Plutarch's Morals. Tr. from the Greek by several hands. Cor. and rev. by William W. Goodwin ... With an introduction by Ralph Waldo Emerson

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PLUTARCH'S MORALS,

TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK BY SEVERAL HANDS.

[ \1 . e. M » Hv\ o Y d au rv

CORRFXTED AND REVISED
BY

WILLIAM W. GOODWIN, Ph. D.,

PKOFESSOR OF GREEK LITERATURE IN HARVARD UNIVERSITY.
WITH

AN INTRODUCTION BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON.
Vol. hi.

BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.

1874.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1870, by

LITTLE, BROWN, AKD COMPANY,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.

CAMBRIDGE:
PRESS OF JOHN WILSON AND SCX.

CONTENTS OF VOLUME THIRD.

WITU THE TRANSLATORS' NAMES.

WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID, LIVE CONCEALED.

BT CnABLES WniTAKER, EsQUIRE, SOMETIME FeLLOW OP NeW CoLLEOS IH

Oxford.

Ue who said this had no mind to live concealed, 3. Such men strive hard to be
known, 3. Even a bad man ought not to withdraw from the notice of others, 4.
It is a loss to the world, if virtuous men live concealed, 5. If brave and good
men become known, they are examples to others, G. Virtue by use grows bright;
but human abilities, unemployed, go to decay, 7. Our life and all our faculties
were given to be used, and to make us known, 8. Only a vicious, useless life
should be forgotten, 10.

AN ABSTRACT OF A COMPARISON BETWIXT ARISTOPHANES AND

MENANDER.

By William Baxter, Gext.

Aristophanes suits low and vulgar persons ; Menander the men of culture ; the style
of Aristophanes lacks fitness and propriety; it is harsli, coarse, and obscene;
Menander charms us by his elegance and refinement, 11.

OF BANISHMENT, OR FLYING ONE'S COL^TRY.

Br John Patrick, of tub Charterhouse.

Afflicted persons need to have their grief lightened, not increased, 15. Banishment
may not be an evil of itself, but only as the mind makes it such, 10. If it be an
evil, philosophy may help a man to bear it, 17. If it be an evil, let us consider
how much good remains to balance it, 18. By nature, we have no country, we
are citizens of the world, 18, 19. In whatever jmrt of the world we are, we may
make ourselves at liome, 20. It is folly to suppose that we cannot enjoy life but
whore we were born, 20. A man of skill and ability can thrive anywhere, 21.
Custom makes every thing and every place pleasant, 22. Change of scene may
afford relief, 23. Happiness is not limited to place, 24. The Cyclades are placet
of exile, yet great men have lived there, 24. Homer commends islands as place*
of abode, 25. An island may be a place of much quiet and enjoyment, 25, 26.
Few of the prudent and wise were buried in their own country, 27. Instances
of the fact, 28. Some of the finest human compositions were written in exile,
29. InsUnces of this, 29. It is not ignominious to be banished. 2<J, 30. In-

iv CONTENTS OF VOL. III.

stances prt)tluced, 30, 33. Banishment does not deprive us of our liberty,
31. We are all strangers and pilgrims on earth; the soul being of heavenly
origin, 3i.

OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

By John Thomson, Prebendary of Hereford.

Address to two brotliers, 3G. Nature, by forming some of our most useful members
in pairs, gives a liint of the need of harmony between brothers, 37. Nature ad-
monishes us to prefer a brother to a stranger, 38. Tlie autlior's experience at
Rome, 39. To our parents, next to the gods, is due tlie highest veneration, 40.
Parents are happy in the union of brothers, and sad at their disagreement, 41.
Love between brothers indicates love to parents, 42. Disaffection between
brothers indicates great wrong somewhere, 43. Brothers, once alienated, can
scarce become true friends again, 44. Brothers must bear with one another's
failings ; they should not expect perfection, 45. If your brother has given offence
to your fatiier, intercede in his behalf, 47. If the father be dead, let justice pre-
side in the division of his property, 48, 49. An unequal division produces lasting
hatred and envy among brothers, 50, 51. If one brother excel another in talent
or learning, let him treat the other with condescension and kindness, 52. And
let not the other indulge envy, 53. Be not jealous of a brother's prosperity, 53.
Brothers should assist one another, 54. The elder brother should lead, but not
be exacting and overbearing, 56. The younger should treat the elder with re-
spect and deference, 56, 57. Avoid disagreements about little things, 57. Yield
your wishes for peace' sake, 58. Beautiful instance of fraternal concord from the
history of Persia, 59. Another from the history of Syria, 60. When a brother
has wronged a brother, let him confess it, 61. Kindness of Attains to his brother
Eumenes, 62. If brothers disagree, let each avoid a correspondence with the
other's enemies, 63. Cherish your brother's friends, his wife and children,
64-68.

WHEREFORE THE PYJHIAN PRIESTESS NOW CEASES TO DELIVER
HER ORACLES IN VERSE.

By John Philips, Gent.

