick spears, 6 cubits
(9 feet) long; the point was not of iron, but the sharp end
hardened in fire served the same purpose. They were about
600 in number. When Nearchus saw that these were waiting
for him drawn up in battle array, he ordered the ships to be
kept riding at anchor within range, so that his men's arrows
might reach the land; for the thick spears of the barbarians
seemed to be adapted for close fighting, but were not to be
feared in distant skirmishing. He ordered the lightest of his
soldiers and the lightest armed, who were also very expert in
swimming, to swim from the ships at a given signal. Their
instructions were that those who had swum ashore should stand
in the water and wait for their comrades, and not attack the
barbarians before their phalanx had been arranged three deep ;
then they were to raise the battle cry and advance at full speed.
At once the men who had been appointed to carry out this
plan threw themselves out of the ships into the sea, swam
quickly, placed themselves in rank, formed themselves into
phalanx, and began to advance at full speed shouting the bat-
tle cry to Enyalius. Those on the ships joined in the shout,
THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS. 231
Lnd arrows and missiles from the military engines were launched
against the barbarians. They were alarmed at the flashing of
the weapons and the quickness of the attack ; and being struck
by the arrows and the other missiles, they did not turn to de-
fend themselves even a little, but took to flight, as was natural
in men half naked. Some of them were killed there in their
flight, and others wore captured ; but some escaped into the
mountains. Those who were captured were covered with hair
not only on the head but on the rest of the body ; and their
nails were like the claws of wild beasts. For they were said
to use them as we use iron : they killed fish, splitting them up
with these; with these they cut the softer kinds of wood.
Other things they cut with sharp stones, for they have no iron.
Some wore the skins of beasts as clothing, and others the thick
skins of large fishes.
Nearchus says that while they were sailing along the coast
of India, shadows did not act as before. For when they ad-
vanced far into the sea towards the south, the shadows them-
selves also were seen turned towards the south, and when the
sun reached the middle of the day then they saw all things
destitute of shadow. And the stars which before they used to
observe far up in the sky, were some of them quite invisible,
and others were seen near the earth itself, and those which
formerly were always visible were observed to set and rise
again. These things which Nearchus relates seem to me not
improbable. For at Syene in Egypt, when the summer solstice
comes round, a well is shown in which at midday no shadow is
seen. At Meroe all things are shadowless at the same season.
It is therefore probable that among the Indians the same
phenomena occur, as they live towards the south; and espe-
cially throughout the Indian Ocean, as that sea is more inclined
to the south. Let these things be so.
THE COAST OF THE ICHTHYOPHAGI.
Next to the Oreitians the Gadrosians bear sway in the inte-
rior parts. South of the Gadrosians, along the sea itself, live
the people called Ichthyophagi (fish-eaters). Along the coast
of this people's country they sailed. ... On the next day,
earlier than usual, they put to sea and sailed round a lofty
and precipitous promontory which stretches far out into the
sea. Having dug wells and drawn up water scanty and bad,
232 THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS.
they lay at anchor that day, because the breakers were violent
on the shore. . . . There was an island, Carnine by name, about
100 stades (11J miles) from the shore. Here the villagers
brought sheep and fish to Nearchus as presents of hospitality.
He says that the mutton was fishy like that of sea birds, be-
cause the sheep here eat fish; for there is no grass in the
country. On the next day, sailing 200 stades, they anchored
near the shore and a village called Cissa, 30 stades (3J miles)
distant from the sea. The name of the shore was Carbis.
Here they came upon some vessels which were small, as was
natural, belonging as they did to some miserable fishermen.
They did not catch the men, for they had fled as soon as they
saw the ships were being anchored. There was no corn there,
and most of the supply for the army was exhausted. But
after they had thrown some goats into the ships they sailed
away.
Setting out from Mosarna in the night, they sailed 750
stades (88 miles) to the shore called Balomus, thence 400 stades
(47 miles) to the village of Barna, where many palm trees
were, and a garden in which myrtles and flowers grew. From
these the villagers made garlands. Here they first, since they
started, saw cultivated trees, and men living not altogether
savage. Sailing thence 500 stades (59 miles) they arrived at
a certain small city situated upon a hill not far from the shore.
Nearchus, considering that probably the country was sown with
crops, told Archias that they must capture the place. Archias
was son of Anaxidotus, a Pellsean, one of the Macedonians of
repute, and he was sailing with Nearchus. Nearchus said that
he did not believe they would willingly supply the army with
food, and it was not possible to take the town by assault.
There would therefore be the necessity of besieging it, which
would involve delay. Their supply of food was exhausted.
He guessed that the land was productive of corn, from the tall
stalks which he observed not far from the shore. When they
had decided upon this plan, he ordered all the ships but one to
be got ready for sailing. Archias managed this expedition for
him, while he, being left with a single ship, went to view the
city.
CAPTURE OP A CITY BY SURPRISE.
When he approached the walls in a friendly manner, the
inhabitants brought from the city to him as gifts of hospitality
THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS. 233
tunny fish baked in pans, a few cakes, and some dates. These
men were the most westerly of the Ichthyophagi, and the first
whom they had seen not eating the fish raw. He said that he
received these things with pleasure, and should like to view
their city. They allowed him to enter. When he passed
within the gates, he ordered two of his bowmen to guard the
postern, and he himself with two others and the interpreter
mounted the wall in the direction in which Archias had gone,
and gave him the signal, as it had been agreed that the one
should give the signal and the other should conjecture its mean-
ing and do the thing ordered. The Macedonians, seeing the
signal, drove their ships aground with speed and leaped eagerly
into the sea. The barbarians, being alarmed at these proceed-
ings, ran to arms. But the interpreter with Nearchus made a
proclamation to them that they should give corn to the army,
if they wished to keep their city in safety. They denied that
they had any, and at the same time began to approach the wall.
But Nearchus's bowmen, shooting from a commanding position,
kept them back. When they perceived that their city was
already held by the enemy, and on the point of being sacked,
they besought Nearchus to take the corn which they had and
to carry it away, but not to destroy the city. Nearchus ordered
Archias to seize the gates and the part of the wall near them ;
while he himself sent men with the natives to see whether they
were showing their corn without deceit. The natives showed
them a quantity of meal made from baked fish ground to pow-
der, but only a little wheat and barley ; for they were in the
habit of using the powder made from fish instead of wheat, and
wheaten loaves as a dainty. When they had shown them what
they possessed, they victualled themselves from what was at
hand, and setting sail, they arrived at a promontory called
Bageia, which the natives consider sacred to the Sun.
THE ICHTHYOPHAGI.
Setting out thence at midnight they sailed 1000 stades
(118 miles) to Talmena, a harbor with good anchorage ;
thence they proceeded 400 stades (47 miles) to Canassis, a
deserted city. Here they found a well dug, and some wild
palm trees were growing near it. Cutting off the cabbages
which grow on the top of these, they ate them ; for the food of
the army was now exhausted. Being now weak from hunger
234 THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS.
they sailed a day and night, and anchored near a deserted
shore. Nearchus, being afraid that if his men landed they
would desert the ships from loss of spirit on account of their
distress, kept the vessels riding at anchor in deep water. Hav-
ing departed thence, they sailed 750 stades (88 miles) and
anchored at Canate. There were short channels running from
the shore. Sailing thence 800 stades (94 miles) they anchored
near the land of the Troeans, in which were small, miserable
villages. The people left their houses, but they found a small
quantity of corn there, and some dates. They slaughtered
seven camels which they caught, and ate the flesh of these.
Having started at break of day, they sailed 300 stades (35
miles) and reached Dagaseira, where dwelt some people who
were nomadic. Having set out from thence they sailed a night
and a day without stopping at all, and after proceeding 1100
stades (129 miles) they sailed beyond the boundary of the
nation called Ichthyophagi, suffering much distress from lack
of provisions. They did not anchor near the land because the
coast for a great distance was rocky and unsafe ; thus they were
compelled to ride at anchor in deep water. The length of the
voyage along the coast of the Ichthyophagi was a little more
than 10,000 stades (1176 miles). These people are called
Ichthyophagi because they live upon fish. Only a few of them
are fishermen by trade ; for not many make boats for this busi-
ness, or have discovered the art of catching fish. They are sup-
plied, for the most part, with fish by the ebbing of the tide.
Some of them made nets to catch them, mostly two stades in
length (one-fourth of a mile). They construct them out of the
inner bark of palm trees, which they twist as we do hemp. But
when the tide ebbs and the land is left dry, most of it is desti-
tute of fish ; but where there are depressions, some of the water
is left behind in them, in which are very many fishes. Most of
them are small, but others are larger. These they catch by
casting nets around them. The tenderest of them they eat raw
as soon as they draw them out of the water ; but they dry the
larger and harder ones in the sun, and when they are thor-
oughly baked, they grind them down and make meal and
loaves of them. Others bake cakes from this meal. Their
cattle also live on dried fish ; for the country is destitute of
meadows and does not produce grass. They catch also crabs,
oysters, and other shellfish all along the coast. There is nat-
ural salt in the country. From these they make oil. Some
THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS. 235
inhabit desert places, where the land is without trees, and does
not produce cultivated fruits. The whole diet of these con-
sists of fish. Few of them sow any corn in the land, and what
little is produced they use as a relish to the fish ; for they use
fish in place of bread. The most prosperous of them collect
the bones of the whales cast up by the sea, and use these instead
of timber for their houses ; the broad bones which they find
they make into doors. The majority, who are poorer, make
their houses of the backbones of fishes.
WHALES.
Great whales live in the external sea, as well as fish far
larger than those in this internal sea [the Mediterranean].
Nearchus says that when they were sailing from Cyiza they
saw at daybreak the water of the sea being blown upward as
if being borne violently aloft from the action of bellows. Being
alarmed, they asked the pilots what it was, and from what this
phenomenon arose ; and they answered that this was caused by
whales rushing through the sea and blowing the water upward.
The sailors were so alarmed at this that they let the oars fall
from their hands. Nearchus went to them and encouraged
them, and bade them be of good cheer ; and sailing past each
of the vessels, he ordered the men to direct their ships straight
at them as in a sea battle, to raise a loud shout, and to row as
hard as they could, making as much noise and din as possible.
Being thus encouraged, at the signal given, they rowed the
ships together. When they got near the beasts, the men
shouted as loud as they could, the trumpets sounded, and they
made as much noise as possible with the rowing. Then the
whales, which were just now seen at the prows of the ships,
being frightened, dived to the bottom, and soon afterwards
came up again near the sterns, and again blew the sea up to
a great distance. Then there was loud applause among the
sailors at their unexpected deliverance, and praise was given
to Nearchus for his boldness and wisdom. Some of these
whales are left ashore on many parts of the coast, when the
ebb tide flows, being imprisoned in the shallows; others are
thrown up on the dry ground by the rough storms, and then
perish and rot. When the flesh has fallen off the bones are
left; which the people use for making their houses. The
236 THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS.
large bones in their sides form beams for the houses, and the
smaller ones rafters, the jawbones the doorposts. For many of
them reach the length of 25 fathoms [152 feet].
THE SNARK ISLAND, AND THE MERMAID.
When they were sailing along the coast of the land of the
Ichthyophagi, they heard a tale about a certain island, which
lies 100 stades (11J miles) from the mainland there, and is
uninhabited. The natives say it is called Nosala, and that
it is sacred to the Sun, and that no man wishes to touch at
it. For whoever lands there through ignorance, disappears.
Nearchus says that one of their light galleys having a crew of
Egyptians disappeared not far from this island ; and that the
pilots stoutly affirmed in regard to this occurrence, that no
doubt, having put in at the island through want of knowledge,
they had disappeared. But Nearchus sent a ship with thirty
oars all round the island, ordering the sailors not to land on it,
but sailing along so as to graze the shore to shout out to the
men, calling out the captain's name and that of any other man
known to them. But when no one obeyed him, he says he
himself sailed to the island, and compelled the sailors against
their will to put in. He landed himself, and proved that the
tale about the island was an empty myth.
He heard another tale told about this island, to the effect
that one of the Nereids dwelt in it; but her name was not
mentioned. She had communication with every man who
approached the island, and having changed him into a fish,
cast him into the sea. But the Sun was angry with the Ne-
reid, and ordered her to depart from the island. She agreed to
depart, but besought that her disease should be healed. The
Sun hearkened to her request, and pitying the men whom
she had turned into fishes, he turned them back again into
men ; and from these, they said, the race of the Ichthyophagi
sprang, which continued down to the time of Alexander. I,
for my part, do not praise Nearchus for spending his time and
ability in proving these things false, though they were not
very difficult of disproof. I know, however, that it is a very
difficult task for one who reads the ancient tales to prove that
they are false.
THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS. 237
VOYAGE ALONG THE COAST OP CABMANIA.
They came to anchor near a deserted shore, and observed a
long promontory stretching far out into the sea. The promon-
tory seemed about a day's voyage off. Those who were ac-
quainted with those parts said that this promontory, which
stretched out, was in Arabia, and was called Maceta ; and that
cinnamon and such like things were carried thence to the
Assyrians. From this shore, where the fleet was riding at
anchor, and from the promontory which they saw stretching
out into the sea opposite them, the gulf runs up into the inte-
rior, which is probably the Red Sea (Arabian Sea). So I think,
and so did Nearchus.
When they saw this promontory, Onesicritus gave orders
to direct their course to it, in order that they might not suffer
hardships driving their ships up the gulf. But Nearchus an-
swered that Onesicritus was childish if he did not know
for what purpose Alexander had dispatched the expedition.
For he did not send out the ships because he could not con-
vey all his army by land in safety, but because he wished
to explore the coast by a coasting voyage to see what harbors
and islands were there, and if any gulf ran into the land to sail
round it ; to find out what cities were on the seacoast, and see
if any of the country was fertile, and if any was deserted.
Therefore they ought not to render their whole work nugatory,
now they were already near the end of their labors, especially
as they no longer were in want of necessaries on the voyage.
He said he was afraid, because the promontory stretched
towards the south, that they should meet with a country there
uninhabited, waterless, and fiery hot. These arguments pre-
vailed, and Nearchus seems clearly to me to have saved his
army by this advice ; for the report is current that that prom-
ontory and all the land adjacent is uninhabited and entirely
destitute of water.
ABBIVAL AT HABMOZEIA.
Loosening from the shore they sailed, keeping close to the
land, and after voyaging 700 stades (82 miles) they anchored
on another shore, named Neoptana. And again they put to
sea at break of day, and sailing 100 stades (HJ miles) they
anchored in the river Anamis. The place was called Har-
238 THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS.
mozeia [near Gombroon], and was pleasant and fertile in every-
thing; except that olive trees did not grow there. Here they
disembarked and rested with delight from all their labors, re-
calling all the hardships they had endured on the sea and near
the land of the Ichthyophagi, the desolateness of the country,
and the savageness of the people. They also recapitulated
their own distresses.
Some of them went up far into the country away from the
sea, scattering themselves about away from the camp, one in
search of one thing, another of another. Here they saw a man
wearing a Grecian cloak, and equipped in other respects like
a Greek. He also spoke the Greek language. The men who
first saw this person said that they wept ; it seemed so un-
expected a thing for them, after so many misfortunes, to
see a Greek and to hear a Greek voice. They asked him
whence he came and who he was. He said he had wandered
away from Alexander's camp, and that the king himself and
his army were not far off. They conducted this man to
Nearchus, shouting and clapping their hands. He told Near-
chus everything, and that the king and the camp were distant
from the sea a journey of five days. He said he would intro-
duce the governor of this land to Nearchus, and did so. Near-
chus imparted to the governor his intention of going up the
country to the king.
NEARCHUS REJOINS ALEXANDER.
The governor having learnt that Alexander was very anx-
ious about this expedition, thought that he would receive a
great reward if he were the first to announce to him the safety
of Nearchus and his army, and he knew that Nearchus would
arrive in the king's presence in a very short time. So he drove
the shortest way, and told Alexander that Nearchus would soon
be with him from the ships. At that time, although the king
did not believe the story, yet he rejoiced at the news, as was
natural. But when one day after another passed by, the re-
port no longer seemed credible to him, when he considered the
time since he received the news. Several persons were sent
one after the other to fetch Nearchus. Some, after going a little
distance on the journey and meeting no one, returned without
him; others, having gone farther, but having missed Nearchus
and his men, did not return. Then Alexander ordered that
THE VOYAGE OF NEARCHUS. 239
man to be arrested, as a reporter of empty rumors, and one
who had made his troubles more grievous than before on ac-
count of his foolish joy. It was evident from his face and his
decision that he was cast into great grief. Meanwhile, some
of those who had been dispatched in search of Nearchus with
horses and carriages, fell in with him and Archias, and five or
six with them, on the road; for he was coming up with so few
attendants. When they met them they recognized neither him
nor Archias; so much altered did they look. They had long
hair, they were dirty and covered with brine ; their bodies were
shriveled, and they were pale from want of sleep and other
hardships.
[Alexander was overjoyed to find both fleet and army safe, and. wished to
send the fleet up to Susa under another command; but Nearchus
protested against having accomplished all the hard part of the voyage
and letting another do the easy part and get the glory of the finished
voyage. He was therefore allowed to sail it up the Persian Gulf and
the Euphrates.]
They traveled 900 stades (106 miles), and cast anchor at
the mouth of the Euphrates, near a certain village in Babylonia,
named Diridotis; where the merchants bring frankincense from
the country on the opposite side of the gulf, and all the other
spices which the country of the Arabs produces. From the
mouth of the Euphrates up to Babylon, Nearchus said, is a
voyage of 3300 stades (388 miles). . . .
When it was reported that Alexander was approaching, they
again sailed up the river, and moored near the bridge of boats
by which Alexander was going to convey his army to Susa.
Here a junction was formed, and Alexander offered sacrifices
for the safety of the ships and of the men, and celebrated con-
tests. Wherever Nearchus appeared in the army he was pelted
with flowers and garlands. Here also Nearchus and Leonnatus
were crowned by Alexander with golden crowns; the former
for the preservation of the fleet, and the latter for the victory
which he had won over the Oreitians and the neighboring
barbarians. Thus Alexander's army, starting from the mouth
of the Indus, arrived safely.
240 THE FORGED WILL.
THE FORGED WILL.
BY W. A. BECKER.
(From"Charicles.")
[WiLHBLM ADOLF BECKER, a noted German classical antiquary, was born
at Dresden, 1796 ; died at Meissen, 1846. Designed for trade, he left it for
scholarship ; studied at Leipsic, and the last four years of his life was professor
there. His still familiar works are " Charicles " and " Gallus," novels embody-
ing the social life of the Greeks in Alexander's time and the Romans in
Augustus*. His " Handbook of Koman Antiquities " (1843-1846) is his chief
monument as a scholar.]
[NOTE. — A talent may be reckoned as nearly $1200; a mina, $20; a
drachma, 20 cents.]
POLYCLES was a very wealthy man. His country estates,
his houses in the city and the Piraeus, and his numerous slaves,
yielded him, with no trouble, a secure income ; which however
was as nothing compared to that which he derived from the
ready money lying at the money changers', or lent out else-
where, at a high rate of interest. Those who were more inti-
mate with the state of his affairs were convinced that his property
amounted in all to more than fifty talents.
He had remained single till his fifty -fifth year, and then, in
compliance with his late brother's dying request, he had mar-
ried his only surviving daughter, Cleobule, a blooming girl of
sixteen. But in the midst of the festivity of the marriage
feast, he was attacked with apoplexy, which had been succeeded
by tedious and painful illness. No means of relief had been
neglected. The veteran family physician, a man of no mean
skill, had called in the advice of other medical men, but the
resources of their art were exhausted without success : neither
their exertions, nor the tenderness of Cleobule, who nursed the
patient like a dutiful daughter, availed to reunite the ruptured
threads of his existence. Polycles was not satisfied with ap-
plying for aid to the successors of ^Esculapius, but tried the
efficacy of certain charms ; while interpreters of dreams were
consulted, expiations placed in the crossways, and aged women,
reputed to have the power of curing diseases by mysterious arts
and magic songs, had been summoned to attend. Whole days
and nights had also been passed by the sufferer in the temple
THE FORGED WILL. 241
of JEsculapius, but to no purpose. At last, hearing of a happy
cure effected in a similar case by the baths of ^Edepsos, he
repaired thither for the benefit of the waters : but the Nymphs
had refused their succor ; and some days ago the doctor had
declared that the patient would never need any herb more, save
the parsley [funeral wreaths].
Next day Charicles was on the point of going out. The
previous evening he had come to the resolution of marrying,
and he had determined that Phorion should play the suitor for
him. At this moment a slave rapped at the door, on an errand
from Polycles. Weak as the patient was, he had expressed
great pleasure on hearing that the son of his old friend was in
Athens, and now sent to say he wished to see him once more
before his end, which he felt was drawing nigh. Charicles
could not refuse a request expressive of so much kindliness,
and therefore promised to attend.
" It were better to come along with me at once," said the
slave. " My master is very low now, and his friends have just
met at his bedside*"
"Well, lead on," said Charicles, not unwilling to put off
for a time his intended visit to Phorion ; " lead on, I follow
you."
At the doctor's side stood three friends of the family, their
gaze fixed inquiringly on his countenance ; while at the foot
of the bed an aged slave, with clasped hands, was gazing in-
tently on his dying master. Long and silently did the leech
hold the sick man's wrist, and at last let it go, though without
uttering a word that might encourage hope.
The slave who had conducted Charicles now approached,
and first whispered his arrival to the doctor, with whose assent
he further announced it to his master. The sick man pushed
back the felt cap which he had drawn down over his forehead,
and extended his right hand to Charicles. " Joy to you, son
of my friend," he murmured feebly ; " and thanks for fulfilling
my wish. I was present at the festival of naming you, and
thus you stand now at my dying bed."
" Health to you also," answered Charicles, "and joy, although
now you are in pain and anguish. May the gods transform into
lightsome day the dark night that now encompasses you."
"Nay," said Polycles; "I am not to be deceived. I am
not one of those who, when they meet with suffering or mis-
fortune, send for a sophist to console them. Rather tell me
VOL. IT. — 16
242 THE FORGED WILL.
something of the fate of thy family." The youth, accordingly,
delivered a brief recital of the fortunes of his house since the
flight from Athens.
The sick man evinced so much emotion in the course of the
narration, that at last the doctor motioned Charicles to break
off. " Is the draught ready that I ordered to be prepared ? " he
inquired of a slave who just then entered.
" Manto will bring it immediately," was the reply.
" Manto? " exclaimed Polycles : " why not Cleobule ? "
"She heard that gentlemen were with you," replied the
slave.
" They are only near friends of the family," said the sick
man ; " she need not mind them. I prefer taking the draught
from her."
The slave departed to inform the lady of his master's wishes,
and the doctor again felt the patient's pulse, whilst the by-
standers stood aside.
One of the three, who had been addressed as Sophilos, had
seized Charicles by the hand, and retired with him to a corner
of the room. His age was between fifty and sixty, and his
exterior bespoke affluence, as well as polish and good breeding.
Time had furrowed his brow, and rendered gray his locks ; but
his firm carriage and active step betokened one still vigorous,
and he conversed with all the vivacity of youth. A gentle
earnestness and good-humored benevolence beamed in his
countenance, and his whole appearance was calculated to
awaken confidence and attract the beholder.
As Charicles recounted the misfortunes of his family, Sophi-
los had listened with sympathy, and, when he now further ques-
tioned Charicles about many passages in his life, his glance dwelt
on the youth with peculiar satisfaction. Whilst they were en-
gaged in low-toned conversation, the hanging was pushed aside,
and Cleobule entered, followed by a female slave. Nearly over-
come with timidity, she did not dare raise her eyes, but kept
them fixed on the glass phial in her right hand, and she hastened
to present to her sick husband and uncle the portion which it
contained, the physician having first mingled in it something
from his drug box. She next smoothed the pillow, bending
affectionately over her husband, as if to inquire whether he
felt any relief.
The eyes of all present were fastened on this picture of
dutiful affection, but the gaze of Charicles especially seemed
THE FORGED WILL. 243
riveted to the spot. When Cleobule entered, he was convers-
ing with Sophilos, with his back to the door, and she on her
part was so entirely occupied with tending the sick man, that
her face had not once been turned towards the group behind
her. Yet there was something in that graceful figure that
awoke scarcely stifled emotions in his breast. It was the very
image of the apparition fry the brook. . . .
The physician next prescribed a bath for his patient. . . .
Cleobule hastened to superintend in person the needful prepara-
tions, and as she turned round to go towards the door, her eye
fell upon Charicles, who was standing near it. Suddenly she
started as though she had seen the Gorgon's head, or some
specter risen out of Hades ; and the glass phial would have
dropped from her hand, had not the doctor caught it. With a
deep blush, and downcast eyes, she rushed hurriedly past the
young man, who was himself so surprised and confused that he
did not hear the question which Sophilos just then put to him.
It was now necessary to leave the sick chamber, and he was
not sorry to do so. Approaching the bed, he expressed a hope
that its tenant would amend, and then hastened from the
chamber in a tumult of contending emotions.
It was one of those blustering nights so common at the com-
mencement of Msemacterion [latter part of November]. The
wind blew from Salamis, driving before it the scud of black
rain clouds over the Pirseus ; and when they opened for a mo-
ment, the crescent of the waning moon would peer forth, throw-
ing a transient glimmer on the distant temples of the Acropolis.
In the streets of the seaport, generally so full of bustle, reigned
deep repose, only broken by the dull roaring of the sea, or the
groaning of the masts, as some more violent gust swept through
the rigging of the vessels yet remaining in the harbor. Occa-
sionally, too, some half -intoxicated sailor would stagger lantern-
less from the wine shops towards the harbor ; or some footpad
would sneak along the sides of the houses, ready to pounce on
the cloak of a belated passenger, and hiding cautiously behind
a Hermes or an altar whenever the bell of the night patrol was
heard.
In a small room of a house situated some distance from the
harbor, a young man of unprepossessing exterior lay stretched
upon a low couch, which was too short for his figure. His hol-
low eyes and sunken cheeks, the carelessness of his demeanor,
244 THE FORGED WILL.
his hasty way of draining the cup in his right hand, and the
coarse jokes that from time to time escaped him, sufficiently
marked him as one of those vulgar roues who were accustomed
to waste the day at the dice board, and devote the night to riot
and debauchery. On the table near him, beside the nearly empty
punch bowl, stood a lamp with a double wick, whose light
abundantly illumined the narrow chamber. There were also
the remnants of the frugal supper that he had just concluded,
and a second goblet, which a slave, who sat upon another couch
opposite the young man, replenished pretty frequently. Be-
tween them was a draughtboard which the slave was eying
attentively, whilst the other surveyed it with tolerable indiffer-
ence. The game was by no means even. The menial evidently
had the advantage ; and he now made a move which reduced
his adversary to great straits.
" A stupid game, this ! " exclaimed the youth, as he tossed
the pieces all in a heap ; " a game where it's all thinking, and
nothing won after all. Dicing for me," he added with a yawn.
"But what has got Sosilas? It must be past midnight; and
such v/eather as this, I should not over-enjoy the walk from the
town co the haven."
"He's gone to Polycles," replied the slave. "'Twas said
he would not live till morning, and Sosilas seems vastly con-
cernad about him."
" I know," answered the youth ; " but then why did he send
for me, just at this time of all others ? The morning would
have done quite as well ; and I must needs leave a jolly party,
forsooth ; and here I am, hang it, and have to stand my own
wine, for not a drop has the old hunks provided."
" Ail I know," replied the slave, " is that he bade me fetch
you wherever you were, as he must have speech with you this
very night without fail."
" Then why doesn't he come ? " retorted the other, peevishly.
" Did he go unattended ? "
" Syrus went with him . he'll come to no harm. And even
suppose he didn't return," continued the slave with a smile ;
"why, you're his next relation and heir, aren't you? Two
houses in the city, besides this here — a carpenter's shop, and
maybe some five or six talents in ready cash ; — in sooth, no
such bad heritage ! "
The youth lollsd back complacently on the couch. " Yes,
Molon," said he, " v/^en he's once oct of the way, then - — "
THE FORGED WILL. 245
At this moment came a violent rap at the outer door.
" There he is ! " cried the slave, as he hastily caught up the
draughtboard and one of the goblets, smoothed down the
cushion and coverlet of the couch he had been sitting on, and
stationed himself at the stripling's elbow, as if he had been
waiting on him.
Steps were now audible in the courtyard, and a gruff voice
was heard giving orders to a slave in harsh accents. The door
opened, and in walked a man with a large beard, and dark and
forbidding features. He was wrapped, after the Spartan fash-
ion, in a short mantle of coarse thick texture, and wore Laco-
nian shoes. In his hand was a stout cudgel, with its handle
bent in the form of a cross. The sight of the drinking cups
and the unwonted illumination of the chamber made him forget
the greeting. He approached the slave in a rage.
" Ah ! you knave ! " cried he, raising his stick ; " what d'ye
mean by these two burners, and such large wicks ? Does not
the winter consume oil enough without this ? And you, Lysis-
tratos," — he here turned to the youth — "seem to make your-
self quite at home in my house."
" Oh ! to be sure, uncle," answered the other, dryly ; " wine
on credit from the tavern, since yours is safe under lock and
key. Do you suppose I'm going to wait here half the night for
you, without a drop to drink? "
" I didn't expect to be kept so long," said the old man, some-
what softened, as he hastily scanned the apartment. " You may
go," he said to the slave ; " we don't want you any more : leave
us, and go to bed." The slave departed; Sosilas bolted the
door, and returned to his nephew.
" He is dead," whispered he, drawing a long breath ; " Poly-
cles is dead, and a property of sixty talents and more is left
without natural heirs."
The nephew started. " Well ! and what good is that to us,
if we do not come in for a share ? "
" That's just the question," answered the uncle. " Lysistra-
tos," he resumed after a short silence, " you may be a rich man,
if you will."
" Will ? ay I by Dionysos will I, and no mistake," laughed
the nephew.
"Only do what I tell you," said Sosilas, "and you have
your desire. We are connected — very distantly, I grant —
with Polycles, for my long-deceased wife and Cleobule's mother
246 THE FORGED WILL.
were first cousins. Yet this connection gives us no title to the
property. But, now, what if a will were produced naming me
heir ! "
" You mean a forged one," said Lysistratos musingly ; " but
how will it be accredited without you have his signet ring?
And do you suppose Polycles, during his long illness, has not
himself arranged about bequeathing his property ? "
The old man quietly opened an adjoining room, and fetched
out of it a box, which he unfastened, and drew forth a document
with a seal. " Look ye there, read that," said he, as he placed
it before the youth. " What's the superscription ? "
" By Dionysos ! " cried the youth springing to his feet, "'The
last will of Polycles.' How came you by this ? "
"Very simply," replied the uncle. "When Polycles was
starting to ^depsos, and Sophilos, who had got him in his
meshes, was luckily gone upon a journey, he summoned me,
as a relative of his wife's, and intrusted me with his will in the
presence of the three witnesses therein named."
" Capital ! " shouted Lysistratos ; " so you can substitute
another of your own composing. But still, even then, you will
want his signet : do you think you could imitate it? "
"That would be a dangerous experiment," replied the uncle;
" and besides, you can perceive by the superscription in what
peculiar shaky characters it is written; so that it would be
almost impossible to forge an imitation, nor indeed do we want
one." Saying this he produced a knife, removed the shell
which served as a capsule to the seal, and said, " See ! that's
Polycles' seal, and there is just such another beneath the
writing ; and now look at this," cried he, as he placed side by
side with it another seal, hanging by a slip of string.
" By Poseidon ! exactly the same," exclaimed Lysistratos, in
amazement; "but I can't conceive what all this is about."
" You'll understand presently," replied the uncle. He took
the knife, and without hesitation severed the string to which
the seal was appended, opened the document, and spread it
before his nephew. "Look," he said with a malicious grin;
" supposing ' Sosilas ' stood here instead of ' Sophilos,' and
there, 'Sophilos' instead of 'Sosilas.' I should not so much
mind then."
The youth read in astonishment. " I' faith! " he exclaimed,
"that were indeed a master stroke; and there are only two
letters to alter; for as good luck has it, the fathers' names are
THE FORGED WILL. 247
the same. But the seal?" he added, "the seal ? how could you
venture to break open the deed ? "
The old man made a second dive into the mysterious box,
and drew out something resembling a signet. "I learned how
to make this substance from a cunning fellow who went about
soothsaying. If pressed upon a seal when soft, it receives all
the characters with perfect accuracy and in a short time be-
comes as hard as stone." The will had been opened before,
and the seal appended to it was merely an impression of this.
" Can you distinguish between it and the genuine one ? "
" No, that I can't," answered the nephew.
" So, then, it will be an easy matter to reseal the deed,
when we have altered the letters in these two places."
"But how am I to become rich by this?" now interposed
the youth, suspiciously; "my name is not mentioned in the
testament."
"Listen a moment," replied the uncle; "the inheritance,
as you may have read, is coupled with one condition — that
the heir must marry the widow Cleobule, and if he object to
this, must be content with five talents as his portion; but
he will have the right of giving the widow in marriage,
along with the rest of the property, to whomsoever he may
judge proper. Now I am too old to marry again; and be-
sides, I was warned against it in a dream. I dreamed that I
wished to take a wife, and went to the bride's house to be be-
trothed to her; but when I essayed to go away again, the door
was fastened, and could not be opened. Two interpreters of
dreams, whom I consulted, foretold that I should die on the
day of my betrothment ; and that is warning enough ; but
you shall marry Cleobule, if you will privately cede half the
property to me."
The nephew reflected for a moment. " It's an unequal par-
tition," he said at last: "your share is unincumbered, while
my moiety will be saddled with the widow."
" Fool ! " retorted Sosilas : " Cleobule is such a beauty that
many a man would be glad to take her without any dowry at
all ; besides which, it all depends on me, you know, whether
you get a farthing."
After some higgling, it was finally settled that the uncle
should not receive the five talents over and above his half of
the property, but that these should be included in the parti-
tion.
248 THE FORGED WILL.
" Now hand me the will," said the old man ; " with this little
sponge I erase the two letters, and the more easily because the
paper is so good. Look ! they are now scarce distinguishable.
This ink," continued he, as he produced a little box and the
writing reed, "is of just the same blackness as the writing.
There we have it, all right. Who will assert that it was not
always as it now stands ? "
" Excellent ! " said the nephew ; " now for the seal."
The old man carefully folded up the deed again, moistened
some clay, tied the string, and impressed the forged stamp upon
the clay. " There ! " said he, " isn't it the same seal ? "
" Well, that beats everything," cried Lysistratos, as he com-
pared the two seals ; " no one will ever dream that it is a
forgery."
A rustling outside the door startled the old man. He
snatched up the will and the other contents of the box, which
he bore off, and fastened the door of the room adjacent, seal-
ing it for greater security. Then taking the lamp he explored
the court, to discover if possible the cause of the disturbance.
" It was nothing," he said, when he came back ; " most likely
the storm which made the door shake. It will soon be morn-
ing : Lysistratos, come into my bedchamber, and let us have a
short nap."
The two worthies had not been long gone when Molon
glided softly into the room, and groped about in the dark for
one of the sofas. A gleam of moonlight shone through the
open door, and he hastily seized something that lay in the folds
of the drapery, and then as quickly and softly vanished, his
gestures denoting the prize to be one on which he set a high
value.
When morning dawned on the house of the deceased, it
found the inmates already busy with preparations for the
burial. An earthen vessel, filled with water, stood before the
door, to signify to the passenger that it was a house of mourn-
ing. Within, the women were occupied in anointing and lay-
ing out the corpse. Cleobule, inexperienced, and woe-begone
like an orphan child, had begged the aid of Sophilos, who, even
without solicitation, would have undertaken to conduct the
funeral. She had always looked on Polycles in the light of an
affectionate uncle, who had indulged her every wish ; and now
she wept for him as for a parent ; while she applied herself to
THE FORGED WILL. 249
her mournful duties, assisted by her mother, whom she had sent
for on the previous evening, — as her childlike tremors, which
had been early nourished by nurses' fairy tales and ghost stories,
rendered solitude in the house of death insupportable.
It was still early, and Sophilos was just debating with the
women of the order of the interment, when Sosilas also made
his appearance, with sorrow in his aspect but exultation in his
heart. He had hastened, he said, to bring the will which the
deceased had deposited in his hands ; as perhaps it might con-
tain some dispositions respecting his interment. He then named
the witnesses who had been by when he received the will, and
whose presence would now be necessary at the opening. Cleo-
bule was somewhat disconcerted to find the document that was
to decide her future fate placed in the custody of one to whom,
from early childhood, she had entertained feelings of aversion.
Polycles had never been explicit on this head, merely assuring
her in general terms that she had been cared for. And such
she now hoped was the case ; but yet she had rather that any-
body else had produced the will. Sophilos, on the other hand,
did not seem at all put out by the circumstance. He praised
Sosilas for his punctuality, and desired that the witnesses might
be cited to attend ; but this, the other said, was not necessary,
as he had already sent them notices to that effect.
Before long the three made their appearance. " You were
present," said Sosilas to them, " when Polycles committed his
last will to my charge ? "
They replied in the affirmative.
"You will be ready then to testify that this is the deed
which he intrusted to me ? "
" The superscription and the seal," answered one of them,
" are what prove its authenticity. All that we can witness to is
that a testament was deposited with you — not, that this is the
identical one in question ; still there is no ground for the con-
trary assumption, since the seal is untouched, and may be recog-
nized as that of Polycles."
" Do you, therefore, satisfy yourself, Cleobule, that I have
faithfully discharged your husband's behest. Do you acknowl-
edge this seal ? "
With trembling hand Cleobule took the deed. " An eagle
clutching a snake," said she ; "it is the device of his signet."
She next handed the testament to Sophilos, who also pro-
nounced it all right.
250 THE FORGED WILL.
44 Open it then," said Sosilas to one of the witnesses, 44 that
its contents may be known. My sight is bad : do one of you
read for me."
The string was cut, the document unfolded, and the witness
read as follows : —
44 The testament of Polycles the Pseanian. May all be well ;
but should I not recover from this sickness, thus do I devise my
estate. I give my wife Cleobule, with all my fortune, as set
down in the accompanying schedule, — save and except all that
is herein otherwise disposed, — to my friend Sosilas, the son of
Philo, to which end I adopt him as my son. Should he refuse
to marry her, then I bequeath to him the five talents lying with
Pasion, the money changer ; but I then constitute him guardian
of Cleobule, and he shall give her, with the rest of the property,
to some husband of his own choosing, who shall take posses-
sion of my house. I give and bequeath my house on the Olym-
pieion to Theron, the son of Callias ; and the lodging house in
the Pirseus to Sophilos, son of Philo. To the son of Callipides
I bequeath my largest silver bowl, and to his wife a pair of gold
earrings, and two coverlets and two cushions of the best in my
possession ; that I may not seem to have forgotten them. To
my physician Zenothemis I leave a legacy of one thousand
drachmae, though his skill and attention have deserved still
more. Let my sepulchre be erected in a fitting spot of the
garden outside the Melitic gate. Let Theron, together with
Sophilos and my relatives, see to it that my obsequies and
monument be neither unworthy of me, nor yet on too sumptu-
ous a scale. I expressly prohibit Cleobule and the women, as
well as the female slaves, from cutting off their hair, or other-
wise disfiguring themselves. To Demetrius, who has long been
free, I remit his ransom, and make him a present of five minse,
a himation and a chiton [cloak and gown], in considera-
tion of his faithful services. Of the slaves I hereby manumit
Parmeno, and Chares, with his child ; but Carion and Donax
must work for four years in the garden, and shall then be made
free, if they shall have conducted themselves well during that
period. Manto shall be free immediately on Cleobule's mar-
riage, and shall also receive three minse. Of the children
of my slaves none are to be sold, but are to be kept in the house
till they are grown up, and then set free. Syrus, however, shall
be sold. Sophilos, Theron, and Callipides will discharge the
duties of executors. This testament is placed in the keeping
THE FORGED WILL. 251
of Sosilas. Witnesses : Lysimachos, son of Strato ; Hegesias,
of Hegio; and Hipparchos of Callippos."