A walk in Delphi, 69. The statues there ; the color of the brass admired, 70. The
Corinthian brass, whence its extraordinary lustre and beauty, 70, 71. The at-
mosphere of Delphi, its effect on the brass of the statues, 72. The ancient
oracles of Delphi, whence their rudeness and coarseness, 73. Could verses so
devoid of neatness and elegance proceed from Apollo ? 73. The ideas were
supplied by Apollo : the words came from the priestess, 75. The statue of Hiero
at Delphi : prodigy connected with it, 76. Other similar prodigies, 76. But
these were mere accidents, 77. Strange and unlooked-for events may happen
from natural causes, 78. Even though predicted, it was not from any fore-
knowledge of the prophet but only from plausible conjecture, 78. Conjectures
are sometimes verified, 79. Yet there may be real predictions and actual pro-
phetic inspiration, 80. Instances given, 80. Frogs and water-snakes : what
relation have they to Apollo ? 80-82 ; and why are they represented in the
Corinthian Hall at Delphi? 80-82. Why does the Corinthian Hall bear that

CONTENTS OF VOL. HI. y

name ? 82. The statue of Phryne the courtesan, 83. It was no worse to place
such n statue in the temple of Apollo than to fill it with spoils taken in war, 84.
Yet statues and offerings are sometimes placed there in token of gratitude, 85.
But why does the Pythian priestess no longer deliver her oracles in verse ? 86. In
ancient times philosophers sometimes spoke in verse, while oracles were some-
times delivered in prose, 87, 88. Instances given, 88, 89. Some oracles are now
uttered in verse, 90. A singular anecdote, 90. As the soul acts through the
body as its servant and instrument, so the Deity uses the soul, 91. As the moon
reflects the light of the sun, yet in diminitjlied force, so the Pythia imperfectly
yet really conveys the energy of the Deity, 92. The Deity uses men according
to their ability, 93. The Pythian priestess, having liad a slender education,
cannot speak the language of culture and refinement, 93, 94. The times are much
altered from what they once were. History and pliilosophy do not now take a
poetical form, 95, 96. Poetry has lost its ancient credit, 98. This may account
for the disuse of verse in the Delphic utterances, 98. The ambiguity of the
ancient oracles accounted for, 99. In these times of public tranquillity there la
no need of oracles, 100. Yet let us not blame the oracle, 103.

OF THOSE SENTIMENTS CONCERNING NATURE WITH WHICH
PHILOSOPHERS WERE DELIGHTED.

By John Dowel, Vicar of Melton Mowbray in Leicestershire.

Book I. A threefold division of Philosophy, 104 Natural Philosophy: what is
Nature ? 105. Difference between a principle and an element 1 106. What are
principles ? 106. Opinions of Thales, Anaximander, Anaxagoras, Pythagoras,
Ileraclitus, Epicurus, Empedocles, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, and others, con-
cerning the origin of things, 107-113. How was the world brought into its present
order and condition 1 113. Whether the universe is one ? 114. Whence the knowl-
edge of a Deity 7 115. Different orders and classes of Deities, 117. What is God ?
is he perfect? is he eternal? does he interfere with human affairs ? Opinions of
Pythagoras, of Socrates, Aristotle, Epicurus, 118-122. Of geniuses and heroes, 122.
Of matter : different opinions, 123. Of ideas, 123. Of causes, 123. Of bodies,
124. Of least things in nature, 125. Of figures, 125. Of colors, 125. Of the
division of bodies, 126. Of the mixture of the elements, 120. Of a vacuum, 126.
Of place, 127. Of space, 127. Of time, 127. Of the essence and nature of
time, 128. Of motion, 128. Of generation and corruption, 128. Of necessity,
129. Of the nature of necessity, 129. Of destiny or fete, 180. Of the nature
of fate, 130. Of fortune, 131. Of nature, 131.

Book IL Of the world, koo/xoc, 132. Of the figure of the world, 133. Whether
the world l)e an animal, 133. Whether the world be eternal and incorruptible,
1:53. Whence does the world receive nutriment? 134. From what element did
(iod begin to raise the fabric of the world ? 134. In what form and order was
the world comiKised ? 135. What is the cause of the world's inclination? 136
Of that thing which is beyond the world, and whether it be a vacuum or not,
1150, What parts of the world are on the right hand and what i)art8 are on the
left ? 137. Of heaven, its nature and essence, 137. Into how many circles is
the heaven diKtinguished ? the division of heaven, 187. What are the start
miide of? 138. Of what figure are the stars? 189. Of the order and plftoe
of the stars, 189. Of the motion and circulation of the stars, 140. Whence
do the start receive their light? 140. What are the stars called Dioscuri, or

VI CONTENTS OF VOL. III.

Castor and Pollux ? 141. How stars prognosticate : what is the cause of winter
and summer'? 141. Of the essence of the sun, 141, 142. Of the magnitude
of the sun, 142. Of the figure or shape of the sun, 143. Of the turning and
returning of the sun, or the summer and winter solstice, 143. Of the eclipses of
the sun, 144. Of the essence of the moon, 145. Of the moon's magnitude and
figure, 145. Whence does the moon receive her light ? 145. Of eclipses of the
moon, 146. Of the phases or aspects of the moon, 147. Of the distance of
the moon from the sun, 147. Of the year and the length of the year in the
different planets ; of the great year, 147.

Book III. Of the galaxy, or milky way, 148. Of comets and shooting fires, 149.
Of lightning, thunder, hurricanes, and whirlwinds, 150. Of clouds rain, snow,
and hail, 151. Of the rainbow, 152. Of meteors which resemble rods, 153. Of
winds, 154. Of winter and summer, 154. Of the earth, its nature and magnitude,
154. Of the figure of the earth, 155. Of the site and position of the earth, 155.
Of the inclination of the earth, 155. Of the motion of the earth, 150. Of the
zones of the earth, 156. Of earthquakes and their cause, 157. Of the sea, of
what it is composed, and why it has a bitter taste, 158. Of the ebbing and flow-
ing of the sea, 159. Of the halo, or circle round a star, 160.