A deathlike stillness reigned among the audience when the
reader had concluded. At the first words Cleobule had turned
pale, and sunk back on a settle half fainting, while her mother,
who was crying, supported her. Sophilos placed his hand on
his lips, and was lost in thought ; the witnesses mutely surveyed
the scene. Sosilas alone seemed perfectly composed. " Take
courage," said he, approaching Cleobule ; " fear not that I will
lay claim to the happiness that Polycles intended for me. I my-
self, too, am astonished, and could easily be dazzled by the tempt-
ing prize ; but I am too old to dream of wedding a young bride.
Willingly do I resign the rich inheritance, and shall select for
you a husband more suitable in age."
Cleobule turned away with a shudder. Sosilas grasped the
will, saying, "Nothing more is now wanting but the attesta-
tion of the witnesses, that such was the tenor of the will when
opened."
The witnesses accordingly set their seals to the writing.
" It is not the only testament that Polycles has left," remarked
one of them.
" How ? What ? " exclaimed Sosilas, turning pale ; " noth-
ing is said here about the existence of another will."
" I don't rightly understand it," replied the witness ; " but
two days after you received this, Polycles called me and four
others in as witnesses, on his depositing another document —
doubtless a duplicate of this — in the hands of Menecles, to
whose house he had caused himself to be conveyed."
The effects of this disclosure on those present were, as
might have been expected, extremely various. Sosilas stood
like one utterly undone ; a faint ray of hope glimmered in the
bosom of Cleobule ; Sophilos eyed narrowly the countenance of
the forger, who quailed before his glance; and the witnesses
looked doubtingly at one another.
Sosilas at length broke the silence. "This will," said he
with some vehemence, " is genuine ; and even supposing that
there is another authentic one in existence, its contents will of
course be the same."
u Why ! it is indeed hardly to be supposed," rejoined
Sophilos, " that Polycles would have changed his mind in two
days ; but we must invite Menecles to produce the copy in his
custody, without loss of time." A slave here entered, and
252 THE FORGED WILL.
whispered a message in his ear. " The very thing ! " he cried.
" Menecles is not less punctual than you. Two of his witnesses
have already arrived, in obedience to his summons ; and he will
therefore shortly be here in person."
The men now entered. Sosilas walked up and down the
room, and gradually recovered his composure. Even should
his plans be unpleasantly disturbed by the contents of the
second will, still a wide field would be open for litigation, in
which he had an even chance of coming off victor. Menecles
soon arrived with the other two witnesses, and delivered the
will. The superscription and seal were found to be correct,
and its contents tallied with those of the first, word for word,
with the exception of the two names, which were interchanged.
At the end was a postscript, to the effect that an exactly similar
testament was deposited with Sosilas the Piroean.
The reading of this caused a violent scene, and plenty of
abuse and recrimination followed on both sides. Sosilas pro-
nounced it a forgery, and went off declaring that he would
make good his claims before a court of law.
The morning of the funeral had arrived ; and before day-
break a crowd of mourners, and of others actuated merely by
motives of curiosity, had collected in and around the house,
either to attach themselves to the procession, or merely to be
spectators of the pageant. Even the day before, whilst the
corpse lay in state, the door was crowded by persons who in
the course of their lives had never before crossed its threshold.
Several, too, had evinced much celerity in putting on mourning,
being very anxious to establish their claims to a distant rela-
tionship with the defunct, when they learned the property was
in dispute, and there seemed a prospect of good fishing in the
troubled waters.
Charicles, however, did not present himself within ; although
perhaps the house possessed greater attractions for him than for
any of the others. The impression his late unexpected appear-
ance made on Cleobule had not escaped him, and he held it im-
proper to disturb her duties to the departed by a second visit.
Still he could not omit accompanying the funeral procession to
the place of interment ; and in fact Sophilos, who somehow felt
a great liking for the youth, had himself invited him to be pres-
ent. The old gentleman had paid him several visits, and in a
significant manner had described how much Cleobule was im-
THE FORGED WILL. 253
periled by the will, which he was convinced was a forgery.
Charicles was perhaps more disquieted at this than even Sophilos
himself. Whichever way the matter might be decided, it would
of course make no difference to him personally : for in case a
fraud were detected, the lady would become the wife of Sophilos ;
and as regarded himself, he had made up his mind that even under
the most favorable circumstances, it would never befit one of his
years and condition to marry a widow of such large property :
he was nevertheless pained to think that such. a fascinating
creature might fall into the power of one who, to judge from
all accounts, must be utterly unworthy of her. . . .
When the bones had been consigned to the ground, and the
women had bidden farewell to the new-made grave, Charicles
with Sophilos wended his way back towards the city. The
possible consequences of the unhappy will formed the topic of
conversation. Charicles could not conceal how very different
an impression Sosilas had made upon him from what he had ex-
pected. To-day the man had looked so unassuming and devout,
and withal so venerable, that he had well nigh dropped his sus-
picions.
" Who would ever believe," said he, " that beneath this
exterior lurked such knavery?"
" You will meet with plenty more such," answered Sophilos,
" who go about with the aspect of lambs, but within are the
most poisonous scorpions ; it is just these that are most danger-
ous of all."
At the city gate they separated. A strange slave had fol-
lowed them at a distance all the way. He now stood still for
a moment, apparently undetermined which of the two he should
pursue. " Youth is more liberal," said he half aloud, after re-
flecting a moment, "especially when in love." With this he
struck into the path Charicles had taken, and which led through
a narrow lonely lane, between two garden walls ; here he re-
doubled his pace, and soon overtook Charicles.
" Who art thou ? " asked the youth, retreating back a step.
" A slave, as you see," was the reply, " and one who may be
of service to you. You seem interested in Cleobule's fate,
eh?"
" What business is that of yours ? " retorted Charicles ; but
his blush was more than a sufficient answer for the slave.
"It is not indifferent to you," he proceeded, "whether
Sophilos or Sosilas be the heir."
254 THE FORGED WILL.
" Very possibly ; but wherefore these inquiries ? what is
this to you, sirrah ? "
" More than you think," rejoined the slave. " What shall
be my reward if I hand you the proof that one of the two wills
is a forgery ? "
" You ! a miserable slave ! " exclaimed the youth, astonished.
" The slave is often acquainted with his master's most secret
dealings," answered the other. " Come now, what's to be my
reward?" ,
" Freedom, which is your rightful due for the discovery of
such a crime."
"Good," replied the slave, "but the freedman must have
the means wherewith to live."
" That also shall you have : five minao are yours, if you
speak the truth."
" Thy name is Charicles," said the slave ; " no one hears
your promise, but I'll trust you. My master is Sosilas, and
they call me Molon." He opened a small bag, and pulled
something out of it with a mysterious air. " See, here is the
signet," said he, " with which the forged will was sealed." He
took some wax, wetted it, and impressed the seal thereon.
" That is the device of Polycles, an eagle clawing a snake ;
you will be the eagle." He related how he had witnessed the
forgery through a crack in the door ; how a rustling he had
made was near betraying him ; and how Sosilas, in his haste to
bundle up the things, had unwittingly let the false stamp drop
on the coverlet. "Now then," said he, "haven't I kept my
word?"
" By the gods ! and so will I," cried Charicles, almost be-
side himself with wonder and joy. " Not five — no — ten minse
shalt thou have. And now to Sophilos with all speed."
" No ! " said the slave, " I trust to you. Do you go by your-
self, and have me called when you have need of me." . . .
In addition to the slave's statement, and the production of
the forged signet, another decisive proof had been obtained.
With his usual circumspection and prudence, Polycles had,
during his stay at JSdepsos, deposited a third copy of the will
in the hands of a respectable man there. Of course this also
testified against Sosilas ; and the forgery he had committed was
now so manifest, that he might congratulate himself on the
magnanimity of Sophilos in not proceeding against him.
THE GOLDEN MEAN. 255
THE GOLDEN MEAN.
BY ARISTOTLE.
(From the "Ethics.")
[ARISTOTLE, the greatest name in the history of philosophy, was born at
Stageira, Macedonia, B.C. 384, of a line of able physicians; his father was the
friend and physician of King Philip's father. Early orphaned, and trained for
the family profession, at eighteen he went to Athens to study philosophy ; on
Plato's return from Syracuse, three years later, Aristotle became his pupil, and
remained such for the seventeen years of Plato's life, teaching rhetoric, also in
rivalry with Isocrates. On Plato's death, he went to the court of his old pupil
Hermeias, now chief by conquest of Atarneus, opposite Lesbos. Three years
after, Hermeias was slain by treachery; Aristotle escaped to Mitylene with
and married Hermeias' daughter. Two years later, B.C. 342, Philip invited
him to Macedon to educate his son Alexander, then thirteen. In 334, when
Alexander invaded Asia, he returned to Athens, and opened a school of phi-
losophy in the Peripatos, or covered walk of the Lyceum. After the death of
Alexander in 323, Aristotle was prosecuted for impiety, like Socrates ; he fled
to Chalcis in Eubcea, and died in 322. His writings comprised 146 volumes
(100 now lost), and systematized all the knowledge of antiquity. Of his extant
works, the chief are his "Logic," — a science he practically created, — "Eth-
ics," "Politics," "Poetics," and "Rhetoric."]
LIBERALITY AND ILLIBERALITY.
LET us next speak of liberality. Now it appears to be a
mean on the subject of possessions ; for the liberal man is
praised, not for matters which relate to war, nor for those in
which the temperate character is exhibited, nor yet for his
judgment, but in respect to the giving and receiving of prop-
erty; and more in giving than receiving. But by property
we mean everything of which the value is measured by money.
Now, the excess and defect on the subject of property are
prodigality and illiberality : the term illiberality we always
attach to those who are more anxious than they ought about
money ; but that of prodigality we sometimes use in a com-
plex sense, and attach it to intemperate people, — for we call
those who are incontinent, and profuse in their expenditure
for purposes of intemperance, prodigal ; therefore they seem
to be the most wicked, for they have many vices at once.
Now, they are not properly so called, for the meaning of the
word prodigal is the man who has one single vice, namely,
that of wasting his fortune ; for the man who is ruined by
his own means is prodigal, and the waste of property appears
256 THE GOLDEN MEAN.
to be a sort of ruining one's self, since life is supported by
means of property. This is the sense, therefore, that we
attach to prodigality. But it is possible to make a good and
bad use of everything which has use. Now, money is one of
the useful things ; and that man makes the best use of every-
thing who possesses the virtue which relates to it : therefore
he who possesses the virtue that relates to money will make
the best use of it, and the possessor of it is the liberal man.
But spending and giving seem to be the use of money, and
receiving and taking care of it are more properly the method
of acquiring it : hence it is more the part of the liberal man
to give to proper objects than to receive from proper persons,
or to abstain from receiving from improper persons ; for it
belongs more to the virtue of liberality to do than to receive
good, and to do what is honorable than to abstain from doing
what is disgraceful. And it is clear that doing what is good
and honorable belongs to giving, and that receiving good and
abstaining from doing what is disgraceful belongs to receiv-
ing; and thanks are bestowed on the giver, and not on him
who abstains from receiving, and praise still more so; and
abstaining from receiving is more easy than giving^ for men
are less disposed to give what is their own than not to take
what belongs to another; and givers are called liberal, while
those who abstain from receiving are not praised for liberality,
but nevertheless they are praised for justice ; but those who
receive are not praised at all. But liberal men are more
beloved than any others, for they are useful, and their use-
fulness consists in giving.
But actions according to virtue are honorable, and are done
for the sake of the honorable : the liberal man, therefore, will
give for the sake of the honorable, and will give properly, for
he will give to proper objects, in proper quantities, at proper
times : and his giving will have all the other qualifications
of right giving, and he will do this pleasantly and without
pain ; for that which is done according to virtue is pleasant,
or without pain, and by no means annoying to the doer. But
he who gives to improper objects, and not for the sake of the
honorable, is not to be called liberal, but something else ; nor
yet he who gives with pain, for he would prefer the money to
the performance of an honorable action, and this is not the
part of a liberal man. Nor yet will the liberal man receive
from improper persons, for such receiving is not characteristic
THE GOLDEN MEAN. 257
of him who estimates things at their proper value ; nor would
he be fond of asking, for it is not like a benefactor readily to
allow himself to be benefited : but he will receive from proper
sources, for instance from his own possessions, not because it is
honorable, but because it is necessary in order that he may
have something to give; nor will he be careless of his own
fortune, because he hopes by means of it to be of use to others ;
nor will he give at random to anybody, in order that he may
have something to give to proper objects and in cases where
it is honorable to do so.
It is characteristic of the liberal man to be profuse and
lavish in giving, so as to leave but little for himself ; for it is
characteristic of him not to look to his own interest. But the
term liberality is applied in proportion to a man's fortune, for
the liberal consists not in the quantity of the things given, but
in the habit of the giver ; and this habit gives according to the
means of the giver. And there is nothing to hinder the man
whose gifts are smaller being more liberal, provided he gives
from smaller means. But those who have not been the makers
of their own fortune, but have received it by inheritance, are
thought to be more liberal, for they are inexperienced in want,
and all men love their own productions most, as parents and
poets. But it is not easy for the liberal man to be rich, since
he is not apt to receive or to take care of money, but rather
to give it away, and to be careless of it for its own sake, and
only to care for it for the sake of giving away. And for this
reason people upbraid fortune, because those who are most
deserving of wealth are the least wealthy. But this happens
not without reason, for it is impossible for a man to have
money who takes no pains about getting it, as is the case in
other things.
Yet the liberal man will not give to improper persons, nor
at improper times, and so forth, for if he did, he would cease
to act with liberality; and if he were to spend money upon
these things, he would have none to spend upon proper objects,
— for, as has been observed, the man who spends according to
his means, and upon proper objects, is liberal, but he who is
in the excess is prodigal. For this reason we do not call kings
prodigal, for it does not appear easy to exceed the greatness
of their possessions in gifts and expenditure.
Liberality, therefore, being a middle state on the subject of
giving and receiving money, the liberal man will give and
VOL. IV. — - 17
258 THE GOLDEN MEAN.
expend upon proper objects, and in proper quantities, in small
and great matters alike, and this he will do with pleasure ; and
he will receive from proper sources, and in proper quantities :
for since the virtue of liberality is a mean state, it both giving
and receiving, he will in both cases act as he ought ; for proper
receiving is naturally consequent upon proper giving, and im-
proper receiving is the contrary. Habits, therefore, which are
naturally consequent upon each other are produced together in
the same person, but those that are contrary clearly cannot.
But if it should happen to the liberal man to spend in a manner
inconsistent with propriety and what is honorable, he will feel
pain, but only moderately and as he ought ; for it is character-
istic of virtue to feel pleasure and pain at proper objects, and
in a proper manner. And the liberal man is ready to share his
money with others ; for, from his setting no value on it, he is
liable to be dealt with unjustly, and he is more annoyed at not
spending anything that he ought to have spent, than pained at
having spent what he ought not. But the prodigal man even
in these cases acts wrongly, for he neither feels pleasure nor
pain, where he ought nor as he ought.
But we have said that prodigality and illiberality are the
excess and the defect, and that they are conversant with two
things, giving and receiving, for we include spending under
giving. Prodigality, therefore, exceeds in giving and not
receiving, and falls short in receiving ; but illiberality is defi-
cient in giving, but excessive in receiving, but only in cases
of small expenditure. Both the characteristics of prodigal-
ity, therefore, are seldom found in the same person ; for it
is not easy for a person who receives from nobody to give to
everybody, for their means soon fail private persons who give,
and these are the very persons who seem to be prodigal. This
character now would seem considerably better than the illiberal
one ; for he is easily to be cured by age and by want, and is
able to arrive at the mean : for he has the qualifications of the
liberal man ; for he both gives and abstains from receiving,
but in neither instance as he ought, nor well. If, therefore,
he could be accustomed to do this, or could change his conduct
in any other manner, he would be liberal, for he will then give
to proper objects, and will not receive from improper sources ;
and for this reason he does not seem to be bad in moral char-
acter, for it is not the mark of a wicked or an ungenerous man
to be excessive in giving and not receiving, but rather of a
THE GOLDEN MEAN. 259
fool. But he who is in this manner prodigal seems far better
than the illiberal man, not only on account of the reasons
already stated, but also because he benefits many people, while
the other benefits nobody, not even himself.
But the majority of prodigals, as has been stated, also receive
from improper sources, and are in this respect illiberal. Now,
they become fond of receiving, because they wish to spend, and
are not able to do it easily, for their means soon fail them:
they are, therefore, compelled to get supplies from some other
quarter, and at the same time, owing to their not caring for
the honorable, they receive without scruple from any person
they can ; for they are anxious to give, and the how or whence
they get the money matters not to them. Therefore their
gifts are not liberal, for they are not honorable, nor done for
the sake of the honorable, nor as they ought to be done ; but
sometimes they make men rich who deserve to be poor, and
will give to men of virtuous characters nothing, and to flat-
terers, or those who provide them with any other pleasure,
much. Hence the generality of prodigals are intemperate also;
for, spending money carelessly, they are expensive also in acts
of intemperance, and, because they do not live with a view to
the honorable, they fall away towards pleasures. The prodigal,
therefore, if he be without the guidance of a master, turns
aside to these vices ; but if he happen to be taken care of, he
may possibly arrive at the mean, and at propriety.
But illiberality is incurable, for old age and imbecility of
every kind seem to make men illiberal, and it is more congenial
to human nature than prodigality; for the generality of man-
kind are fond of money rather than of giving, and it extends
very widely, and has many forms, for there appear to be many
modes of illiberality: for as it consists in two things, the
defect of giving and the excess of receiving, it does not exist
in all persons entire, but is sometimes divided ; and some ex-
ceed in receiving, and others fall short in giving. For those
who go by the names of parsimonious, stingy, and niggardly,
all fall short in giving : but do not desire what belongs to
another, nor do they wish to receive, some of them from a cer-
tain fairness of character, and caution lest they commit a base
action ; for some people seem to take care of their money, or
at least say that they do, in order that they may never be com-
pelled to commit a disgraceful action. Of these also is the
cummin splitter, and every one of similar character, and he
260 THE GOLDEN MEAN.
derives his name from being in the excess of unwillingness to
give. Others, again, through fear abstain from other persons'
property, considering it difficult for them to take what belongs
to other people, without other people taking theirs. They
therefore are satisfied neither to receive nor give.
Again, in receiving, some are excessive in receiving from
any source and anything; those, for instance, who exercise
illiberal professions, and brothel keepers, and all persons of
this kind, and usurers, and those who lend small sums at high
interest; for all these receive from improper sources, and in
improper quantities. And the love of base gain appears to be
common to them all ; for they all submit to reproach for the
sake of gain, and even for small gain. For we do not call
those illiberal who receive great things from improper sources,
as tyrants, who lay waste cities and pillage temples, but rather
we call them wicked, impious, and unjust. But the gamester,
the clothes stealer, and the robber are of the illiberal class, for
they are fond of base gain ; for both of them ply their trades
for the sake of gain, and incur reproach. Clothes stealers and
robbers submit to the greatest dangers for the sake of the
advantage they gain* and gamesters gain from their friends, to
whom they ought to give. Both, therefore, are lovers of base
gain, in that they desire to gain from sources whence they
ought not ; and all such modes of receiving are illiberal. With
reason, therefore, is illiberality said to be contrary to liberal-
ity ; for not only is it a greater evil than prodigality, but also
men are more apt to err on this side than on the side of the
prodigality before mentioned.
OF MAGNANIMITY AND LITTLE-MINDEDNESS.
Magnanimity, even from its very name, appears to be con-
versant with great matters. First let us determine with what
kind of great matters. But it makes no difference whether we
consider the habit, or the man who lives according to the habit.
Now, the magnanimous man appears to be he who, being really
worthy, estimates his own worth highly ; for he who makes too
low an estimate of it is a fool ; and no man who acts according
to virtue can be a fool, nor devoid of sense. The character
before-mentioned, therefore, is magnanimous ; for he whose
worth is low, and who estimates it lowly, is a modest man, but
not a magnanimous one : for magnanimity belongs to greatness,
THE GOLDEN MEAN. 261
just as beauty exists only with good stature ; for little persons
may be pretty and well proportioned, but cannot be beautiful.
He who estimates his own worth highly, when in reality he is
unworthy, is vain ; but he who estimates it more highly than
he deserves, is not in all cases vain. He who estimates it less
highly than it deserves, is little-minded, whether his worth be
great or moderate, or if, when worth little, he estimates himself
at less : and the man of great worth appears especially little-
minded ; for what would he have done if his worth had not
been so great ? The magnanimous man, therefore, in the great-
ness of his merits, is in the highest place ; but in his proper
estimation of himself, in the mean : for he estimates himself at
the proper rate, while the others are in the excess and defect.
If therefore the magnanimous man, being worthy of great
things, thinks himself so, and still more of the greatest, his
character must display itself on some one subject in particular.
Now, the term value is used with reference to external goods :
and we must assume that to be of the greatest value which we
award to the gods, and which men of eminence are most desirous
of, and which is the prize of the most honorable acts ; and such
a thing as this is honor; for this is the greatest of external
goods. The magnanimous man, therefore, acts with propriety
on subjects of honor and dishonor. And, even without argu-
ments to prove the point, it seems that the magnanimous are
concerned with honor, for great men esteem themselves worthy
of honor more than anything else ; for it is according to their
desert. But the little-minded man is in the defect, both as
regards his own real merit and the magnanimous man's dig-
nity ; but the vain man is in the excess as regards his own real
merit, but is in the defect as regards that of the magnanimous
man.
The magnanimous man, if he is worthy of the highest
honors, must be the best of men ; for the better man is always
worthy of the greater honor, and the best man of the greatest.
The truly magnanimous man must therefore be a good man ;
and it seems that whatever is great in any virtue belongs to
the magnanimous character : for it can in nowise be befitting
the magnanimous man to swing his arms and run away, nor to
commit an act of injustice ; for what could be the motive to
base conduct to him to whom nothing is great? And if we
examine the particulars of the case it will appear ridiculous
that the magnanimous man should not be a good man : and he
262 THE GOLDEN MEAN.
could not even be deserving of honor, if he were a bad man ;
for honor is the prize of virtue, and is bestowed upon the good.
Magnanimity, then, seems to be, as it were, a kind of orna-
ment of the virtues; for it makes them greater, and cannot
exist without them. And for this reason it is difficult to be
really magnanimous ; for it is impossible without perfect excel-
lence and goodness. The magnanimous character, therefore,
is principally displayed on the subject of honor and dishonor.
And in the case of great instances of honor, bestowed by the
good, he will be moderately gratified, under the idea that he
has obtained what is his due, or even less than he deserves ;
for no honor can be equivalent to perfect virtue. Not but that
he will receive it, because they have nothing greater to give him ;
but honor from any other persons, and on the score of trifles, he
will utterly despise : for these he does not deserve ; and like-
wise he will despise dishonor, for he cannot justly deserve it.
The magnanimous character is therefore, as has been said,
principally concerned with honors : not but that in wealth and
power, and all good and bad fortune, however it may come to
pass, he will behave with moderation ; and not be too much
delighted at success, nor too much grieved at failure : for he
will not feel thus even at honor, though it is the greatest
thing of all ; for power and wealth are eligible because of the
honor they confer — at any rate, those who possess them desire
to be honored on account of them. To him, therefore, by
whom honor is lightly esteemed, nothing else can be important ;
wherefore magnanimous men have the appearance of supercili-
ousness. Instances of good fortune also appear to contribute
to magnanimity ; for the nobly born are thought worthy of
honor, and those who possess power and wealth, for they sur-
pass others ; and everything which is superior in goodness is
more honorable. Hence, such things as these make men more
magnanimous ; for by some people they are honored. But in
reality the good man alone is deserving of honor ; but he who
has both is thought more worthy of honor: but those who,
without virtue, possess such good things as these, neither have
any right to think themselves worthy of great things, nor are
properly called magnanimous; for magnanimity cannot exist
without perfect virtue. But those who possess these things
become supercilious and insolent ; for without virtue it is diffi-
cult to bear good fortune with propriety : and being unable to
bear it, and thinking that they excel others, they despise them,
THE GOLDEN MEAN. 263
while they themselves do anything they please ; for they imi-
tate the magnanimous man, though they are not like him : but
this they do wherever they can. Actions according to virtue
they do not perform, but they despise others. But the mag-
nanimous man feels contempt justly, for he forms his opinions
truly; but the others form theirs at random.
The magnanimous man neither shuns nor is fond of danger,
because there are but few things which he cares for ; but to
great dangers he exposes himself, and when he does run any
risk, he is unsparing of his life, thinking that life is not worth
having on some terms. He is disposed to bestow, but ashamed
to receive benefits ; for the former is the part of a superior, the
latter of an inferior : and he is disposed to make a more liberal
return for favors; for thus the original giver will have incurred
an additional obligation, and will have received a benefit. He
is thought also to recollect those whom he has benefited, but
not those from whom he has received benefits ; for the receiver
is inferior to the giver : but the magnanimous man wishes to
be superior, and the benefits which he confers he hears of with
pleasure, bat those he receives with pain. Thetis therefore
says nothing to Jupiter about the benefits she has conferred
upon him, nor do the Lacedaemonians to the Athenians, but
only about those which they have received. Again, it is char-
acteristic of the magnanimous man to ask no favors, or very
few, of anybody, but to be willing to serve others : and towards
men of rank or fortune to be haughty in his demeanor, but to
be moderate towards men of middle rank ; for to be superior
to the former is difficult and honorable, but to be superior to
the latter is easy : and among the former there is nothing un-
generous in being haughty ; but to be so amongst persons of
humble rank is bad taste, just like making a show of strength
to the weak.
Another characteristic is, not to go in search of honor, nor
where others occupy the first places ; and to be inactive and
slow, except where some great honor is to be gained, or some
great work to be performed ; and to be inclined to do but
few things, but those great and distinguished. He must also
necessarily be open in his hatreds and his friendships ; for
concealment is the part of a man who is afraid. He must
care more for truth than for opinion. He must speak and
act openly; for this is characteristic of a man who despises
others: for he is bold in speech, and therefore apt to despise
264 THE GOLDEN MEAN.
others and truth telling, except when he uses dissimulation;
but to the vulgar he ought dissemble. And he cannot live
at the will of another, except it be a friend ; for it is servile :
for which reason all flatterers are mercenary, and low-minded
men are flatterers. He is not apt to admire ; for nothing is
great to him. He does not recollect injuries; for accurate
recollection, especially of injuries, is not characteristic of the
magnanimous man : but he rather overlooks them. He is not
fond of talking of people : for he will neither speak of him-
self, nor of anybody else ; for he does not care that he himself
should be praised, nor that others should be blamed. He is
not disposed to praise ; and therefore he does not find fault
even with his enemies, except for the sake of wanton insult.
He is by no means apt to complain or supplicate help in
unavoidable or trifling calamities; for to be so in such cases
shows anxiety about them. He is apt to possess rather what
is honorable and unfruitful, than what is fruitful and useful ;
for this shows more self-sufficiency. The step of the magnani-
mous man is slow, his voice deep, and his language stately;
for he who only feels anxiety about few things is not apt to
be in a hurry : and he who thinks highly of nothing is not
vehement ; and shrillness and quickness of speaking arise from
these things. This, therefore, is the character of the magnani-
mous man.
He who is in the defect is little-minded ; he who is in the
excess is vain. But these do not seem to be vicious, for they
are not evil doers, but only in error : for the little-minded
man, though worthy of good things, deprives himself of his
deserts ; but yet he resembles one who has something vicious
about him, from his not thinking himself worthy of good
things, and he seems ignorant of himself, for otherwise he
would have desired those things of which he was worthy,
especially as they are good things. Yet such men as these
seem not to be fools, but rather idle. And such an opinion
seems to make them worse ; for each man desires those things
which are according to his deserts: and they abstain even
from honorable actions and customs, considering themselves
unworthy ; and in like manner from external goods.
But vain men are foolish, and ignorant of themselves, and
this obviously ; for, thinking themselves worthy, they aspire
to distinction, and then are found out ; and they are fine in
their dress, and their gestures, and so on ; and they wish their
HYMN TO DEMETRIUS POLIORCETES. 265
good fortune to be known, and speak of it, hoping to be
honored for it. But little-mindedness is more opposed to
magnanimity than vanity, for it is oftener found, and is
worse. Magnanimity, therefore, as we have said, relates to
great honor.
HYMN TO DEMETRIUS POLIORCETES.
TRANSLATION BY J. A. SYMONDS.
SEE how the mightiest gods, and best-beloved
Towards our town are winging !
For lo, Demeter and Demetrius
This glad day is bringing !
She to perform her daughter's solemn rites ;
Mystic pomps attend her :
He, joyous as a god should be, and blithe,
Comes with laughing splendor.
Show forth your triumph ! Friends all, troop around t
Let him shine above you !
Be you the stars to circle him with love ;
He's the sun to love you.
Hail, offspring of Poseidon, powerful god,
Child of Aphrodite!
The other gods keep far away from earth ;
Have no ears, though mighty ;
They are not, or they will not hear us wail :
Thee our eye beholdeth ;
Not wood, not stone, but living, breathing, real,
Thee our prayer enfoldeth.
First give us peace ! Give, dearest, for thou canst :
Thou art Lord and Master !
The Sphinx, who not on Thebes, but on all Greece
Swoops to gloat and pasture ;
The JEtolian, he who sits upon his rock,
Like that old disaster ;
He feeds upon our flesh and blood, and we
Can no longer labor ;
For it was ever thus the ^Etolian thief
Preyed upon his neighbor ;
Him punish thou, or if not thou, then send
(Edipus to harm him,
Who'll cast this Sphinx down from his cliff of pride,
Or to stone will charm him.
266 CHARACTERS OF MEN.
CHARACTERS OF MEN.
BY THEOPHKASTUS.
(Translated by R. C. Jebb.)
[THEOPHKASTUS, the successor of Aristotle at the head of the Lyceum (born
in Lesbos, B.C. 374), was like him a naturalist as well as philosopher, and wrote
works on botany. But his vital work was a little pamphlet containing thirty
brief sketches of types of masculine character as exhibited in social relations, the
model of the many such characterizations attempted since. He died B.C. 287.]
THE SURLY MAN.
SURLINESS is discourtesy in words.
The Surly man is one who, when asked where so and so is,
will say, " Don't bother me ; " or, when spoken to, will not re-
ply. If he has anything for sale, instead of informing the
buyers at what price he is prepared to sell it, he will ask them
what he is to get for it. Those who send him presents with their
compliments at feast-tide are told that he " will not touch "
their offerings. He cannot forgive a person who has be-
smirched him by accident, or pushed him, or trodden upon his
foot. Then if a friend asks him for a subscription, he will say
that he cannot give one; but will come with it by and by, and
remark that he is losing this money also. When he stumbles
in the street he is apt to swear at the stone. He will not en-
dure to wait long for any one ; nor will he consent to sing, or
to recite, or to dance. He is apt also not to pray to the gods.
THE ARROGANT MAN.
Arrogance is a certain scorn for all the world beside one-
self.
The Arrogant man is one who will say to a person who is
in a hurry, that he will see him after dinner when he is taking
his walk. He will profess to recollect benefits which he has
conferred. As he saunters in the street, he will decide cases
for those who have made him their referee. When he is nomi-
nated to public offices he will protest his inability to accept
them, alleging that he is too busy. He will not permit himself
to give any man the first greeting. He is apt to order persons
CHARACTERS OF MEN. 267
who have anything to sell, or who wish to hire anything from
him, to come to him at daybreak. When he walks in the
streets he will not speak to those whom he meets, keeping his
head bent down, or at other times, when so it pleases him, erect.
If he entertains his friends, he will not dine with them himself,
but will appoint a subordinate to preside. As soon as he sets
out on a journey, he will send some one forward to say that he
is coming. He is not likely to admit a visitor when he is
anointing himself, or bathing, or at table. It is quite in his
manner, too, when he is reckoning with any one, to bid his
slave push the counters apart, set down the total, and charge it
to the other's account. In writing a letter, he will not say " I
should be much obliged," but " I wish it to be thus and thus ; "
or " I have sent to you for " this or that ; or " You will attend to
this strictly;" or " Without a moment's delay."
THE MAN OF PETTY AMBITION.
Petty Ambition would seem to be a mean craving for dis-
tinction.
The man of Petty Ambition is one who, when asked to
dinner, will be anxious to be placed next to the host at table.
He will take his son away to Delphi to have his hair cut. He
will be careful, too, that his attendant shall be an Ethiopian;
and when he pays a mina he will cause the slave to pay it with
a new coin. Also he will have his hair cut very frequently,
and will keep his teeth white ; he will change his clothes, too,
while still good ; and will anoint himself with unguent. In
the market place he will frequent the bankers' tables; in the
gymnasia he will haunt those places where the young men take
exercise ; in the theater, when there is a representation, he will
sit near the generals. For himself he will buy nothing, but
will make purchases on commission for foreign friends —
pickled olives to go to Byzantium, Laconian hounds for Cyzicus,
Hymettian honey for Rhodes ; and will talk thereof to people
at Athens. Also he is very much the person to keep a mon-
key ; to get a satyr ape, Sicilian doves, deerhorn dice, Thurian
vases of the approved rotundity, walking sticks with the true
Laconian curve, and a curtain with Persians embroidered upon
it. He will have a little court provided with an arena for
wrestling and a ball alley, and will go about lending it to phi-
losophers, sophists, drill sergeants, musicians, for their displays ;
268 CHARACTERS OF MEN.
at which he himself will appear upon the scene rather late, in
order that the spectators may say one to another, " This is the
owner of the palestra." When he has sacrificed an ox, he will
nail up the skin of the forehead, wreathed with large garlands,
opposite the entrance, in order that those who come in may see
that he has sacrificed an ox. When he has been taking part in
a procession of the knights, he will give the rest of his ac-
couterments to his slave to carry home, but, after putting on
his cloak, will walk about the market place in his spurs. He is
apt, also, to buy a little ladder for his domestic jackdaw, and to
make a little brass shield, wherewith the jackdaw shall hop
upon the ladder. Or if his little Melitean dog has died, he
will put up a memorial slab, with the inscription, A Scion of
Melita. If he has dedicated a brass ring in the temple of
Asclepius, he will wear it to a wire with daily burnishings and
oilings. It is just like him, too, to obtain from the presidents
of the Senate by private arrangement the privilege of report-
ing the sacrifice to the people ; when, having provided himself
with a smart white cloak and put on a wreath, he will come
forward and say : "Athenians ! we, the presidents of the Senate,
have been sacrificing to the Mother of the Gods meetly and
auspiciously ; receive ye her good gifts ! " Having made this
announcement, he will go home to his wife and declare that he
is supremely fortunate.
THE UNSEASONABLE MAN.
Unseasonableness consists in a chance meeting, disagreeable
to those who meet.
The Unseasonable man is one who will go up to a busy per-
son, and open his heart to him. He will serenade his mistress
when she has a fever. He will address himself to a man who
has been cast in a surety suit, and request him to become his
security. He will come to give evidence when the trial is
over. When he is asked to a wedding he will inveigh against
womankind. He will propose a walk to those who have just
come off a long journey. He has a knack, also, of bringing a
higher bidder to him who has already found his market. He
loves to rise and go through a long story to those who have
heard it and know it by heart ; he is zealous, too, in charging
himself with offices which one would rather not have done, but
CHARACTERS OF MEN. 269
is ashamed to decline. When people are sacrificing and incur-
ring expense he will come to demand his interest. If he is
present at the flogging of a slave, he will relate how a slave of
his was beaten in the same way — and hanged himself; or,
assisting at an arbitration, he will persist in embroiling the
parties when they both wish to be reconciled. And when he
is minded to dance he will seize upon another person who is
not yet drunk.
THE OFFICIOUS MAN.
Officiousness would seem to be, in fact, a well-meaning pre-
sumption in word or deed.
The Officious man is one who will rise and promise things
beyond his power ; and who, when an arrangement is admitted
to be just, will oppose it, and be refuted. He will insist, too,
on the slave mixing more wine than the company can finish ;
he will separate combatants, even those whom he does not
know ; he will undertake to show the path, and after all be
unable to find his way. Also he will go up to his commanding
officer, and ask when he means to give battle, and what is to be
his order for the day after to-morrow. When the doctor for-
bids him to give wine to the invalid, he will say that he wishes
to try an experiment, and will drench the sick man. Also he
will inscribe upon a deceased woman's tombstone the name of
her husband, of her father, and of her mother, as well as her
own, with the place of her birth ; recording further that " All
these were Estimable Persons." And when he is about to take
an oath he will say to the bystanders, " This is by no means
the first that I have taken."
THE STUPID MAN.
Stupidity may be defined as mental slowness in speech and
action.
The Stupid man is one who, after doing a sum and setting
down the total, will ask the person next to him, " What does
it come to ? " When he is defendant in an action, and it is
about to come on, he will forget it and go into the country ;
when he is a spectator in the theater he will be left behind
slumbering in solitude. If he has been given anything, and
270 CHARACTERS OF MEN.
has put it away himself, he will look for it and be unable to
find it. When the death of a friend is announced to him in
order that he may come to the house, his face will grow dark
— tears will come into his eyes, and he will say, " Heaven be
praised ! " He is apt, too, when he receives payment of a debt,
to call witnesses ; and in winter time to quarrel with his slave
for not having brought cucumbers ; and to make his children
wrestle and run races until he has exhausted them. If he is
cooking a leek himself in the country he will put salt into the
pot twice, and make it uneatable. When it is raining he will
observe, "Well, the smell from the sky is delicious (when
others of course say " from the earth") ; or if he is asked, " How
many corpses do you suppose have been carried out at the
Sacred Gate ? " he will reply, " I only wish you or I had as
many."
THE SHAMELESS MAN.
Shameless ness may be defined as neglect of reputation for
the sake of base gain.
The Shameless man is one who, in the first place, will go
and borrow from the creditor whose money he is withholding.
Then, when he has been sacrificing to the gods, he will put
away the salted remains, and will himself dine out ; and, call-
ing up his attendant, will give him bread and meat taken from
the table, saying in the hearing of all, "Feast, most worshipful."
In marketing, again, he will remind the butcher of any service
which he may have rendered him ; and, standing near the scales,
will throw in some meat, if he can, or else a bone for his soup :
if he gets it, it is well ; if not, he will snatch up a piece of tripe
from the counter, and go off laughing. Again, when he has
taken places at the theater for his foreign visitors, he will see
the performance without paying his own share ; and will bring
his sons, too, and their attendant, the next day. When any one
secures a good bargain, he will ask to be given a part in it. He
will go to another man's house and borrow barley, or sometimes
bran ; and moreover will insist upon the lender delivering it at
his door. He is apt, also, to go up to the coppers in the baths,
— to plunge the ladle in, amid the cries of the bathman, — and
to souse himself ; saying that he has had his bath, and then, as
he departs, — " No thanks to you 1 "
CHARACTERS OF MEN. 271
THE NEWSMAKER.
Newsmaking is the framing of fictitious sayings and doings
at the pleasure of him who makes news.
The Newsmaker is a person who, when he meets his friend,
will assume a demure air, and ask with a smile, " Where are
you from, and what are your tidings ? What news have you
to give about this affair?" And then he will reiterate the
question, " Is anything fresh rumored ? Well, certainly these
are glorious tidings ! " Then, without allowing the other to
answer, he will go on : " What say you ? You have heard
nothing ? I flatter myself that I can treat you to some news ; "
and he has a soldier, or a slave of Asteius the fluteplayer, or
Lycon the contractor, just arrived from the field of battle, from
whom he says that he has heard of it. In fact, the authorities
for his statements are always such that no one can possibly lay
hold upon them. Quoting these, he relates how Polysperchon
and the king have won the battle, and Cassander has been
taken alive ; and if any one says to him, " But do you believe
this ? " — " Why," he will answer, " the town rings with it !