Book IV. Of the overflowing of the Nile, 160. Of the soul, 161. Whether the
soul be a body, and what is its nature and essence, 162. Of the parts of the soul,
162. What is the principal part of the soul, and in what part of the body does it
reside 1 163. Of the motion of the soul, 163. Of the soul's immortality, 164.
Of the senses, and their objects, 164. Whether what appears to our senses and
imaginations be realities, 165. How many senses are there 1 165. How the con-
ceptions of the mind are received from the senses, 166. What is the difference
between imagination (^avraai'a), imaginable {(j>avTa(JT6v) , fancy {pavTaanKov), and
phantom {(pavracfia) ? 167. Of our sight, and by what means we see, 168. Of
the images presented to the eye in mirrors, 169, Can darkness be visible to us 1
169. Of hearing, 170. Of smelling, 170. Of taste, 170. Of the voice, 171.
Whether the voice is incorporeal 1 what is it that gives the echo ? 172. By
what means the soul is sensible, 173. Of respiration or breathing, 173. Of the
passions of the body, and whether the soul sympathizes 1 175.

Book V. Of divination, 176. Whence do dreams arise ? 176. Of the nature of
generative seed, 177. Whether the sperm be a body, 177. Whether women
give a spermatic emission, 177. How conception is effected, 178. After what
manner males and females are generated, 178. Of the causes of monstrous
conceptions, 179. How it comes to pass that a woman's too frequent conver-
sation with a man hinders conception, 179. Whence it is that one birth may
give two or three cliildren, 180. Whence arises the similitude of children
io their parents'? 180. How it sometimes happens that children resemble
fctrangers and not their parents, 181. Whence arises barrenness in women, and
impotency in men'? 181. Why mules are barren, 182. Whether an unborn
infant is an animal, 183. How the unborn child is nourished, 183. What part
of the body is first formed in the wombi 184. Whence is it that infants born
in the seventh month are born alive 1 184. Of the generation of animals, 186.
How many species of animals there are, and whether all animals have sense and
reason, 187. What time is required to shape the parts of animals in the womb?
188. Of what elements is each of our members composed? 188. What causes
sleep and death ? 188. When is the perfection of a man dated? 189. Does the
soul sleep or die with the body'? 189. How plants grow, and whether they are
animals, 190. Of nourishment and growth, 191. Whence is it that animals have

CONTENTS OF VOL. HI. vii

appetites and pleasures ? 191. What is the cause of a fever ? 192. Of health,
sickuess, and old age ? 1 92.

A BREVIATE OF A DISCOURSE SHOWING THAT THE STOICS
SPEAK GREATER IMPROBABILITIES THAN THE POETS.

By William Baxter, Gext.

Their philosophy leads to greater delusions than the fictions of the poets ; it is mure
inconsistent with real life and with possible events, 194-196.

SYMPOSIACS.

Bv T. C.

Book I. Question 1. Atafeast is it allowable to talk learnedly and philosophize 1 198.
Long and tedious discourses would be out of place: but there must be conversa-
tion : let it be on useful subjects, 198-200. There are topics fit to be discussed
at table, 200. Easy and plcasiint discourse fits the occasion, 201. Disputation
and pedantry are out of place, 202. 2. Wliether the entertainer sliould seat the
guests, or lot every man take his own place, 203. The order and respect due to
age, station, and relationship, may be observed without offence to any : the best
man should have the best place, 201-20G. Custom and decency should guide,
20u-208. 3. Upon what account is the place at the table, called Consular, es-
teemed honorable? 210-212. Tiiree reasons assigned, 211. 4. What qualifica-
tions should the steward of a feast possess ? 212-21G. lie must be able to bear
wine, have goo 1 nature, and suit his ministrations to the wants and tastes of all,
213-215. He must keep the company in gooil humor, and exclude every thing
unpleasant, 210. 6. Why is it said that Love makes a nianaiwet? 217, 218.
Poetry is the language of strong passion, 218. G. Whether Alexander was a
great drinker, 219-221. 7. Why old men love pure wine, 221. 8. Why old men
read best at a distance, 222-221. 9. Why fresh water washes clothes better than
salt, 224-22G. 10. Why, at Athens, wsis it the privilege of the tribe Aeantis,
that their chorus should never be determined to be the lastl 22G-228.

Book II. Qxestlon. 1. What are the most agreeable qiiestions and most pleasant rail-
lery at an entertainment ? 22J-210. Questions are agreeable when they give a man
opportunity to display his knowledge, to relate his own exploits, or to describe his
own prosp-erity, 230-232. Raillery is pleasant when it refers to faults of which we
arc known to be innocent; when it implies gratitude for a favor bestowed ; and
when it proceeds from evident good humor, 233-210. 2. Why in autumn are
men's stomachs better than in other seasons of the year, 240, 241. 3. Which wa«
first, the bird or the egg ? 242-240. The perfect must come before the imperfect,
244. 4. Is wrestling the oMest exercise? 246, 247. 6. Why, in reckoning up dif-
ferent kinds of exercises, does Homer put them in this order, — Cuffing, Wrest-
ling, Racing? 248,249. 0. Why cannot Fir-trees, Pine-trees, and the like be
gnifted uiKHi ? 250, 251. 7. About the fish called Remora or Echeneis, 252. Why
the horses called XvKoanuAec are very mettlesome, 253. 9. Why the flesh of sheep
bitten by wolves is sweeter than that of others, and the wool more apt to bree<l
lice, 254. 10. Whether the ancients who provided for every one his mess did
better than we who set many to the same dish, 255-258. ^

Yiii CONTENTS OF VOL. III.

Book III. Wine reveals men's secret tlioughts, 259. Question 1. Wlietlier it is
becoming to wear cliaplets of flowers at table, 2G0-2o5. Flowers weie designed
for our pleasure. 262. They have a good medicinal effect, 204. 2. Whether
Ivy is of a hot or cold nature, 265-267. 3. Why women are hardly, old
men easily, intoxicated, 268-270. 4. Whether the temper of women is colder
or hotter than that of men, 270-272. 5. Whether wine is potentially cold, 272-
274. 6. Which is the fittest time for a man to know his wife / 274-279. In the
evening, not in the daytime, 276-278. 7. Why new wine does not intoxicate,
279, 280. 8. Why persons thoroughly drunk appear better than those only half-
drunk, 281. 9. What means the saying. Drink either five or three, but not four?
282, 283. 10. Why flesh stinks sooner when exposed to the moon than to the
sun, 284-287.

Book IV. A feast should be used for the cultivation of friendship, 288. Question 1.
Whether different sorts of food or one^ single dish, fed upon at once, be more
easily digested, 289-295. 2. Why muslirooms are thought to be produced by
thunder, and why it is believed that men asleep are never thunderstruck, 295^
300. 3. Why men usually invite many guests to a wedding supper, 300, 301.
4. Whether sea or land affords better food, 302-303. 5. Whether the Jews abstain
from swine's flesh because they worship that creature, or because they have an
antipatliy against it, 307-310. 6. What God is worshiped by the Jews f Bacchus,
310-312.

Book V. The soul has pleasures peculiar to itself and distinct from the body, 313.
Question 1. Why do we take pleasure in a representation of human suffering,
while we are shocked at the reality ? 314-316. 2. That the prize for poets at the
games was ancient, 316-318. 3. Why was the Pine counted sacred to Neptune
and Bacchus, and why at first was the conqueror in the Isthmian Games crowned
with a garland of Pine, afterwards with Parsley, and now again witli Pine ? 318-
321. 4. Meaning of that expression in Homer, l^coporepov de Kepate,^'' mix the wine
stronger," 321, 322. 5. Concerning those that invite many to a supper, 323-326.
6. Why does a room which at the beginning of a supper seems too narrow for the
guests appear wide enough afterwards 1 326. 7. Concerning those that are said
to bewitch, 327-o32. 8. Why does Homer call the apple-tree uy?.a6KapKov, and
Empeilocles call the apples vTep^/^oia ? 333,334. 9. Why does the fig-tree, hav-
ing itself a sharp and bitter taste, bear sweet fruit? 335. 10. What are those
that are said to be Trepi u?m koI kv/xlvov, and whv does Homer call salt divine ? 336,
337.

Book VI. The memory of a useful discourse gives pleasure long afterwards, 338,
339. Question 1. Why are those that are fasting more inclined to drink than to
eat? 339, 340. 2. Whether hunger and thirst are caused by want of nourish-
ment or by a change in the pores or passages of the body, 341-344. 3. Why is
hunger allayed by drinking, but thirst increased by eating ? 345, 346. 4. Why
is a bucket of water drawn out of a well, and left to stand all night in the air that
is in the well, colder next morning than the restof tlie water? 347, 348. 6. Why
do i)ebblestones and leaden bullets, thrown into the water, make it more cold ?
348, 349. 6. What is the reason that snow is preserved by covering it with chaff
and cloths? 350,351. 7. Ought wine to be strained? 351-354. 8. What is the
cause of Bulimy, or the greedy disease? 355-358. 9. Why does Homer appro-
priate to each particular liquid a special epithet, and use none when speaking of
oil ? 359, 360. 10. Why is the flesh of sacrificed animals, after being awhile upon
a fig-tree, more tender than before? 361, 362.

CONTENTS OF VOL. III. ISL

Book VII. Qitestion 1. Plato defended for saying that drink passeth throught the
lungs, 363-3G7. 2. What liuniored man is he wliora Plato calls KepaajSoTio^, and
why do seeds that fall on oxen's horns become urepufiova 1 368-370. 3. Why is
the middle of wine, the top of oil, and the bottom of honey the best ? 370, 371.
4. Why did the ancient Romans remove the table before all the meat was eaten,
and why not extinguish the lamp ? 372-375. To leave something for the ser-
vants, 374. " Leave something for the Medes " : a proverb in Boeotia, 376.
6. That we ought carefully to preserve ourselves from pleasures arising from bad
music ; and how it may be done, 376-380. Bad music, the loose ode, enervates
and debauches the mind. Have recourse to that which is pure and good, ih.
6. Concerning those guests that are called shadows, whether being invited by
some of the invited guests, but not by the entertainer, they ought to go to the
house; and if so, in what cases? 381-387. Such a person is placed at a disad-
vantage on joining the company, and why, 382. But an invited guest, who has
liberty to invite others may do so, yet with due caution and discretion ; and the
others may go, 385, 386. 7. Whether flute-girls may be admitted to a feast, 387,
388. 8. What sort of music is fittest for an entertainment? 389-394. Not
tragedy, it is too grave and dignified, 390. But the New Comedy, as that of
Menander, or a song with pipe or liarp, 391, 392. 9. That the Greeks, as well
as the Persians, were accustomed to debate state affairs at their entertainments,
394. 10. Was that a good custom ? 395-398. Are men wise over their wine ?
396. Men may drink freely, and yet not lose their wit, 397.