The report grows firmer and firmer — every one is agreed —
they all give the same account of the battle : " adding that the
hash has been dreadful ; and that he can tell it, too, from
the faces of the government — he observes that they have all
changed countenance. He speaks also of having heard pri-
vately that the authorities have a man hid in a house who came
just five days ago from Macedonia, and who knows it all. And
in narrating all this — only think ! — he will be plausibly pa-
thetic, saying " Unlucky Cassander ! Poor fellow ! Do you see
what fortune is ? Well, well, he was a strong man once . . ." :
adding, " No one but you must know this " — when he has run
up to everybody in town with the news.
THE EVIL SPEAKER.
The habit of Evil Speaking is a bent of the mind towards
putting things in the worst light.
The Evil Speaker is one who, when asked who so-and-so is,
will reply, in the style of genealogists : " I will begin with his
parentage. This person's father was originally called Sosias ;
in the ranks he came to rank as Sosistratus, and, when he was
272 CHARACTERS OF MEN.
enrolled in his deme, as Sosidemus. His mother, I may add,
is a noble damsel of Thrace — at least she is called 4 my life ' in
the language of Corinth — and they say that such ladies are
esteemed noble in their own country. Our friend himself, as
might be expected from his parentage, is — a rascally scoundrel."
He is very fond, also, of saying to one : " Of course — I under-
stand that sort of thing ; you do not err in your way of describ-
ing it to our friends and me. These women snatch the passers-by
out of the very street. . . . That is a house which has not the
best of characters. . . . Really there is something in that prov-
erb about the women. ... In short, they have a trick of gos-
siping with men, — and they answer the hall door themselves."
It is just like him, too, when others are speaking evil, to
join in : " And I hate that man above all men. He looks a
scoundrel, — it is written on his face : and his baseness — it
defies description. Here is a proof: he allows his wife, who
brought him six talents of dowry and has borne him a child,
three farthings for the luxuries of the table ; and makes her
wash with cold water on Poseidon's day." When he is sitting
with others he loves to criticise one who has just left the cir-
cle ; nay, if he has found an occasion, he will not abstain from
abusing his own relations. Indeed he will say all manner of
injurious things of his friends and relatives, and of the dead ;
misnaming slander " plain speaking," " republican candor," " in-
dependence," and making it the chief pleasure of his life.
THE GRUMBLER.
Grumbling is undue censure of one's portion.
The Grumbler is one who, when his friend has sent him a
present from his table, will say to the bearer, " You grudged
me my soup and my poor wine, or you would have asked me to
dinner." He will be annoyed with Zeus, not for not raining,
but for raining too late ; and, if he finds a purse on the road,
" Ah," he will say, " but I have never found a treasure." When
he has bought a slave cheap after much coaxing of the seller,
" It is strange," he will remark, " if I have got a sound lot at
such a bargain." To one who brings him the good news, "A
son is born to you," he will reply, " If you add that I have lost
half my property, you will speak the truth." When he has
won a lawsuit by a unanimous verdict, he will find fault with
the composer of his speech for having left out several of the
CHARACTERS OF MEN. 273
points in his case. If a subscription has been raised for him by
his friends, and some one says to him, " Cheer up ! " — " Cheer
up ? " he will answer, " when I have to refund this money to
every man, and to be grateful besides, as if I had been done a
service I "
THE DISTRUSTFUL MAN.
Distrustfulness is a presumption that all men are unjust.
The Distrustful man is one who, having sent his slave to
market, will send another to ascertain what price he gave.
He will carry his money himself, and sit down every two
hundred yards to count it. He will ask his wife in bed if
she has locked the wardrobe, and if the cupboard has been
sealed, and the bolt put upon the hall door ; and if the reply is
"yes," not the less will he forsake the blankets and run about
shoeless to inspect all these matters, and barely thus find sleep.
He will demand his interest from his creditors in the presence
of witnesses, to prevent the possibility of their repudiating the
debt. He is apt also to send his cloak to be cleaned, not to
the best workman, but wherever he finds sterling security for
the fuller. When any one comes to ask the loan of cups he
will, if possible, refuse ; but if perchance it is an intimate
friend or relation, he will almost assay the cups in the fire,
and weigh them, and do everything but take security, before
he lends them. Also he will order his slave, when he attends
him, to walk in front and not behind, as a precaution against
his running away in the street. To persons who have bought
something of him and say, " How much is it ? Enter it in your
books, for I am too busy to send the money yet," — he will
reply: "Do not trouble yourself; if you are not at leisure, I
will accompany you."
THE MEAN MAN.
Meanness is an excessive indifference to honor where
expense is concerned.
The Mean man is one who, when he has gained the prize
in a tragic contest, will dedicate a wooden scroll to Dionysus,
having had it inscribed with his own name. When subscrip-
tions for the treasury are being made, he will rise in silence
from his place in the Ecclesia, and go out from the midst.
TOL. IT. — IS
274 CHARACTERS OF MEN.
When he is celebrating his daughter's marriage he will sell
the flesh of the animal sacrificed, except the parts due to the
priest; and will hire the attendants at the marriage festival
on condition that they find their own board. When he is
trierarch he will spread the steersman's rugs under him on the
deck, and put his own away. He is apt, also, not to send his
children to school when there is a festival of the Muses,
but to say that they are unwell, in order that they may not
contribute. Again, when he has bought provisions, he will
himself carry the meat and vegetables from the market place
in the bosom of his cloak. When he has sent his cloak to be
scoured he will keep the house. If a friend is raising a sub-
scription, and has spoken to him about it, he will turn out of
the street when he descries him approaching, and will go home
by a roundabout way. Then he will not buy a maid for his
wife, though she brought him a dower, but will hire from the
Women's Market the girl who is to attend her on the occasions
when she goes out. He will wear his shoes patched with
cobbler's work, and say that it is as strong as horn. He will
sweep out his house when he gets up, and polish the sofas;
and in sitting down he will twist aside the coarse cloak which
he wears himself.
THE COWARD.
Cowardice would seem to be, in fact, a shrinking of the soul
through fear.
The Coward is one who, on a voyage, will protest that the
promontories are privateers ; and, if a high sea gets up, will
ask if there is any one on board who has not been initiated.
He will put up his head and ask the steersman if he is half-
way, and what he thinks of the face of the heavens ; remarking
to the person sitting next him that a certain dream makes him
feel uneasy ; and he will take off his tunic and give it to his
slave ; or he will beg them to put him ashore.
On land also, when he is campaigning, he will call to him
those who are going out to the rescue, and bid them come and
stand by him and look about them first, saying that it is hard
to make out which is the enemy. Hearing shouts and seeing
men falling, he will remark to those who stand by him that he
has forgotten in his haste to bring his sword, and will run to
the tent, where, having sent his slave out to reconnoiter the
CHARACTERS OF MEN. 275
position of the enemy, he will hide the sword under his pillow,
and then spend a long time in pretending to look for it. And
seeing from the tent a wounded comrade being carried in, he
will run towards him and cry " Cheer up ! " he will take him
into his arms and carry him ; he will tend and sponge him ; he
will sit by him and keep the flies off his wound ; in short, he
will do anything rather than fight with the enemy. Again,
when the trumpeter has sounded the signal for battle, he will
cry as he sits in the tent, " Bother ! you will not allow the man
to get a wink of sleep with your perpetual bugling ! " Then,
covered with blood from the other's wound, he will meet those
who are returning from the fight, and announce to them, " I
have run some risk to save one of our fellows," and he will
bring in the men of his parish and of his tribe to see his patient,
at the same time explaining to each of them that he carried him
with his own hands to the tent.
THE OLIGARCH.
The Oligarchical temper would seem to consist in a love of
authority ; covetous, not of gain, but of power.
The Oligarchical man is one who, when the people are
deliberating whom they shall associate with the archon as joint
directors of the procession, will come forward and express his
opinion that these directors ought to have plenary powers ; and,
if others propose ten, he will say that " one is sufficient," but
that " he must be a man." Of Homer's poetry he has mastered
only this one line : —
No good comes of manifold rule ; let the ruler be one :
of the rest he is absolutely ignorant. It is very much in his
manner to use phrases of this kind : " We must meet and discuss
these matters by ourselves, and get clear of the rabble and the
market place : " " we must leave off courting office, and being
slighted or graced by these fellows ; " " either they or we must
govern the city." He will go out about the middle of the day
with his cloak gracefully adjusted, his hair daintily trimmed,
his nails delicately pared, and strut through the Odeum Street,
making such remarks as these : " There is no living in Athens
for the informers ; " " we are shamefully treated in the courts
by the juries ; " " I cannot conceive what people want with
meddling in public affairs ; " " how ungrateful the people are —
276 CHARACTERS OF MEN.
always the slaves of a largess or a bribe ; " and " how ashamed
I am when a meager, squalid fellow sits down by me in the
Ecclesia ! " " When," he will ask, " will they have done ruin-
ing us with these public services and trierarchies ? How de-
testable that set of demagogues is ! " " Theseus " (he will say)
" was the beginning of the mischief to the state. It was he who
reduced it from twelve cities to one, and undid the monarchy.
And he was rightly served, for he was the people's first victim
himself."
And so on to foreigners and to those citizens who resemble
him in their disposition and their politics.
THE PATRON OF RASCALS.
The Patronizing of Rascals is a form of the appetite for
vice.
The Patron of Rascals is one who will throw himself into
the company of those who have lost lawsuits and have been
found guilty in criminal causes ; conceiving that, if he associ-
ates with such persons, he will become more a man of the
world, and will inspire the greater awe. Speaking of honest
men he will add " so-so," and will remark that no one is honest,
— all men are alike ; indeed, one of his sarcasms is, " What an
honest fellow I " Again he will say that the rascal is " a frank
man, if one will look fairly at the matter." "Most of the
things that people say of him," he admits, " are true ; but
some things," he adds, " they do not know ; namely, that he is
a clever fellow, and fond of his friends, and a man of tact ; "
and he will contend in his behalf that he has " never met with
an abler man." He will show him favor, also, when he speaks
in the Ecclesia or is at the bar of a court ; he is fond, too, of
remarking to the bench, " The question is of the cause, not of
the person. " " The defendant," he will say, " is the watchdog
of the people, — he keeps an eye on evil-doers. We shall have
nobody to take the public wrongs to heart, if we allow our-
selves to lose such men." Then he is apt to become the cham-
pion of worthless persons, and to form conspiracies in the law
courts in bad causes ; and, when he is hearing a case, to take
up the statements of the litigants in the worst sense.
In short, sympathy with rascality is sister to rascality
itself ; and true is the proverb that, " Like moves towards
like."
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS. 277
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS.
(Translations by several different hands ; the greater part made for this work
by Forrest Morgan.)
THBSPIS.
[Lived in the middle of the sixth century B.C. The traditional founder of
Greek tragedy.]
To Pan.
Lo, UNTO thee I pour the creamy draught
Pressed from the nursing goats of creamy hue ;
Lo, on thy holy altars I have placed,
O twi-horned Pan, cheese with red honey mixed ;
Behold, I pour thse Bromius' sparkling blood.
PHBYNICHUS.
[Flourished about B.C. 512-475.]
THE light of love burns upon crimson cheeks.
Meleager.
Yet could he not escape a horrid doom :
Swift flame consumed him from the wasting brand,
Fired by his evil-working mother's will.
The Invasion of Boeotia by the Barbarians.
Once poured the host of Hyas through this land,
The ancient people who had tilled the soil ;
And all the fields and meadows by the sea,
The swift flame licked up in its gluttonous jaws.
PRATINAS.
[Flourished before and after B.C. 600.]
WHAT revel-rout is this ? What noise is here ?
What barbarian discord strikes my ear ?
What jarring sounds are these that rage
Unholy on the Bacchic stage ?
'Tis mine to sing in Bromius' praise —
'Tis mine to laud the god in dithyrambic lays —
As o'er the mountain height,
The woodland Nymphs among,
I wing my rapid flight,
And tune my varied song,
278 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS.
Sweet as the melody of swans, that lave
Their nestling pinions in the silver wave ;
Of the harmonious lay the Muse is sovereign still ;
Then let the minstrel follow if he will —
But not precede : whose stricter care should be,
And more appropriate aim,
To fan the lawless flame
Of fiery youths, and lead them on
To deeds of drunkenness alone,
The minister of revelry —
When doors, with many a sturdy stroke,
Fly from their bolts, to shivers broke,
And captive beauty yields, but is not won.
Down with the Phrygian pipe's discordant sound !
Crackle, ye flames ! and burn the monster foul
To very ashes — in whose notes are found
Naught but what's harsh and flat — no music for the soul,
The work of some vile handicraft. To thee,
Great Dithyrambus ! ivy-tressed king !
I stretch my hand, — 'tis here — and rapidly
My feet in airy mazes fling.
Listen my Doric lay: to thee, to thee I sing.
ARISTIAS.
[Fifth century B.C. Contemporary of Sophocles.]
The Glutton.
THAT f caster is a boatman or a tramp,
A parasite of hell, with bottomless belly.
ABISTABCHUS.
[Flourished about B.C. 454.]
" great argument
About it and about." — Omar Khayy&m.
FAIR speech in such things, and no speech, are one ;
Study and ignorance have equal value ;
For wise men know no more than simple fools
In these dark matters ; and if one by speaking
Conquer another, mere words win the day.
Love Laughs at Locksmiths.
That man who hath not tried of love the might
Knows not the strong rule of necessity,
Bound and constrained, whereby this road I travel ;
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS. 279
Yea, our lord Love strengthens the strengthless, teaches
The craf tless how to find both craft and cunning.
NEOPHRON.
[Exhibited 431 B.C.]
Medea Decides to Kill her Children.
WELL, well : what wilt thou do, my soul ? Think much
Before this sin be sinned, before thy dearest
Thou turn to deadliest foes. Whither art bounding ?
Eestrain thy force, thy god-detested fury.
And yet, why grieve I thus, seeing my life
Laid desolate, despitefully abandoned,
By those who least should leave me ? Soft, forsooth,
Shall I be in the midst of wrongs like these ?
Nay, heart of 'mine, be not thy own betrayer !
Ah me ! 'Tis settled. Children, from my sight
Get you away ! for now bloodthirsty madness
Sinks in my soul and swells it. Oh, hands, hands,
Unto what deed are we accoutred ? Woe !
Undone by my own daring ! In one minute
I go to blast the fruit of my long toil.
ACH.EUS.
[Flourished about B.C. 484-448. He and Ion were ranked next after
^Eschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, as making up the five great tragic drama-
tists of Athens.]
The Athletes in the Games.
NAKED above, their radiant arms displaying,
In lustihood of ruffling youth, and bloom
Of beauty bright on stalwart breasts, they fare ;
Their shoulders and their feet in floods of oil
Are bathed, like men whose homes abound in plenty. . . .
Ambassadors or athletes do you mean ?
Great feeders are they, like most men in training.
Of what race are the strangers, then ? — Boeotians.
The Cock and the Pearls.
To hungry men a barley cake is more
Than gold and ivory in an ample store.
The Scythians Angry at the Watered Wine.
Was the whole Achelous in this wine ?
But even then this race would not cease drinking,
For this is all a Scythian's happiness.
280 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS.
ION.
[Exhibited about B.C. 424.]
" KNOW thou thyself — " that saw is trivial stuff :
Not even a god but Zeus has power enough.
The town of Sparta is not walled with words ;
But when young Ares falls upon her men,
Then reason rules and the hand does the deed.
The Crippled, Blinded, and Caged Bird.
His body maimed, his sight no more,
Still he recalls his strength of yore:
Helpless he cries, and gladly would
Exchange for death his servitude.
AGATHON.
[About B.C. 477-430.]
ONE thing not God himself can do, I ween, —
To make what's done as though it ne'er had been.
Skill is true friend of chance, and chance of skill.
Worsted by suffering, cowards dote on death.
Some things we mortals can effect by skill ;
Some fall on us as fate and fortune will.
We work on superfluities as if a need were nigh,
And dawdle on our real work as superfluity.
ABISTON.
[Son of Sophocles ; middle of the fifth century B.C. This citation is on
the authority of Theophilus, bishop of Antioch in the latter part of the second
century A.D. ; but the Greek verse is unclassically poor, and it is quite possible
Theophilus wrote it himself.]
Providence.
A. CHEER up : the god is wont to succor all
Deserving of it — chiefly just this sort.
If the front rank be not assigned to them,
Why should men practice rigid piety ?
B. That may be so ; and yet I often see
Those who conduct their business piously
Bearing strange evils ; on the other hand,
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS. 281
Those out for profit and themselves alone
Holding a far more honored place among us.
A. For the present, yes ; but one should look ahead
And wait the final closing up of all.
By not so doing, some have let prevail
The notion, vile and profitless to life,
That each man's course is automatic, each
Guided by chance ; and so the mob decide
Each for himself to hug his provender.
And yet the crowns are for the virtuous lives,
And to the wicked comes their penalty ;
For naught takes place apart from Providence.
CH03RILUS.
[Flourished latter part of fifth century B.C.]
"Some Banquet Hall Deserted."
HERE in my hands I hold a wretched piece
Of earthen goblet, broken all around,
Sad relic of a band of merry f easters ;
And often the fierce gale of wanton Bacchus
Dashes such wrecks with insult on the shore.
CRITIAS.
[The leader and the worst of the Thirty Tyrants, B.C. 404, and slain fighting
for them against Thrasybulus the same year. He was a pupil of Socrates, friend
and supporter of Alcibiades, and a democrat till banished by the people ; re-
turning, headed the oligarchic revolution with the vindictive rancor of a rene-
gade, put his colleague Theramenes to death for counseling caution, and
threatened Socrates. He was a forcible speaker, and a dabbler in various kinds
of literature. The opening lines of this poem are curious when compared with
his final venture in public life.]
Theoretic Evolution of Law and Religion.
TIME was, when lawless was the life of men,
Like to wild beasts, in thrall to mere brute force,
When to the good resulted no reward,
When to the wicked fell no chastisement.
Thereafter, men I think established laws
To quell the unruly, so that justice might
Put down the tyrants, check the outrages,
And punish whoso broke the social rule.
Then, when the laws forbade the evil sort
To work their will by force and openly,
Yet still they did their mischief underhand, —
I fancy then some subtle sage conceived
282 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS.
What mortals needed was to find out how
Fear might be laid on evil-doers, if aught
They do or speak or think in secret wise :
That then he introduced the Being Divine,
As spirit blooming in perpetual life,
Hearing and seeing and thinking with the mind,
Forever keeping watch on those misdeeds,
And as a god, with power to see and hear
Whatever was done or said among mankind ;
Even if in silence you frame evil wishes,
You shall not hide it from the gods, for thought
Is the gods' essence.
Speaking in such words,
He must have introduced grand moral teachings,
Concealing truth with mask of lying phrase ;
Asserted that the gods dwelt here on earth,
To strike dismay to men and lead them on.
He noted too that fears came on them thence,
Adding new hardships to their wretched life :
The motions of the sky, that brought about
The lightning's glare, the fearful thunder crash,
The starry host — resplendent broidery
Of Time, sage artificer ; thence beside
The dazzling meteor shot the heavenly way,
The laden storm-cloud moved along the land.
These all about them pierced their souls with fear ;
Thereby his speech gained credit, when a place
He chose as fit to build the god a home,
And crushed the headstrong by the laws he made.
Thus first, methinks, men must have been persuaded
By some man. to obey the spirit's law.
MOSCHION.
[Flouris ed about B.C. 380. He is also ranked as a writer of the Middle
Comedy, which shows the absurdity of the artificial classification of tragic and
comic. But the remains belong to the serious Muse.]
De Mortuis Nil Nisi Bonum.
'Tis vain to offer outrage to thin shades :
God-fearers strike the living, not the dead.
What gain we by insulting mere dead men ?
What profit were taunts cast at voiceless clay ?
For when the sense that can discern things sweet
And things offensive is corrupt and fled,
The body takes the rank of mere deaf stone.
FRAGMENTS OF GRttEK TRAGIC POETS. 283
Quality Counts, not Quantity.
In far mountain vales
See how a single ax fells countless firs ;
So a few men can curb a myriad lances.
ASTYDAMAS JUNIOR.
[Grandson of <35schylus' sister. Flourished middle of fourth century B.C.]
The Dramatic Craft.
A WISE playwright should act like the man who gives a magnificent
feast :
He should seek to delight the spectators, that each on departing
may feel
He has eaten and drunk just the things he would chiefly have chosen
himself :
Not set but one dish for all palates, one writing for all sorts of
tastes.
Virtue will Always be Honored.
The people's praise is sure to fall,
Their fullest honor to be shown,
To him who makes the right his all,
Whose ways are loftiest : such a one
They will term noble. Search the land :
In every hundred, one like this
Can there be found ? The quest will miss,
E'en though ten thousand join the band.
CARCINUS JUNIOR.
[Flourished about B.C. 380.]
0 ZEUS, what need for one to waste one's words
In speaking ill of women ? for what worse
Is there to add, when one has called them women ?
Virtue is for the individual's care ;
Fortune to ask for of the gods in prayer :
Whoever has the power to yoke the two,
Eightly a good and happy name shall bear.
For most of human ills, the sovereign healing
Is silence, which at least is prudent dealing.
[To a slave :]
Seeing you full of hate, I am rejoiced:
284 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS.
Knowing that hatred works one piece of justice
On those it strikes, — the slave abhors his masters.
0 wealth, though oft enough a luckless fate,
Thou forcest men to fiercely emulate.
This is a thing that men should hold in dread —
To vaunt one's self above the mighty dead.
Wine should not turn you ; for if you have been
Admonished by your nature fixed within,
Occasion ne'er will tempt you into sin.
DIOGENES (ENOMATJS.
[Began to exhibit B.C. 404.]
Music in Asiatic Worship.
AND now I hear the turban-bearing women,
The votaries of Asian Cybele,
The wealthy Phrygians' daughters, loudly sounding,
With drums, and rhombs, and brazen-clashing cymbals,
Their hands in concert striking on each other,
Pour forth a wise and healing hymn to the gods.
Likewise the Syrian and the Bactrian maids
Who dwell beside the Halys, loudly worship
The Tmolian goddess Artemis, who loves
The laurel shade of the thick leafy grove,
Striking the clear three-cornered pectis, and
Raising responsive airs upon the magadis,
While flutes in Persian manner neatly joined
Accompany the chorus.
DIONTSIUS.
[Tyrant of Syracuse B.C. 405-367.]
IF THEN you think no pain to your condition
Will come, you have a happy disposition :
Of gods' life, not of mortals', is your vision.
[Solon's saw versified :]
Let no man think another mortal blest
Until he sees his life close undistrest :
To praise the dead alone is safe and best.
As from a tranquil face looks out G-od's eye,
Ajid gazes o'er all things eternally.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS. 285
[Thi* is the original, or at least the theme, of verse 45, canto 3, of " Childe
Harold." The repetitions and assonances closely follow the Greek.]
Knowest thou naught of this fact of f ate's —
Those who are naught, not any one hates ?
Ever the great is what rouses hate ;
All power tall grown is fated for hatred.
If humbly born, hate not the rich :
Envy tunes some to slander's pitch.
THEODECTES.
[A great rhetorician of the school of Isocrates: lived about B.C. 376-335.]
Mirages.
OLD age and marriage are twin happenings :
We long to have them both befall ourselves,
But when befallen, we deplore too late.
The One Immortal Thing.
All human things are born to die
And reach their ending by-and-by,
Save shamelessness, apparently
Let the race wax howe'er it may,
This waxes with it day by day.
Hope Deferred.
One can but oft
Be weary of the quest for fame and praise.
Our indolence, the present sweetness grasped,
Wails, with fond dreams what future time will bring.
The Mills of God.
[This is the exact theme of Walter Bagehot's " The Ignorance of Man."]
Mortal, whoe'er thou art, who blamest God
Because not swiftly but with long delay
He strikes the wicked, listen to the cause :
Were retribution visited forthwith,
Many through fear and not through piety
Would worship God; but retribution now
Being far off, each acts his nature out.
But when detected, known as evil men,
They pay the penalty in later times.
286 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS.
The bridegroom when he brings his housemate home
Not merely takes a wife, 'tis evident :
Along with that he takes a spirit in,
For blessing or malignance, as may be.
CH.EREMON.
[Flourished probably about B.C. 380.]
A Garden of Girls.
THERE one reclined apart I saw, within the moon's pale light,
With bosom through her parted robe appearing snowy white :
Another danced, and floating free her garments in the breeze,
She seemed as buoyant as the waves that leap o'er summer seas ;
While dusky shadows all around shrunk backward from the place,
Chased by the beaming splendor shed like sunshine from her face.
Beside this living picture stood a maiden passing fair,
With soft round arms exposed. A fourth, with free and graceful air,
Like Dian when the bounding hart she tracks through morning dew,
Bared through the opening of her robes her lovely limbs to view ;
And oh ! the image of her charms, as clouds in heaven above,
Mirrored by streams, left on my soul the stamp of hopeless love.
And slumbering near them others lay, on beds of sweetest flowers,
The dusky-petaled violet, the rose of Raphian bowers,
The inula and saffron flower, which on their garments cast
And veils, such hues as deck the sky when day is ebbing fast ;
While far and near tall marjoram bedecked the fairy ground,
Loading with sweets the vagrant winds that frolicked all around.
CRATES.
[Cynic philosopher : flourished about B.C. 328.]
No SINGLE fortress, no one single house,
Is fatherland to me ; but all throughout
Each city and each dwelling in the land
Will find me ready there to make a home.
Hunger will quell your love ; if not, then time ;
If neither of these things will quench the flame,
The one cure left's a rope to hang yourself.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK TRAGIC POETS. 287
SOSITHEUS.
[Flourished about B.C. 280. One of the so-called " Pleiad " —seven poets
of the Alexandrian court, in the third century B.C., ranked as the chief Grecian
tragic poets after the great Five (^Eschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Ion, Achseus) ,
they were — Homer, Sositheus, Lycophron (see his "Cassandra" under sepa-
rate head), Alexander, Philiscus, Sosiphanes, Dionysiades. The first two were
considered greatest.]
The Myth of Lityerses.
THIS is Celaense, fatherland, old city
Of aged Midas, who with asses' ears
And stupid human mind, here held his reign.
This is his bastard son, with spurious father,
But of what mother, she who bore him knows :
He eats in sooth three pack-ass loads of bread
Three times in one short day, and what he calls
A measure of wine is a ten-amphora jar ; [three barrels]
But for his food supply he labors nimbly,
Mowing the swathes ; yet on a given day
He mingles Dionysus with his victual.
And when a stranger came or passed along,
He gave him to eat, — indeed, he fed him fat, —
And freely proffered drink, as wont in summer —
One hesitates to grudge those doomed to death.
Viewing the fields along Mseander's channels
Watered for herbage with abundant streams,
The man-tall corn he cuts with sharpened sickle ;
Then sheaf and stranger mingled into one
He leaves without a head, and laughs to think
How foolishly the reaper breakfasted.
*******
A. Slain, he was pitched by the feet into Maeander,
Just like a quoit ; and who the quoitsman was —
B. Who?
A. You shall hear. Who else but Hercules ?
PHILISCUS.
[See above.]
O FOOL, the idlers find it hard
To earn the laborer's reward.
Among both men and gods, the right alone
Forever deathless holds their judgments' throne.
288 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
(Translations by various hands; in part made for this work by Forrest
Morgan.)
"OLD COMEDY."
SUSARION.
[Father of Greek comedy ; flourished about B.C. 670.]
HEAR, folk ! Susarion has this to say,
Philinus' son, native of Megara :
Women are evils : just the same, my friends,
Without those evils all home-building ends.
To marry or not, alike to evil tends.
CHIONIDES.
[Fifth century B.C.]
I HAVE known many a youth of not your breed
In rough night watch or sleeping on mat of reed.
Meseems, by Heaven, no difference from me hath
A willow sprung amid the torrent's path.
EPICHARMUS.
[About B.C. 640-460. Born in Cos, but spent most of his life at the court
of Hiero in Syracuse. A famous Pythagorean philosopher ; as a poet said to
have lifted comedy from low buffoonery to art.]
"A Man's a Man for a* That."
GOOD gossip, if you love me, prate no more :
What are your genealogies to me ?
Away to those who have more need of them !
Let the degenerate wretches, if they can,
Dig up dead honor from their fathers' tombs,
And boast it for their own — vain, empty boast !
When every common fellow that they meet,
If accident hath not cut off the scroll,
Can show a list of ancestry as long.
You call the Scythians barbarous, and despise them :
Yet Anacharsis was a Scythian born ;
And every man of a like noble nature,
Though he were molded from an Ethiop's loins,
In nobler than your pedigrees can mak« him.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 289
Marriage.
Marriage is like to casting dice. If chance
Bring you a virtuous and good-tempered wife,
Your lot is happy. If you gain instead
A gadding, gossiping, and thriftless quean,
No wife is yours, but everlasting plague
In woman's garb ; the habitable globe
Holds not so dire a torment anywhere.
I feel it to my sorrow : better luck
Is that man's portion who has never tried.
It needs the strength of a lion to subdue the weakness of love.
Be sober in thought, be slow to belief : these are the sinews of wis-
dom.
'Tis a wise man's part to judge rightly before the course is begun,
So shall he not repent him after the action is done.
Waste not your anger on trifles ! let reason, not rage, be your guide.
Mankind owe more to labor than to talent :
The gods set up their favors at a price,
And industry alone can furnish it.
If you lack merit, you will not be envied ;
But who would win exemption at the cost ?
PHRYNICHUS.
[Exhibited from B.C. 429 till after 405.]
The Men Proud of Insolent Wit.
THE hardest task that our fortune sends
To-day is to ward them off, in sooth ;
For they have a sting at their finger-ends —
The malice of blooming and insolent youth.
They're forever at hand in the market-place,
And honey us all with their compliments blithe ;
Then they stand on the seats and scratch face after face,
And deride us in concert at seeing us writhe.
'Tis sweet to do grilling
And not spend a shilling.
TOL. IT. — 19
290 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Epitaph on Sophocles.
Blest Sophocles ! who, wonted age o'erpast,
Died fortunate and skilful to the last.
Many and fair the tragic scenes he drew ;
His end as fair, and ills he never knew.
MAGNES.
[Flourished about B.C. 430. See Parabasis to Aristophanes' " Knights,"
end of Vol. 3.]
HAVE you not heard the hot loaves from the pan
Hissing when honey you have poured thereon ?
TELECLIDES.
[See Crates for a companion picture. Several other poets of the period
have left similar skits, but these two are sufficient.]
The Golden Age.
[Zeus speaks.]
I WILL tell you, then, what the life was that at first I made ready for
mortals.
To begin with, peace was for all, just like water for washing the
hands.
The earth bore no fear nor diseases, all the needfuls were there of
themselves :
For each mountain stream flowed with wine, and the loaves had a
strife with the biscuits
To enter the mouths of the people, and begged to be taken and
eaten
If any one loved utter whiteness ; the fishes came into the houses,
And broiling themselves, placed their bodies for viands upon the
tables ;
Beside every couch ran a river of soup with hot meat floating
through it ;
And streamlets of salads were there for all who might chance to
desire them,
So that the tender mouthful was lavishly watered to swallow.
Cakelets thrown into dishlets were ready and sprinkled with sauce-
lets;
And one could see thrushes with toastlets flying into men's gullets ;
From the pancakes jostling each other at mouths came a cry as of
battle,
And boys along with their mothers played dice with the tidbits and
cutlets.
Men were all corpulent then, and a huge aggregation of giants.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 291
CBATINUS.
[Flourished from about 480 to 423 B.C. The originator of political comedy.
See, for a magnificent tribute to him, the Parabasis to Aristophanes' "Knights,"
end of Vol. 3. He won nine first prizes, one over Aristophanes himself after
the latter had counted him out of the field, and when near death.]
The Cyclops to Ulysses and his Company.
FOR all these services, my dear companions,
When I have taken you and roasted you,
Boiled you, and broiled you on a charcoal fire,
Salted you down and dipped you into pickle, —
Warm vinegar and salt, or salt and garlic, —
Him that seems cooked most perfectly of all
I'll gnaw his bones myself, in soldier fashion.
The men who lived in times of yore,
When Kronos was their king,
They gambled with the loaves of bread,
And often used to fling
The ripe ^Egina barley cakes
Down in the wrestling ring ;
And they plumed themselves upon their lands —
When Kronos was the king.
Have you seen that Thasian pickle, how he does the big bow-wow ?
How well and swiftly he pays back his grudges, here and now !
It's not " a blind man talking to a deaf one," you'll allow.
A. How can one break this man, how can one, pray,
Break him from drink, from drinking much too much ?
B. I know : I'll smash his gallon jars for him,
And burn his casks to ashes like the lightning,
And all the other vessels for his liquor,
Till not a wine cup shall be his to own.
It takes more than the eating of one brook trout
To make one an epicure out and out.
[Lampon was a soothsayer, whose gluttony and covetousness were constant
butts of Aristophanes.]
There's Lampon, whom never a law men could make
Would keep from his friends when a spread was at stake ; . . .
Now he's belching again ;
He eats all that's in sight — for a mullet he'd fight.
292 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Leda'a Egg.
Leda, this is your work : now it is your duty
Dignifiedly, like a hen, — there's no other wise, —
To sit on it, and hatch us out a perfect little beauty,
A bird so wonderful that one must praise it to the skies.
[On the luxury of old times :]
By their ears stood the soft thyme, the lily, or the rose ;
Sceptre-globe and staff I held, market loungers those.
[On the Lacedaemonian feast called the Kopis : compare Irving's " Knick-
erbocker," and the lump of sugar hung by a string :]
Is it true, as they say, that each stranger among
The arrivals is banqueted high at that feast ?
In the clubrooms are sausages skewered and hung
For the elders to bite pieces off with their teeth ?
[On the youth :]
The land has trained and fed them free
At public cost to man's degree,
That they may its defenders be.
[The woman speaks :]
Let us return to what we were discussing :
Whether this man, who has another woman
In his heart, is slandering me to her ? I think
His trouble is part old age, and partly liquor ;
For nothing comes before his drink to him.
Good Lord, I don't know letters, they're no reliance of mine ;
But I'll tell you the story with my tongue, for I remember fine.
[On himself ; see Parabasis as above:]
O Lord Apollo, what a flood of words !
The torrents roar ! twelve springs are in that mouth,
Ilissus in that throat ! What shall I tell you ?
For unless some one plugs that mouth of yours,
Everything here will be o'erflowed with songs.
Time was that with only a rag to your loin
You cheerfully threw in your lot with mine,
And drank the lees of the poorest wine.
Far from the lyre the asses sit.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 293
Every spectator will take his chances to sleep, if he's wise,
To be rid of the spell of stupidity cast by the poets' eyes.
Splendid things are waiting for you, you'll be glad to hit on ;
Gracious beaming girls, that is, and maple stools to sit on.
The Cottabus.
It is death to drink wine that water's come near ;
But she mixed half and half of two lots that were sheer,
And drank six quarts from a curving cup,
Then named the Corinthian pet she held dear,
And threw the last drops for what fate would show up.
CRATES.
[Flourished about B.C. 440. For his literary character, see Parabasis to
the "Knights," as above.]
Old Age.
THESE shriveled sinews and this bending frame
The workmanship of Time's strong hand proclaim ;
Skilled to reverse whate'er the gods create,
Ajad make that crooked which they fashion straight.
Hard choice for man — to die, or else to be
That tottering, wretched, wrinkled thing you see,
Yet age we all prefer ; for age we pray,
And travel on to life's last lingering day ;
Then sinking slowly down from worse to worse,
Find Heaven's extorted boon our greatest curse. . . .
You've cursed it to me as a mighty ill,
Yet borne not, death the price — a greater still ;
We covet, yet reject it when arrived —
So thanklessly our nature is contrived.
The blossoming of bosoms that are a maiden's dower
Is like a rosy apple or arbutus in flower.
Megabyzus feeds the hind
Shivering at his door ;
He will get a dole of food
For wages — nothing more.
The Golden Age.
[See also Teleclides.]
A. Then none shall own a slave of either sex.
B. But shall an old man have to serve himself f
294 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
A. Oh no : I will make all these things come straight.
B. And how will it better them ?
A. Why, all utensils
Will come of their own accord when called. " Here, table,
Come up and set yourself ! You bread-trough, knead ! —
Pitcher, pour wine ! Where's the cup ? wash yourself ! —
The dinner-pot had best give forth some beets ! —
March, fish ! " — " But I'm not cooked on the other side." —
" Turn over, then, and salt yourself, you fool ! "
B. Well, listen, tit for tat : contrariwise
I'll bring the hot baths to my friends' abodes,
On columns such as through the hospital
By the seaside, so that they shall flow to each
Into his bath : he speaks, the water stops.
And then an alabaster box of unguent
Shall come of its own accord, and sponge, and slippers.
Swarms and swarms of lovers come here,
We've so many young pigs and lambs for their cheer.
PYTHON.
[Of Catana. Flourished in the time of Alexander the Great. For Harpalus
("Pallides"), the subject of these sarcastic lines, see note under Dinarchus,
in the selections from the Ten Attic Orators. The courtesan referred to was his
mistress Pythionica.]
WHERE grew this reed, a lofty crag aspires,
Beyond the reach of birds ; and on its left
A harlot's famous temple, which Pallides
Building, condemned himself to exile for.
Then some of the Barbarians' magi, noting
His sorry plight, persuaded him their spells
Could raise the soul of Pythionica.
******
A. But I would learn from you,
Since far from there I dwell — the Attic land
What fortunes hap, and how its people fare.
B. When they declared they led the life of slaves,
They had food in plenty ; now they solely eat
Fennel and pulse, and very little corn.
A. And yet I hear that Harpalus has sent them
Thousands of bushels of wheat, not less than Agen,
And has been made a freeman of the city.
B. That was G-lycera's wheat ; and just the same
A pledge of ruin, not of comradeship.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 295
MOSCHION.
[Contemporary with Chseremon.]
Origin of Civilization.
FIRST I come forward, and will put in words
The start and ordering of mortals' life.
When that time was, that like the savage beasts
Men had the mountain caves for their abode,
Dwelt in the sunless chasms of the rocks ;
When the thatched roof was not, nor cities wide
Fended by towers of stone j nor the curved plow
Had cleft the dark earth clod, the corn-fruit's mother,
Nor the great workman iron had helped to till
The gardens flowing with lacchus' wine,
But mute and barren was the virgin earth ;
And for all food, flesh-eaters slew each others
And furnished forth their feasts ; and law was helpless,
And Force held joint dominion with the gods,
The weak being food for the stronger. But when Time,
Progenitor and nourisher of all,
Brought changes to this pristine life of men, —
Either instructed by Prometheus' care,
Or sheer necessity or experience hard
Making their inner being's self a teacher, —
They found a way to cultivate the food
Of chaste Demeter ; found the luscious fount
Of Bacchus ; and the earth, before untilled,
Now felt the plow as oxen bore the yoke.
And cities towered and houses covered round
They built ; and changed their old existence wild
For that of civilized amenities.
Henceforward, too, the law enjoined that dying,
One's dust be covered by a lot-drawn tomb ;
No longer lie unburied in men's sight,
Impious remembrancer of former feasts.
PATBOCLES.
[Date uncertain ; somewhere in this period.]
SEE now the many formidable words
Fate gathers in this little instrument ! [the tongue].
Why do we mortals swell with idle threats,
And heap up tools of vengeance with our hands,
Yet look not forward to our near-by doom,
To see and know our own unhappy lot ?
296 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
APOLLONIDES.
[Uncertain, but in this period.]
AH, ladies, in our human race
Not gold, or ease, or royal place,
Afford such sweetness ever new
As to good men and women true
Just judgment and right feeling da
ECDORUS.
[As above.]
Body Like Soul.
WHERE'ER you find a form that's foul of face,
You'll always find it with befitting ways ;
For nature out of evil evil breeds,
As serpent unto serpent still succeeds.
SOSIPHANES.
[See above.]
O MORTALS most ill-fated, little blest,
Why do you magnify your offices,
Which one day gave, and one may take away ?