Book VIII. In our entertainments we may and should use learned and philosophica-
discourse, 399 Question 1. On the birthdays of famous men, and the generation
of the Gods, 400, 401. 2. AVhat is Plato's meaning when he says tliat God all
ways plays the geometer ? 402-406. 3. Why sounds seem louder in the night
than in the day. 406-410. 4. In the Sacred Games one sort of garland was
given in one, and another in another: why was the Palm common to all? and
why call the great dates NlkoT^ooi? 411-114. 5. Why do those who sail upon the
Nile take up the water they are to use before day ? 415, 416. 6. Concerning
lliose who come late to an entertaiimient, and the derivation of the words
iucpuTtaua, ufnarnv, and Mnvov, 417-419. The Latin terms compared, 418. 7.
Concerning the Symbols of Pythagoras : Receive not a swallow into your
house ; as soon as you are risen ruffle the bedclothes ; and some other precepts :
what is their meaning? 419-421. 8. Why the Pythagoreans do not catfish,
422-426. 9. Whether there can be new diseases, and how caused, 426-432. On
the negative, it is said the course of Nature is invariable, 427. The affirmative
alleges that the causes of disease may vary, become intense and complicated,
430. Alterations in diet may niise new diseases, 432. 10. Why we give least
credit to dreams in Autumn, 432-435.

Book IX. Quexiion 1. Concerning verses fitly applied, and the reverse, 436-438.
2, 3. Why is Alpha placed first in the alphabet ? and what is the proportion be-
tween the number of vowels and semi- vowels ? 438-441. 4. Which of the hands
of Venus did Diomedes wound? 441. 5. Why Plato says that the soul of Ajax
came to draw her lot in the twentieth place in hell, 442, 443. 6. What is meant
by the fable about the defeat of Neptune ? and why do the Athenians omit the
second day of the month Boiidromion ? 444, 445. 12. Ia it proliable that the
nunilcr of the stars is even or odd ? 446. 13. A moot-point from the third Ixwk
of the Iliad, 416-450. 14. Observations about the number of the Muses, and
their relation to human affJurt, 460-456. 16. That tliero are three parta in

X CONTENTS OF VOL. III.

dancing, motion, gesture, and representation : what each part is, and what is com
mon to both poetry and dancing, 457-460.

OF MORAL VIRTUE.

Br C. H., Esquire.

Plan of the Essay, 461. Opinions of philosophers : of Menedemus, Ariston, Zeno,
Clirysippus, 462. Opinion of Plato, 464 ; of Aristotle, 465. The soul has a
twofold nature, 463. It is composed of intellect or reason, and the passions, 465.
The reason and an intelligent judgment must govern, 466. The passions by
long training becoming subject to the reason, the result is moral virtue, 468.
Science and Prudence, what, and their objects, 469. How science and prudence
differ, 461), 470. Prudence has need of deliberation, 470. It corrects the excesses
and defects of passion, 470. Moral virtue is the mean between excess and defect,
47L Yet it needs the ministry of the passions, 471. Mean and mediocrity not
tlie same thing, 471. The idea further illustrated, 472. Continence distin-
guished from temperance, 473. Incontinence and intemperance, 474. Illus-
trations, 475, 476. Moral virtue is firm and immovable, 478. The passions are
subject to frequent and sudden changes, 478. When reason is overborne by
passion, there is a sense of guilt, 479. Reason is not at variance with itself, 480
The soul is at peace, where passion does not interpose, 480. Reason tends to
what is true and just, 480. Reason, left to itself, embraces the truth, 481. It is
Dften hindered by passion, 481. Reason and passion often divide the soul, 482.
They often harmonize and concur, 483. Some philosophers affirm that reason
and passion do not materially differ, 478. Tiieir opinions controverted, 479, et seq.
Their improper use of terms, 484. The passions differ with their occasions, 486.
Men may mistake in their judgments, 487. The passions, deriving their strength
from the body, are powerful in the young, 489. The state of the body cor-
responds with the state of the passions, 490. We should not seek to exterminate
the passions, but to regulate and control them, 490. The passions have their
proper use, 491. These considerations are of importance in the government of
States, and in the education of the young, 493, 494.

NATURAL QUESTIONS

By R. Brown, M.L.

1. What is the reason that sea-water nourishes not trees ? 495. 2. Why do trees
and seeds thrive better with rain than with watering? 496. 3. Why do herdsmen
place salt before cattle? 497. 4. Why is the water of thunder-showers fitter to
water seeds? 498. 5. How comes it to pass that, since there are eight kinds of
tastes, we find salt in no kind of fruit ? 498, 499. 6. Why, if a man frequently
pass along dewy trees, are those limbs that touch the wood seized with leprosy 1
600. 7. Why in winter is the sailing of ships more slow in rivers than in the
sea ? 500. 8. Why, since all other liquors upon moving and stirring about grow
cold, does the sea by being tossed in waves grow hot? 601. 9. Why in winter is
the saltness of the sea diminished ? 501. 10. Why do men pour sea -water into
wine, and in defect thereof cast in some Zacynthian earth ? 502. 11. AVhat is the
cause of sea-sickness ? 502. 12. Why does pouring oil on the sea calm its
waves ? 603. 13. Why do fishermen's nets decay more in winter than in summer?
603. 14. Why do the Dorians pray for bad making of their hay ? 604. 15. Wliy

CONTENTS OF VOL. HI. XI

is a rich soil fruitful of wheat, and a thin soil of barley 1 504. 16. Why is it
said, Sow wheat in clay and barley in dust? 605. 17. Why is the hair of horses,
rather than of mares, used for fishing-Unes ? 505. 18. Why is the sight of a
cuttle-fish the sign of a great storm 1 505. 19. Wliy does the polypus change
color ? 506. 20. Why are the tears of wild boars sweet, and the tears of the
hart salt and hurtful? 507. 21. Why do tame sows farrow often, some at one
time, and some at other times ; and the wild but once a year, and all about
the same time? 508. 22. Why are the paws of bears the sweetest and pleasant-
est food ? 509. 23. Why are the tracks of wild beasts found with so much
difficulty in spring? 509. 24. Why are their tracks worse scented about the full
moon? 509. 25. Why does frost make himting difficult? 510. 26. Why do
brutes, when sick, seek appropriate remedies ? 510. 27. Why does must, if the
vessel stand in the cold, long continue sweet ? 511. 28. Wliy, of all wild beasts,
does not the boar bite the toil, though wolves and foxes do this ? 512. 29. Why
do we admire natural hot baths, and not cold ? 512. 30. Why are vines which
are rank of leaves, but otherwise fruitless, said rpaydvl 513. 81. Why does the
vine irrigated with wine, especially its own wine, perish? 513. 32. Why, of all
trees, does the palm alone bend upward when a weight is laid on it ? 514. 33. Why
is pit-water less nutritive than that which comes from springs, or from the clouds ?
514. 34. Why is the west wind commonly held to be the swiftest ? 515. 85. Why
cannot bees abide smoke? 515. 36. Why will bees sooner sting persons who
have lately committed whoredom? 516. 87. Why do dogs follow after a stone
thrown at them and bite it, letting alone the man who flung it ? 516. 88. Why
at a certain time of the year do all she-wolves bring forth whelps within the com-
pass of twelve days ? 517. 39. How comes it that water, apparently white at the
top, is black at the bottom ? 518

PLUTAHCH'S MOEALS.

I

PLUTARCH'S MORALS.

I

WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID, LIVE CON-'

CEALED.

1. It is sure, he that said it had no mind to live con-
cealed, for he spoke it out of a design of being taken
notice of for his veiy saying it, as if he saw deeper into
things than every vulgar eye, and of purchasing to him-
self a reputation, how unjustly soever, by inveigling others
into obscurity and retu'ement. But the poet says right :

I liate tlie man who makes pretence to wit,
Yet in liis own concerns waives using it.*

For they tell us of one Philoxenus the son of Eryxis,
and Gnatho the Sicilian, who were so over greedy after
any dainties set before them, that they would blow their
nose in the dish, whereby, turning the stomachs of the
other guests, they themselves went away fuller crammed
with the rarities. Thus fares it with all those whose ap-
petite is always lusting and insatiate after glory. They
bespatter the repute of others, as their rivals in honor,
that they themselves may advance smoothly to it and
witliout a rub. They do like watermen, who look astern
while they row the boat ahead, still so managing the
strokes of the oar that the vessel may make on to its
port. So these men who recommend to us such kind of
precepts row hard after glory, but with their face another
way. To what purpose else need this have been said ] —
why committed to writing and handed down to posterity ]

• From Euripides, Frag. 897.

4 WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID,

Would he live incognito to his contemporaries, who is so
eager to be known to succeeding ages 1

2. But besides, doth not the thing itself sound ill, to
bid you keep all your lifetime out of the world's eye, as
if you had rifled the sepulchres of the dead, or done
such like detestable villany which you should hide for ]
What ! is it grown a crime to live, unless you can keep all
others from knowing you do so ? For my part, I should
pronounce that even an ill-liver ought not to withdraw
himself from the converse of others. No ; let him be
known, let him be reclaimed, let him repent ; so that, if
you have any stock of virtue, let it not lie unemployed, or
if you have been viciously bent, do not by flying the means
continue unreclaimed and uncured. Point me out there-
fore and distinguish me the man to whom you adopt this
admonition. If to one devoid of sense, goodness, or wit,
it is like one that should caution a person under a fever or
raving madness not to let it be known where he is, for fear
the physicians should find him, but rather to skulk in
some dark corner, where he and his diseases may escape
discovery. So you who labor under that pernicious, that
scarce curable disease, wickedness, are by parity of reason
bid to conceal your vices, your envyings, your superstiticns,
like some disorderly or feverous pulse, for fear of falling
into the hands of them who might prescribe well to you
and set you to rights again. Whereas, alas ! in the days
of remote antiquity, men exhibited the sick to public view,
when every charitable passenger who had labored himself
imder the like malady, or had experienced a remedy on them
that did, communicated to the diseased all the receipts he
knew ; thus, say they, skill in physic was patched up by
multiplied experiments, and grew to a mighty art. At the
same rate ought all the infirmities of a dissolute life, all
the irregular passions of the soul, to be laid open to the
view of all, and undergo the touch of every skilful hand,

LIVE CONCEALED.

that all who examine into the temper may be able to
prescribe accordingly. For instance, doth anger trans-
port you ? The advice in that case is, Shun the occasions
of it. Doth jealousy torment you ] Take this or that
course. Art thou love-sick? It hath been my own case
and infirmity to be so too ; but I saw the folly of it, I re-
pented, I grew wiser. But for those that lie, denying,
hiding, mincing, and palliating their vices, it makes them
but take the deeper dye, it rivets their faults into them.

3. Again, if on the other hand this advice be calculated
for the owners of worth and virtue, if they must be con-
demned to privacy and live unknown to the world, you do
in effect bid Epaminondas lay down his arms, yo\i bid Ly-
curgus rescind his laws, you bid Thrasybulus spare the
tyrants, in a word, you bid Pythagoras forbear his instruc-
tions, and Socrates his reasonings and discourses ; nay,
you lay injunctions chiefly upon yourself, Epicurus, not
to maintain that epistolary correspondence with your Asiatic
friends, not to entertain your Egyptian visitants, not to be
tutor to the youth of Lampsacus, not to present and send
about your books to women as well as men, out of an
ostentation of some wisdom in yourself more than vulgar,
not to leave such particular directions about your funeral
And in fine, to what purpose, Epicurus, did you keep a
public table ] Why that concourse of friends, that resort
of fair young men, at your doors? Why so many thou-
sand lines so elaborately composed and writ upon Metro-
dorus, Aristobulus, and Chaeredemus, that death itself
might not rob us of them ; if virtue must be doomed to ob-
livion, art to idleness and inactivity, philosophy to silence,
and all a man's happiness must be forgotten ?