If, being naught, you gain success, you straight
Liken yourselves to Heaven, nor bear in mind
Nor see the ruling Hades not far off.
HERMIPPUS.
[Flourished just before Aristophanes.]
As to mischievous habits, if you ask my vote,
I say there are two common kinds of self -slaughter :
One, constantly pouring strong wine down your throat,
'Tother, plunging in up to your throat in hot water.
[On a gluttonous rival :]
If there were such a race of men we had to fight to-day,
And they were captained by a big broiled fish or fatted hog,
The rest should stay at home and send Nothippus to the fray :
He'd single-handed eat the whole Morea for his prog.
Do you know what to do for me ? Your little cup I scorn,
But give me just one swig from out that jolly drinking-horn.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 297
Hail; transmarine army ! " What then are we doing ?
Our bodies are soft to appearance, but then,
The vigor of youth in our muscles is brewing :
Have you heard that Abydans have turned into men ? "
War.
Now with shaggy cloaks we're done :
Each one puts his breastplate on,
Binds the greaves upon his thighs ;
Sandals white we all despise.
One may see the cottabus staff
Kolled neglected in the chaff ;
No last drops the Manes hears,
And the wretched scale appears
Lying on the rubbish pile
Just beside the garden stile.
EUPOLIS.
[Born B.C. 449 ; drowned at the battle of Cynossema, 410 ; also said, but
probably without truth, to have been assassinated at the instance of Alcibiades
for a lampoon in one of his plays. He collaborated with Aristophanes in the
"Knights," and is said to have written part of the closing chorus. He is be-
lieved to have been second only to Aristophanes in genius.]
The Parasite.
MARK now, and learn of me the thriving arts
By which we parasites contrive to live :
Fine rogues we are, my friend, of that be sure,
And daintily we gull mankind. — Observe!
First I provide myself a nimble thing
To be my page, a varlet of all crafts ;
Next two new suits for feasts and gala days,
Which I promote by turns, when I walk forth
To sun myself upon the public square ;
There if perchance I spy some rich, dull knave,
Straight I accost him, do him reverence,
And sauntering up and down, with idle chat
Hold him awhile in play : at every word
Which his wise worship utters, I stop short
And bless myself for wonder ; if he ventures
On some vile joke, I blow it to the skies,
And hold my sides for laughter. — Then to supper
With others of our brotherhood, to mess
In some night cellar on our barley cakes,
And club inventions for the next day's shift.
298 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Yes, music is a science deep, involved,
And ever something new will be found in it
By those who have the genius of discovery.
Those whom you'd once have not made wine inspectors
Now you make generals. 0 city, city !
How much more lucky than rational you are !
A. Let Alcibiades keep away from the women.
B. You're talking nonsense : why don't you go home
And train your own wife to her duty first ?
PHERECRATES.
[Flourished B.C. 438-420.]
On Old Age.
AGE is the heaviest burden man can bear,
Compound of disappointment, pain, and care :
For when the mind's experience comes at length,
It comes to mourn the body's loss of strength ;
Resigned to ignorance all our better days,
Knowledge just ripens when the man decays j
One ray of light the closing eye receives,
And wisdom only takes what folly leaves.
The Musical Inventors of the Day.
{Music comes in, dressed in woman's garb, bruised and torn, and Justice in-
quires the reason.]
Music — I speak not loath, for 'tis your part
To hear, and speaking glads my heart.
From Melanippides arose
My sorrows : he was first of those
Who seizing me relaxed my wings,
Giving a dozen slacker strings
For the old eleven ; yet, be sure,
He was a man I could endure
Compared with these, the last and worst.
For one Cinesias, an accurst
Athenian, making discords vile
By sudden turns for novel style
In strophic endings, so destroyed me
That in the verse where he employed me,
His dithyrambs, like shields in fight
You'd think the left side was the right.
But even this you could not call
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 299
Rough in comparison at all :
Phrynis came next, and, having thrown
A certain whirlwind of his own
To the front, with twists and turns of tone
Ruined me quite, while on five strings
A. dozen harmonies he rings.
Yet even he could be endured,
For his wrong-doing could be cured,
But, dearest, Timotheus, you see,
Buried and foully murdered me.
Justice — Timotheus who ?
Music — A red-head low
Milesian.
Justice — Has he harmed you so ?
Music — All that I tell you: I'm undone
By tortuous melodies that run
Along the strings like swarms of ants.
And if by any evil chance
Walking alone he ever meets me,
With the twelve strings he ties and beats me.
The Meal "Old Times."
Nobody then had male or female servants, —
No help at all, — and each had for himself
To execute all labors in the house :
Mornings with their own hands they ground the corn,
The hamlet echoed as they thumped the mills.
Settling a Bore.
If a conceited donkey start to bray,
Fd answer him — " Don't have so much to say !
Be pleased to turn your mind and ears this way."
The Feminine Toper.
A. I'm just out of the hot-bath, quite cooked through ;
My throat's as dry —
JB. I'll bring you something to drink.
A. Dear me, my mouth is sticky with saliva.
jB. How large a cup will satisfy you ?
A. Well,
Don't make it small : it always stirs my bile
When I've drunk medicine from such a one ;
So have mine poured into a good-sized cup. . . .
800 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
A. Glyce, this isn't drinkable.
B. Isn't it watered ?
A. Why, it's nothing but water.
What did you do, wretch ? What did you pour in ?
B. Two parts, mamma.
A. To how much wine ?
B. Why, four.
A. Go to the deuce ! You ought to mix for frogs.
*******#
[The same topic elsewhere.]
Then by the potters for the men were made
Broad cups that had no sides, but only bottoms,
Not holding a mussel-shellful — just like tasters ;
But for themselves [women] deep cups like merchant vessels
Wine-ships, round, grasped by the middle, belly- shaped; —
Not thoughtlessly, but with long-sighted craft
How they could guzzle wine and give no reasons.
Then, when we charge that they've drunk up the wine,
They tongue us, swearing they have " drunk but one " ;
But that one's bigger than a thousand cups.
A Floral Invocation.
You with mallow sighings, hyacinthine breath,
Honey-clover speeches, rose smiles for your mate,
Marjoram kisses, love-embraces in a parsley wreath,
Tiger-lily laughter, larkspur gait, —
Pour the wine and raise the paean as the sacred laws dictate !
PLATO (" COMICUS ").
[Flourished B.C. 428-389.]
On the Tomb of Themistocles.
BY THE sea's margin, on the watery strand,
Thy monument, Themistocles, shall stand :
By this directed to thy native shore
The merchant shall convey his freighted store ;
And when our fleets are summoned to the fight,
Athens shall conquer with thy tomb in sight.
Epicureanism as its Enemies Fancy.
Father —
Thou hast destroyed the morals of my son,
And turned his mind, not so disposed, to vice,
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 301
Unholy pedagogue! With morning drams,
A filthy custom which he caught from thee,
Far from his former practice, now he saps
His youthful vigor. Is it thus you school him ?
Sophist —
And if he did, what harms him ? Why complain you ?
He does but follow what the wise prescribe,
The great voluptuous law of Epicurus,
Pleasure, the best of all good things of earth ;
And how but thus can pleasure be obtained ?
Father—
Virtue will give it him.
Sophist — And what but virtue
Is our philosophy ? When have you met
One of our sect flushed and disguised with wine ?
Or one, but one, of those you tax so roundly
On whom to fix a fault ?
Father — Not one, but all,
All who march forth with supercilious brow
High arched with pride, beating the city rounds,
Like constables in quest of rogues and outlaws,
To find that prodigy in human nature,
A wise and perfect man ! What is your science
But kitchen science ? Wisely to descant
Upon the choice bits of a savory cup,
And prove by logic that his summum bonum
Lies in his head ; there you can lecture well,
And whilst your gray hairs wag, the gaping guest
Sits wondering with a foolish face of praise.
AMIPSIAS.
[Contemporary of Aristophanes. }
A, BEST of a few, most trifling of a crowd
Are you here with us also, Socrates ?
You're a sturdy man : where did you get that cloak ?
B. This happened ill — the tailors stand a loss.
A. Yet he, thus dirty, would not suffer flattery.
STBATTIS.
[Flourished about B.C. 410-380.]
No one can bear
To drink his wine hot ; on the contrary
It should be cooled in a well, or mixed with snow.
302 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS*
THEOPOMPUS.
[Exhibited down to about B.C. 376.]
STOP gambling, boy, and for the future eat
More vegetables. Your stomach's indurated :
I'd leave off eating oysters for the present ;
And furthermore, new wine's the best for counsel.
If you do this, your fortunes will be easier.
PHILONIDES.
[Date uncertain.]
BECAUSE I hold the laws in due respect
And fear to be unjust, am I a coward ?
Meek let me be to all the friends of truth,
And only terrible amongst its foes.
POLYZELUS.
[Uncertain ; in this period.]
OUT of three evils before him, he has to make choice of one :
To drag the cross he'll be nailed to, drink hemlock, or scuttle and run
From the ship, which will save him from such an evil reward :
These are Theramenes' three, against which he wishes to guard.
DEMETRIUS.
[About B.C. 400.]
THE easiest thing to snare is villainy ;
For, always working solely to its gain,
With headlong folly it credits everything.
"MIDDLE COMEDY."
ANTIPHANES.
[Of Smyrna or Rhodes ; began to exhibit about 383 B.C. One of the fore-
most poets of the " Middle Comedy " ; won thirty prizes.]
On Women.
A. YE FOOLISH husbands, trick not out your wives ;
Dress not their persons fine, but clothe their minds.
Tell 'em your secrets ? — Tell 'em to the crier,
And make the market place your confidant !
B. Nay, but there's proper penalties for blabbing.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 303
A. What penalties ? they'll drive you out of them ;
Summon your children into court, convene
Relations, friends, and neighbors to confront
And nonsuit your complaint, till in the end
Justice is hooted down, and quiet prevails. . . .
For this, and only this, I'll trust a woman :
That if you take life from her, she will die,
And being dead she'll come to life no more j
In all things else I am an infidel.
Oh ! might I never more behold a woman !
Rather than I should meet that object, gods,
Strike out my eyes — I'll thank you for your mercy.
A Different View of the Same.
The man who first laid down the pedant rule
That love is folly, was himself the fool ;
For if to life that transport you deny,
What privilege is left us — but to die?
The Unwelcomeness of Death.
Ah, good my master, you may sigh for death,
And call in vain upon him to release you,
But will you bid him welcome when he comes ?
Not you : old Charon has a stubborn task
To tug you to his wherry and dislodge you
From your rich tables, when your hour is come.
I muse the gods send not a plague amongst you,
A good, brisk, sweeping, epidemic plague :
There's nothing else can make you all immortal.
Death's Inn.
Cease, mourners, cease complaint, and weep no more.
Your lost friends are not dead, but gone before,
Advanced a stage or two upon that road
Which you must travel in the steps they trode ;
In the same inn we all shall meet at last,
Then take new life and laugh at sorrows past.
The Parasite.
[See also Eupolis.]
What art, vocation, trade, or mystery
Can match with your fine parasite ? — The painter ?
304 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
He ! a mere dauber ; a vile drudge the farmer : —
Their business is to labor, ours to laugh,
To jeer, to quibble, faith, sirs ! and to drink,
Aye, and drink lustily. Is not this rare ?
'Tis life — my life at least. The first of pleasures
Were to be rich myself ; but next to this
I hold it best to be a parasite,
And feed upon the rich.
Now mark me right !
Set down my virtues one by one : imprimis,
Good will to all men — would they were all rich
So might I gull them all : malice to none j
I envy no man's fortune — all I wish
Is but to share it. Would you have a friend,
A gallant steady friend ? I am your man :
No striker I, no swaggerer, no defamer,
But one to bear all these, and still forbear :
If you insult, I laugh, unruffled, merry,
Invincibly good-humored, still I laugh :
A stout good soldier I, valorous to a fault,
When once my stomach's up and supper served.
You know my humor — not one spark of pride,
Such and the same forever to my friends.
If cudgeled, molten iron to the hammer
Is not so malleable ; but if I cudgel,
Bold as the thunder. Is one to be blinded ?
I am the lightning's flash : to be puffed up ?
I am the wind to blow him to the bursting.
Cloaked, strangled ? I can do't and save a halter.
Would you break down his doors ? behold an earthquake;
Open and enter them ? a battering-ram.
Will you sit down to supper ? I'm your guest,
Your very fly to enter without bidding.
Would you move off ? You'll move a well as soon. —
I'm for all work, and though the job were stabbing,
Betraying, false-accusing, only say
" Do this," and it is done ! I stick at nothing ;
They call me Thunderbolt for my dispatch.
Friend of my friends am I. Let action speak me :
Fm much too modest to commend myself.
An honest man to law makes no resort :
His conscience is the better rule of court.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
ANJLXJLNDRIDES.
[A Rhodian ; began to exhibit B.C. 376.]
Evils of Secrecy.
SWEET it is,
When one has had a new idea rise,
To blazon it : for they whose knowledge lies
Sole in themselves, first, have no test in mind
Of technic ; next, they are hated, for mankind
Should be given all the freshest things we find.
Ruled by their /Stomachs.
[These mock serious lines apparently relate to a still-life picture of a fish.]
A. The lovely handiwork of portrait painters,
Set on an easel, is a thing to admire ;
But this ignobly comes from off a platter,
Swiftly evanished from a frying pan !
B. But by what other handicraft, good sir,
Are young men's mouths so quickly set on fire,
Or fingers set to choke their owners, poking
If they're unable to swallow quick enough ?
Are not our parties solely made delightful
By the fish market ? What men dine together
Without a fry, or black perch that you buy,
Or sprats ? And then, as to the blooming boy,
What charms or speeches can you catch him with,
Tell me, if you but take away the skill
Of the fisherman ? — for this is how he's tamed,
Vanquished by the cooked faces of the fishes.
The Croaker upon Marriage.
Whoever longs to marry, doesn't long
Sensibly, if his longing ends in marriage ;
It starts a train of evils in one's life.
For if a hired man take a woman's riches,
He has a lady mistress, not a wife,
Of whom he's slave and hired man. If again
He takes one bringing naught, he's twice a slave :
For then there's two to feed instead of one.
One takes a punk : she's not worth living with,
Nor bringing into a home in any way.
Another takes a beauty : she belongs
As much to her husband's neighbor as to him. —
So that there's no way evils won't attend it.
VOL. iv. — 20
306 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
EuBULUS.
[Flourished from about B.C. 375 to 325 ; his period almost exactly coinciding
with that of the «« Middle Comedy."]
THREE cups of wine a prudent man may take :
The first of these for constitution's sake ;
The second to the girl he loves the best ;
The third and last to lull him to his rest,
Then home to bed ! But if a fourth he pours,
That is the cup of folly, and not ours ;
Loud, noisy talking on the fifth attends ;
The sixth breeds feuds and falling out of friends ;
Seven beget blows and faces stained with gore ;
Eight, and the watch patrol breaks ope the door ;
Mad with the ninth, another cup goes round,
And the swilled sot drops senseless to the ground-
On a Painting of Love.
Why, foolish painter, give those wings to love ?
Love is not light, as my sad heart can prove :
Love hath no wings, or none that I can see ;
If he can fly, oh ! bid him fly from me !
NICOSTBATUS.
[A son of Aristophanes.]
An Ancient Wonderland Animal.
A. Is it a man-of-war, a swan, or a beetle ?
When I have found out what, I'll undertake
Any adventure.
B. Doubtless a swan-beetle.
A Health.
A. And I, beloved,
Pour out to you the stirrup-cup of health.
Good health to you !
B. Well, here's to all good luck !
All mortal things are in luck's hands ; and foresight
Is blind and helter-skelter, father dear.
If this incessant chattering be your plan,
I would you were a swallow, not a man !
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 307
PHILET^RUS.
[Another son of Aristophanes.]
Eat and Drink.
FOR what, I pray you, should a mortal do
But seek for all appliances and means
To pass his life in comfort day by day ?
This should be all our object and our aim,
Reflecting on the chance of human life.
And never let us think about to-morrow,
Whether it will arrive at all or not.
It is a foolish trouble to lay up
Money which may grow stale and useless to you.
*******
But whatever mortals
Of good condition live a bounteous life,
I still declare that they are wretched men,
Surely ; for dead, you cannot eat an eel,
Nor for the dead are nuptial cakes prepared.
Music cheers Death.
0 Zeus ! how glorious 'tis to die while piercing flutes are near,
Pouring their stirring melodies into the faltering ear ;
On these alone doth Orcus smile, within whose realms of night,
Where vulgar ghosts in shivering bands, all strangers to delight,
In leaky tub from Styx's flood the icy waters bear,
Condemned, for woman's lovely voice, its moaning sounds to hear.
EPHIPPUS.
[In this period; exact dates uncertain.]
How I delight
To spring upon the dainty coverlets ;
Breathing the perfume of the rose, and steeped
In tears of myrrh !
ANAXILAS.
Courtesan Mistresses.
WHOEVER has been weak enough to dot*,
And live in precious bondage at the feet
Of an imperious mistress, may relate
Some part of their iniquity at least.
In fact, what wonder is there in the world
That bears the least comparison with them ?
308 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
What frightful dragon, or chimera dire,
What Scylla, what Charybdis, can exceed them ?
Nor sphinx nor hydra, nay, nor winged harpy,
Nor hungry lioness, nor poisonous adder,
In noxious qualities is half so bad.
They are a race accursed, and stand alone,
Preeminent in wickedness. For instance
Plangon, a foul chimera, spreading flames,
And dealing out destruction far and near,
And no Bellerophon to crush the monster.
Then Sinope, a many-headed hydra,
An old and wrinkled hag — Gnathine, too,
Her neighbor — oh ! they are a precious pair.
Nanno's a barking Scylla, nothing less —
Having already privately despatched
Two of her lovers, she would lure a third
To sure destruction, but the youth escaped,
Thanks- to his pliant oars and better fortune.
Phryne, like foul Charybdis, swallows up
At once the pilot and the bark. Theano,
Like a plucked Siren, has the voice and look
Of woman, but below the waist her limbs
Withered and shrunk up to the blackbird's size.
These wretched women, one and all, partake
The natures of the Theban Sphinx. They S]
In doubtful and ambiguous phrase, pretend
To love you truly, and with artless hearts,
Then whisper in your ear some little want —
A girl to wait on them, forsooth, a bed,
Or easy-chair, a brazen tripod too —
Give what you will, they never are content ;
And to sum up their character at once,
No beast that haunts the forest for his prey
Is half so mischievous.
ARISTOPHON.
[In this period, but exact dates uncertain.]
Marriage.
A MAN may marry once without a crime ;
But curst is he who weds a second time.
Love.
Love, the disturber of the peace of heaven,
And grand tormenter of Olympian feuds,
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 309
Was banished from the synod of the gods :
They drove him down to earth at the expense
Of us poor mortals, and curtailed his wings
To spoil his soaring and secure themselves
From his annoyance — selfish, hard decree !
For ever since, he roams the unquiet world,
The tyrant and despoiler of mankind.
Pythagoras.
Fve heard this arrogant impostor tell,
Amongst the wonders which he saw in hell,
That Pluto with his scholars sat and fed,
Singling them out from the inferior dead ;
Good faith ! the monarch was not overnice
Thus to take up with beggary and lice.
Pythagoras' Disciples.
So gaunt they seem, that famine never made
Of lank Philippides so mere a shade :
Of salted tunny-fish their scanty dole,
Their beverage, like the frogs, a standing pool,
With now and then a cabbage, at the best
The leavings of the caterpillar's feast ;
No comb approaches their disheveled hair,
To rout the long established myriads there ;
On the bare ground their bed, nor do they know
A warmer coverlet than serves the crow.
Flames the meridian sun without a cloud ?
They bark like grasshoppers and chirp as loud ;
With oil they never even feast their eyes ;
The luxury of stockings they despise,
But, barefoot as the crane, still march along
All night in chorus with the screech-owl's song.
EPICBATES.
[An Epirote. Flourished B.C. 376-348.]
Burlesque of the Platonic Ideas.
A. I PRAY you, sir, — for I perceive you learned
In these grave matters, — let my ignorance suck
Some profit from your courtesy, and tell me
What are your wise philosophers engaged in. —
Your Plato, Menedemus, and Speusippus ?
What mighty mysteries have they in projection ?
What new discoveries may the world expect
From their profound researches ? I conjure you,
310 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
By Earth, our common mother, to impart them !
B. Sir, you shall know at our great festival.
I was myself their hearer, and so much
As I there heard will presently disclose,
So you will give it ears, for I must speak
Of things perchance surpassing your belief,
So strange they will appear ; but so it happened,
That these most sage academicians sate
In solemn consultation — on a cabbage.
A. A cabbage ! what did they discover there ?
B. 6h, sir ! your cabbage hath its sex and gender,
Its provinces, prerogatives, and ranks,
And, nicely handled, breeds as many questions
As it does maggots. All the younger fry
Stood dumb with expectation and respect,
Wond'ring what this same cabbage should bring forth ;
The lecturer eyed them round, whereat a youth
Took heart, and breaking first the awful silence,
Humbly craved leave to think — that it was round !
The cause was now at issue, and a second
Opined it was an herb — a third conceived
With due submission it might be a plant —
The difference methought was such that each
Might keep his own opinion and be right ;
But soon a bolder voice broke up the council,
And, stepping forward, a Sicilian quack
Told them their question was abuse of time, —
It was a cabbage, neither more nor less,
And they were fools to prate so much about it.
Insolent wretch ! amazement seized the troop,
Clamor and wrath and tumult raged amain,
Till Plato, trembling for his own philosophy,
And calmly praying patience of the court,
Took up the cabbage, and adjourned the cause.
ALEXIS.
[About B.C. 390-288 ; in his prime about Alexander's period, say 330. He
was the model for Menander.]
How the Procuress doctors her Wares.
THEY fly at all, and as their funds increase,
With fresh recruits they still augment their stock,
Molding the young novitiate to her trade :
Form, feature, manners, everything so changed
That not a trace of former self is left.
Venetian Diploma of Semitecolo
(Sixteenth Century)
This specimen was selected from a fine collection of these
documents in the British Museum, on account of the beau-
tiful miniature painting of the illumination. The diploma
to which this miniature is attached bears the date 1644, and
is from the Doge Francesco Molino, appointing Semitecolo,
a noble Venetian, Conte, or Governor, of Pago and Isola, on
the coast of Dalmatia. The mystery of the connection of the
miniature with the diploma may possibly be explained by sup-
posing that when many of these documents were, scattered
at the time of the invasion of Venice by the French revolu-
tionists, some person, having obtained possession of several,
supplied the defect of a damaged miniature in the present
book, from some other of the same description.
VENETIAN DIPLOMA OF SEMITECOLO. (Sixteenth Century.)
This specimen was selected from a fine collection of these documents in the
British Museum, on account of the beautiful miniature painting of
the illumination. The diploma to which this miniature is attached bears the
date 1644.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 311
Is the wench short ? a triple sole of cork
Exalts the pigmy to a proper size.
Is she too tall of stature ? a low chair
Softens the fault, and a fine easy stoop
Lowers her to a standard pitch. If narrow-hipped,
A handsome wadding readily supplies
What nature stints, and all beholders cry,
" See what plump haunches ! " Hath the nymph perchance
A high round paunch, stuffed like our comic drolls,
And strutting out foreright ? a good stout busk,
Pushing athwart, shall force the intruder back.
Hath she red brows ? a little soot will cure 'em.
Is she too black ? the ceruse makes her fair ;
Too pale of hue ? the opal comes in aid.
Hath she a beauty out of sight ? disclose it !
Strip nature bare without a blush. — Fine teeth ?
Let her affect one everlasting grin,
Laugh without stint — but ah ! if laugh she cannot,
And her lips won't obey, take a fine twig
Of myrtle, shape it like a butcher's skewer,
And prop them open. Set her on the bit
Day after day, when out of sight, till use
Grows second nature, and the pearly rows,
Will she or will she not, perforce appear.
Love.
The man who holds true pleasure to consist
In pampering his vile body, and defies
Love's great divinity, rashly maintains
Weak impious war with an immortal god.
The gravest master that the schools can boast
Ne'er trained his pupils to such discipline,
As love his votaries — unrivaled power,
The first great deity ; and where is he
So stubborn and determinedly stiff
But shall at some time bend the knee to love,
And make obeisance to his mighty shrine ?
One day, as slowly sauntering from the port,
A thousand cares conflicting in my breast,
Thus I began to commune with myself :
" Methinks these painters misapply their art,
And never know the being which they draw ;
For mark their many false conceits of love.
Love is not male nor female, man nor god,
Nor with intelligence nor yet without it,
312 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
But a strange compound of all these uniting
In one mixed essence many opposites ;
A manly courage with a woman's fear,
The madman's frenzy in a reasoning mind,
The strength of steel, the fury of a beast,
The ambition of a hero — something 'tis,
But by Minerva and the gods ! I swear,
I know not what this nameless something is."
Gluttony.
You, sir, a Cyrenean, as I take you,
Look at your sect of mad voluptuaries ;
There's Diodorus — begging is too good for him —
A vast inheritance in two short years,
Where is it ? Squandered, vanished, gone forever :
So rapid was his dissipation. — Stop !
Stop, my good friend, you cry : not quite so fast !
This man went fair and softly to his ruin :
What talk you of two years ? As many days,
Two little days were long enough to finish
Young Epicharides ; he had some soul,
And drove a merry pace to his undoing —
Marry ! if a kind surfeit would surprise us,
Ere we sit down to earn it, such prevention
Would come most opportune to save the trouble
Of a sick stomach and an aching head :
But whilst the punishment is out of sight,
And the full chalice at our lips we drink,
Drink all to-day, to-morrow fast and mourn,
Sick, and all o'er opprest with nauseous fumes ;
Such is the drunkard's curse, and Hell itself
Cannot devise a greater — oh, that nature
Might quit us of this overbearing burden,
This tyrant god, the belly ! take that from us
With all its bestial appetites, and man,
Exonerated man, shall be all soul."
The only free gift that the gods gave man, —
Sleep, that prepares our souls for endless night.
AMPHIS.
[Alive in B.C. 332; no other dat« known.]
DRINK and play, for life is fleeting ; short our time beneath the
sky;
But for death, he's everlasting when we once have come to die.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 813
DIODOEUS.
[Of Sinope. Exhibited in 364.]
THIS is my rule, and to my rule I'll hold, —
To choose my wife by merit, not by gold ;
For on that one election must depend
Whether I wed a fury or a friend.
When your foe dies, let all resentment cease :
Make peace with death, and death shall give you peac«.
DIONYSIUS.
[ Of Sinope. About the same time as Nicostratus.]
The Cook.
THE true professor of the art should strive
To gratify the taste of every guest ;
For if he merely furnishes the table,
Sees all the dishes properly disposed,
And thinks, having done this, he has discharged
His office, he's mistaken, and deserves
To be considered only as a drudge,
A kitchen drudge, without an art or skill,
And differs widely from a cook indeed,
A master of his trade.
He bears the name
Of general, 'tis true, who heads the army :
But he whose comprehensive mind surveys
The whole, who knows to turn each circumstance
Of time, and place, and action to advantage, —
Foresees what difficulties may occur,
And how to conquer them, — this is the man
Who should be called the general ; the other
The mere conductor of the troops, no more.
So in our art it is an easy thing
To boil, to roast, to stew, to fricassee,
To blow the bellows or to stir the fire ;
But a professor of the art regards
The time, the place, the inviter, and the guest ;
And when the market is well stored with fish,
Knows to select, and to prefer such only
As are in proper season, and in short,
Omits no knowledge that may justly lead
To the perfection of his art. 'Tis true,
Archestratus has written on the subject,
And is allowed by many to have left
314 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Most choice receipts, and curious inventions
Useful and pleasing ; yet in many things
He was profoundly ignorant, and speaks
Upon report, without substantial proof
Or knowledge of his own. We must not trust,
Nor give our faith to loose conjectures thus :
For in our art we only can depend
On actual practice and experiment.
Having no fixed and settled laws by which
We may be governed, we must frame our own,
As time and opportunity may serve,
Which if we do not well improve, the art
Itself must suffer by our negligence.
HENIOCHUS.
[Of this period ; dates unknown.]
The Demon Guests.
THESE are towns of every sort,
Which have been crazy now since long ago.
Some one may interrupt and ask me why
They are here before us : I will let him know.
The place in which we meet's the agora
Of Olympia ; and fancy to yourselves
The scene is set as for a theater.
Well then, what are these cities doing here ?
They came here once to sacrifice to freedom
When they were nearly freed from forced exactions :
After that sacrifice their recklessness
Destroyed them, entertaining stranger guests
Day after day upon the multiple throne ;
Namely, two women that have stirred them up,
Always twin lived : Democracy the name
Of one is, Aristocracy the other ;
Through whom they've acted since most drunkenly !
MNESIMACHUS.
[Of this period ; dates unknown.]
The Fireeaters.
DOST know whom thou'rt to sup with, friend ? I'll tell thee :
With gladiators, not with peaceful guests ;
Instead of knives we're armed with naked swords,
And swallow firebrands in the place of food ;
Daggers of Crete are served us for confections,
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 315
And for a plate of pease a fricassee
Of shattered spears ; the cushions we repose on
Are shields and breastplates, at our feet a pile
Of slings and arrows, and our foreheads wreathed
"With military ensigns, not with myrtle.
TIMOCLES.
[About B.C. 350-320. Said to have revived the energy of political comedy.]
Demosthenes.
BID me say anything in preference ;
But on this theme, Demosthenes himself
Shall sooner check the torrent of his speech
Than I — Demosthenes ! That angry orator,
That bold Briareus, whose tremendous throat,
Charged to the teeth with battering rams and spears
Beats down opposers ; brief in speech was he,
But, crossed in argument, his threatening eyes
Flashed fire, whilst thunder volleyed from his lips.
The Ungrateful Mistress.
Wretch that I am,
She had my love when a mere caper-gatherer,
And fortune's smiles as yet were wanting to her.
I never pinched nor spared in my expenses,
Yet now — doors closely barred are the recompense
That waits on former bounties ill bestowed.
The Lessons of Tragedy.
Nay, my good friend, but hear me ! I confess
Man is the child of sorrow, and this world,
In which we breathe, hath cares enough to plague us ;
But it hath means withal to sooth these cares,
And he who meditates on others' woes
Shall in that meditation lose his own.
Call then the tragic poet to your aid,
Hear him, and take instructions from the stage.
Let Telephus appear : behold a prince,
A spectacle of poverty and pain,
Wretched in both. — And what if you are poor ?
Are you a demigod ? are you the son
Of Hercules ? begone ! Complain no more.
Doth your mind struggle with distracting thoughts ?
816 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Do your wits wander ? are you mad ? Alas !
So was Alcmseon, whilst the world adored
His father as their god. Your eyes are dim :
What then ? the eyes of (Edipus were dark,
Totally dark. You mourn a son ; he's dead :
Turn to the tale of Niobe for comfort,
And match your love with hers. You're lame of foot
Compare it with the foot of Philoctetes,
And make no more complaint. But you are old,
Old and unfortunate : consult Oeneus ;
Hear what a king endured, and learn content.
Sum up your miseries, number up your sighs,
The tragic stage shall give you tear for tear,
Ajid wash out all afflictions but its own.
XENABCHTTS.
[Contemporary of Timocles.]
Tricks of the Trade.
POETS indeed ! — I should be glad to know
Of what they have to boast. Invention — no !
They invent nothing, but they pilfer much,
Change and invert the order, and pretend
To pass it off for new. But fishmongers
Are fertile in resources, they excel
All our philosophers in ready wit
And sterling impudence. The law forbids,
And strictly, too, to water their stale fish —
How do they manage to evade the fine ?
Why thus : when one of them perceives the board
Begins to be offensive, and the fish
Look dry and change their color, he begins
A pre-concerted quarrel with his neighbor.
They come to blows : he soon affects to be
Most desperately beaten, and falls down,
As if unable to support himself,
Gasping for breath ; another, who the while
(Knowing the secret) was prepared to act,
Seizes a jtr of water, aptly placed,
And scatters a f «w drops of water on his friend,
Then empties the whole vessel on the fish,
Which makes them look so fresh you want to swear
They were just taken from the sea.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 817
Ah, faithless women ! when you swear,
I register your oaths in air.
THEOPHILUS.
[Dates uncertain.]
IP LOVE be folly, as the schools would prove,
The man must lose his wits who falls in love :
Deny him love, you doom the wretch to death,
And then it follows he must lose his breath.
Good sooth ! there is a young and dainty maid
I dearly love, a minstrel she by trade ;
What then ? Must I defer to pedant rule,
And own that love transforms me to a fool ?
Not I, so help me ! By the gods I swear,
The nymph I love is fairest of the fair,
Wise, witty, dearer to her poet's sight
Than piles of money on an author's night !
Must I not love her, then ? Let the dull sot
Who made the law, obey it ! I will not.
"NEW COMEDY."
MENANDER.
[The greatest name in the "New Comedy," except Philemon; the chief
model of Terence and in part of Plautus. Born B.C. 342, died 291.]
A Pure Heart the Best Ceremonial.
IF your complaints were serious, 'twould be well
You sought a serious cure : but for weak minds
Weak medicines may suffice. — Go, call around you
The women with their purifying water ;
Drug it with salt and lentils, and then take
A treble sprinkling from the holy mess ;
Now search your heart : if that reproach you not>
Then, and then only, you are truly pure.
An Early Death Escape from Evil.
The lot of all most fortunate is his,
Who having stayed just long enough on earth
To feast his sight with this fair face of nature,
Sun, sea, and clouds, and Heaven's bright gtarry firts,
Drops without pain into an early grave.
For what is life, the longest life of man,
318 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
But the same scene repeated o'er and o'er ?
A few more lingering days to be consumed
In throngs and crowds, with sharpers, knaves, and thieves ;
From such the speediest riddance is the best.
The Bane of Envy.
Thou seemst to me, young man, not to perceive
That everything contains within itself
The seeds and sources of its own corruption ;
The cankering rust corrodes the brightest steel ;
The moth frets out your garment, and the worm
Eats its slow way into the solid oak ;
But Envy, of all evil things the worst,
The same to-day, to-morrow, and forever,
Eats and consumes the heart in which it lurks.
Of all bad things with which mankind are curst,
Their own bad tempers surely are the worst.
You say not always wisely, Know Thyself :
Know others, ofttimes is the better maxim.
The Folly of Avarice.
Weak is the vanity that boasts of riches,
For they are fleeting things : were they not such,
Could they be yours to all succeeding time,
'Twere wise to let none share in the possession.
But if whatever you have is held of fortune,
And not of right inherent, — why, my father,
Why with such niggard jealousy engross
What the next hour may ravish from your grasp,
And cast into some worthless favorite's lap ?
Snatch, then, the swift occasion while 'tis yours ;
Put this unstable boon to noble uses ;
Foster the wants of men, impart your wealth,
And purchase friends : 'twill be more lasting treasure,
And when misfortune comes, your best resource.
Riches No Exemption from Care.
Ne'er trust me, Phanias, but I thought till now
That you rich fellows had the knack of sleeping
A good sound nap, that held you for the night,
And not like us poor rogues, who toss and turn,
Sighing, Ah, me ! and grumbling at our duns :
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 319
But now I find, in spite of all your money,
You rest no better than your needy neighbors,
And sorrow is the common lot of all.
Man's Miseries Self-Caused.
All creatures are more blest in their condition,
And in their natures worthier than man.
Look at your ass ! — a sorry beast, you'll say,
And such in truth he is — poor, hapless thing !
Yet these his sufferings spring not from himself,
For all that Nature gave him he enjoys.
Whilst we, besides our necessary ills,
Make ourselves sorrows of our own begetting :
If a man sneeze, we're sad — for that's ill-luck ;
If he traduce us, we run mad with rage ;
A dream, a vapor, throws us into terrors,
And let the night owl hoot we melt with fear ;
Anxieties, opinions, laws, ambition,
All these are torments we may thank ourselves for.
Dust Thou Art.
When thou wouldst know thereof, what man thou art,
Look at the tombstones as thou passest by ;
Within those monuments lie bones and dust
Of monarchs, tyrants, sages, men whose pride
Kose high because of wealth, or noble blood,
Or haughty soul, or loveliness of limb ;
Yet none of these things strove for them 'gainst Time :
One common death hath ta'en all mortal men.
See thou to this, and know thee who thou art.
Being a man, ask not release from pain,
But ask the gods for strength to bear thy pain:
If thou wouldst fain escape all woe for aye,
Thou must become a god, or else a corpse.
PHILEMON.
[The second in rank of the poets of the " New Comedy." Began to exhibit
about B.C. 330, and lived to be over one hundred, writing plays for nearly seventy
yearg.]
The Honest Man.
ALL are not just because they do no wrong ;
But he who will not wrong me when he may,
He is the truly just. I praise not them
320 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
Who in their petty dealings pilfer not ;
But him whose conscience spurns a secret fraud
When he might plunder and defy surprise —
His be the praise, who looking down with scorn
On the false judgment of the partial herd,
Consults his own clear heart, and boldly dares
To be, not to be thought, an honest man.
Truth.
Now by the gods, it is not in the power
Of painting or of sculpture to express
Aught so divine as the fair form of Truth !
The creatures of their art may catch the eye,
But her sweet nature captivates the soul.
The Chief Good in a Turbulent Age.
Philosophers consume much time and pains
To seek the Sovereign Good, nor is there one
Who yet hath struck upon it : Virtue some
And Prudence some contend for, whilst the knot
Grows harder by their struggle to untie it.
I, a mere clown, in turning up the soil
Have dug the secret forth — all-gracious Jove !
'Tis Peace, most lovely and of all beloved :
Peace is the bounteous goddess who bestows
Weddings and holidays and joyous sports,
Relations, friends, health, plenty, social comforts,
And pleasures which alone make life a blessing.
Misfortune Comes to All.
'Tis not on them alone who tempt the sea
That the storm breaks : it whelms e'en us, 0 Laches,
Whether we pass the open colonnade,
Or to the inmost shelter of our house
Shrink from its rage. The sailor for a day,
A night perhaps, is bandied up and down,
And then anon reposes, when the wind
Veers for the wished-f or point, and wafts him home :
But I know no repose ; not one day only,
But every day to the last hour of life
Deeper and deeper I am plunged in woe.
If what we have we use not, and still covet
What we have not, we are cajoled by Fortune
Of present bliss, of future by ourselves.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 321
Two words of nonsense are two words too much ;
Whole volumes of good sense will never tire.
What multitudes of lines hath Homer wrote !
Who ever thought he wrote one line too much ?
Extremes of fortune are true wisdom's test,
And he's the wisest man who bears them best
DIPHILUS.
[Contemporary of Menander and Philemon.]
FBOM off the farm comes once in every year
A cheery ass, to me who love his cheer ;
Like hamper burst at once in all its twigs,
Bearing libations, oil, meal, honey, figs.
Time, 0 my guest, is a wright who works a curse :
He joys in transformations for the worse.
There is no life but evil happenings seize, —
Griefs, cares, and robberies, torments and disease ;
Death in physician's guise cuts short their number,
Filling the victim's closing scene with slumber.
To Bacchus.
0 friend to the wise, to the children of song
Take me with thee, thou wisest and sweetest, along ;
To the humble, the lowly, proud thoughts dost thou bring,
For the wretch who has thee is as blithe as a king ;
From the brows of the sage, in thy humorous play,
Thou dost smooth every furrow and wrinkle away ;
To the weak thou giv'st strength, to the mendicant gold,
And a slave warmed by thee as a lion is bold.
Suspicious Circumstances.
Wee have in Corinth this good Law in use :
If wee see any person keepe great cheere,
Wee make inquirie, whether he doe worke,
Or if he have Eevenues coming in !
If either, then we say no more of him.
But if the Charge exceed his G-aine or Rents,
He is forbidden to run on his course ;
If he continue it, he pays a fine ;
If he want where withal, he is at last
Taken by sergeants and in prison cast.
VOL. IV. — 21
322 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
For to spend much, and never to get aught,
Is cause of much disorder in the world.
One in the nighttime filcheth from the flocks ;
Another breaks a house or else a shop ;
A third man gets a share his mouth to stop.
To beare a part in this good fellowship,
One feignes a suit his neighbor to molest,
Another must false witness beare with him ;
But such a crue we utterly detest,
And banish from our citie like the pest.
PHILIPPIDES.
[Flourished about B.C. 320-300.]
WHEN you have erred, be glad that you are blamed 5
Thus only is a balanced mind preserved.
It is not hard for those in weakly plight
To tell the lusty ones, " Don't misbehave ! "
And 'tis no task to blame the fighting fist,
But to fight personally is not so easy :
Talking is one thing, acting is another.
Desert a Beggar Born.
It grieves me much to see the world so changed,
And men of worth, ingenious and well born,
Reduced to poverty, while cunning knaves,
The very scum of the people, eat their fish,
Bought for two oboli, on plates of silver,
Weighing at least a mina ; a few capers,
Not worth three pieces of brass money, served
In lordly silver dish, that weighs at least
As much as fifteen drachmas. In times past
A little cup presented to the gods
Was thought a splendid offering : but such gifts
Are now but seldom seen ; and reason good, —
For 'tis no sooner on the altar placed
Than rogues are watching to purloin it thence.
APOLLODORUS (CARTSTIUS).
[Flourished about B.C 300-260.]
MAKE fast your door with bars of iron quite :
No architect can build a door so tight
But cat and paramour will get through in spite.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 323
Each one by his deeds should be
Illustrious, with humility.
A peaceful life is sweet ; it would be blest
And honored, if as peaceful were the rest :
But living wild with monkeys one must be
A monkey. Oh, the life of misery !
When I was young, I pitied those untimely reft in their bloom ;
But now when I see the aged borne along to the tomb,
I weep indeed — but for my fate, not for theirs, is the gloom.
A One-Sided Retort.
I do not scorn, Philinus, old men's ways,
Which may be yours when age has coine to you,
But yet our fathers are at disadvantage
In this — Unless your sire does something for you,
You rate him, " Haven't you been young yourself ? n
But father cannot say in turn to son
When erring — " Haven't you been old yourself ? "
There is a certain hospitable air
In a friend's home that tells me I am welcome;
The porter opens to me with a smile,
The yard dog wags his tail, the servant runs,
Beats up the cushion, spreads the couch, and says —
" Sit down, good sir ! " ere I can say I'm weary.
EUPHRON.
[Dates unknown.]
TELL me, all-judging Jove, if this be fair,—
To make so short a life so full of care ?
Who by his own profession is distrest,
How should he manage well the public chest ?
Wretch ! find new gods to witness to new lies :
Thy perjuries have made the old too wise !
PHOSNICIDES.
[Flourished about B.C. 272.]
A Courtesan and Her Keepers.
So HELP me Venus ! as I'm fairly sick —
Sick to the soul, my Pythias, of this trade —
324 FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS.
No more on't ! I'll be no man's mistress, I ;
Don't talk to me of Destiny — I've done with't ;
Pll hear no prophecies, for mark me well : —
No sooner did I buckle to this business,
Than straight behold a man of war assailed me :
He told me of his battles o'er and o'er,
Showed me good stock of scars, but none of cash—
No, not a doit ; but still he vapored much
Of what a certain prince would do, and talked
Of this and that commission — in the clouds :
By which he gulled me of a twelvemonth's hope,
Lived at free cost, and fed me upon love.
At length I sent my man of valor packing,
And a grave son of Physic filled his place :
My house now seemed a hospital of lazars,
And the vile beggar mangled without mercy,
A very hangman bathed in human gore.
My soldier was a prince compared to this,
For his were merry fibs : this son of death
Turned everything he touched into a corpse.
When Fortune, who had yet good store of spite,
i>Tow coupled me to a most learned philosopher;
Plenty of beard he had, a cloak withal,
Enough to spare of each, and more maxims,
More than I could digest, but money — none ;
His sect abhorred it ; 'twas a thing proscribed
By his philosophy, an evil root,
Aid when I asked him for a taste, 'twas poison;
Still I demanded it, and for the reason
That he so slightly prized it ; all in vain —
I could not wring a drachma from his clutches, —
Defend me, Heaven, from all philosophers !
POSIDIPPUS.
[Began to exhibit in 289.]
OUR talent gains us much acquaintanceship,
Our soul and manners nearly all our friends.
STBATO.
[Uncertain ; probably contemporary of the above.]
The Learned Servant.
FVE harbored a he-sphinx and not a cook ;
For, by the gods, he talked to me in riddles,
And coined new -words that pose me to interpret.
FRAGMENTS OF GREEK COMIC POETS. 325
No sooner had lie entered on his office,
Than, eyeing me from head to foot, he cries —
" How many mortals hast thou bid to supper ? "
Mortals ! quoth I — what tell you me of mortals ?
Let Jove decide on their mortality ;
You're crazy, sure : none by that name are bidden.
" No table usher, no one to officiate
As master of the courses ? " — No such person ;
Moschion and Niceratus and Philinus,
These are my guests and friends, and amongst these
You'll find no table-decker, as I take it.
" Gods ! is it possible ? " cried he : Most certain,
I patiently replied. He swelled and huffed,
As if, forsooth, I had done him heinous wrong,
And robbed him of his proper dignity ;
Ridiculous conceit ! — " What offering mak'st thou
To Erysichthon ? " he demanded : None.
" Shall not the wide-horned ox be felled ? " cries he:
I sacrifice no ox. — " Nor yet a wether ? "
Not I, by Jove : a simple sheep, perhaps.
" And what's a wether but a sheep ? " cries he.
I'm a plain man, my friend, and therefore speak
Plain language : " What : I speak as Homer does ;
And sure a cook may use like privilege,
And more than a blind poet." — Not with me :
I'll have no kitchen Homers in my house !
So pray discharge yourself. — This said, we parted.
BATO.
[Flourished about B.C. 217.]
BEING a man, you've erred : in life 'twould be
A miracle to succeed perpetually.
The Scholar.
Good, good, Sibynna!
Ours is no art for sluggards to acquire,
Nor should the hour of deepest midnight see
Us and our volumes parted ; still our lamp
Upon its oil is feeding, and the page
Of ancient lore before us : — What, what hath
The Sicyonian deduced ? what school points
Have we from him of Chios ? Sagest Actides
And Zopyrinus, what are their traditions ? —
Thus grapple we with mighty tomes of wisdom,
Sifting and weighing and digesting all.
326 THE MIMES OF HERONDAS.
THE MIMES OF HERONDAS.
[HERONDAS (or HERODAS) flourished probably about B.C. 250.]
(The first three translated by J. A. Symonds : the comments and abstracts by
him also.)
THE GO-BETWEEN.
Scene: A Private House, where METRICHA, a young wife,
in the absence of her husband, MANDRIS, on the sea, is seated
alone within reach of a female slave, THRESSA. GYLLIS
comes to pay a visit.
Metricha — Thressa, some one is knocking at the house
door. Won't you run to see whether a visitor has arrived
from the country ?
Thressa — Who knocks ?
G-yllis — It's me.
Thressa — Who are you ? Are you afraid to come near ?
G-yllis — Well, then, see, I have come up.
Thressa — Who are you, say ?
G-yllis — Gyllis, the mother of Philsenion. Tell Metricha
inside there that I'm here.
Metricha — Invite her in. Who is she ?
Thressa — Gyllis.
Metricha — Grandam Gyllis! [To the slave. ] Turn your
back a minute, girl. [To G-yllis. ] Which of the Fates has
coaxed you into coming, Gyllis, to our house ? What brings
you here like a deity to mortals ? I verily believe it must be
five months or near it since you, Gyllis, even in a dream, so
help me Fate, were seen by any one approaching this door.
G-yllis — I live a long way off, child, and in the lanes the
mud is up to one's knees ; besides, I have no more strength
than a fly. Old age is dragging us down, and the shadow
stands anear and waits.
Metricha — Tut, tut ! Don't calumniate time in that way !
You're strong enough yet, Gyllis, to throttle your neighbors.
G-yllis — Jeer on ! That's the way with you young women.
Metricha — Pray don't take fire at what I said.
G-yllis — Well, then, my girl, how long do you mean to go
on like a widow, in loneliness, wearing out your solitary bed ?
THE MIMES OF HERONDAS. 327
From the day when Mandris set sail for Egypt, ten moons have
come and gone, and he does not send you so much as a letter.
Truly, he has forgotten, and has drunken at fresh fountains.
There, ah, there is the palace of the goddess ! For everything,
I tell you, that is found upon this earth, or can be found,
grows in abundance there in Egypt : riches, gymnasia, power
and might, fair sunny skies, glory, splendid shows, philoso-
phers, gold, blooming youths, the temple gardens of twin gods,
a king of the best, a museum, wine, all the good things one's
heart can wish for, women in bevies — I swear by Hades, the
heavens above boast not so many stars — lovely, too, as were
the goddesses what time they came to Paris for the prize of
beauty (may they not hear me saying this !). But you, poor
thing, what is your sort of spirit that you sit and warm that
chair ? Will you let old age overtake you unawares, and ashes
consume your youth ? Take another course ; for two or three
days change your mind : in jocund mirth set up with some
new friend ! The ship that rides at one anchor is not safely
moored. No mortal knows the future. Life is uncertain ever.
Metricha — What are you talking about ?
G-yllis — Is there any one near who can overhear us ?
Metricha — None that I know of.
G-yllis — Listen, then, to what I have come to tell you after
all this time : Gryllus, the son of Matakine, Patsecius's wife,
the fellow who has conquered in five conquests — as a boy at
the Pythian games, twice at Corinth with youths in bloom,
twice at Olympia with full-grown pugilists — he owns a pretty
fortune, too, without having to stir a finger, and as regards the
Queen of Love, he is a seal unbroken. The man I'm talking
of saw you at the Descent of Misa ; fell desperately in love ;
his bowels burned for you ; and now he will not leave my
dwelling night or day, my girl, but makes lament to me, and
wheedles, and is ready to die of his love-longing. Nay, come,
child, Metricha, grant me this one peccadillo. Adjust yourself
to the goddess ; else will old age, who looks toward you, take
you unawares. By doing this you'll get paid twice. See, then,
obey my counsels. I love you, by the Fates.
Metricha — Gyllis, whiteness of hair blunts the edge of
understanding. As I hope for the return of Mandris and for
Demeter to befriend me, I could not have taken words like
these from any other woman, but should have taught the lame
to sing lame, and turned her out of doors. I beg you never to
328 THE MIMES OF HERONDAS.
come to me again with messages of this kind. Tales that are
fit for wantons, go tell to silly girls. Leave Metricha, Pytho's
daughter, to warm her chair. Nobody laughs at Mandris with
impunity. But, as they say, that's not what Gyllis needs to
hear. [Calling to the slave girl.] Thressa, rub up the black
bowl of whelk ; pour in three pints of pure wine, mix with
water, and give it us to drink in a big cup. Here, Gyllis,
drink !
rThe rest of the dialogue is too corrupt to be translated. But it appears
that Gyllis begins to make excuses for her ill-considered embassy,
drinks freely, praises the excellence of Metricha's cellar, takes her leave
with compliments, and goes off commending herself to more facile
damsels.
[The next mime consists of a speech addressed to a Greek jury by the
plaintiff in an action brought against a wealthy sea-captain for assault
and battery. The plaintiff is himself a low fellow well known to the
whole town for his bad life and infamous vocation; yet he assumes
the tone of a practised counsel, breaks out into telling sallies against
the character of the defendant, causes the statutes to be read aloud
by the clerk of the court, produces a witness, and concludes with a
patriotic peroration. The whole piece reads extraordinarily like the
parody or burlesque of some Attic oration.]
THE RUFFIAN.
Scene: A Court of Justice in the town of Cos. BATTALOS
addresses the Jury.
If that fellow, just because he sails the sea or wears a
mantle worth three minae, while I abide on land and drag
about a threadbare cloak and rotten slippers, is to carry away
by force one of my own girls without my consent, and that by
night, mark you, — I say the security of the city, gentlemen,
will be gone, and what you take such pride in, your inde-
pendence, will be abolished by Thales. His duty it was,
knowing who he is and molded out of what clay, to live as I
do, trembling with fear before the very lowest of the burghers.
But now those men among you who are shields of the city,
and who have far more right to brag about their birth than
he — they respect the laws, and not one of the burghers ever
cudgeled me, foreigner as I am, nor came to break into my
house at night, nor set fire to it with torches, nor carried away
THE MIMES OF HERONDAS. 329
*
with force one of my young women. But that Phrygian who
is now called Thales, but was formerly Artimnes, gentlemen of
the jury, has done all these things, and has had no regard for
law or prefect or archon. (Turns to the clerk.) Well, I sup-
pose, clerk, you had better take and read the statute on assault
with violence ; and do you stop the bung-hole of the water-
clock, my friend, till he has finished, so that I may not, as the
proverb runs, be throwing good money after bad.
[Battalos makes the clerk read out a passage of the law, while
he bids the slave of the court stop the clepsydra, which
times the length of his oration.']
And if a free man assault a slave woman, or carry her away
by force, he shall pay double damages.
[The clerk stops reading. Battalos goes on with his speech."]
Those words, gentlemen of the jury, were written by Chse-
rondas, and not by Battalos, the plaintiff in this suit against
Thales. If one shall break a door, let him pay a mina, says
the lawgiver ; if he strike with the fist, another mina ; if he
burn the house or force entrance, a thousand drachmas ; and if
he inflict personal injury, the penalty shall be double. For he
dwelt in a city, Thales ; but you have no knowledge of any
city, nor indeed of how a city is administered. To-day finds
you in Bricindera, yesterday in Abdera ; to-morrow, if some
one gives you passage money, you will sail maybe to Phaselis.
To cut the matter short, gentlemen of the jury, and not to
weary you with digressions, I suffered at the hands of Thales
what the mouse did when the pitch caught him. I was pum-
meled, the door of my house was broken in (for which I pay a
third as rent), and the lintel overhead was burned. [Calls to
the girl who had been carried off by Thales. ] Come hither,
My r tale, you also, and show yourself to all the folk ; don't be
ashamed ; imagine to yourself that all the jurymen you're look-
ing at are fathers, brothers. Just see, gentlemen, how she's
been torn from top to bottom, how that unholy rascal tore her
to tatters when he dragged her off by force ! Old age, to thee be
sacrifices made ! Without you, he must have bled for it I
[Turns round to Thales, or to some one in the court who is jeer-
ing.'} You laugh? Well, I am a ruffian, and I don't deny it,
and Battalos is my name, and my grandsire was Sisymbras, and
my father Sisymbriscus, and each and all of us whoremasters —
330 THE MIMES OF HERONDAS,
there ! but as for pluck, I'd strangle a lion, if the brute were
Thales. [Addresses the defendant, Thales.] Perhaps you are
in love with Myrtale ? Nothing wonderful. I love my loaf.
Give this, and you shall get that. Or else, by Jupiter, if you
are in heat or so, stuff her price into the palm of Battalos ; go
take and batter what belongs to you to your own heart's content.
[Addresses the jury.] There is still one point, gentlemen of
the jury — this is the charge I make against yonder fellow —
it remains with you, I say, in the absence of witnesses, to pro-
nounce sentence by the rules of equity — should he, however,
want to put slaves to the test of torture, I am ready to offer
myself also. Here, Thales, take and put me to the rack ; only
see that the damages are paid into court first. Minos could not
make more fair division and distinction by his weighing scales.
For the rest, gentlemen of the jury, forget that you are voting
for or against Battalos, the brothel keeper. Think that you
are acting for all the foreigners established in your town. Now
is the time for Cos and Merops to show what they are good for,
Thessalus and Herakles the worth of their renown, Asklepios
why he removed from Tricca, and for what cause Phoebe gave
birth to Leto here. Considering all these matters, hold the
helm of justice with right judgment, so that the Phrygian, hav-
ing felt your lash, may become the better for his punishment,
if so be that the proverb transmitted to us from antiquity doth
not speak untruth.
[The third mime, which follows, gives us sufficient insight into the behavior
of a thoroughly ill-conducted vagabond of a schoolboy. His main vice
was gambling in low company. That is the point in the incident of his
mistaking Maron for Simon. Pollux informs us that Simon was one of
the names for a cast of dice.]
THE SCHOOLMASTER.
Scene : A School for Boys, in which there are statues of the
Muses. LAMPRISCUS, the master, is seated there. Enter
METROTIMA, dragging her unwilling son KOTTALOS.
Metrotima — May the dear Muses send you something to
enjoy, and may you have pleasure in life ; so you will promise
to drub this boy of mine, till the soul of him, drat it, is left
nowhere in his body but the lips. He has ruined me by play-
ing pitch and toss. Yes, Lampriscus, it seems that knuckle-
THE MIMES OF HERONDAS. 331
bones are not enough for him; but he must needs be running after
worse mischief. Where the door of the grammar-master stands,
or when the cursed tax-day comes round — let me scream like
Nannakos — he cannot tell. But the gambling place, where
street porters and runaways take up their quarters, is so well
known to him that he will point it out to strangers. The un-
happy tablets, which I take the pains to spread with wax each
month, lie abandoned by his bedpost next the wall, unless per-
chance he casts a glance on them as though they were the devil;
and then, instead of writing something nice, he rubs them bare.
His dice — that litter about among the bellows and the nets —
are shinier than our oil-flask which we use for everything. But
as for spelling out a word, he does not even know his alpha,
unless one shouts it five times in his ears. The day before
yesterday, when his father was teaching him Maron, what did
the pretty fellow do but go and turn Maron into Simon? so
that I am driven to call myself a fool for not making him a
donkey-boy, instead of putting him to study in the hope of
having a support for my declining years. Then if we make
him repeat some child's speech — I, or his father, an old man
with bad eyes and deaf — the words run out of his head like
water from a bottle with a hole in it. " Apollo, the hunter ! "
I cry out ; " even your granny will recite what one asks, and
yet she has no schooling — or the first Phrygian you meet upon
the road."
But it's no use scolding, for if we go on, he runs away
from home, stays out three days and nights, sponging upon
his grandmother, a poor old blind woman and destitute ; or
else he squats up there upon the roof, with his legs stretched
out, like a tame ape, peering down. Just fancy what his
wretched mother suffers in her entrails when she sees him
there. I don't care so much about him indeed. But he
smashes all the roofing into broken biscuits ; and, when winter
comes, I have to pay two shillings for each tile, with tears of
anger in my eyes. All the neighbors sing the same old song :
"Yonder's the work of master Kottalos, that boy of Metro-
tima's." And true it is ; and I daren't wag a tooth in answer.
Look at his back, too, how he's scratched it all over in the wood,
till he's no better than a Delian fisher with the creel, who doits
his life away at sea. Yet he casts feast days and holidays
better than a professional star-gazer ; not even sleep will catch
him forgetting when you're off your guard. So I beseech you,
332 THE MIMES OF HERONDAS.
Lampriscus, and may these blessed ladies give you prosperous
life, and may you light on lucky days, do not . . .
Lampriscus — Nay, Metrotima, you need not swear at him;
it will not make him get the less. [Qalls to his pupils. ~\ Eu-
thies, where are you ? Ho, Kokkalos ! ho, Phillos ! Hurry
up, and hoist the urchin on your shoulders ; show his rump to
the full moon, I say ! [Addresses Kottalos.~] I commend your
ways of going on, Kottalos — fine ways, forsooth ! It's not
enough for you to cast dice, like the other boys here ; but you
must needs be running to the gambling house and tossing cop-
pers with the common porters ! I'll make you more modest than
a girl. You shan't stir a straw even, if that's what you want.
Where is my cutting switch, the bull's tail, with which I lamm
into jail-birds and good-for-nothings. Give it me quick, before
I hawk my bile up.
Kottalos — Nay, prithee, Lampriscus, I pray you by the
Muses, by your beard, by the soul of Kottis, do not flog me
with that cutting, but the other switch.
Lampriscus — But, Kottalos, you are so gone in wickedness
that there's not a slave-dealer who'd speak well of you — no,
not even in some savage country where the mice gnaw iron.
Kottalos — How many stripes, Lampriscus ; tell me, I beg,
how many are you going to lay on ?
Lampriscus — Don't ask me — ask her.
Kottalos — Oh ! oh ! how many are you going to give me,
if I can last out alive?
Metrotima — As many as the cruel hide can bear, I tell you.
[Lampriscus begins to flog the loy.~\
Kottalos — Stop, stop, I've had enough, Lampriscus.
Lampriscus — Do you then stop your naughtiness I
Kottalos — Never, never again will I be naughty. I swear,
Lampriscus, by the dear Muses.
Metrotima — What a tongue you've got in your head, you !
I'll shut your mouth up with a gag if you go on bawling.
Kottalos — Nay, then, I am silent. Please don't murder
me I
Lampriscus — Let him go, Kokkalos.
Metrotima — Don't stop, Lampriscus, flog him till the sun
goes down —
Lampriscus — But he's more mottled than a water-snake —
Metrotima — And he ought to get at least twenty more —
Lampriscus — In addition to his book ? —
THE MIMES OF HERONDAS. 333
Metrotima — Even though he learned to read better than
Clio herself.
Kottalos — Yah! yah!
[The boy has been let loose, and is showing signs of indecent
Metrotima — Stop your jaw till you've rinsed it with honey.
I shall make a careful report of this to my old man, Lampris-
cus, when I get home ; and shall come back quickly with fet-
ters ; we'll clamp his feet together ; then let him jump about
for the Muses he hated to look down on.
(Translation in Contemporary Review.)
A JEALOUS WOMAN.
BITINNA, the mistress (mother of Batyllis). GASTRON, PYRRHIAS,
DRACHON, CYDILLA, slaves.
The scene is in the house of BITINNA ; BITINNA and GASTRON are alone.
Bitinna —
So, Gastron, so ! Thou canst not be
Content, it seems, to fondle me ?
So proud, thou must to Menon's go
For Amphytaea !
Gastron — Ma'am, I know
Your Amphytsea. ... I have seen.
The woman. . . .
Bitinna — Talk, talk, talk, to screen
The truth!
Gastron —
Ah, use me as you may,
Your slave ; but cease to drink by day
And night my very life-blood !
Bitinna— Oh,
So big of tongue ! Cydilla, ho !
Cydilla ! [Enter CYDILLA.]
Where is Pyrrhias ? Find him
And bring him. [CYDILLA runs off and instantly re-
turns with PYRRHTAS.]
Pyrrhias —
What's your pleasure ?
Bitinna [pointing to GATTRON] —
Bind him !
Quick, whip the pulley off the pail,
And do it. [Exit PYRRHIAS. To GASTRON.]
Sirrah, if I fail
334 THE MIMES OF HERONDAS.
To make thee an instructive case
Of torture, call me to my face
No woman, no, nor half a man.
'Twas I that did it, I began
The mischief, when I treated thee,
Gastron, for human. Thou shalt see.
I am no more the fool, I trow,
Thou think'st me. [Calling to PYRRHIAS.]
Come, hast got it ?
[PYRRHIAS returns with the bucket strap.~] Now !
Strip him and bind him.
Gastron — Mercy! oh
Bitinna, mercy !
Bitinna — Strip him. [To GASTRON.] Know,
Thou art my slave, my chattel, made
Mine for three dollars duly paid.
And cursed be that detested day
Which brought thee here ! What Pyrrhias ! Nay,
My eye is on thee. Look alive !
Call that a binding ? Tighter ! Drive
It in and through ! HI have it cut
His arms off.
Gastron —
Pardon, pardon but
This once, my lady. Being flesh,
I sinned ; but catch me in a fresh
Infraction of your will or way —
Then have me branded !
Bitinna — Better pray
To Amphytsea ! Eoll at her
Those eyes, who pleases to prefer
My foot-rug for her pillow ! Ugh !
Pyrrhias —
Please you, he's fastened.
Bitinna — Mark him, you,
If he slips out. Take him away
To Hermon's whipping-house ; and say,
He is to have two thousand, one
Thousand upon the back, and one
Upon the belly —
Gastron — Must I go,
Madam, to death, before you know
So much as if the alleged trans Tession
Be proven . , . ?
THE MIMES OF HERONDAS. 335
Bitinna — By your own confession,
Your " pardon but this once ! "
Gastron — To cool
Your answer was it spoken.
Bitinna [to Pyrrhias] — Fool,
To stand and stare ! Cydilla, slap
The rascal's hideous victual-trap.
Go where I told thee. Quick, depart ;
And thou, if Pyrrhias will but start,
Go, Drachon, too. Cydilla, slave,
'Twould be considerate if you gave
The fiend a rag or so to grace
His passage through the market pla «-.
Now, Pyrrhias, I'll repeat it : say
From me to Hermon, he's to lay
Two thousand on : a thousand here,
And there a thousand. Do you hear ?
From this if you one inch deflect,
Your person answers the neglect,
And pays with interest. Off !
[PYRRHIAS with GASTRON begins to go; BITINNA stops him with a
gesture.]
And please
To take him not by Miccale's,
But straight. (Exeunt PYRRHIAS and GASTRON.)
And one thing I forgot —
Run, run} Cydilla (he is not
Yet far), and call him.
Cydilla [in sudden distress] — Pyrrhias ! Hi !
Art deaf ? Alas ! she's calling.
Bitinna — Ay,
As hard upon his fellow-slave,
As if the wretch had robbed a grave !
But, Pyrrhias, mark ! Though he is sent
Now in your charge to punishment,
Cydilla, sure as these are two
[Holding up and shaking at him two of her fingers.]
Within four days shall witness you
Lodged in the jail, and fretting there
Those anklets which you lately wear.
Hark you ! His bonds are to remain
So, till you both come back again.
Fetch Cosis, the tattooer, who
Must bring his ink and needles too 5
836 HYMN TO ZEUS.
And while we have him, I will see
He puts some ornament on thee :
'Twill save a journey. "Equal fine
For cat and mouse ! "
Cydilla — Nay, mother mine,
Not now, not now ! Oh, as you pray
To see the happy wedding day
Of your Batyllis, to embrace
Her children, grant one little grace :
Pardon this once.
Bitinna — Cydilla! There!
Your worries, if you don't take care,
Fll run away ! — Well, folks may scoff;
I'll let the deep-dyed rascal off ;
Though every woman in the place
Might spit contempt upon my face,
" Which is so little royal ! " — Yet,
Since he's so liable to forget
He's mortal, he shall have it now x
Writ for reminder on his brow.
Cydilla -—
This is the twentieth, and before
The Day of Souls come only four.
Bitinna —
First, then, I now discharge you ; bless
For that, Cydilla, (dear not less
Than my Batyllis she to me ;
These arms have nursed her) ; presently
The Banquet of the Dead, with least
Expense, will serve your marriage feast.
HYMN TO ZEUS.
BY CLEANTHES.
[Stoic philosopher : succeeded Zeuoin his school about B.C. 270.]
(Translated by Edward Beecher.)
GREAT Jove, most glorious of the immortal gods,
Wide known by many names, Almighty One,
King of all nature, ruling all by law,
HYMN TO ZEUS. 337
We mortals thee adore, as duty calls ;
For thou our father art, and we thy sons,
On whom the gift of speech thou hast bestowed
Alone of all that live and move on earth.
Thee, therefore, will I praise ; and ceaseless show
To all thy glory and thy mighty power.
This beauteous system circling round the earth
Obeys thy will, and wheresoever thou leadest,
Freely submits itself to thy control.
Such is, in thine unconquerable hands,
The two-edged, fiery, deathless thunderbolt ;
Thy minister of power, before whose stroke
All nature quails and, trembling, stands aghast
By which the common reason thou dost guide,
Pervading all things, filling radiant worlds,
The sun, the moon, and all the host of stars.
So great art thou, the universal king,
Without thee naught is done on earth, 0 God !
Nor in the heavens above, nor in the sea ;
Naught save the deeds unwise of sinful men.
Yet harmony from discord thou dost bring ;
That which is hateful, thou dost render fair ;
Evil and good dost so coordinate,
That everlasting reason shall bear sway,
Which sinful men, blinded, forsake and shun,
Deceived and hapless, seeking fancied good.
The law of God they will not see nor hear ;
Which if they would obey, would lead to life*
But they unhappy rush, each in his way : —
For glory some in eager conflict strive ;
Others are lost inglorious, seeking gain ;
To pleasure others turn, and sensual joys,
Hasting to ruin, whilst they seek for life.
But thou, 0 Jove ! the giver of all good,
Darting the lightning from thy house of clouds,
Permit not man to perish darkling thus ;
From folly save them ; bring them to the light ;
Give them to know the everlasting law
By which in righteousness thou rulest all,
That we, thus honored, may return to thee
Meet honor, and with hymns declare thy deeds,
And though we die, hand down thy deathless praise,
Since not to men nor gods is higher meed
Than ever to extol with righteous praise
The glorious, universal King Divine.
VOL. IT. — 22
338 INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 279.
INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 279.
BY PAUSANIAS.
(Translated by J. G. Frazer.)
[PAUSANIAS, Greek antiquarian and art cataloguer, lived under Hadrian
and the Antonines, middle of the second century A.D. His chief work, still
extant in full, was the "Periegesis (Guide-Book) of Hellas," very valuable not
only for its topographical descriptions, but its account of art objects.]
THE Gauls inhabit the farthest parts of Europe, on the
shore of a great sea (Northern Ocean) which at its extremities
is not navigable. The sea ebbs and flows, and contains beasts
quite unlike those in the rest of the sea. The name Gauls
came into vogue late, for of old the people were called Celts
both by themselves and others. A host of them mustered and
marched toward the Ionian Sea ; they dispossessed the Illyrian
nation and the Macedonians, as well as all the intervening peo-
ples, and overran Thessaly. When they were come near to
Thermopylae, most of the Greeks awaited passively the attack
of the barbarians ; for they had suffered heavily before at the
hands of Alexander and Philip, and afterwards the nation had
been brought low by Antipater and Cassander, so that in their
weakness each thought it no shame to refrain from taking part
in the national defense.
But the Athenians, although they were more exhausted than
any of the Greeks by the long Macedonian war and many de-
feats in battle, nevertheless appointed Callipus to the com-
mand, and hastened to Thermopylae with such of the Greeks as
volunteered. Having seized the narrowest part of the pass,
they attempted to hinder the barbarians from entering into
Greece. But the Celts discovered the pass by which Ephialtes
the Trachinian once guided the Medes ; and, after overpower-
ing the Phocians, who were posted on it, they crossed Mount
(Eta before the Greeks were aware. Then it was that the
Athenians rendered a great service to Greece ; for on both
sides, surrounded as they were, they kept the barbarians at
bay. But their comrades on the ships labored the most ; for
at Thermopylae the Samnian Gulf is a swamp, the cause of
which, it seems to me, is the warm water which here flows into
the sea. So their trial was the greater ; for when they had
taken the Greeks on board, they made shift to sail through the
mud in ships weighed down with arms and men.
INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 279. 389
But the Gauls were inside of Pylse ; and, scorning to cap-
ture the other towns, they were bent on plundering Delphi
and the treasures of the gods. The Delphians, and those of
the Phocians who inhabit the cities round about Parnassus, put
themselves in array against them, and there came also a force
of .^Etolians ; for at that time the JEtolian race excelled in
youthful vigor. But when they came to close quarters, thunder-
bolts and rocks, breaking away from Parnassus, came hurtling
down upon the Gauls ; and dreadful shapes of men in arms
appeared against the barbarians. They say that two of these
phantom warriors, Hyperochus and Amadocus, came from the
Hyperboreans, and the third was Pyrrhus, son of Achilles.
Most of the Gauls crossed to Asia in ships and plundered
the seacoast. But afterwards the people of Pergamus, which
was called Teuthrania of old, drove them away from the sea into
the country now called Galatia. They captured Ancyra, a
city of the Phrygians, founded in former days by Midas, son of
Gordius, and took possession of the land beyond the Sangarius.
The anchor which Midas found still existed even down to my
time, in the sanctuary of Zeus ; and there is a fountain called
the fountain of Midas — they say that Midas mixed wine with
the water of the fountain to catch Silenus. This town of
Ancyra, then, was captured by the Gauls, and likewise Pessi-
nus, under Mount Agdistis, where they say that Attis Agdistis
is buried. The Pergamenians have spoils taken from the
Gauls, and a picture representing the battle with them.
The first foreign expedition of the Celts was made under
the leadership of Cambaules. They advanced as far as Thrace,
but did not dare to push on any farther, conscious that they
were too few in numbers to cope with the Greeks. But when
they resolved a second time to carry their arms into an enemy's
camp, — a step to which they were chiefly instigated by the
men who had been out with Cambaules, and in whom the expe-
rience of marauding had bred a love of plunder and booty, — a
large force of infantry assembled, and there was no lack of re-
cruits for the cavalry. So the leaders divided the army into
three parts, and each was ordered to march against a different
country. Cerethrius was to lead his force against the Thra-
cians and the Triballian tribe ; Brennus and Acichorius com-
manded the army destined to attack Pceonia ; while Bolgius
marched against the Macedonians and Illyrians, and engaged
in conflict with Ptolemy, then king of Macedonia. It was this
340 INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 270.
Ptolemy who first sought the protection of Seleucus, son of
Antiochus, and then assassinated his protector, and whose
excessive daring earned him the nickname of Thunderbolt.
Ptolemy himself fell in the battle, and the Macedonian loss
was heavy ; but again the Celts had not the courage to march
against Greece, and so the second expedition returned home
again.
Hereupon Brennus, at public assemblies and in private as-
semblies with the leading men, energetically urges an expedi-
tion against Greece, pointing to the present weakness of Greece,
to the wealth of her public treasures, and to the still greater
wealth stored up in her sanctuaries in the shape of offerings
and of gold and silver coin. So he prevailed on the Gauls to
march against Greece, and amongst his colleagues in command,
whom he chose from among the leading men, was Acichorius.
The assembled army numbered 152,000 foot and 20,400 horse.
But though that was the number of the cavalry always on
service, the real number was 61,200 ; for every trooper was
attended by two servants, who were themselves good riders and
were provided with horses. Whea the cavalry was engaged,
the servants kept in the rear and made themselves useful
thus : — If a trooper had his horse killed, the servant brought
him a fresh mount ; if the trooper himself was slain, the slave
mounted his master's horse ; but if both horse and man were
killed, the slave was ready mounted to take their place. If the
man was wounded, one of the slaves brought the wounded man
off the field to the camp, while the other took his place in the
ranks. — Such was the force and such the intentions with
which Brennus marched against Greece.
The spirit of the Greeks had fallen very low, but the very
excess of their fear roused them to the necessity of defending
Greece. They saw that the struggle would not now be for
freedom, as it had been in the Persian War, and that safety was
not to be had by a gift of water and earth ; for the fate that
had overtaken the Macedonians, Thracians, and Pseonians in
the former inroads of the Gauls were still fresh in their mem-
ory, and reports were reaching them of the atrocities that even
then were being perpetrated on the Thessalians. Death or
victory, that was the alternative that every man and every
state prepared to face. . . .
To meet the barbarians who had come from the ocean, the
following Greek forces marched to Thermopylae : 10,000
INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 279. 341
heavy-armed infantry and 500 horse from Boeotia ; the Bceo-
tarchs were Cephisodotus, Thearidas, Diogenes, and Lysander.
From Phocis, 500 horse, and infantry to the number of 3000,
under the command of Critobulus and Antiochus. The Lo-
crians, who dwell opposite the island of Atalanta, were led by
Midias ; their number was 700 ; they had no cavalry. From
Megara there came 400 heavy infantry ; the Megarian cavalry
was led by Megareus. The ^Etolian force was very numerous,
and included every arm. The strength of their cavalry is not
given. Their light infantry numbered ninety and — , their
heavy infantry numbered 7000. The ^Etolians were led by
Polyarchus, Polyphron, and Lacrates. The general of the
Athenians was Callippus, son of Moerocles, as I have men-
tioned before, and the Athenian forces consisted of all their
seaworthy galleys, 500 horse, and 1000 foot. In virtue of
their ancient prestige, they held the command. The kings
of Macedonia and Asia contributed 500 mercenaries each.
When the Greeks who were assembled at Thermopylae learned
that the Gallic army had already reached Magnesia and the
district of Phthiotis, they resolved to send a detachment, con-
sisting of the cavalry and 1000 light infantry, to the Spercheus
to dispute the passage of the river. On reaching the river the
detachment broke down the bridges and encamped on the
bank. But Brennus was no fool, and had, for a barbarian, a
pretty notion of strategy. Accordingly, that very night he
dispatched a force, not to the places where the old bridges had
stood, but lower down the river, in order that they might effect
the passage unperceived by the Greeks. At this point the
Spercheus spread its waters over the plain, forming a marsh
and a lake instead of a narrow rushing stream. Thither, then,
Brennus sent some 10,000 Gauls who could swim, or were
taller than their fellows ; and the Celts are by far the tallest
race in the world. This force passed the river in the night by
swimming the lagoon, the men using their national bucklers as
rafts. The tallest of them were able to cross the water on foot.
No sooner were the Greeks on the Spercheus informed that a
detachment of the entmy had passed the marsh than they
immediately fell back on the main body.
Brennus ordered the people who dwell round the Malian
Gulf to bridge the Spercheus. They executed the task with
alacrity, actuated at once by a fear of Brennus, and by a desire
to get the barbarians out of their country, and thus to save it
342 INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 279.
from further devastation. When he had led his army across
the bridges, he marched on Heraclea. The Gauls plundered
the district, and butchered all whom they caught in the fields,
but failed to take the city, for the year before the ^Etolians
had compelled Heraclea to join their confederacy ; so now they
bestirred themselves in defense of a town which they regarded
as belonging as much to them as to its inhabitants. Brennus
himself cared little about Heraclea, but was bent on dislodging
the enemy from the passes, and penetrating into the interior of
Greece, south of Thermopylae.
He had been informed by deserters of the strength of the
Greek contingents assembled at Thermopylae, and the informa-
tion inspired him with a contempt for the enemy. So,
advancing from Heraclea, he offered battle the next morning
at sunrise. He had no Greek soothsayer with him, and he
consulted no sacrificial omens after the manner of his people,
if indeed the Celts possess an art of divination. The Greeks
came on in silence and in order. On engaging, the enemy
did not disturb their formation by charging out from the
ranks ; and the skirmishers, standing their ground, hurled
darts and plied their bows and slings. The cavalry on both
sides was useless ; for the ground at Thermopylae is not only
narrow, but also smooth by reason of the natural rock, and
mostly slippery owing to the numerous streams. The Gauls
were the worse equipped, their national shields being their only
defensive weapon ; and in military skill they were still more
inferior. They advanced on the foe with the blind rage and
passion of wild beasts. Hacked with axes or swords, their
fury did not desert them so long as they drew breath ; run
through with darts and javelins, they abated not of their
courage while life remained ; some even tore from their wounds
the spears with which they had been hit, and hurled them at
the Greeks, or used them at close quarters. Meanwhile the
Athenian fleet, with much difficulty and at some risk, stood
close into the shore, through the mud which pervades the sea
for a great distance, and laying the ships, as nearly as might
be, alongside the enemy, raked his flank with a fire of missiles
and arrows. The Celts were now unspeakably weary ; on
the narrow ground the losses which they suffered were double
or fourfold what they inflicted ; and at last their leaders gave
the signal to retreat to the camp. Retiring in disorder and
without any formation, many were trampled under foot by
INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 279. 343
their comrades ; many fell into the swamp and disappeared
beneath the mud ; and thus their losses in the retreat were as
heavy as in the heat of action.
On that day the Attic troops outdid all the Greeks in valor ;
and amongst them the bravest was Cydias ; he was young,
and it was his first battle. He was slain by the Gauls, and
his kinsmen dedicated his shield to Zeus of Freedom, with the
following inscription : —
" I hang here, missing sadly the bloom of Cydias' youth,
I, the shield of a glorious man, and an offering to Zeus ;
I was the first shield through which he thrust his left arm
When rushing Ares raged against the Gaul."