4. But if indeed, in the state of life we are under, you
will needs seclude us from all knowledge and acquaintance
with the world (as men shut light from their entertainments
and drinking-bouts, for which they set the night apart), let

6 WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID,

it be only such who make it the whole business of life to
heap pleasure upon pleasure ; let such live recluses all
then- days. Were I, in truth, to wanton away my days in
the arms of your miss Hedeia, or spend them with Leon-
tium, another dear of yours, — were I to bid defiance to
virtue, or to place all that's good in the gratification of
the fiesh or the ticklings of a sensual pleasure, — these
accursed actions and rites would need darkness and an
eternal night to veil them ; and may they ever be doomed
to oblivion and obscurity. But what should they hide their
heads for, who with regard to the works of nature own
and magnify a God, who celebrate his justice and provi-
dence, who in point of morality are due observers of the
law, promoters of society and community among all men,
and lovers of the public-weal, and who in the administration
thereof prefer the common good before private advantage ?
Why should such men cloister up themselves, and live re-
cluses from the world 1 For would you have them out of
the way, for fear they should set a good example, and al-
lure others to virtue out of emulation of the precedent ] If
Themistocles's valor had been unknown at Athens, Greece
had never given Xerxes that repulse. Had not Camillus
shown himself in defence of the Romans, their city Home
had no longer stood. Sicily had not recovered her liberty,
had Plato been a stranger to Dion. Truly (in my mind)
to be known to the world under some eminent character
not only carries a reputation with it, but makes the virtues
in us become practical like light, which renders us not
only visible but useful to others. Epaminondas, during the
first forty years of his life, in which no notice was taken of
him, was an useless citizen to Thebes ; but afterwards, when
he had once gained credit and the government amongst the
Thebans, he both rescued them from present destruction,
and freed even Greece herself from imminent slavery, ex-
hibiting (like light, which is in its own nature glorious, and

LIVE CONCEALED. T

to others beneficial at the same time) a valor seasonably
active and serviceable to his country, yet interwoven with
his own laurels. For

Virtue, like finest brass, by use grows bright.*

And not our houses alone, when (as Sophocles has it) they
stand long untenanted, i*un the faster to ruin ; but men's
natural parts, lying unemployed for lack of acquaintance
with the world, contract a kind of filth or rust and crazi-
ness thereby. For sottish ease, and a life wholly sedentary
and given up to idleness, spoil and debilitate not only the
body but the soul too. And as close waters shadowed over
by bordering trees, and stagnated in default of springs to
supply current and motion to them, become foul and cor-
rupt ; so, methinks, is it with the innate faculties of a
dull unstirring soul, — whatever usefulness, whatever seeds
of good she may have latent in her, yet when she puts
not these powers into action, when once they stagnate,
they lose their vigor and run to decay.

5. See you not how on night's approach a sluggish
drowsiness oft-times seizes the body, and sloth and inac
tiveness surprise the soul, and she finds herself heavy and
quite unfit for action ] Have you not then observed how
a man s reason (like fire scarce visible and just going out)
retires into itself, and how by reason of its inactivity and
dulness it is gently agitated by divers fantastical imagina-
tions, so that nothing remains but some obscure indications
that the man is alive.

But when the orient sun brings back the day,
It chases night and dreamy sleep away.

It doth, as it were, bring the world together again, and
with his returned light call up and excite all mankind to
thought and action ; and, as Democritus tells us, men set-
ting themselves every new-spring day to endeavors of

• Sophocles, Frag. 779.

8 WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID,

mutual beneficence and service one towards another, as if
they were fastened in the straitest tie together, do all of
them, some from one, some from another quarter of the
world, rouse up and awake to action.

6. For my own part, I am fully persuaded that life itself,
and our being born at the rate we are, and the origin we
share in common with all mankind, were vouchsafed us by
God to the intent we should be known to one another.
It is true, whilst man, in that little part of him, his soul,
lies struggling and scattered in the vast womb of the
universe, he is an obscure and unknown being ; but, when
once he gets hither into this world and puts a body on, he
grows illustrious, and from an obscure becomes a conspic-
uous being ; from an hidden, an apparent one. For
knowledge does not lead to essence (or being), as some
maintain ; but the essence of things rather conducts us
into the knowledge and understanding thereof. For the
birth or generation of individuals gives not any being
to them which they had not before, but brings that in-
dividual into view ; as also the corruption or death of
any creature is not its annihilation or reduction into mere
nothing, but rather a sending the dissolved being into an
invisible state. Hence is it that many persons (conforma-
bly to their ancient country laws), taking the Sun to be
Apollo, gave him the names of Delius and Py thins (that is,
conspicuous and known). But for him, be he either God
or Daemon, who hath dominion over the opposite portion,
the infernal regions, they call him Hades (that is, invisible),

Emperor of gloomy night and lazy sleep,

for that at our death and dissolution we pass into a state
of invisibility and beyond the reach of mortal eyes. I am
indeed of opinion, that the ancients called man Phos (that
is, light), because from the affinity of their natures strong
desires are bred in mankind of continually seeing and

LIVE CONCEALED. 9

being seen to each other. Nay, some philosophers hold
the soul itself to be essentially light ; which they would
prove by this among other arguments, that nothing is so
insupportable to the mind of man as ignorance and ob-
scurity. Whatever is destitute of light she avoids, and
darkness, the harbor of fears and suspicions, is uneasy to
her ; whereas, on the other hand, light is so delicious, so
desirable a thing, that without that, and wrapped in dark-
ness, none of the delectables in nature are pleasing to her.
This makes all our very pleasures, all our diversions and
enjoyments, charming and grateful to us, like some univer-
sal relishing ingredients, mixed with the others to make
them palatable. But he that casts himself into obscure
retirements, he that sits surrounded in darkness and buries
himself alive, seems, in my mind, to repine at his own
birth and grudge he ever had a being.