The inscription remained till the shields in the Colonnade of
Zeus of Freedom, with other things at Athens, were removed
by the soldiers of Sulla.
After the battle at Thermopylae the Greeks buried their dead
and spoiled the barbarians. The Gauls sent no herald to
request permission to take up their dead, and deemed it a
matter of indifference whether they were laid in earth or were
devoured by wild beasts and the birds that prey upon corpses.
Their apathy as to the burial of the dead resulted, it seems
to me, from two motives : a wish to strike awe into the enemy,
and a habitual carelessness toward the deceased. Forty of
the Greeks fell in the battle ; the exact loss of the barbarians
could not be ascertained, for the number that sank under the
mud was great.
On the sixth day after the battle a corps of the Gauls
attempted to ascend Mount (Eta from Heraclea ; for here,
too, a narrow footpath leads up the mountain just beyond the
ruins of Trachis. In those days there was also a sanctuary
of Athena above the territory of Trachis, with offerings in it.
So they hoped to ascend (Eta by this footpath, and to secure
the treasures of the sanctuary. [The garrison under Tele-
sarchus] defeated the barbarians ; but Telesarchus himself fell
— a Greek patriot if ever there was one.
All the barbarian leaders except Brennus now stood in
terror of the Greeks, and were perplexed as to the future,
seeing that their enterprise made no progress. But it occurred
to Brennus that if he could force the ^Etolians to return home
to ^Etolia, his operations against the Greeks would be much
-
344 INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 270.
facilitated. So he detached from his army a force of forty
thousand foot and some eight hundred horse, and placed it
under the command of Orestorius and Combutis. These
troops marched back by the bridges over the Spercheus, re-
traced .their steps through Thessaly, and invaded ^Itolia. The
sack of Gallium by Combutis and Orestorius was the most
atrocious and inhuman in history. They put the whole male sex
to the sword ; old men and babes at their mothers' breasts
were butchered alike ; and after killing the fattest of the
sucklings, they even drank their blood and ate their flesh.
All matrons and marriageable maidens who had a spark of
spirit anticipated their fate by dispatching themselves when
the city was taken ; but the survivors were forcibly subjected
to every kind of outrage by beings who were equal strangers
to pity and to love. Such women as chanced to find an
enemy's sword, laid hands on themselves ; the rest soon
perished from want of food and sleep, the ruthless barbarians
outraging them in turn, and glutting their lust on the persons
even of the dying and dead.
Apprised by messengers of the disasters that had befallen
them, the ^Etolians immediately set out from Thermopylse and
hastened with all speed to ^Etolia, moved with rage at the sack
of Gallium, but still more with a desire to save the towns which
had not yet fallen. From all their towns, too, poured forth the
men of military age ; even the old men, roused by the emer-
gency, were to be seen in the ranks. The very women marched
with them as volunteers, their exasperation at the Gauls ex-
ceeding even that of the men. After pillaging the houses and
sanctuaries, and firing the town of Gallium, the barbarians set
out to return. Here they were met by the Patreans, the only
Achaians who came to the aid of the ./Etolians. Being trained
infantry, the Patreans attacked the barbarians in front, but suf-
fered heavily from the numbers and desperation of the Gauls.
The JEtolians, on the other hand, men and women, lined the whole
road, and kept up a fire of missiles on the barbarians ; and as
the latter had nothing but their national shields, few shots
were thrown away. Pursued by the Gauls, they easily es-
caped ; and then, when their enemies were returning from the
pursuit, they fell upon them again with vigor. Hence, dread-
ful as had been the fate of the people of Gallium, — so dreadful,
indeed, that in the light of it even Homer's account of the
Lsestrygones and the Cyclops appears not to be exaggerated, —
INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 279. 345
yet they were amply avenged ; for out of the 40,800 barbarians
less than half returned alive to the camp at Thermopylae.
Meanwhile the Greeks at Thermopylae fared as follows :
There are two paths over Mount (Eta ; one starting above
Trachis, is exceedingly steep and in most places precipitous ;
the other, leading through the territory of the JSnianians, is
more passable for an army. It was by this latter path that
Hydarnes, the Mede, once fell on the rear of Leonidas and his
men, and by it the Heracleots and JSnianians now offered to
lead Brennus, not from any ill will they bore the Greeks, but
merely because they would give much to rid their country
of the destroying presence of the Celts. Pindar, it seems to
me, is right when he says that every man is weighed down by
his own troubles and is callous to the sorrows of others. In-
cited by the promise held out to him by the JEnianians and Her-
acleots, Brennus left Acichorius in command of the army, with
orders to advance to the attack the moment the Greeks were
surrounded. Then at the head of a detachment of forty thou-
sand men he set off by the path. It happened that on that day
the mist came down thick on the mountain, darkening the sun,
so that the Phocian pickets stationed on the path did not per-
ceive the approach of the barbarians till they were close upon
them. Attacked by the enemy, they stood bravely to their
arms, but were at last overpowered and driven from the path.
Nevertheless, they succeeded in running down to their friends,
and bringing them word of what was taking place before they
were completely surrounded. This gave the Athenian fleet
time to withdraw the Greek army from Thermopylae ; and so
the troops dispersed to their several homes.
Brennus lost not a moment, but, without waiting to be joined
by the army he had left under Acichorius in the camp, marched
on Delphi. The trembling inhabitants betook themselves to the
oracle, and the god bade them have no fear. " For," said he,
"I will myself guard my own." The Greeks who rallied in
the defense of the god were these : the Phocians, who came forth
from every city, 400 infantry from Amphissa, and a handful
from jEtolia. This small force was dispatched by the ^Etolians
as soon as they heard of the advance of the barbarians ; after-
wards they sent 200 men under Philomelus. But the flower of
the ^Etolian troops advanced against the army of Acichorius, and
without giving battle hung on his rear, capturing his baggage
trains and killing his men. This was the chief cause of the
346 INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 279.
slowness of his march. Besides, he had left behind at Hera-
clea a corps to guard the camp baggage.
Meantime the Greeks who had mustered at Delphi drew out
in order of battle against the army of Brennus, and soon, to
confound the barbarians, the god sent signs and wonders, the
plainest that ever were seen. For all the ground occupied by
the army of the Gauls quaked violently most of the day, and
thunder rolled and lightning flashed continually, the claps
of thunder stunning the Celts and hindering them from hearing
the words of command, while the bolts from heaven set fire
not only to the men upon whom they fell, but to all who were near
them, men and arms alike. Then, too, appeared to them the phan-
toms of the heroes Hyperochus, Laodocus, Pyrrhus ; some add
to these a fourth, to wit, Phylacus, a local hero of Delphi.
Of the Phocians themselves many fell in the action, and amongst
them Aleximachus, who, on that day, above all the Greeks, did
everything that youth and strength and valor could do in slay-
ing the barbarians. The Phocians had a statue of him made
and sent it to Apollo at Delphi. Such were the sufferings
and terrors by which the barbarians were beset all that livelong
day ; and the fate that was in store for them in the night was
more dismal far. For a keen frost set in, and with the frost
came snow, and great rocks came slipping from Parnassus, and
crags breaking off, made straight for the barbarians, crushing
to death not one or two, but thirty or more at a blow, as they
chanced to be grouped together on guard or in slumber.
At sunrise the Greeks advanced upon them from Delphi.
All except the Phocians came straight on ; but the Phocians,
more familiar with the ground, descended the precipices of
Parnassus through the snow and getting in the rear of the
Celts unperceived, showered their darts and arrows on the
barbarians in perfect security. At first, despite the cross-fire of
missiles and the bitter cold which told on them, and especially-
on the wounded, not less cruelly than the arrows of the enemy,
the Gauls made a gallant stand, and especially Brennus's own
company, the tallest and most stalwart of them all. But when
Brennus himself was wounded and carried fainting from the
field, the barbarians, beset on every side, fell sullenly back,
butchering as they went their comrades, whom wounds or sick-
ness disabled from attending the retreat.
They encamped on the spot where night overtook them on
the retreat ; but in the night a panic fear fell on them. Cause-
INVASION OF GREECE BY THE GAULS, B.C. 279. 347
less fears, they say, are inspired by Pan. It was late in the
evening when the confusion arose in the army, and at first it
was a mere handful who lost their heads, fancying they heard
the trampling of charging horses and the onset of foemen ; but
soon the delusion spread to the whole army. So they snatched
up their arms, and taking sides, dealt death and received it.
For they understood not their mother tongue, nor perceived
each other's forms and the shapes of their bucklers, both sides
alike in their present infatuation fancying that their adversaries
were Greeks, that their arms were Greek, and that the language
they spoke was Greek. So the God-sent madness wrought a
very great slaughter among the Gauls at the hands of each
other. The Phocians, who were left in the field to watch the
herds, were the first to perceive and report to the Greeks what
had befallen the barbarians in the night. Then the Phocians
took heart and pressed the Celts more vigorously than ever,
keeping a stricter watch on their encampments, and not suffer-
ing them to forage unresisted. This immediately produced a
dreadful scarcity of corn and all other necessaries throughout the
whole Gallic army. Their losses in Phocis amounted to a little
under 6000 in action, over 10,000 in the wintry night and the
subsequent panic, and as many more by famine.
The Athenians sent scouts to see what was doing at Delphi.
When these men returned and reported all that had befallen the
barbarians, and what the god had done to them, the Athenians
took the field, and on the march through Boaotia were joined
by the Boeotians. Their united forces followed the barbarians,
lying in wait for and cutting off the hindmost. The fugitives
under Brennus had been joined by the army of Acichorius only
the night before ; for the march of the latter had been retarded
by the ^Etolians, who pelted them freely with darts and any-
thing else that came to hand, so that only a small part of them
escaped to the camp at Heraclea. Brennus's hurts still left
him a chance of life ; but they say that from fear of his country-
men, and still more from wounded pride as the author of the
disastrous campaign in Greece, he put an end to himself by
drinking neat wine. After that the barbarians made their way
with difficulty to the Spercheus, hotly pressed by the ^Etolians.
But from the Spercheus onward the Thessalians and Malians
lay in wait, and swallowed them up so completely that not a
man of them returned home.
348 IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS.
IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS.
(Translation and introductions by Andrew Lang.)
[THEOCRITUS, the creator of the pastoral poem, was born at Syracuse, and
lived later at Alexandria under Ptolemy Philadelphus ; his palmiest period being
about 270. He developed the responsive verse contest of shepherds into the
bucolic ** idyl " — " sketch " — of country and sometimes city life.]
IDYL II.
Simcetha, madly in love with Delphis, who has forsaken her, endeavors to subdue
him to her by magic, and by invoking the Moon in her character of Hecate
and of Selene. She tells the tale of the growth of her passion, and vows
vengeance if her magic arts are unsuccessful. The scene is probably some
garden beneath the moonlit sky, near the town, and within sound of the sea.
The characters are Simcetha and Thestylis her handmaid.
WHERE are my laurel leaves ? come, bring them, Thestylis ;
and where are the love charms ? Wreath the bowl with bright
red wool, that I may knit the witch knots against my grievous
lover, who for twelve days, oh, cruel, has never come hither,
nor knows whether I am alive or dead, nor has once knocked
at my door, unkind that he is ! Hath Love flown off with his
light desires by some other path — Love and Aphrodite ? To-
morrow I will go to the wrestling school of Timagetus, to see
my love and to reproach him with all the wrong he is doing
me. But now I will bewitch him with my enchantments ! Do
thou, Selene, shine clear and fair ; for softly, goddess, to thee
will I sing, and to Hecate of Hell. The very whelps shiver
before her as she fares through black blood and across the bar-
rows of the dead.
Hail, awful Hecate! to the end be thou of our company,
and make this medicine of mine no weaker than the spells of
Circe, or of Medea, or of Perimede of the golden hair.
My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love !
Lo, how the barley grain first smolders in the fire, — nay,
toss on the barley, Thestylis ! Miserable maid, where are thy
wits wandering? Even to thee, wretched that I am, have I
become a laughing-stock, even to thee? Scatter the grain, and
cry thus the while, " Tis the bones of Delphis I am scattering ! "
My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love !
Delphis troubled me, and I against Delphis am burning this
aurel ; and even as it crackles loudly when it has caught the
IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS. 349
flame, and suddenly is burned up, and we see not even the
dust thereof, lo, even thus may the flesh of Delphis waste in
the burning !
My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love !
Even as I melt this wax, with the god to aid, so speedily
may he by love be molten, the Myndian Delphis! And as
whirls this brazen wheel, so restless, under Aphrodite's spell,
may he turn and turn about my doors.
My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love !
Now will I burn the husks, and thou, O Artemis, hast
power to move Hell's adamantine gates, and all else that is as
stubborn. Thestylis, hark, 'tis so ; the hounds are baying up
and down the town! The goddess stands where the three
ways meet ! Hasten, and clash the brazen cymbals.
My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love !
Lo, silent is the deep, and silent the winds, but never silent
the torment in my breast. Nay, I am all on fire for him that
made me, miserable me, no wife, but a shameful thing, a girl
no more a maiden.
My magic wheel, draw home to me the man Hove !
Three times do I pour libation, and thrice, my Lady Moon,
I speak this spell : — Be it with a friend that he lingers, be it
with a leman he lies, may he as clean forget them as Theseus,
of old, in Dia, — so legends tell, — did utterly forget the fair-
tressed Ariadne.
My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love !
Coltsfoot is an Arcadian weed that maddens, on the hills,
the young stallions and fleet-footed mares. Ah ! even as these
may I see Delphis; and to this house of mine, may he speed
like a madman, leaving the bright palestra.
My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love !
This fringe from his cloak Delphis lost ; that now I shred
and cast into the cruel flame. Ah, ah, thou torturing Love,
why clingest thou to me like a leech of the fen and drainest
all the black blood from my body?
My magic wheel, draw home to me the man Hove!
Lo, I will crush an eft, and a venomous draught to-morrow
I will bring thee !
But now, Thestylis, take these magic herbs and secretly
smear the juice on the jambs of his gate (whereat, even now,
350 IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS.
my heart is captive, though nothing he recks of me), and spit,
and whisper, " 'Tis the bones of Delphis that I smear."
My magic wheel, draw home to me the man I love !
And now that I am alone, whence shall I begin to bewail
my love ? Whence shall I take up the tale : who brought on
me this sorrow ? The maiden bearer of the mystic vessel came
our way, Anaxo, daughter of Eubulus, to the grove of Artemis ;
and behold, she had many other wild beasts paraded for that
time, in the sacred show, and among them a lioness.
Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon !
And the Thracian servant of Theucharides — my nurse that
is but lately dead, and who then dwelt at our doors — besought
me and implored me to come and see the show. And I went
with her, wretched woman that I am, clad about in a fair and
sweeping linen stole, over which I had thrown the holiday dress
of Clearista.
Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon !
Lo ! I was now come to the midpoint of the highway, near
the dwelling of Lycon, and there I saw Delphis and Eudamip-
pus walking together. Their beards were more golden than
the golden flower of the ivy ; their breasts (they coming fresh
from the glorious wrestler's toil) were brighter of sheen than
thyself, Selene !
Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon !
Even as I looked I loved, loved madly, and all my heart
was wounded, woe is me, and my beauty began to wane. No
more heed took I of that show, and how I came home I know
not ; but some parching fever utterly overthrew me, and I lay
abed ten days and ten nights.
Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon !
And oftentimes my skin waxed wan as the color of boxwood,
and all my hair was falling from my head, and what was left
of me was but skin and bones. Was there a wizard to whom
I did not seek, or a crone to whose house I did not resort, of
them that have art magical ? But this was no light malady,
and the time went fleeting on.
Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon !
Thus I told the true story to my maiden, and said, " Go,
Thestylis, and find me some remedy for this sore disease. Ah
me, the Myndian possesses me, body and soul I Nay, depart,
IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS. 351
and watch by the wrestling ground of Timagetus, for there is
his resort, and there he loves to loiter.
Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon !
" And when thou art sure he is alone, nod to him secretly,
and say 'Simsetha bids thee to come to her,' and lead him
hither privily." So I spoke; and she went and brought the
bright-limbed Delphis to my house. But I, when I beheld him
just crossing the threshold of the door, with his light step, —
Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon !
Grew colder all than snow, and the sweat streamed from my
brow like the dank dews, and I had no strength to speak, nay,
nor to utter as much as children murmur in their slumber, call-
ing to their mother dear : and all my fair body turned stiff as
a puppet of wax.
Bethink thee of my love, and whence it came, my Lady Moon !
Faultless was I in his sight, till yesterday, and he, again, in
nine. But there came to me the mother of Philistse, my flute
player, and the mother of Melixo, to-day, when the horses of
the sun were climbing the sky, bearing dawn of the rosy arms
from the ocean stream. Many another thing she told me ; and
chiefly this, that Delphis is a lover, and whom he loves she
vowed she knew not surely, but this only, that ever he filled
up his cup with the unmixed wine, to drink a toast to his dear-
est. And at last he went off hastily, saying that he would
cover with garlands the dwelling of his love.
This news my visitor told me, and she speaks the truth.
For indeed, at other seasons, he would come to me three or
four times in the day, and often would leave with me his
Dorian oil flask. But now it is the twelfth day since I have
even looked on him ! Can it be that he has not some other
delight, and has forgotten me ? Now with magic rites I will
strive to bind him, but if he still vexes me, he shall beat, by
the Fates I vow it, at the gate of Hell. Such evil medicines
I store against him in a certain coffer, the use whereof, my
lady, an Assyrian stranger taught me.
But do thou farewell, and turn thy steeds to Ocean, lady,
and my pain I will bear, as even till now, I have endured it.
Farewell, Selene, bright and fair, farewell, ye other stars, that
follow the wheels of quiet Night.
IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS.
IDYL X. — THE REAPERS
This is an idyl of the same genre as Idyl IV. The sturdy reaper, Milon, as he
levels the swaths of corn, derides his languid and lovelorn companion, Battus.
The latter defends his gypsy love in verses which have been the keynote of
much later poetry, and which echo in the fourth book of Lucretius and in the
"Misanthrope " ofMoliere. Milon replies with the song ofLityerses — a string,
apparently, of popular rural couplets, such as Theocritus may have heard
chanted in the fields.
Milon — Thou toilsome clod ; what ails thee now, thou
wretched fellow? Canst thou neither cut thy swath straight,
as thou wert wont to do, nor keep time with thy neighbor in
thy reaping, but thou must fall out, like an ewe that is foot-
pricked with a thorn and straggles from the herd? What
manner of man wilt thou prove after midnoon and at evening,
thou that dost not prosper with thy swathe when thou art fresh
begun ?
Battus — Milon, thou that canst toil till late, thou chip of
the stubborn stone, has it never befallen thee to long for one
that was not with thee ?
Milon — Never ! What has a laboring man to do with
hankering after what he has not got?
Battus — Then it never befell thee to lie awake for love ?
Milon — Forbid it ; 'tis an ill thing to let the dog once taste
of pudding.
Battus — But I, Milon, am in love for almost eleven days !
Milon — 'Tis easily seen that thou drawest from a wine cask,
while even vinegar is scarce with me.
Battus — And for Love's sake the fields before my doors are
untilled since seedtime.
Milon — But which of the girls afflicts thee so?
Battus — The daughter of Polybotas, she that of late was
wont to pipe to the reapers on Hippocoon's farm.
Milon — God has found out the guilty ! Thou hast what
thou'st long been seeking, that grasshopper of a girl will lie by
thee the night long !
Battus — Thou art beginning thy mocks of me ; but Plutus
is not the only blind god ; he too is blind, the heedless Love I
Beware of talking big.
Milon — Talk big I do not ! Only see that thou dost level
the corn, and strike up some love ditty in the wench's praise.
IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS. 353
More pleasantly thus wilt thou labor, and, indeed, of old thou
wert a melodist.
Battus — Ye Muses Pierian, sing ye with me the slender
maiden, for whatsoever ye do but touch, ye goddesses, ye make
wholly fair.
They all call thee a gypsy, gracious Bombyca, and lean and sun-
burnt, 'tis only I that call thee honey-pale.
Yea, and the violet is swart, and swart the lettered hyacinth,
but yet these flowers are chosen the first in garlands.
The goat runs after cytisus, the wolf pursues the goat, the crane
follows the plow, but I am wild for love of thee.
Would it were mine, all the wealth whereof once Croesus was
lord, as men tell ! Then images of us twain, all in gold, should be
dedicated to Aphrodite, thou with thy flute and a rose, yea, or an
apple, and I in fair attire, and new shoon of Amyclse on both my feet.
Ah, gracious Bombyca, thy feet are fashioned like carven ivory,
thy voice is drowsy sweet, and thy ways, I cannot tell of them 1
Milon — Verily our clown was a maker of lovely songs, and
we knew it not ! How well he meted out and shaped his
harmony; woe is me for the beard that I have grown, all in
vain I Come, mark thou too these lines of godlike Lityerses.
THE LITYERSES SONG
Demeter, rich in fruit and rich in grain, may this corn be easy to
win, and fruitful exceedingly !
Bind, ye bandsters, the sheaves, lest the wayfarer should cry,
"Men of straw were the workers here, ay, and their hire was
wasted ! "
See that the cut stubble faces the north wind or the west ; 'tis
thus the grain waxes richest.
They that thresh corn should shun the noonday sleep ; at noon
the chaff parts easiest from the straw.
As for the reapers, let them begin when the crested lark is
waking, and cease when he sleeps, but take holiday in the heat.
Lads, the frog has a jolly life, he is not cumbered about a butler
to his drink, for he has liquor by him unstinted.
Boil the lentils better, thou miserly steward ; take heed lest thou
chop thy fingers when thou'rt splitting cumin seed.
'Tis thus that men should sing who labor i' the sun, but thy
starveling love, thou clod, 'twere fit to tell to thy mother when
she stirs in bed at dawning,
iv, —23
354 IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS.
IDYL XI. — THE CYCLOPS.
(Translation of Mrs. Browning.)
AND so an easier life our Cyclops drew,
The ancient Polyphemus, who in youth
Loved Galatea while the manhood grew
Adown his cheeks and darkened round his mouth.
No jot he cared for apples, olives, roses ;
Love made him mad : the whole world was neglected,
The very sheep went backward to their closes
From out the fair green pastures, self-directed.
And singing Galatea, thus, he wore
The sunrise down along the weedy shore,
And pined alone, and felt the cruel wound
Beneath his heart, which Cypris' arrow bore,
With a deep pang ; but, so, the cure was found ;
And sitting on a lofty rock he cast
His eyes upon the sea, and sang at last : —
" 0 whitest Galatea, can it be
That thou shouldst spurn me off who love thee so ?
More white than curds, my girl, thou art to see,
More meek than lambs, more full of leaping glee
Than kids, and brighter than the early glow
On grapes that swell to ripen, — sour like thee !
Thou comest to me with the fragrant sleep,
And with the fragrant sleep thou goest from me ;
Thou fliest . . . fliest, as a frightened sheep
Flies the gray wolf ! — yet Love did overcome me,
So long ; — I loved thee, maiden, first of all
When down the hills (my mother fast beside thee)
I saw thee stray to pluck the summer fall
Of hyacinth bells, and went myself to guide thee :
And since my eyes have seen thee, they can leave thee
No more, from that day's light ! But thou ... by Zeus,
Thou wilt not care for that, to let it grieve thee !
I know thee, fair one, why thou springest loose
From my arm round thee. Why ? I tell thee, Dear I
One shaggy eyebrow draws its smudging road
Straight through my ample front, from ear to ear, —
One eye rolls underneath ; and yawning, broad
Flat nostrils feel the bulging lips too near.
IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS. 855
Yet . . . ho, ho ! — /, — whatever I appear, —
Do feed a thousand oxen ! When I have done,
I milk the cows, and drink the milk that's best !
I lack no cheese, while summer keeps the sun ;
And after, in the cold, it's ready prest !
And then, I know to sing, as there is none
Of all the Cyclops can, ... a song of thee,
Sweet apple of my soul, on love's fair tree,
And of myself who love thee . . . till the West
Forgets the light, and all but I have rest.
I feed for thee, besides, eleven fair does,
And all in fawn ; and four tame whelps of bears.
Come to me, Sweet ! thou shalt have all of those
In change for love ! I will not halve the shares.
Leave the blue sea, with pure white arms extended
To the dry shore ; and, in my cave's recess,
Thou shalt be gladder for the noonlight ended, —
For here be laurels, spiral cypresses,
Dark ivy, and a vine whose leaves enfold
Most luscious grapes ; and here is water cold,
The wooded JStna pours down through the trees
From the white snows, — which gods were scarce too bold
To drink in turn with nectar. Who with these
Would choose the salt wave of the lukewarm seas ?
Nay, look on me ! If I am hairy and rough,
I. have an oak's heart in me ; there's a fire
In these gray ashes which burns hot enough ;
And when I burn for thee, I grudge the pyre
No fuel . . . not my soul, nor this one eye, —
Most precious thing I have, because thereby
I see thee, Fairest ! Out, alas ! I wish
My mother had borne me finned like a fish,
That I might plunge down in the ocean near thee,
And kiss thy glittering hand between the weeds,
If still thy face were turned ; and I would bear thee
Each lily white, and poppy fair that bleeds
Its red heart down its leaves ! — one gift, for hours
Of summer, — one, for winter ; since, to cheer thee,
I could not bring at once all kinds of flowers.
Even now, girl, now, I fain would learn to swim,
If stranger in a ship sailed nigh, I wis, —
That I may know how sweet a thing it is
To live down with you in the Deep and Dim I
Come up, 0 Galatea, from the ocean,
And, having come, forget again to go !
356 IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS.
As I, who sing out here my heart's emotion
Could sit forever. Come up from below !
Come keep my flocks beside me, milk my kine, —
Come, press my cheese, distrain my whey and curd !
Ah, mother ! she alone . . . that mother of mine . . .
Did wrong me sore ! I blame her ! — Not a word
Of kindly intercession did she address
Thine ear with for my sake ; and nevertheless
She saw me wasting, wasting, day by day :
Both head and feet were aching, I will say,
All sick for grief, as I myself was sick.
0 Cyclops, Cyclops, whither hast thou sent
Thy soul on fluttering wings ? If thou wert bent
On turning bowls, or pulling green and thick
The sprouts to give thy lambkins, — thou wouldst make thee
A wiser Cyclops than for what we take thee.
Milk dry the present ! Why pursue too quick
That future which is fugitive aright ?
Thy Galatea thou shalt haply find, —
Or else a maiden fairer and more kind ;
For many girls do call me through the night,
And, as they call, do laugh out silverly.
/, too, am something in the world, I see ! "
While thus the Cyclops love and lambs did fold,
Ease came with song he could not buy with gold.
IDYL XIV.
This idyl, like the next, is dramatic inform. One ^Eschines tells Thyonichus the
story of his quarrel with his mistress, Cynisca. He speaks of taking foreign
service, and Thyonichus recommends that of Ptolemy. The idyl was prob-
ably written at Alexandria, as a compliment to Ptolemy, and an inducement
to Greeks to join his forces. There is nothing, however, to fix the date.
^ffischines — All hail to the stout Thyonichus !
Thyonichus — As much to you, jEschines.
dEschines — How long it is since we met !
Thyonichus — Is it so long? But why, pray, this melan-
choly ?
^Eschines — I am not in the best of luck, Thyonichus.
Thyonichus — 'Tis for that, then, you are so lean, and hence
comes this long moustache, and these lovelocks all adust. Just
such a figure was a Pythagorean that came here of late, bare-
IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS. 357
foot and wan, — and said he was an Athenian. Marry, he too
was in love, methinks, with a plate of pancakes.
jffischines — Friend, you will always have your jest, —but
beautiful Cynisca, — she flouts me ! I shall go mad some day,
when no man looks for it ; I am but a hair's breadth on the
hither side, even now.
Thyonichus — You are ever like this, dear ^Eschines, now
mad, now sad, and crying for all things at your whim. Yet,
tell me, what is your new trouble?
^Eschines — The Argive and I and the Thessalian rough
rider, Apis, and Cleunichus the free lance were drinking to-
gether at my farm. I had killed two chickens and a sucking
pig, and had opened the Bibline wine for them, — nearly four
years old, — but fragrant as when it left the wine press.
Truffles and shellfish had been brought out, it was a jolly
drinking match. And when things were now getting for-
warder, we determined that each should toast whom he pleased,
in unmixed wine, only he must name his toast. So we all
drank, and called our toasts as had been agreed. Yet She said
nothing, though I was there ; how think you I liked that ?
"Won't you call a toast? 'You have seen the wolf! ' " some
one said in jest, " as the proverb goes " ; then she kindled ;
yes, you could easily have lighted a lamp at her face. There
is one Wolf, one Wolf there is, the son of Labes, our neighbor,
— he is tall, smooth-skinned, many think him handsome. His
was that illustrious love in which she was pining, yes, and a
breath about the business once came secretly to my ears, but
I never looked into it, beshrew my beard !
Already, mark you, we four men were deep in our cups,
when the Larissa man, out of mere mischief, struck up, " My
Wolf," some Thessalian catch from the very beginning. Then
Cynisca suddenly broke out weeping more bitterly than a six-
year-old maid that longs for her mother's lap. Then I, — you
know me, Thyonichus, — struck her on the cheek with clenched
fist, — one, two ! She caught up her robes, and forth she rushed,
quicker than she came. " Ah, my undoing" (cried I), "I am
not good enough for you, then — you have a dearer playfellow ?
Well, be off and cherish your other lover, 'tis for him your
tears run big as apples."
And as the swallow flies swiftly back to gather a morsel,
fresh food, for her young ones under the eaves, still swifter
sped she from her soft chair, straight through the vestibule
358 IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS.
and folding doors, wherever her feet carried her. So, sure, the
old proverb says, "the bull has sought the wild wood."
Since then there are twenty days, and eight to these, and
nine again, then ten others, to-day is the eleventh, add two
more, and it is two months since we parted, and I have not
shaved, not even in Thracian 1 fashion.
And now Wolf is everything with her. Wolf finds the door
open o' nights, and I am of no account, not in the reckoning,
like the wretched men of Megara, in the place dishonorable.2
And if I could cease to love, the world would wag as well
as may be. But now, — now, — as they say, Thyonichus, I am
like the mouse that has tasted pitch. And what remedy there
may be for a bootless love, I know not ; except that Simus, he
who was in love with the daughter of Epicalchus, went over
the seas, and came back heart-whole, — a man of my own age.
And I too will cross the water, and prove not the first, maybe;
nor the last, perhaps, but a fair soldier as times go.
IDYL XV.
This famous idyl should rather, perhaps, be called a mimus. It describes the
visit paid by two Syracusan women, residing in Alexandria, to the festival
of the resurrection of Adonis. The festival is given by Arsinoe, wife and
sister of Ptolemy Philadelphus, and the poem cannot have been written earlier
than his marriage, in B.C. 266 (?) Nothing can be more gay and natural
than the chatter of the women, which has changed no more in two thousand
years than the song of birds.
G-orgo — Is Praxinoe at home ?
Praxinoe — Dear Gorgo, how long it is since you have been
here ! She is at home. The wonder is that you have got here
at last ! Eunoe, see that she has a chair. Throw a cushion on
it, too.
Q-orgo — It does most charmingly as it is.
Praxinoe — Do sit down.
G-orgo — Oh, what a thing spirit is ! I have scarcely got to
you alive, Praxinoe ! What a huge crowd, what hosts of f our-
1 Shaving in the bronze (and still more, of course, in the stone) age was an
uncomfortable and difficult process. The backward and barbarous Thracians
were therefore trimmed in the roughest way, like JEschines with his long, gnawed
moustache.
2 The Megarians, having inquired of the Delphic oracle as to their rank
among Greek cities, were told that they were absolute last, and not in the
reckoning at all.
IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS. 359
in-hands I Everywhere cavalry boots, everywhere men in uni-
form ! And the road is endless : yes, you really live too far
away !
Praxinoe — It is all the fault of that madman of mine.
Here he came to the ends of the earth and took — a hole, not a
house, and all that we might not be neighbors. The jealous
wretch, always the same, ever for spite !
Q-orgo — Don't talk of your husband Dinon like that, my
dear girl, before the little boy, — look how he is staring at
you ! Never mind, Zopyrion, sweet child, she is not speaking
about papa.
Praxinoe — Our Lady ! the child takes notice ! l
G-orgo — Nice papa !
Praxinoe — That papa of his the other day — we call every
day " the other day " — went to get soap and rouge at the shop,
and back he came to me with salt — the great, big, endless
fellow !
G-orgo — Mine has the same trick, too, a perfect spendthrift
• — Diocleides ! Yesterday he got what he meant for five fleeces,
and paid seven shillings apiece for — what do you suppose ? —
dogskins, shreds of old leather wallets, mere trash — trouble
on trouble. But come, take your cloak and shawl. Let us be
off to the palace of rich Ptolemy, the king, to see the Adonis.
I hear the queen has provided something splendid !
Praxinoe — Fine folks do everything finely.
G-orgo — What a tale you will have to tell about the things
you have seen to any one who has not seen them ! It seems
nearly time to go.
Praxinoe — Idlers have always holiday. Eunoe, bring the
water and put it down in the middle of the room, lazy creature
that you are ! Cats like always to sleep soft ! Come, bustle,
bring the water : quicker ! I want water first, and how she
carries it ! Give it me all the same ; don't pour out so much,
you extravagant thing. Stupid girl! why are you wetting
my dress ? There, stop ; I have washed my hands, as heaven
would have it. Where is the key of the big chest? Bring it
here.
G-orgo — Praxinoe, that full body becomes you wonderfully.
Tell me, how much did the stuff cost you just off the loom?
Praxinoe — Don't speak of it, Gorgo ! More than eight
1 Our Lady here is Persephone. The ejaculation served for the old as well
as for the new religion of Sicily.
360 IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS.
pounds in good silver money, — and the work on it ! I nearly
slaved my soul out over it !
G-orgo — Well, it is most successful ; all you could wish.
Praxinoe — Thanks for the pretty speech ! Bring my
shawl, and set my hat on my head, the fashionable way. No,
child, I don't mean to take you. Boo ! Bogies ! There's a
horse that bites ! Cry as much as you please, but I cannot have
you lamed. Let us be moving. Phrygia, take the child, and
keep him amused, call in the dog, and shut the street door.
[ They go into the street.
Ye gods, what a crowd ! How on earth are we ever to get
through this coil? They are like ants that no one can measure
or number. Many a good deed have you done, Ptolemy ; since
your father joined the immortals, there's never a malefactor to
spoil the passer-by, creeping on him in Egyptian fashion.
Oh ! the tricks those perfect rascals used to play ! Birdr of
a feather, ill jesters, scoundrels all ! Dear Gorgo, what will
become of us ? Here come the king's war horses ! My dear
man, don't trample on me. Look, the bay's rearing ! See, what
temper ! Eunoe, you foolhardy girl, will you never keep out
of the way? The beast will kill the man that's leading him.
What a good thing it is for me that my brat stays safe at
home.
G-orgo — Courage, Praxinoe. We are safe behind them now,
and they have gone to their station.
Praxinoe — There ! I begin to be myself again. Ever since
I was a child I have feared nothing so much as horses and the
chilly snake. Come along, the huge mob is overflowing us.
G-orgo (to an old woman) — Are you from the Court,
mother ?
Old Woman — I am, my child.
Praxinoe — Is it easy to get there?
Old Woman — The Achseans got nto Troy by trying, my
prettiest of ladies. Trying will do everything in the long run.
G-orgo — The old wife has spoken her oracles, and off she
goes.
Praxinoe — Women know everything, yes, and how Zeus
married Hera !
G-orgo — See, Praxinoe, what a crowd there is about the
doors.
Praxinoe — Monstrous, Gorgo ! Give me your hand, and
you, Eunoe, catch hold of Eutychis ; never lose hold of her, for
IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS. 861
fear lest you get lost. Let us all go in together ; Eunoe,
clutch tight to me. Oh, how tiresome, Gorgo, my muslin veil
is torn in two already ! For heaven's sake, sir, if you ever
wish to be fortunate, take care of my shawl !
Stranger — I can hardly help myself, but for all that I will
be as careful as I can.
Praxinoe — How close-packed the mob is, they hustle like a
herd of swine.
Stranger — Courage, lady, all is well with us now.
Praxinoe — Both this year and forever may all be well with
you, my dear sir, for your care of us. A good kind man !
We're letting Eunoe get squeezed — come, wretched girl, push
your way through. That is the way. We are all on the right
side of the door, quoth the bridegroom, when he had shut him-
self in with his bride.
G-orgo — Do come here, Praxinoe. Look first at these em-
broideries. How light and how lovely ! You will call them
the garments of the gods.
Praxinoe — Lady Athene, what spinning women wrought
them, what painters designed these drawings, so true they are ?
How naturally they stand and move, like living creatures, not
patterns woven. What a clever thing is man ! Ah, and him-
self — Adonis — how beautiful to behold he lies on his silver
couch, with the first down on his cheeks, the thrice-beloved
Adonis, — Adonis beloved even among the dead.
A Stranger — You weariful women, do cease your endless
cooing talk ! They bore one to death with their eternal broad
vowels !
G-orgo — Indeed ! And where may this person come from ?
What is it to you if we are chatterboxes ? Give orders to your
own servants, sir. Do you pretend to command ladies of Syra-
cuse ? If you must know, we are Corinthians by descent, like
Bellerophon himself, and we speak Peloponnesian. Dorian
women may lawfully speak Doric, I presume ?
Praxinoe — Lady Persephone, never may we have more than
one master. I am not afraid of your putting me on short
commons.
G-orgo — Hush, hush, Praxinoe — the Argive woman's
daughter, the great singer, is beginning the " Adonis " ; she that
won the prize last year for dirge singing. I am sure she will
give us something lovely ; see, she is preluding with her airs
and graces.
362 IDYLS OF THEOCRITUS.
THE PSALM OF ADONIS.
0 Queen that lovest Golgi, and Idalium, and the steep of Eryx,
O Aphrodite, that playest with gold, lo, from the stream eternal of
Acheron they have brought back to thee Adonis — even in the
twelfth month they have brought him, the dainty-footed Hours.
Tardiest of the Immortals are the beloved Hours, but dear and de-
sired they come, for always, to all mortals, they bring some gift
with them. 0 Cypris, daughter of Dion§, from mortal to immortal,
so men tell, thou hast changed Berenice, dropping softly in the
woman's breast the stuff of immortality.
Therefore, for thy delight, 0 thou of many names and many
temples, doth the daughter of Berenice, even Arsinoe, lovely as
Helen, cherish Adonis with all things beautiful.
Before him lie all ripe fruits that the tall trees' branches bear,
and the delicate gardens, arrayed in baskets of silver, and the golden
vessels are full of incense of Syria. And all the dainty cakes that
women fashion in the kneading tray, mingling blossoms manifold
with the white wheaten flour, all that is wrought of honey sweet,
and in soft olive oil, all cakes fashioned in the semblance of things
that fly, and of things that creep, lo, here they are set before him.
Here are built for him shadowy bowers of green, all laden with
tender anise, and children flit overhead — the little Loves — as the
young nightingales perched upon the trees fly forth and try their
wings from, bough to bough.
O the ebony, O the gold, 0 the twin eagles of white ivory that
carry to Zeus, the son of Cronos, his darling, his cup-bearer ! O the
purple coverlet strewn above, more soft than sleep ! So Miletus will
say, and whoso feeds sheep in Samos.
Another bed is strewn for beautiful Adonis, one bed Cypris keeps
and one the rosy-armed Adonis. A bridegroom of eighteen or nine-
teen years is he, his kisses are not rough, the golden down being
yet upon his lips ! And now, good-night to Cypris, in the arms
of her lover ! But lo, in the morning we will all of us gather with
the dew, and carry him forth among the waves that break upon the
beach ; and with locks unloosed, and ungirt raiment falling to the
ankles, and bosoms bare, will we begin our shrill sweet song.
Thou only, dear Adonis, so men tell, thou only of the demigods
dost visit both this world and the stream of Acheron. For Aga-
memnon had no such lot, nor Aias, that mighty lord of the terrible
anger, nor Hector, the eldest born of the twenty sons of Hecabe, nor
Patroclus, nor Pyrrhus that returned out of Troy land, nor the heroes
of yet more ancient days, the Lapithae and Deucalion's sons, nor the
sons of Pelops, and the chiefs of Pelasgian Argos. Be gracious
now, dear Adonis, and propitious even in the coming year. Dear to
A LAMENT FOR ADONIS. 363
us has thine advent been, Adonis, and dear shall it be when them
comest again.
G-orgo — Praxinoe, the woman is cleverer than we fancied !
Happy woman to know so much, thrice happy to have so sweet
a voice. Well, all the same, it is time to be making for home.
Diocleides has not had his dinner, and the man is all vinegar,
— don't venture near him when he is kept waiting for dinner.
Farewell, beloved Adonis, may you find us glad at your next
coming I
A LAMENT FOR ADONIS.
BY BION.
(Translation of Mrs. Browning.)
[BION was born at Smyrna ; flourished about 280 ; contemporary of Theocri-
tus, and wrote pastorals in the same manner. He was greatly beloved. See
** Lament for Bion " under Moschus.]
I.
I MOURN for Adonis — Adonis is dead,
Fair Adonis is dead and the Loves are lamenting.
Sleep, Cypris, no more on thy purple-strewed bed :
Arise, wretch stoled in black ; beat thy breast unrelenting,
And shriek to the worlds, " Fair Adonis is dead ! "
ii.
I mourn for Adonis — the Loves are lamenting.
He lies on the hills in his beauty and death ;
The white tusk of a boar has transpierced his white thigh.
Cytherea grows mad at his thin gasping breath,
While the black blood drips down on the pale ivory,
And his eyeballs lie quenched with the weight of his brows,
The rose fades from his lips, and upon them just parted
The kiss dies the goddess consents not to lose,
Though the kiss of the Dead cannot make her glad-hearted:
He knows not who kisses him dead in the dews.
in.
I mourn for Adonis — the Loves are lamenting.
Deep, deep in the thigh is Adonis's wound,
364 A LAMENT FOR ADONIS.
But a deeper, is Cypris's bosom presenting.
The youth lieth dead while his dogs howl around,
And the nymphs weep aloud from the mists of the hill,
And the poor Aphrodite, with tresses unbound,
All disheveled, unsandaled, shrieks mournful and shrill
Through the dusk of the groves. The thorns, tearing her feet,
Gather up the red flower of her blood which is holy,
Each footstep she takes : and the valleys repeat
The sharp cry she utters and draw it out slowly.
She calls on her spouse, her Assyrian, on him
Her own youth, while the dark blood spreads over his body,
The chest taking hue from the gash in the limb,
And the bosom, once ivory, turning to ruddy.
IV.
Ah, ah, Cytherea ! the Loves are lamenting.
She lost her fair spouse and so lost her fair smile :
When he lived she was fair, by the whole world's consenting,
Whose fairness is dead with him : woe worth the while !
All the mountains above and the oaklands below
Murmur, ah, ah, Adonis ! the streams overflow
Aphrodite's deep wail ; river fountains in pity
Weep soft in the hills, and the flowers as they blow
Redden outward with sorrow, while all hear her go
With the song of her sadness through mountain and city.
v.
Ah, ah, Cytherea ! Adonis is dead,
Fair Adonis is dead — Echo answers, Adonis !
Who weeps not for Cypris, when bowing her head
She stares at the wound where it gapes and astonies?
— When, ah, ah ! — she saw how the blood ran away
And empurpled the thigh, and, with wild hands flung out,
Said with sobs : " Stay, Adonis ! unhappy one, stay,
Let me feel thee once more, let me ring thee about
With the clasp of my arms, and press kiss into kiss !
Wait a little, Adonis, and kiss me again,
For the last time, beloved, — and but so much of this
That the kiss may learn life from the warmth of the strain !
— Till thy breath shall exude from thy soul to my mouth,
To my heart, and, the love charm I once more receiving
May drink thy love in it and keep of a truth
That one kiss in the place of Adonis the living.
A LAMENT FOR ADONIS. 365
Thou fliest me, mournful one, fliest me far,
My Adonis, and seekest the Acheron portal, —
To Hell's cruel King goest down with a scar,
While I weep and live on like a wretched immortal,
And follow no step ! 0 Persephone, take him,
My husband ! — thou'rt better and brighter than I,
So all beauty flows down to thee : / cannot make him
Look up at my grief ; there's despair in my cry,
Since I wail for Adonis who died to me — died to me —
Then, I fear thee I — Art thou dead, my Adored ?
Passion ends like a dream in the sleep that's denied to me,
Cypris is widowed, the Loves seek their lord
All the house through in vain. Charm of cestus has ceased
With thy clasp ! O too bold in the hunt past preventing,
Ay, mad, thou so fair, to have strife with a beast ! "
Thus the goddess wailed on — and the Loves are lamenting.
VI.
Ah, ah, Cytherea! Adonis is dead.
She wept tear after tear with the blood which was shed,
And both turned into flowers for the earth's garden close,
Her tears, to the windflower ; his blood, to the rose.
VII.
I mourn for Adonis — Adonis is dead.
Weep no more in the woods, Cytherea, thy lover !
So, well : make a place for his corse in thy bed,
With the purples thou sleepest in, under and over.
He's fair though a corse — a fair corse, like a sleeper.
Lay him soft in the silks he had pleasure to fold
When, beside thee at night, holy dreams deep and deeper
Enclosed his young life on the couch made of gold.
Love him still, poor Adonis ; cast on him together
The crowns and the flowers : since he died from the place,
Why, let all die with him ; let the blossoms go wither,
Eain myrtles and olive buds down on his face.
Eain the myrrh down, let all that is best fall a-pining,
Since the myrrh of his life from thy keeping is swept.
Pale he lay, thine Adonis, in purples reclining ;
The Loves raised their voices around him and wept.
They have shorn their bright curls off to cast on Adonis ;
One treads on his bow, — on his arrows, another, —
One breaks up a well-feathered quiver, and one is
366 CASSANDRA'S PROPHECY
Bent low at a sandal, untying the strings,
And one carries the vases of gold from the springs,
While one washes the wound, — and behind them a brother
Fans down on the body sweet air with his wings.
VIII.
Cytherea herself now the Loves are lamenting.
Each torch at the door Hymenseus blew out .
And, the marriage wreath dropping its leaves as repenting,
No more " Hymen, Hymen," is chanted about,
But the ai ai instead — " Ai alas ! " is begun
For Adonis, and then follows " Ai Hymenaeus ! "
The Graces are weeping for Cinyris's son,
Sobbing low each to each, "His fair eyes cannot see us!"
Their wail strikes more shrill than the sadder Dione's.
The Fates mourn aloud for Adonis, Adonis,
Deep chanting ; he hears not a word that they say :
He would hear, but Persephone has him in keeping.
— Cease moan, Cytherea ! leave pomps for to-day,
And weep new when a new year refits thee for weeping.
CASSANDRA'S PROPHECY.
BY LYCOPHRON.
(Translated by Viscount Royston.)
[LYCOPHRON, a Greek critic and tragic poet, born at Chalcis in Euboea, but
an Alexandrian by residence and work, flourished in the reign of Ptolemy Phila-
delphus, B.C. 285-247. Intrusted by him with the arrangement of the comedies
in the Alexandrian library, he wrote a treatise on comedy, but his chief produc-
tion was a body of tragedies forty-six or sixty-four in number. His only extant
work is "Cassandra," an imaginary prophecy by that daughter of Priam con-
cerning the fate of Troy and the Greek and Trojan heroes. ]
HARK, how Myrinna groans ! the shores resound
With snorting steeds, and furious chivalry :
Down leaps the Wolf, to lap the blood of kings,
Down on our strand ; within her wounded breast
Earth feels the stroke, and pours the fateful stream
On high, the fountains of the deep disclosed.
Now Mars showers down a fiery sleet, and winds
His trumpet-shell, distilling blood, and now,
Knit with the Furies and the Fates in dance,
CASSANDRA'S PROPHECY. 867
Leads on the dreadful revelry ; the fields
With iron harvests of embattled spears
Gleam ; from the towers I hear a voice of woe
Rise to the steadfast Empyrean ; crowds
Of zoneless matrons rend their flowing robes,
And sobs and shrieks cry loud unto the night
One woe is past ! Another woe succeeds !
This, this shall gnaw my heart ! then shall I feel
The venomed pang, the rankling of the soul,
Then when the Eagle, bony and gaunt and grim,
Shall wave his shadowy wings, and plow the winds
On clanging penns, and o'er the subject plain
Wheel his wide-circling flight in many a gyre,
Pounce on his prey, scream loud with savage joy,
And plunge his talons in my Brother's breast,
(My best beloved, my Father's dear delight,
Our hope, our stay !) then, soaring to the clouds,
Shower down his blood upon his native woods,
And bathe the terrors of his beak in gore.
Oh God ! what column of our house, what stay,
What massy bulwark fit to bear the weight
Of mightiest monarchies, hast thou o'erthrown !
But not without sharp pangs the Dorian host
Shall scoff our tears, and mock our miseries,
And, as the corpse in sad procession rolls,
Shall laugh the loud and bitter laugh of scorn,
When through the blazing helms and blazing prows
Pale crowds shall rush, and with uplifted hands
And earnest prayer invoke protector Jove
Vainly ; for then nor foss, nor earthly mound,
Nor bars, nor bolts, nor massy walls, though flanked
With beetling towers, and rough with palisades,
Ought shall avail ; but (thick as clustering bees,
When sulphurous streams ascend, and sudden flames
Invade their populous cells) down from the barks,
Heaps upon heaps, the dying swarms shall roll,
And temper foreign furrows with their gore !
Then, thrones and kingdoms, potentates whose veins
Swell high with noble blood, whose falchions mow
" The ranks, and squadrons, and right forms of war,"
Down e'en to earth thy dreaded hands shall crush,
Loaded with death, and maddening for the fray.
But I shall bear the weight of woe, but I
Shall shed the ceaseless tear ; for sad and dawn,
And sad the day shall rise when thou art slain I
368 CASSANDRA'S PROPHECY.
Saddest, while Time athwart the deep serene
Rolls on the silver circle of the nioon.
Thee too I weep, no more thy youthful form
Shall blossom with new beauties, now no more
Thy brother's arms shall twine about thy neck
In strict embrace, but to the Dragon's heart
Swift shalt thou send thy shafts entipped with flame,
And round his bosom weave the limed nets
Of love ; but loathing shall possess thy soul,
Thy blood shall flow upon thy father's hearth,
And low the glories of thine head shall lie.
But I, who fled the bridal yoke, who count
The tedious moments, closed in dungeon walls
Dark and o'er-canopied with massy stone ;
E'en I, who drove the genial God of Day
Ear from my couch, nor heeded that he rules
The Hours, Eternal beam ! essence divine !
Who vainly hoped to live pure as the maid,
The Laphrian virgin, till decrepit age
Should starve my cheeks, and wither all my prime ;
Vainly shall call on the Budean queen,
Dragged like a dove unto the vulture's bed !
But she, who from the lofty throne of Jove
Shot like a star, and shed her looks benign
On Ilus, such as in his soul infused
Sovereign delight, upon the sculptured roof
Eurious shall glance her ardent eyes ; the Greece
Eor this one crime, aye for this one, shall weep
Myriads of sons ; no funeral urn, but rocks
Shall hearse their bones ; no friends upon their dust
Shall pour the dark libations of the dead ;
A name, a breath, an empty sound remains,
A fruitless marble warm with bitter tears
Of sires, and orphan babes, and widowed wives !
Ye cliffs of Zarax, and ye waves which wash
Opheltes' crags, and melancholy shore,
Ye rocks of Trychas, Nedon's dangerous heights,
Dirphossian ridges, and Diacrian caves,
Ye plains where Phorcys broods upon the deep,
And founds his floating palaces, what sobs
Of dying men shall ye not hear ? what groans
Of masts and wrecks, all crashing in the wind?
What mighty waters, whose receding waves
Bursting, shall rend the continents of earth ?
What shoals shall writhe upon the sea-beat rocks ?
CASSANDRA'S PROPHECY. 369
While through the mantling majesty of clouds
Descending thunderbolts shall blast their limbs,
Who erst came heedless on, nor knew their course,
Giddy with wine, and mad with jollity,
While on the cliffs the mighty felon sat
In baleful guidance, waving in his hand
The luring flame far streaming o'er the main.
One, like a sea bird floating on the foam,
The rush of waves shall dash between the rocks,
On Gyrse's height spreading his dripping wings
To catch the drying gales, and sun his plumes ;
But rising in his might, the King of Floods
Shall dash the boaster with his f orky mace
Sheer from the marble battlements, to roam
With ores, and screaming gulls, and forms marine ;
And on the shore his mangled corpse shall lie,
E'en as a dolphin, withering in the beams
Of Sol, 'mid weedy refuse of the surge
And bedded heaps of putrefying ooze ;
These sad remains the Nereid shall inurn,
The silver-footed dame beloved of Jove,
And by th' Ortygian Isle shall rise the tomb,
O'er which the white foam of the billowy wave
Shall dash, and shake the marble sepulchre
Rocked by the broad ^Egean ; to the shades
His sprite shall flit, and sternly chide the Queen
Of soft desires, the Melinean dame,
Who round him shall entwine the subtile net,
And breathe upon his soul the blast of love,
If love it may be called, — a sudden gust,
A transient flame, a self-consuming fire,
A meteor lighted by the Furies' torch.
Woe ! woe ! inextricable woe, and sounds
Of sullen sobs shall echo round the shore
From where Araethus rolls to where on high
Libethrian Dotium rears his massy gates !
What groans shall peal on Acherusian banks
To hymn my spousals ! how upon the soul,
Voice, other than the voice of joy, shall swell,
When many a hero floating on the wave
Sea monsters shall devour with bloody jaws !
When many a warrior stretched upon the strand
Shall feel the thoughts of home rush on his heart,
" By strangers honored, and by strangers mourned ! "
VOL. iv. — 24
370 EPIGRAMS AND EPITAPHS OF CALLIMACHUS.
EPIGRAMS AND EPITAPHS OF CALLIMACHUS.
(Verse translations made for this work.)
[CALLIMACHUS, a celebrated Greek poet, was born at Cyrene in Africa, and
became librarian of the Alexandrian library about B.C. 260, holding the position
till his death about 240. He was regarded as the greatest of Greek elegiac poets ;
and was also a great critic and teacher, several famous men being his pupils.]
LATE hearing, Heraclitus, of thine end,
The tears welled in me as the memory rose
How oft we twain had made the sunset close
Upon our converse ; yet I know, my friend,
Singer of Halicarnassus, that thou must
Long, long ago have rnoldered into dust.
But still thy strains survive, and Hades old,
All-spoiler, shall not grasp them in his hold.
Here dwell I, Timon, the nian-hater : but pass on : bid me
woes as many as you will, only pass on.
A. Doth Charidas rest beneath thee ? B. If you mean the
son of Arimnas the Cyrensean, he rests beneath me. A. O
Charidas, what are the things below? B. Vast darkness.
A. And what the returns to earth? B. A lie. A. And Pluto ?
B. A fable, we have perished utterly. This is my true speech
to you ; but if you want the pleasant style of speech, the Pel-
Isean's great ox is in the shades. (That is, I can lie to you as
well about the immortality of cattle as of men.)
Oft mourn the Samian maids that passed away
Is witty Crethis, graceful in her play,
A fellow-worker brightening all the day,
And free of speech ; but here she soundly sleeps
The slumber fate for every mortal keeps.
Would there had never been swift ships : for then we would
not lament for Sopolis, son of Dioclides. But now he drifts a
corse somewhere in the sea, and in his stead we pass by a name
and a cenotaph.
At dawn we were burying Menalippus, and at sunset the
maiden Basilo died by her own hand. For she had not the
heart to live, when she had placed her brother in the flame.
So the house of their sire Aristippus saw a double woe : and
EPIGRAMS AND EPITAPHS OF CALLIMACHUS. 371
all Gyrene was downcast, when it saw the house of persons
happy in their children bereaved.
From small means I had a light subsistence, neither doing
aught ill, nor wronging any one. O dear earth, if I, Micilus,
have commended aught that is bad, neither do thou lie light
on me, nor ye other gods, who hold me.
The three-years-old Astyanax, while sporting round about
a well, a mute image of a form drew in to itself. And from the
water the mother snatched her drenched boy, examining whether
he had any portion of life. But the infant did not defile the
Nymphs, for, hushed on the lap of his mother, he sleeps his deep
sleep.
Worn out with age and poverty, and no man outstretching
a contribution for misfortune, I have come into my tomb by
degrees with my trembling limbs. With difficulty have I
found the goal of a troublous life. And in my case the cus-
tom of the dead hath been changed. For I did not die first,
and then was buried ; but was buried, and then died.
Bid me not hail, bad heart, but pass on. Thy not laughing
is equal joy to me.
The hunter, O Epicydes, hunts on the mountain crag
For hare and trail of antelope — versed in the rime and the snow;
But if any one call to him, " Here is a stricken and dying stag,'7
He scorns the helpless quarry and lets the vantage go.
Such is my love : it is apt at pursuing what flies it most fleet,
But hastens, unheeding its gaiu, past the captive that lies at its feet.
May you sleep, Conopium,
Flinty-hearted maiden,
As at this cold vestibule
You leave me serenading !
May you sleep, you wicked girl,
The sleep you give your lover :
Pity even in a dream
You cannot discover !
Neighbors pity, but not you,
Even in your slumber :
Soon, though, you'll remember this
When gray hairs you number !
372 THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGO.
THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGO.
BY APOLLONIUS RHODIUS.
[APOLLONIUS was born about B.C. 235, at Alexandria or its neighbor Nau-
cratis. He studied under Callimachus ; they quarreled and lampooned each
other bitterly, and the superior prestige of the master prevented the pupil's
work from gaining recognition ; the latter then removed to Rhodes (whence his
nickname " The Rhodian "), was at once acknowledged the best poet of his day,
and later returned famous to Alexandria, becoming librarian of the great royal
museum there. He died in 181. His chief surviving work is the " Argonautica,"
an epic on the search for the Golden Fleece, imitating Homer with much grace
and force.]
THE HARPIES.
HERE Phineus, son of Agenor, had his home beside the sea ;
he who, by reason of the divination that the son of Leto granted
him aforetime, suffered most awful woes, far beyond all men ;
for not one jot did he regard even Zeus himself, in foretelling
the sacred purpose to men unerringly. Wherefore Zeus granted
him a weary length of days, but reft his eyes of the sweet light,
nor suffered him to have any joy of all the countless gifts, which
those, who dwelt around and sought to him for oracles, were
ever bringing to his house. But suddenly through the clouds
the Harpies darted nigh, and kept snatching them from his
mouth or hands in their talons. Sometimes never a morsel of
food was left him, sometimes a scrap, that he might live and
suffer. And upon his food they spread a fetid stench ; and
none could endure to bring food to his mouth, but stood afar
off ; so foul a reek breathed from the remnants of his meal. At
once, when he heard the sound and noise of a company, he per-
ceived that they were the very men now passing by, at whose
coming an oracle from Zeus had said that he should enjoy his
food. Up from his couch he rose, as it were, a lifeless phan-
tom, and, leaning on his staff, came to the door on his wrinkled
feet, feeling his way along the walls ; and, as he went, his limbs
trembled from weakness and age, and his skin was dry and caked
with filth, and naught but the skin held his bones together. So
he came forth from his hall, and sat down with heavy knees on
the threshold of the court, and a dark mantle wrapped him, and
seemed to sweep the ground below all round ; and there he
sank with never a word, in strengthless lethargy.
But they, when they saw him, gathered round, and were
astonied. And he, drawing a labored breath from the bottom
THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGO. 373
of his chest, took up his parable for them and said : " Hearken,
choice sons of all the Hellenes, if 'tis you in very truth, whom
now Jason, at the king's chill bidding, is leading on the ship
Argo to fetch the fleece. 'Tis surely you. Still doth my mind
know each thing by its divining. Wherefore to thee, my prince,
thou son of Leto, do I give thanks even in my cruel sufferings.
By Zeus, the god of suppliants, most awful god to sinful men,
for Phoebus' sake and for the sake of Hera herself, who before
all other gods hath had you in her keeping as ye came, help me,
I implore ; rescue a hapless wretch from misery, and do not
heedlessly go hence and leave me thus. For not only hath the
avenging fiend set his heel upon my eyes, not only do I drag
out to the end a tedious old age, but yet another most bitter
pain is added to the tale. Harpies, swooping from some unseen
den of destruction, that I see not, do snatch the food from my
mouth. And I have no plan to help me. But lightly would
my mind forget her longing for a meal, or the thought of them,
so quickly fly they through the air. But if, as happens at
times, they leave me some scrap of food, a noisome stench it
hath, and a smell too strong to bear, nor could any mortal man
draw nigh and bear it even for a little while, no, not though
his heart were forged of adamant. But me, God wot, doth ne-
cessity, cruel and insatiate, constrain to abide, and abiding to
put such food in my miserable belly. Them 'tis heaven's decree
that the sons of Boreas shall check ; and they shall ward them
off, for they are my kinsmen, if indeed I am that Phineus, who
in days gone by had a name amongst men for my wealth and
divination, whom.Agenor, my sire, begat; their sister Cleo-
patra did I bring to my house as wife with gifts of wooing,
what time I ruled among the Thracians."
So spake the son of Agenor ; and deep sorrow took hold on
each of the heroes, but specially on the two sons of Boreas. But
they wiped away a tear and drew nigh, and thus spake Zetes,
taking in his the hand of the suffering old man : " Ah ! poor
sufferer, methinks there is no other man more wretched than
thee. Why is it that such woes have fastened on thee ? Is it
that thou hast sinned against the gods in deadly folly through
thy skill in divination ? Wherefore are they so greatly wroth
against thee ? Lo ! our heart within us is sorely bewildered,
though we yearn to help thee, if in very truth the god hath re-
served for us twain this honor. For plain to see are the rebukes
that the immortals send on us men of earth. Nor will we check
374 THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGO.
the coming of the Harpies, for all our eagerness, till that thou
swear that we shall not fall from heaven's favor in return for
this." So spake he, and straight that aged man opened his
sightless eyes and lifted them up, and thus made answer :
" Hush ! remind me not of those things, my son. The son of
Leto be my witness, who of his kindness taught me divination;
be witness that ill-omened fate, that is my lot, and this dark
cloud upon my eyes, and the gods below, whose favor may I
never find if I die perjured thus, that there shall come no wrath
from heaven on you by reason of your aid."
Then were those twain eager to help him by reason of the
oath, and quickly did the young men make ready a feast for
the old man, a last booty for the Harpies ; and the two stood
near to strike them with their swords as they swooped down.
Soon as ever that aged man did touch the food, down rushed
those Harpies with whir of wings at once, eager for the food,
like grievous blasts, or like lightning darting suddenly from
the clouds ; but those heroes, when they saw them in mid air,
shouted ; and they at the noise sped off afar across the sea af-
ter they had devoured everything, but behind them was left an
intolerable stench. And the two sons of Boreas started in pur-
suit of them with their swords drawn ; for Zeus inspired them
with tireless courage, and 'twas not without the will of Zeus
that they followed them, for they would dart past the breath of
the west wind, what time they went to and from Phineus. As
when upon the hilltops dogs skilled in the chase run on the
track of horned goats or deer, and, straining at full speed just
behind, in vain do gnash their teeth upon their lips ; even
so Zetes and Calais, darting very nigh to them, in vain grazed
them with their finger tips. And now, I trow, they would have
torn them in pieces against the will of the gods on the floating
islands, after they had come afar, had not swift Iris seen them,
and darting down from the clear heaven above stayed them with
this word of rebuke, " Ye sons of Boreas, 'tis not ordained that
ye should slay the Harpies, the hounds of mighty Zeus, with
your swords ; but I, even I, will give you an oath that they will
come no more nigh him."
Therewith she sware by the stream of Styx, most dire and
awful oath for all the gods, that these should never again draw
near unto the house of Phineus, son of Agenor, for even so was
it fated. So they yielded to her oath and turned to hasten
back to the ship.
THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGO. 375
THE SYMPLBGADBS.
After this, when they had built an altar to the twelve
blessed gods on the edge of the sea opposite, and had offered
sacrifice upon it, they went aboard their swift ship to row
away ; nor did they forget to take with them a timorous dove,
but Euphemus clutched her in his hand, cowering with terror,
and carried her along, and they loosed their double cables from
the shore.
Nor, I ween, had they started, ere Athene was ware of
them, and forthwith and hastily she stepped upon a light cloud,
which should bear her at once for all her weight; and she
hasted on her way seaward, with kindly intent to the rowers.
As when a man goes wandering from his country, as oft we
men do wander in our hardihood, and there is no land too far
away, for every path lies open before his eyes, when lo ! he
seeth in his mind his own home, and withal there appeareth a
way to it over land or over sea, and keenly he pondereth this
way and that, and searcheth it out with his eyes ; even so the
daughter of Zeus, swiftly darting on, set foot upon the cheer-
less strand of Thynia.
Now they, when they came to the strait of the winding pas-
sage, walled in with beetling crags on either side, while an
eddying current from below washed up against the ship as it
went on its way ; and on they went in grievous fear, and
already on their ears the thud of clashing rocks smote unceas-
ingly, and the dripping cliffs roared; in that very hour the
hero Euphemus clutched the dove in his hand, and went to
take his stand upon the prow; while they, at the bidding of
Tiphys, son of Hagnias, rowed with a will, that they might
drive right through the rocks, trusting in their might. And
as they rounded a bend, they saw those rocks opening for the
last time of all. And their spirit melted at the sight ; but the
hero Euphemus sent forth the dove to dart through on her
wings, and they, one and all, lifted up their heads to see, and
she sped through them, but at once the two rocks met again
with a clash ; and the foam leaped up in a seething mass like a
cloud, and grimly roared the sea, and all around the great
firmament bellowed. And the hollow caves echoed beneath
the rugged rocks as the sea went surging in, and high on the
cliffs was the white spray vomited as the billow dashed upon
them. Then did the current spin the ship round. And the
376 THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGO.
rocks cut off just the tail feathers of the dove, but she darted
away unhurt. And loudly the rowers cheered, but Tiphys
himself shouted to them to row lustily, for once more the rocks
were opening. Then came trembling on them as they rowed,
until the wave with its returning wash came and bore the ship
within the rocks. Thereon most awful fear seized on all, for
above their head was death with no escape ; and now on this
side and on that lay broad Pontus to their view, when sud-
denly in front rose up a mighty arching wave, like to a steep
hill, and they bowed down their heads at the sight. For it
seemed as if it must indeed leap down and whelm the ship
entirely. But Tiphys was quick to ease her as she labored to
the rowing, and the wave rolled with all his force beneath the
keel, and lifted up the ship herself from underneath, far from
the rocks, and high on the crest of the billow she was borne.
Then did Euphemus go amongst all the crew, and call to them
to lay on to their oars with all their might, and they smote the
water at his cry. So she sprang forward twice as far as any
other ship would have yielded to rowers, and the oars bent
like curved bows as the heroes strained. In that instant the
vaulted wave was past them, and she at once was riding over
the furious billow like a roller, plunging headlong forward o'er
the trough of the sea. But the eddying current stayed the
ship in the midst of " the dashers," and they quaked on either
side, and thundered, and the ship timbers throbbed. Then did
Athene with her left hand hold the stubborn rock apart, while
with her right she thrust them through upon their course ; and
the ship shot through the air like a winged arrow. Yet the
rocks, ceaselessly dashing together, crushed off, in passing, the
tip of the carved stern. And Athene sped back to Olympus,
when they were escaped unhurt. But the rocks closed up
together, rooted firm forever ; even so was it decreed by the
blessed gods, whenso a man should have passed through alive
in his ship.
THE FLIGHT OF MEDEA.
jEetes amongst the chosen captains of his people was
devising sheer treachery against the heroes all night in his halls,
in wild fury at the sorry ending of the contest; and he was
very sure, that angry sire, that these things were not being
accomplished without the aid of his own daughters.
THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGO. 377
But upon Medea's heart Hera cast most grievous fear, and
she trembled, like some nimble fawn, which the barking of
hounds hath frighted in the thickets of a deep woodland. For
anon she thought that of a surety her help would never escape
her father's eye, and right soon would she fill up her cup of
bitterness. And she terrified her handmaids, who were privy
thereto; and her eyes were full of fire, and in her ears there
rang a fearful sound; and oft would she clutch at her throat,
and oft tear the hair upon her head and groan in sore anguish.
Yea, and in that hour would the maid have overleaped her doom
and died of a poisoned cup, bringing to naught the plans of
Hera; but the goddess drove her in panic to fly with the sons
of Phrixus. And her fluttering heart was comforted within
her. So she in eager haste poured from the casket all her
drugs at once into the folds of her bosom. And she kissed
her bed and the posts of the doors on either side, and stroked
the walls fondly, and with her hand cut off one long tress and
left it in her chamber, a memorial of her girlish days for her
mother; then with a voice all choked with sobs she wept aloud:
" Ah, mother mine ! I leave thee here this one long tress
instead of me, and go; so take this last farewell as I go far
from hence ; farewell, Chalciope, farewell to all my home !
Would that the sea had dashed thee, stranger, in pieces, or
ever thou didst reach the Colchian land ! "
So spake she, and from her eyes poured forth a flood of
tears. Even as a captive maid stealeth forth from a wealthy
house, one whom fate hath lately reft from her country, and
as yet knoweth she naught of grievous toil, but a stranger to
misery and slavish tasks, she cometh in terror 'neath the cruel
hands of a mistress ; like her the lovely maiden stole forth
swiftly from her home. And the bolts of the doors yielded of
their own accord to her touch, springing back at her hurried
spells. With bare feet she sped along the narrow paths,
drawing her robe with her left hand over her brows to veil
her face and fair cheeks, while with her right hand she lifted
up the hem of her garment. Swiftly along the unseen track
she came in her terror outside the towers of the spacious town,
and none of the guard marked her, for she sped on and they
knew it not. Then marked she well her way unto the temple,
for she was not ignorant of the paths, having wandered thither
oft aforetime in quest of corpses and the noxious roots of the
earth, as a sorceress must ; yet did her heart quake with fear
378 THE VOYAGE OF THE ARGO.
and trembling. Now Titania, goddess of the moon, as she
sailed up the distant sky, caught sight of that maid distraught,
and savagely she exulted o'er her in words like these; "So
I am not the only one to wander to the cave on Latmos ; not I
alone burn with love for fair Endymion ! How oft have I
gone hence before thy cunning spells, with thoughts of love,
that thou mightest work in peace, in the pitchy night, the
sorceries so dear to thee. And now, I trow, hast thou too
found a like sad fate, and some god or sorrow hath given thee
thy Jason for a very troublous grief. Well, go thy way ; yet
steel thy heart to take up her load of bitter woe, for all thy
understanding. "
So spake she ; but her feet bare that other hasting on her
way. Right glad was she to climb the river's high banks,
and see before her the blazing fire, which all night long the
heroes kept up in joy for the issue of the enterprise. Then
through the gloom, with piercing voice, she called aloud to
Phrontis, youngest of the sons of Phrixus, from the further
bank ; and he, with his brethren and the son of ^Eson too,
deemed it was his sister's voice, and the crew marveled
silently, when they knew what it really was. Thrice she
lifted up her voice, and thrice at the bidding of his company
cried Phrontis in answer to her ; and those heroes the while
rowed swiftly over to fetch her. Not yet would they cast
the ship's hawsers on the mainland, but the hero Jason leaped
quickly ashore from the deck above, and with him Phrontis
and Argus, two sons of Phrixus, also sprang to land ; then
did she clasp them by the knees with both her hands, and
spake : " Save me, friends, me most miserable, ay, and your-
selves as well from ^Eetes. For ere now all is discovered,
and no remedy cometh. Nay, let us fly abroad the ship, before
he mount his swift horses. And I will give you the golden
fleece, when I have lulled the guardian snake to rest ; but
thou, stranger, now amongst thy comrades take heaven to
witness to the promises thou didst make me, and make me not
to gc away from hence in scorn and shame, for want of
friends."
So spake she in her sore distress, and the heart of the son
of ^son was very glad ; at once he gently raised her up, where
she was fallen at his knees, and took her in his arms and
comforted her: "God help thee, lady ! Be Zeus of Olympus
himself witness of mine oath, and Hera, queen of marriage,
LAMENT FOR BION. 379
bride of Zeus, that I will of a truth establish thee as my
wedded wife in my house, when we are come on our return
to the land of Hellas."
So spake he, and therewith clasped her right hand in his
own. Then bade she them row the swift ship with all speed
unto the sacred grove, that they might take the fleece and
bear it away against the will of JEetes, while yet it was night.
Without delay deeds followed words ; for they made her
embark, and at once thrust out the ship from the shore ; and
loud was the din, as the heroes strained at their oars. But
she, starting back, stretched her hands wildly to the shore ;
but Jason cheered her with words, and stayed her in her sore
grief.
LAMENT FOR BION.
BY MOSCHUS.
(Translated by Andrew Lang).
[MOSCHUS was a poet of the school of Theocritus, born at Syracuse, and
probably a pupil of Bion, and nourished about B.C. 200 ; only four of his idyls
are extant. ]
WAIL, let me hear you wail, ye woodland glades, and thou
Dorian water; and weep ye rivers, for Bion, the well beloved!
Now all ye green things mourn, and now ye groves lament him,
ye flowers now in sad clusters breathe yourselves away. Now
redden ye roses in your sorrow, and now wax red ye wind-
flowers, now thou hyacinth, whisper the letters on the graven,
and add a deeper ai ai to thy petals; he is dead, the beautiful
singer.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Ye nightingales that lament among the thick leaves of the
trees, tell ye to the Sicilian waters of Arethusa the tidings that
Bion the herdsman is dead, and that with Bion song too has
died, and perished hath the Dorian minstrelsy.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Ye Strymonian swans, sadly wail ye by the waters, and chant
with melancholy notes the dolorous song, even such a song as
in his time with voice like yours he was wont to sing. And
880 LAMENT FOR BlOff.
tell again to the CEagrian maidens, tell to all the Nymphs Bis-
tonian, how that he hath perished, the Dorian Orpheus.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
No more to his herds he sings, that beloved herdsman, no
more 'neath the lonely oaks he sits and sings, nay, but by Plu-
teus's side he chants a refrain of oblivion. The mountains too
are voiceless and the heifers that wander by the bulls lament
and refuse their pasture.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Thy sudden doom, O Bion, Apollo himself lamented, and the
Satyrs mourned thee, and the Priapi in sable raiment, and the
Panes sorrow for thy song, and the fountain fairies in the wood
made moan, and their tears turned to rivers of waters. And
Echo in the rocks laments that thou art silent, and no more she
mimics thy voice. And in sorrow for thy fall the trees cast
down their fruit, and all the flowers have faded. From the
ewes hath flowed no fair milk, nor honey from the hives, nay,
it hath perished for mere sorrow in the wax, for now hath thy
honey perished, and no more it behooves men to gather the
honey of the bees.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Not so much did the dolphin mourn beside the sea-banks,
nor ever sang so sweet the nightingale on the cliffs, nor so
much lamented the swallow on the long ranges of the hills, nor
shrilled so loud the halcyon o'er his sorrows.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Nor so much, by the gray sea waves, did ever the sea bird
sing, nor so much in the dells of dawn did the bird of Memnon
bewail the son of the Morning, fluttering around his tomb, as
they lamented for Bion dead.
Nightingales, and all the swallows that once he was wont to
delight, that he would teach to speak, they sat over against
each other on the boughs and kept moaning, and the birds sang
in answer, " Wail, ye wretched ones, even ye ! "
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Who, ah, who will ever make music on thy pipe, O thrice
desired Bion, and who will put his mouth to the reeds of thine
instrument ? who is so bold ?
For still thy lips and still thy breath survive, and Echo,
among the reeds, doth still feed upon thy songs. To Pan shall
I bear the pipe? Nay, perchance even he would fear to set
LAMENT FOR BlOff. 381
his mouth to it, lest, after thee, he should win but the second
prize.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Yea, and Galatea laments thy song, she whom once thou
wouldst delight, as with thee she sat by the sea-banks. For
not like the Cyclops didst thou sing, — him fair Galatea ever
fled, but on thee she still looked more kindly than on the salt
water. And now hath she forgotten the wave, and sits on the
lonely sands, but still she keeps thy kine.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
All the gifts of the Muses, herdsman, have died with thee,
the delightful kisses of maidens, the lips of boys ; and woful
round thy tomb the loves are weeping. But Cypris loves thee
far more than the kiss wherewith she kissed the dying Adonis.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
This, O most musical of rivers, is thy second sorrow, this,
Meles, thy new woe. Of old didst thou lose Homer, that sweet
mouth of Calliope, and men say thou didst bewail thy goodly
son with streams of many tears, and didst fill all the salt sea
with the voice of thy lamentation — now again another son thou
weepest, and in a new sorrow art thou wasting away.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Both were beloved of the fountains, and one ever drank of
the Pegasean fount, but the other would drain a draught of
Arethusa. And the one sang the fair daughter of Tyndarus,
and the mighty son of Thetis, and Menelaus, Atreus's son, but
that other, — not of wars, not of tears, but of Pan, would he
sing, and of herdsmen would he chant, and so singing, he
tended the herds. And pipes he would fashion, and would
milk the sweet heifer, and taught lads how to kiss, and Love
he cherished in his bosom and woke the passion of Aphrodite.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Every famous city laments thee, Bion, and all the towns.
Ascra laments thee far more than her Hesiod, and Pindar is less
regretted by the forests of Boeotia. Nor so much did pleasant
Lesbos mourn for Alcaeus, nor did the Teian town so greatly
bewail her poet, while for thee more than for Archilochus doth
Paros yearn, and not for Sappho, but still for thee doth Myti-
lene wail her musical lament ;
[Here seven verses are lost.]
382 LAMENT FOR BION.
And in Syracuse Theocritus; but I sing thee the dirge of an
Ausonian sorrow, I that am no stranger to the pastoral song,
but heir of the Doric Muse which thou didst teach thy pupils.
This was thy gift to me; to others didst thou leave thy wealth,
to me thy minstrelsy.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Ah me, when the mallows wither in the garden, and the
green parsley, and the curled tendrils of the anise, on a later
day they live again, and spring in another year; but we men,
we the great and mighty or wise, when once we have died, in
hollow earth we sleep, gone down into silence; a right long, and
endless, and unawakening sleep. And thou, too, in the earth
will be lapped in silence, but the nymphs have thought good
that the frog should eternally sing. Nay, him I would not
envy, for 'tis no sweet song he singeth.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
Poison came, Bion, to thy mouth, thou didst know poison.
To such lips as thine did it come, and was not sweetened?
What mortal was so cruel that could mix poison for thee, or
who could give thee the venom that heard thy voice ? surely
he had no music in his soul.
Begin, ye Sicilian Muses, begin the dirge.
But justice hath overtaken them all. Still for this sorrow
I weep, and bewail thy ruin. But ah, if I might have gone
down like Orpheus to Tartarus, or as once Odysseus, or Alcides
of yore, I, too, would speedily have come to the house of Plu-
teus, that thee perchance I might behold, and if thou singest
to Pluteus, that I might hear what is thy song. Nay, sing to
the Maiden some strain of Sicily, sing some sweet pastoral lay.
And she too is Sicilian, and on the shores by ^Etna she was
wont to play, and she knew the Dorian strain. Not unre-
warded will the singing be; and as once to Orpheus's sweet
minstrelsy she gave Eurydice to return with him, even so will
she send thee too, Bion, to the hills. But if I, even I, and
my piping had aught availed, before Pluteus I too would have
sung.
LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACHJ3AN LEAGUE. 383
LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACH^AN
LEAGUE.
BY POLYBIUS.
(Translated by E. S. Shuckburgh.)
[POLTBIUS, born B.C. 204, was son of Lycortas, a leader of the Achaean
League in its latter days, and himself was one of its active officials from youth.
In B.C. 167 the Romans deported him to Italy as one of a thousand political prison-
ers and kept him there sixteen years. He, however, became tutor to the sons
of ^Emilius Paulus, the conqueror of Macedonia, one of whom by adoption was
the younger Scipio ; and so gained the high respect and friendship of the Scipio
circle and all the foremost men in Rome, which he served in political and mili-
tary capacities. In B.C. 151 he returned to Greece, and as commissioner after
its conquest in B.C. 146 gained perhaps better terms for it. He died about B.C.
122. His great literary work was the "Histories" of Roman affairs from the
beginning of the Hannibalic war (B.C. 220) to the final crushing of Greece and
Carthage (B.C. 146), with a lengthy introduction on the Achaean League and
other matters. Only five of its forty books are preserved in full, with several
long fragments of others.]
WHEN at length the country did obtain leaders of suffi-
cient ability, it quickly manifested its intrinsic excellence by the
accomplishment of that most glorious achievement, — the union
of the Peloponnese. The originator of this policy in the first
instance was Aratus of Sicyon ; its active promotion and con-
summation was due to Philopoemen of Megalopolis ; while
Lycortas and his party must be looked upon as the authors
of the permanence which it enjoyed.
For the first twenty-five years of the league, a secretary
and two strategi for the whole union were elected by each
city in turn. But after this period they determined to appoint
one strategus only, and put the entire management of the
affairs of the union in his hands. The first to obtain this
honor was Margos of Caryneia (B.C. 255-254). In the fourth
year after this man's tenure of the office, Aratus of Sicyon
(born 271) caused his city to join the league, which, by his
energy and courage, he had, when only twenty years of age,
delivered from the yoke of its tyrant. In the eighth year
again after this, Aratus, being elected strategus for the second
time, laid a plot to seize the Acrocorinthus, then held by
Antigonus ; and by his success freed the inhabitants of the
Peloponnese from a source of serious alarm : and having thus
384 LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACILEAN LEAGUE.
liberated Corinth, he caused it to join the league. In his
same term of office, he got Megara into his hands, and caused
it to join also. These events occurred in the year before the
decisive defeat of the Carthaginians (B.C. 241), in consequence
of which they evacuated Sicily and consented for the first
time to pay tribute to Rome.
Having made this remarkable progress in his design in so
short a time, Aratus continued thenceforth in the position of
leader of the Achaean League, and in the consistent direction
of his whole policy to one single end : which was to expel
Macedonians from the Peloponnese, to depose the despots,
and to establish in each state the common freedom which
their ancestors had enjoyed before them. So long, therefore,
as Antigonus Gonatas was alive, he maintained a continual
opposition to his interference, as well as to the encroaching
spirit of the jEtolians, and in both cases with signal skill and
success ; although their presumption and contempt for jus-
tice had risen to such a pitch that they had actually made
a formal compact with each other for the disruption of the
Achseans.
After the death of Antigonus, however, the Achseans made
terms with the ^Etolians, and joined them energetically in
the war against Demetrius; and, in place of the feelings of
estrangement and hostility, there gradually grew up a senti-
ment of brotherhood and affection between the two peoples.
Upon the death of Demetrius (B.C. 229), after a reign of only
ten years, just about the time of the first invasion of Illyri-
cum by the Romans, the Achseans had a most excellent oppor-
tunity of establishing the policy which they had all along
maintained. For the despots in the Peloponnese were in
despair at the death of Demetrius. It was the loss to them
of their chief supporter and paymaster. And now Aratus
was forever impressing upon them that they ought to abdi-
cate, holding out rewards and honors for those of them who
consented, and threatening those who refused with still greater
vengeance from the Achseans. There was therefore a general
movement among them to voluntarily restore their several
states to freedom and to join the league. I ought, however,
to say that Ludiades of Megalopolis, in the lifetime of Deme-
trius, of his own deliberate choice, and foreseeing with great
shrewdness and good sense what was going to happen, had
abdicated his sovereignty and become a citizen of the national
LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACH^AN LEAGUE. 385
league. His example was followed by Aristomachus, tyrant
of Argos, Xeno of Hermione, and Cleonymus of Phlius, who
all likewise abdicated and joined the democratic league.
But the increased power and national advancement which
these events brought to the Achaeans excited the envy of the
^Etolians; who, besides their natural inclination to unjust
and selfish aggrandizement, were inspired with the hope of
breaking up the union of Achaean states, as they had before
succeeded in partitioning those of Acarnania with Alexander,
and had planned to do those of Achaia with Antigonus
Gonatas. Instigated once more by similar expectations, they
had now the assurance to enter into communication and close
alliance at once with Antigonus (Doson — acceded B.C. 229)
(at that time ruling Macedonia as guardian of the young
King Philip), and with Cleomenes, King of Sparta. They
saw that Antigonus had undisputed possession of the throne
of Macedonia, while he was an open and avowed enemy of
the Achseans, owing to the surprise of the Acrocorinthus ; and
they supposed that if they could get the Lacedaemonians to
join them in their hostility to the league, they would easily
subdue it, by selecting a favorable opportunity for their
attack, and securing that it should be assaulted on all sides
at once. And they would in all probability have succeeded,
but that they had left out the most important element in the
calculation, namely, that in Aratus they had to reckon with
an opponent to their plans of ability equal to almost any
emergency. Accordingly, when they attempted this violent
and unjust interference in Achaia, so far from succeeding in
any of their devices, they, on the contrary, strengthened
Aratus, the then president of the league, as well as the league
itself. So consummate was the ability with which he foiled
their plan and reduced them to impotence. The manner in
which this was done will be made clear in what I am about
to relate.
There could be no doubt of the policy of the ^Etolians.
They were ashamed indeed to attack the Achaeans openly, be-
cause they could not ignore their recent obligations to them in
the war with Demetrius : but they were plotting with the Lace-
daemonians ; and showed their jealousy of the Achaeans by not
only conniving at the treacherous attack of Cleomenes upon
Tegea, Mantinea, and Orchomenus (cities not only in alliance
with them, but actually members of their league), but by con-
iv.— 25
386 LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACHAEAN LEAGUE.
firming his occupation of those places. In old times they had
thought almost any excuse good enough to justify an appeal to
arms against those who, after all, had done them no wrong ; yet
they now allowed themselves to be treated with such treachery,
and submitted without remonstrance to the loss of the most im-
portant towns, solely with the view of creating in Cleomenes a
formidable antagonist to the Achseans. These facts were not
lost upon Aratus and the other officers of the league ; and they
resolved that without taking the initiative in going to war with
any one, they would resist the attempts of the Lacedaemonians.
Such was their determination, and for a time they persisted in
it ; but immediately afterwards Cleomenes began to build the
hostile fort in the territory of Megalopolis, called the Athe-
naeum, and showed an undisguised and bitter hostility. Aratus
and his colleagues accordingly summoned a meeting of the
league, and it was decided to proclaim war openly against
Sparta.
[Aratus gave up to Antigonus the citadel of Corinth, making him master of
Greece ; and Cleomenes was defeated at Sellasia.]
This was the origin of what is called the Cleomenic War.
At first the Achseans were for depending on their own re-
sources for facing the Lacedaemonians. They looked upon it
as more honorable not to look to others for preservation, but
to guard their own territory and cities themselves ; and at the
same time the remembrances of his former services made them
desirous of keeping up their friendship with Ptolemy (Euerge-
tes, B.C. 247-222), and averse from the appearance of seeking
aid elsewhere. But when the war had lasted some time, and
Cleomenes had revolutionized the constitution of his country,
and had turned its constitutional monarchy into a despotism,
and, moreover, was conducting the war with extraordinary
skill and boldness, seeing clearly what would happen, and fear-
ing the reckless audacity of the ^Etolians, Aratus determined
that his first duty was to be well beforehand in frustrating their
plans. He satisfied himself that Antigonus was a man of ac-
tivity and practical ability, with some pretensions to the charac-
ter of a man of honor ; he however knew perfectly well that
kings look on no man as a friend or foe from personal consid-
erations, but ever measure friendships and enmities solely by
the standard of expediency. He therefore conceived the idea
LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACELEAN LEAGUE. 387
of addressing himself to this monarch, and entering into friendly
relations with him, taking occasion to point out to him the cer-
tain result of his present policy. But to act openly in this mat-
ter he thought inexpedient for several reasons. By doing so he
would not only incur the opposition of Cleomenes and the
JStolians, but would cause consternation among the Achaeans
themselves, because his appeal to their enemies would give the
impression that he had abandoned all the hopes he once had in
them. This was the very last idea he desired should go abroad;
> and he therefore determined to conduct this intrigue in secrecy.
\
THE BATTLE OF SELLASIA, B.C. 221.
Cleomenes had expected the attack, and had secured the
passes into the country by posting garrisons, digging trenches,
and felling trees ; while he took up position at a place called
Sellasia, with an army amounting to twenty thousand, having
calculated that the invading forces would take that direction :
which turned out to be the case.
The sight of these preparations decided Antigonus not to
make an immediate attack upon the position, or rashly hazard
an engagement. He pitched his camp a short distance from it,
covering his front by the stream called Gorgylus, and there re-
mained for some days ; informing himself by reconnaisances of
the peculiarities of the ground and the character of the troops,
and at the same time endeavoring by feigned movements to
elicit the intentions of the enemy. But he could never find an
unguarded point, or one where the troops were not entirely on
the alert ; for Cleomenes was always ready at a moment's notice
to be at any point that was attacked. He therefore gave up
all thoughts of attacking the position ; and finally an under-
standing was come to between him and Cleomenes to bring the
matter to the decision of battle, /nd indeed, fortune had there
brought into competition two commanders equally endowed by
nature with military skill.
The moment for beginning the ba*fle had come : the signal
was given to the Illyrians, and the w d passed by the officers
to their men to do their duty ; and i », moment they started
into view of the enemy and began assailing the hill. But the
light-armed troops who were stationed with Cleomenes' cav-
alry, observing that the Achaean lines were not covered by any
388 LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACH^AN LEAGUE.
other troops behind them, charged them on the rear ; and thus
reduced the division while endeavoring to carry the hill of
Evas to a state of great peril, — being met as they were on their
front by Eucleidas from the top of the hill, and being charged
and vigorously attacked by the light-armed mercenaries on their
rear. It was at this point that Philopcemen of Megalopolis,
with a clear understanding of the situation and a foresight of
what would happen, vainly endeavored to point out the cer-
tain result to his superior officers. They disregarded him for
his want of experience in command and his extreme youth ; and
accordingly he acted for himself, and cheering on the men of
his own city made a vigorous charge on the enemy. This ef-
fected a diversion ; for the light-armed mercenaries, who were
engaged in harassing the rear of the party ascending Evas, hear-
ing the shouting and seeing the cavalry engaged, abandoned
their attack upon this party and hurried back to their original
position to render assistance to the cavalry. The result was
that the division of Illyrians, Macedonians, and the rest who
were advancing with them, no longer had their attention di-
verted by an attack upon their rear, and so continued their
advance upon the enemy with high spirits and renewed confi-
dence. This afterwards caused it to be acknowledged that
to Philopoemen was due the honor of the success against
Eucleidas.
It is clear that Antigonus at any rate entertained that
opinion; for after the battle he asked Alexander, the com-
mander of the cavalry, with the view of convicting him of his
shortcoming, "Why he had engaged before the signal was
given ? " And upon Alexander answering that " He had not
done so, but that a young officer from Megalopolis had pre-
sumed to anticipate the signal, contrary to his wish : " Antigo-
nus replied, " That young man acted like a good general in
grasping the situation ; you, general, were the youngster."
What Eucleidas ought to have done, when he saw the ene-
my's lines advancing, was to have rushed down at once upon
them, thrown their ranks into disorder, and then retired him-
self step by step to continually higher ground into a safe posi-
tion ; for by thus breaking them up, and depriving them to
begin with of the advantages of their peculiar armor and dis-
position, he would have secured the victory by the superiority
of his position. But he did the very opposite of all this, and
thereby forfeited the advantages of the ground. As though
LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACHAEAN LEAGUE. 389
victory were assured, he kept his original position on the sum-
mit of the hill, with the view of catching the enemy at as great
an elevation as possible, that their flight might be all the longer
over steep and precipitous ground. The result, as might have
been anticipated, was exactly the reverse. For he left himself
no place of retreat, and by allowing the enemy to reach his
position, unharmed and in unbroken order, he was placed at the
disadvantage of having to give them battle on the very summit
of the hill : and so, as soon as he was forced by the weight of
their heavy armor and their close order to give any ground, it
was immediately occupied by the Illyrians ; while his own men
were obliged to take lower ground, because they had no space
for maneuvering on the top. The result was not long in arriv-
ing : they suffered a repulse, which the difficult and precipitous
nature of the ground over which they had to retire turned into
a disastrous flight.
Simultaneously with these events the cavalry engagement
was also being brought to a decision, in which all the Achaean cav-
alry, and especially Philopoemen, fought with conspicuous gal-
lantry, for to them it was a contest for freedom. Philopoemen
himself had his horse killed under him, and while fighting
accordingly on foot received a severe wound through both his
thighs. Meanwhile the two kings on the other hill, Olympus,
began by bringing their light-armed troops and mercenaries
into action, of which each of them had five thousand. Both
the kings and their entire armies had a full view of this action,
which was fought with great gallantry on both sides : the
charges taking place sometimes in detachments, and at other
times along the whole line, and an eager emulation being dis-
played between the several ranks, and even between individuals.
But when Cleomenes saw that his brother's division was retreat-
ing, and that the cavalry in the low ground were on the point
of doing the same, alarmed at the prospect of an attack at all
points at once, he was compelled to demolish the palisade in his
front, and to lead out his whole force in line by one side of his
position. A recall was sounded on the bugle for the light-
armed troops of both sides, who were on the ground between
the two armies ; and the phalanxes shouting their war cries,
and with spears couched, charged each other. Then a fierce
struggle arose : the Macedonians sometimes slowly giving ground
and yielding to the superior courage of the soldiers of Sparta,
and at another time the Lacedaemonians being forced to give
390 LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACH^AN LEAGUE.
way before the overpowering weight of the Macedonian pha-
lanx. At length Antigonus ordered a charge in close order
and in double phalanx ; the enormous weight of this peculiar
formation proved sufficient to finally dislodge the Lacedsemo-
nians from their strongholds, and they fled in disorder and suf-
fering severely as they went. Cleomenes himself, with a guard
of cavalry, effected his retreat to Sparta ; but the same night
he went down to Gythium, where all preparations for crossing
the sea had been made long before in case of mishap, and with
his friends sailed to Alexandria.
After the expulsion of Cleomenes (B.C. 222-221) the Pelo-
ponnesians, weary of the wars that had taken place, and trust-
ing to the peaceful arrangement that had been come to, neglected
all warlike preparations. Aratus, however, indignant and in-
censed at the audacity of the JStolians was not inclined to take
things so calmly, for he had, in fact, a grudge of long standing
against these people. Wherefore he was for instantly summon-
ing the Acheeans to an armed levy, and was all eagerness to
attack the ^Etolians. Eventually he took over from Timoxe-
nus the seal of the league (B.C. 220) five days before the proper
time, and wrote to the various cities summoning a meeting in arms
of all those who were of the military age, at Megalopolis.
Aratus had many of the qualities of a great ruler. He could
speak, and contrive, and conceal his purpose : no one surpassed
him in the moderation which he showed in political contests, or
in his power of attaching friends and gaining allies : in intrigue,
stratagem, and laying plots against a foe, and in bringing them
to a successful termination by personal endurance and courage,
he was preeminent. Many clear instances of these qualities
may be found ; but none more convincing than the episodes of
the capture of Sicyon and Mantinea, of the expulsion of the ^Eto-
lians from Pellene, and especially of the surprise of the Acroco-
rinthus. On the other hand, whenever he attempted a campaign
in the field, he was slow in conception and timid in execution,
and without personal gallantry in the presence of danger. The
result was that the Peloponnese was full of trophies which
marked reverses sustained by him ; and that in this particular
department he was always easily defeated.
[He died in 213, at fifty-eight, and believed himself poisoned by Philip V.,
probably without reason.]
LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACH^AN LEAGUE. 391
In consequence of having been so often elected Strategus
of the Achaean League, and of having performed so many
splendid services for that people, Aratus after his death met
with the honors he deserved, both in his own native city and
from the league as a body. They voted him sacrifices and
the honors of heroship, and, in a word, everything calculated
to perpetuate his memory ; so that, if the departed have any
consciousness, it is but reasonable to think that he feels pleas-
ure at the gratitude of the Achseans, and at the thought of
the hardships and dangers he endured in his life.
PHILOPCEMEN.
Philopoemen was of good birth (born B.C. 252), descended
from one of the noblest families in Arcadia. He was also
educated under that most distinguished Mantinean, Oleander,
who had been his father's friend before, and happened at that
time to be in exile. When he came to man's estate, he
attached himself to Ecdemus and Demophanes, who were by
birth natives of Megalopolis, but who, having been exiled by
the tyrant, and having associated with the philosopher Arce-
silaus during their exile, not only set their own country free
by entering into an intrigue against Aristodemus the tyrant,
but also helped in conjunction with Aratus to put down
Nicocles, the tyrant of Sicyon. On another occasion, also, on
the invitation of the people of Gyrene, they stood forward as
their champions and preserved their freedom for them. Such
were the men with whom he passed his early life ; and he at
once began to show a superiority to his contemporaries by
his power of enduring hardships in hunting, and by his acts
of daring in war. He was, moreover, careful in his manner of
life, and moderate in the outward show which he maintained ;
for he had imbibed from these men the conviction, that it was
impossible for a man to take the lead in public business with
honor who neglected his own private affairs ; nor again to
abstain from embezzling public money if he lived beyond his
private income.
Being then appointed Hipparch by the Achaean league at
this time (210), and finding the squadrons in a state of utter
demoralization, and the men thoroughly dispirited, he not only
restored them to a better state than they were, but in a short
392 LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACHAEAN LEAGUE.
time made them even superior to the enemy's cavalry, by bring-
ing them all to adopt habits of real training and genuine emu-
lation.
[An account of his military reforms is given. He had also rebuked dandy-
ism in the officers, and urged them to transfer the care of their persons
to their armor, which they do.]
So true it is that a single word spoken by a man of credit
is often sufficient not only to turn men from the worst courses,
but even to incite them to the noblest. But when such a
speaker can appeal to his own life as in harmony with his
words, then indeed his exhortation carries a weight which noth-
ing can exceed. And this was above all others the case with
Philopoemen. For in his dress and eating, as well as in all that
concerned his bodily wants, he was plain and simple ; in his
manners to others without ceremony or pretense ; and through-
out his life he made it his chief aim to be absolutely sincere.
Consequently a few unstudied words from him were sufficient
to raise a firm conviction in the minds of his hearers ; for as he
could point to his own life as an example, they wanted little more
to convince them. Thus it happened, on several occasions, that
the confidence he inspired, and the consciousness of his achieve-
ments, enabled him in a few words to overthrow long and, as
his opponents thought, skillfully argued speeches.
So on this occasion, as soon as the council of the league
separated, all returned to their cities deeply impressed both by
the words and the man himself, and convinced that no harm
could happen to them with him at their head. Immediately
afterwards Philopoemen set out on a visitation of the cities,
which he performed with great energy and speed. He then
summoned a levy of citizens (B.C. 208), and began forming
them into companies and drilling them ; and at last, after eight
months of this preparation and training, he mustered his forces
at Mantinea, prepared to fight the tyrant Machanidas in behalf
of the freedom of all the Peloponnesians.
SECOND BATTLE OF MANTINEA.
Machanidas had now acquired great confidence, and looked
upon the determination of the Achseans as extremely favorable
to his plans. As soon as he heard of their being in force at
Mantinea (B.C. 207), he duly harangued his Lacedsemonians at
Tegea, and the very next morning at daybreak advanced upon
LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACILEAN LEAGUE. 393
Mantinea. He led the right wing of the phalanx himself ; his
mercenaries marched in two parallel columns on each side of
his front, and behind them were carts carrying quantities of
field artillery and bolts for the catapults. Meanwhile Philopce-
men, too, had arranged his army in three divisions, and was leading
them out of Mantinea.
Machanidas at first looked as though he meant to attack the
enemy's right wing in column ; but when he got within moder-
ate distance he deployed into line by the right, and by this ex-
tension movement made his right wing cover the same amount
of ground as the left wing of the Achseans, and fixed his cata-
pults in front of the whole force at intervals. Philopoemen
understood that the enemy's plan was, by pouring volleys from
the catapults into his phalanx, to throw the ranks into confu-
sion ; he therefore gave him no time or interval of repose, but
opened the engagement by a vigorous charge of his Tarentines
close to the temple of Poseidon, where the ground was flat and
suitable for cavalry. Whereupon Machanidas was constrained
to follow suit by sending his Tarentines forward also.
At first the struggle was confined to these two forces, and
was maintained with spirit. But the light-armed troops com-
ing gradually to the support of such of them as were wavering,
in a very short time the whole of the mercenaries on either side
were engaged. They fought sometimes in close order, some-
times in pairs ; and for a long time so entirely without decisive
result that the rest of the two armies, who were watching in
which direction the cloud of dust inclined, could come to no
conclusion, because both sides maintained for a long while
exactly their original ground. But after a time the mercenaries
of the tyrant began to get the better of the struggle, from their
numbers, and the superiority in skill obtained by long prac-
tice, the Illyrians and men with body armor, who formed the
reserve supporting the mercenaries of the Achsean army, were
unable to withstand their assault ; but were all driven from
their position, and fled in confusion towards the city of Man-
tinea, which was about seven stades distant.
And now there occurred an undoubted instance of what
some doubt, namely, that the issues in war are for the most part
decided by the skill or want of skill of the commanders. For
though perhaps it is a great thing to be able to follow up a first
success properly, it is a greater thing still that, when the first
step has proved a failure, a man should retain his presence of
394 LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACHAEAN LEAGUE.
mind, keep a good lookout for any error of judgment on the
part of the victors, and avail himself of their mistakes. At
any rate one often sees the side, which imagines itself to have
obtained a clear victory, ultimately lose the day ; while those
who seemed at first to have failed recover themselves by pres-
ence of mind, and ultimately win an unexpected victory. Both
happened on this occasion to the respective leaders.
The whole of the Achaean mercenaries having been driven
from their ground, and their left wing having been thoroughly
broken up, Machanidas abandoned his original plan of winning
the day by outflanking the enemy with some of his forces and
charging their front with others, and did neither ; but, quite
losing his head, rushed forward heedlessly with all his mer-
cenaries in pursuit of the fugitives, as though the panic was not
in itself sufficient to drive those who had once given way up to
the town gates.
Meanwhile the Achaean general was doing all he could to
rally the mercenaries, addressing the officers by name, and urg-
ing them to stand ; but when he saw that they were hopelessly
beaten, he did not run away in a panic nor give up the battle in
despair, but, withdrawing under cover of his phalanx, waited
until the enemy had passed him in their pursuit, and left the
ground on which the fighting had taken place empty, and then
immediately gave the word to the front companies of the pha-
lanx to wheel to the left, and advance at the double, without
breaking their ranks. He thus swiftly occupied the ground
abandoned by his mercenaries, and at once cut off the pursuers
from returning, and got on higher ground than the enemy's
right wing. He exhorted the men to keep up their courage,
and remain where they were, until he gave the word for a gen-
eral advance ; and he ordered Polybius of Megalopolis to collect
such of the Illyrians and body armor men and mercenaries as
remained behind and had not taken part in the flight, and form
a reserve on the flank of the phalanx, to keep a lookout against
the return of the pursuers. Thereupon the Lacedaemonians,
excited by the victory gained by the light-armed contingent,
without waiting for the word of command, brought their sarissae
to the charge and rushed upon the enemy. But when in the
course of their advance they reached the edge of the dike,
being unable at that point to change their purpose and retreat
when at such close quarters with the enemy, and partly because
they did not consider the dike a serious obstacle, as the slope
LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACHAEAN LEAGUE. 395
down to it was very gradual, and it was entirely without water
or underwood growing in it, they continued their advance
through it without stopping to think.
The opportunity for attack which Philopoemen had long
foreseen had now arrived. He at once ordered the phalanx to
bring their sarissse to the charge and advance. The men obeyed
with enthusiasm, and accompanied their charge with a ringing
cheer. The ranks of the Lacedaemonians had been disorganized
by the passage of the dike, and as they ascended the opposite
bank, they found the enemy above them. They lost courage
and tried to fly ; but the greater number of them were killed in
the ditch itself, partly by the Achseans, and partly by trampling
on each other. Now this result was not unpremeditated or
accidental, but strictly owing to the acuteness of the general.
For Philopoemen originally took ground behind the dike, not
to avoid fighting, as some supposed, but from a very accurate
and scientific calculation of strategical advantages. He reck-
oned either that Machanidas when he arrived would advance
without thinking of the dike, and that then his phalanx would
get entangled, just as I have described their actually doing ; or
that if he advanced with a full apprehension of the difficulty
presented by the dike, and then changing his mind and decid-
ing to shrink from the attempt, were to retire in loose order and
a long straggling column, the victory would be his, without a
general engagement, and the defeat his adversary's. For this
has happened to many commanders, who having drawn up their
men for battle, and then concluded that they were not strong
enough to meet their opponents, either from the nature of the
ground, the disparity of their numbers, or for other reasons
have drawn off in too long a line of march, and hoped in the
course of the retreat to win a victory, or at least get safe away
from the enemy, by means of their rear guard alone.
However, Philopoemen was not deceived in his prognosti-
cation of what would happen ; for the Lacedaemonians were
thoroughly routed. Seeing therefore that his phalanx was vic-
torious, and that he had gained a complete and brilliant success,
he set himself vigorously to secure the only thing wanting to
complete it, that is, to prevent the escape of Machanidas. See-
ing, therefore, that, in the course of the pursuit, he was caught
between the dike and the town with his mercenaries, he waited
for him to attempt a return. But when Machanidas saw that
his army was in full retreat, with the enemy at their heels, he
396 LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACILEAN LEAGUE.
knew that he had advanced too far, and had lost his chance of
victory ; he therefore rallied the mercenaries that he had with
him, and tried to form close order, and cut his way through the
enemy, while they were still scattered and engaged in the pur-
suit. Some of his men, understanding his plan and seeing no
other hope of safety, kept by him at first ; but when they came
upon the ground, and saw the Achseans guarding the bridge
over the dike, they lost heart, and the whole company began
falling away from him, each doing the best he could to preserve
his own life. Thereupon the tyrant gave up all hope of mak-
ing his way over the bridge, and rode along the edge of the
dike, trying with all his might to find a place he could cross.
[Philopoemen kills him in a hand-to-hand encounter.]
Simias immediately . . . carried off the tyrant's head,
and then hurried off to overtake the pursuing party, being
eager to give the soldiers ocular evidence of the fall of the
enemy's commander, that they might continue the pursuit of
their opponents with all the more confidence and spirit right up
to Tegea. And this, in fact, added so greatly to the spirit of the
men that it contributed more than anything else to their carry-
ing Tegea by assault, and pitching their camp next day on the
Eurotas, undisputed masters of all the open country. For many
years past they had been vainly trying to drive the enemy from
their own borders, but now they were themselves devastating
Laconia without resistance, without having lost any great num-
ber of their own men in the battle ; while they had killed not
less than four thousand Lacedaemonians, taken even more prison-
ers, and possessed themselves of all their baggage and arms.
Philopoemen and Aristsenus, the Achseans, were unlike both
in character and policy. Philopoemen was formed by nature in
body and mind for the life of a soldier, Aristaenus for a states-
man and debater. In politics they differed in this, that whereas
during the periods of the wars with Philip and Antiochus,
Roman influence having become supreme in Greece, Aristeenus
directed his policy with the idea of carrying out with alacrity
every order from Rome, and sometimes even of anticipating it,
still he endeavored to keep up the appearance of abiding by
the laws, and did in fact maintain the reputation of doing so,
only giving way when any one of them proved to plainly mili-
tate against the rescripts from Rome, — but Philopoemen ac-
cepted, and loyally performed, all Roman orders which were in
LEADERS AND FORTUNES OF THE ACHAEAN LEAGUE. 397
harmony with the laws and the terms of their alliance ; but
when such orders exceeded these limits, he could not make up
his mind to yield a willing obedience, but was wont first to de-
mand an arbitration, and to repeat the demand a second time ;
and if this proved unavailing, to give in at length under protest,
and so finally carry out the order. . . .
Aristaenus used to defend his policy before the Achseans by
some such arguments as these : " It was impossible to maintain
the Roman friendship by holding out the spear and the herald's
staff together. If we have the resolution to withstand them
face to face, and can do so, well and good. But Philopoamen
himself does not venture to assert this : why should we lose
what is possible in striving for the impossible ? There are but
two marks that every policy must aim at, — honor and expedi-
ency. Those to whom honor is a possible attainment should
stick to that, if they have political wisdom ; those to whom it
is not, must take refuge in expediency. To miss both is the
surest proof of unwisdom ; and the men to do that are clearly
those who, while ostensibly consenting to obey orders, carry
them out with reluctance and hesitation. Therefore we must
either show that we are strong enough to refuse obedience, or,
if we dare not venture even to suggest that, we must give a
ready submission to orders."
Philopoemen, however, said that "People should not sup-
pose him so stupid as not to be able to estimate the difference
between the Achaean and Roman states, or the superiority of
the power of the latter. But as it is the inevitable tendency
of the stronger to oppress the weaker, can it be expedient to
assist the designs of the superior power, and to put no obstacle
in their way, so as to experience as soon as possible the utmost
of their tyranny ? Is it not, on the contrary, better to resist
and struggle to the utmost of our power ? And if they persist
in forcing their injunctions upon us, and if by reminding them
of the facts we do something to soften their resolution, we shall
at any rate mitigate the harshness of their rule to a certain ex-
tent, especially as up to this time the Romans, as you yourself
say, Aristaenus, have always made a great point of fidelity to
oaths, treaties, and promises to allies. But if we at once con-
demn the justice of our own cause, and, like captives of the
spear, offer an unquestioning submission to every order, what
will be the difference between the Achseans and the Sicilians or
Capuans, who have been notoriously slaves this long time past ?
398 HELLAS AND ROME.
Therefore, it must either be admitted that the justice of a cause
has no weight with the Romans, or, if we do not venture to say
that, we must stand by our rights, and not abandon our own
cause, especially as our position in regard to Rome is exceed-
ingly strong and honorable. That the time will come when
the Greeks will be forced to give unlimited obedience, I know
full well. But would one wish to see this time as soon or as
late as possible ? Surely as late as possible ! In this, then, my
policy differs from that of Aristsenus. He wishes to see the
inevitable arrive as quickly as possible, and even to help it to
come : I wish to the best of my power to resist and ward it off."
From these speeches it was made clear that while the policy
of the one was honorable, of the other undignified, both were
founded on considerations of safety. Wherefore, while both
Romans and Greeks were at that time threatened vith serious
dangers from Philip and Antiochus, yet both these statesmen
maintained the rights of the Achseans in regard to the Romans
undiminished ; though a report found its way about that Aris-
tsenus was better affected to the Romans than Philopoemen.
HELLAS AND ROME.
BY LORD DE TABLEY.
[JOHN BYRNE LEICESTER WARREN, LORD DE TABLET, was born in 1835,
died in 1897. He gained great note as a collector of and writer on " book plates,"
but was also a poet of fine talent. His books were " Eclogues and Monodramas "
(1864), « Rehearsals " (1870).]
OF Greece the Muse of Glory sings,
Of Greece in furious onset brave ;
Whose mighty fleets, on falcon wings,
To vengeance sweep across the wave.
There on the mounded flats of Troy
The hero captains of the morn
Come forth and conquer, though the boy
Of Thetis keeps his tent in scorn.
There in the sweet Ionian prime
The much enduring sailor goes,
And from the thorny paths of time
He plucks adventure like a rose,
Rome
HELLAS AND ROME. 399
There sits Atrides, grave and great,
Grim king of blood and lust-deeds done,
Caught in the iron wheels of Fate
To hand the curse from sire to son.
A fated race ! And who are these
With viper locks and scorpion rods,
Dim shades of ruin and disease,
Who float around his household gods ?
Alas, for wife and children small :
Blood comes, as from the rosebush bloom ;
The very dogs about his hall
Are conscious of their master's doom.
Or see the fleet victorious steed
In Pindar's whirlwind sweep along,
To whom a more than mortal meed
Remains, the bard's eternal song.
What are the statues Phidias cast,
But dust between the palms of Fate ?
A thousand winters cannot blast
Their leaf ; if Pindar celebrate.
Great Hiero, Lord of Syracuse,
Or Theron, chief of Acragas,
These despots wisely may refuse
Record in unending brass.
For Pindar sang the sinewy frame,
The nimble athlete's supple grip ;
He gave the gallant horse to fame,
Who passed the goal without a whip,
The coursers of the island kings
Jove-born, magnanimously calm:
When gathered Greece at Elis rings
In paean of the victor's palm.
Or hear the shepherd bard divine
Transfuse the music of his lay
With echoes from the mountain pine,
And wave- wash from the answering bay.
And all around in pasturing flocks
His goatherds flute with plaintive reeds,
400 HELLAS AND ROME.
His lovers whisper from the rooks,
His halcyons flit o'er flowery meads :
Where galingale with iris blends
In plumy fringe of lady fern ;
And sweet the Dorian wave descends
From topmost ^Etna's snowbright urn.
Or gentle Arethusa lies,
Beside her brimming fountain sweet,
With lovely brow and languid eyes,
And river lilies at her feet.
Or listen to the lordly hymn,
The weird Adonis, pealing new,
Full of the crimson twilight dim,
Bathed in Astarte's fiery dew.
In splendid shrine without a breath
The wounded lonely hunter lies ;
And who has decked the couch of death ?
The sister-spouse of Ptolemies.
We seem to hear a god's lament,
The sobbing pathos of despair ;
We seem to see her garments rent,
And ashes in ambrosial hair.
Clouds gather where the mystic Nile,
Seven-headed, stains the ambient deep,
The chidden sun forgets to smile,
Where lilies on Lake Moeris sleep.
Slumber and silence cloud the face
Of Isis in gold-ivory shrine,
And silence seems to reach the race
Whose youth was more than half divine.
'Tis gone — the chords no longer glow;
The bards of Greece forget to sing ;
Their hands are numb, their hearts are slow
Their numbers creep without a wing.
Their ebbing Helicons refuse
The droplet of a droughty tide.
The fleeting footsteps of the Muse
We follow to the Tiber side.
HELLAS AND ROME. 401
The Dorian Muse with Cypris ends ;
With Cypris wakes the Latian lyre ;
And, sternly sweet, Lucretius blends
Her praise inspired with epic fire.
To thee, my Themmius, amply swells
Rich prelude to her genial power,
Her world-renewing force, which dwells
In man, bird, insect, fish, or flower.
Supremely fair, serenely sweet,
The wondering waves beheld her birth,
The power whose regal pulses beat
Through every fiber of the earth.
Why should we tax the gods with woe ?
They sit outside, they bear no part ;
They never wove the rainbow's glow,
They never built the human heart.
These careless idlers who can blame ?
If Chance and Nature govern men :
The universe from atoms came,
And back to atoms rolls again.
As earthly kings they keep their state,
The cup of joy is in their hands ;
The war note deepens at their gate,
They hear a wail of hungry lands.
They feast, they let the turmoil drive,
And Nature scorns their fleeting sway :
She ruled before they were alive,
She rules when they are passed away.
Before the poet's wistful face
The flaming walls of ether glow :
He sees the lurid brink of space,
Nor trembles at the gulf below.
He feels himself a foundering bark,
Tossed on the tides of time alone ;
Blindly he rushes on the dark,
Nor waits his summons to be gone.
Wake, mighty Virgil, nor refuse
Some glimpses of thy laureled face :
VOL. iv — 26
402 HELLAS AND ROME.
Sound westward, wise Ausonian Muse,
The epic of a martial race.
Grim warriors, whom the wolf dug rears,
Strong legions, patient, steadfast, brave,
Who meet the shock of hostile spears,
As sea walls meet the trivial wave.
Justice and Peace their highest good,
By sacred law they held their sway ;
The ruler's instinct in their blood
Taught them to govern and obey.
They crushed the proud, the weak they spared,
They loosed the prostrate captive's chain
And civic rights and birthright shared
Made him respect their equal reign.
They grappled in their nervous hands
The natives as a lump of dough ;
To Calpe came their gleaming bands,
To Ister grinding reefs of snow.
And where the reedy Mincius rolled
By Manto's marsh the crystal swan,
There Maro smote his harp of gold,
And on the chords fierce glory shone.
The crested meter clomb and fell ;
The sounding word, the burnished phrase
Rocked on like ocean's tidal swell,
With sunbeams on the waterways.
He sang the armored man of fate,
The father of eternal Kome,
The great begetter of the great,
Who piled the empire yet to come.
He sang of Daphnis, rapt to heaven,
At threshold of Olympian doors,
Who sees below the cloud-rack driven,
And wonders at the gleaming floors.
He sang the babe whose wondrous birth,
By Cumse's sibyl long foretold,
Should rule a renovated earth,
An empire and an age of gold.
THE MILLENNIAL GREECE. 403
He sang great Gallus, wrapt in woe,
When sweet Lycoris dared depart
To follow in the Rhineland snow
The soldier of her fickle heart.
The nectared lips that sang are mute,
And dust the pale Virgilian brows,
And dust the wonder of the lute,
And dust around the charnel-house.
Above the aloes spiring tall,
Among the oleander's bloom,
Urned in a craggy mountain hall,
The peasant points to Virgil's torcb.
The empire, which oppressed the world,
Has vanished like a bead of foam ;
And down the rugged Goths have hurled
The slender roseleaf sons of Rome.
For ages in some northern cave
The plaintive Muse of herdsmen slept,
Till, waking by the Cam's wise wave,
Once more her Lycid lost she wept.
As pilgrims to thy realm of death,
Great Maro, we are humbly come,
To breathe one hour thy native breath,
To scan the lordly wreck of Eome.
And though thy muses all are fled
To some uncouth Teutonic town,
Sleep, minstrel of the mighty dead,
Sleep in the fields of thy renown.
THE MILLENNIAL GREECE.
BY PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY.
(From "Hellas.")
[For biographical sketch, see Vol. 3, p. 311.]
THE world's great age begins anew,
The golden years return,
404 THE MILLENNIAL GREECE.
The earth doth like a snake renew
Her winter weeds outworn :
Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam
Like wrecks of a dissolving dream.
A brighter Hellas rears its mountains
From waves serener far ;
A new Peneus rolls his fountains
Against the morning star ;
Where fairer Tempes bloom, there sleep
Young Cyclads on a sunnier deep.
A loftier Argo cleaves the main,
Fraught with a later prize ;
Another Orpheus sighs again,
And loves, and weeps, and dies ;
A new Ulysses leaves once more
Calypso for his native shore.
Oh, write no more the tale of Troy,
If earth Death's scroll must be —
Nor mix with Laian rage the joy
Which dawns upon the free,
Although a subtler Sphinx renew
Biddies of death Thebes never knew.
Another Athens shall arise,
And to remoter time
Bequeath, like sunset to the skies,
The splendor of its prime ;
And leave, if naught so bright may live,
All earth can take or heaven can give.
Saturn and Love their long repose
Shall burst, more bright and good
Than all who fell, than one who rose,
Than many unsubdued :
Not gold, not blood, their altar dowers,
But votive tears and symbol flowers.
Oh cease ! must hate and death return ?
Cease ! must men kill and die ?
Cease ! drain not to its dregs the urn
Of bitter prophecy !
The world is weary of the past, —
Oh, might it die or rest at last !
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