7. And yet it is certain, in the regions prepared for
pious souls, they conserve not only an existence in (or
agreeable to) nature, but are encircled with glory.

There the sun with glorious ray,
Chasing shady night away,
Makes an everlasting day ;
Wliere souls in fields of purple roses play ;
, Others in verdant plains disport,

Crowned with trees of every sort,
Trees that never fruit do bear.
But always in the blossom are.*

The rivers there without rude murmurs gently glide, and
there they meet and bear each other company, passing
away their time in commemorating and running over things
past and present.

A third state there is of them who have led vicious and
wicked lives, which precipitates souls into a kind of hell
and miserable abyss,

Where sluggish streams of sable night
Spout floods of darkness infinite.*

This is the receptacle of the tormented ; here lie they hid

• From Pindar.

10 WHETHER 'TWERE RIGHTLY SAID, LITE CONCEALED.

under the veils of eternal ignorance and oblivion. For
vultures do not everlastingly gorge themselves upon the
liver of a wicked man, exposed by angry Gods upon the
earth, as poets fondly feign of Prometheus. For either
rottenness or the funeral pile hath consumed that long ago.
Nor do the bodies of the tormented undergo (as Sisyphus
is fabled to do) the toil and pressure of weighty burdens ;

For strength no longer flesh and bone sustains.*

There are no reliques of the body in dead men which
stripes and tortures can make impressions on ; but in very
truth the sole punishment of ill-livers is an inglorious
obscurity, or a final abolition, which through oblivion hurls
and plunges them into deplorable rivers, bottomless seas,
and a dark abyss, involving all in uselessness and inactivity,
absolute ignorance and obscurity, as their last and eternal
doom.

* Odyss. XI. 219.

AN ABSTRACT OF A COMPARISON BETWIXT ARIS-
TOPIIANES AND MENANDER.

1. To speak in sum and in general, he prefers Menan-
der by far ; and as to particulars, he adds what here
ensues. Aristophanes, he saith, is importune, theatric, and
sordid in his expression ; but Menander not so at all. For
the rude and vulgar person is taken with the things the
former speaketh ; but the well-bred man will be quite out
of humor with them. I mean, his opposed terms, his
words of one cadence, and his derivatives. For the one
makes use of these with due observance and 'but seldom,
and bestows care upon them ; but the other frequently,
unseasonably, and frigidly. " For he is much commended,"
said he, " for ducking the chamberlains, they being indeed
not chamberlains (rautai) but bugbears (Jufiiui)" And
again, — " This rascal breathes out nothing but roguery and
afhdavitry ; " and " Beat him well in his belly with the en-
trails and the guts ; " and, " I shall laugh till I go to Laugh-
ington (rtha);" and, " Thou poor sharded ostracized pot,
what shall I do with thee?" and, " To you women surely he
is a mad plague, for he grew up himself among these mad
worts ; " — and, " Look here, how the moths have eaten
away my crest ; " and, " Bring me hither the gorgon-backed
circle of my shield ; " *' Give me the round-backed circle
of a cheese-cake ; " — and much more of such like stuff.*
There is then in the structure of his words something

• See Aristoph. Knight*, 487, 466; Theim. 466; Acharn. 1109, 1124.

12 A COMPARISON BETWIXT

tragic and something comic, something blustering and
something prosaic, an obscurity, a vulgarness, a turgid-
ness, and a strutting, with a nauseous prattling and fooling.
And as his style has so great varieties and dissonances in
it, so neither doth he give to his persons what is fitting and
proper to each, — as state (for instance) to a prince, force
to an orator, innocence to a woman, meanness of language
to a poor man, and sauciness to a tradesman, — but he
deals out to every person, as it were by lot, such words as
come next to his hand, and you would scarce discern
whether he that is talking be a son, a father, a peasant, a
God, an old woman, or a hero.

2. But now Menander's phrase is so well turned and
contempered with itself, and so everywhere conspiring,
that, while it traverses many passions and humors and is
accommodated to all sorts of persons, it still shows the
same, and even retains its semblance in trite, familiar, and
every-day expressions. And if his master do now and
then require something of rant and noise, he doth but (like
a skilful flutist) set open all the holes of his pipe, and then
presently stop them again with good decorum and restore
the tune to its natural state. And though there be a great
number of excellent artists of all professions, yet never did
any shoemaker make the same sort of shoe, or tireman
the same sort of visor, or tailor the same sort of garment,
to fit a man, a woman, a child, an old man, and a slave.
But Menander hath so addressed his style, as to proportion
it to every sex, condition, and age ; and this, though he
took the business in hand when he was very young, and
died in the vigor of his composition and action, when, as
Aristotle tells us, authors receive most and greatest im-
provement in their styles. If a man shall then compare
the middle and last with the first of Menander's plays, he
will by them easily conceive what others he would have
added to them, had he had but longer life.

ARISTOPHANES AND MENANDER. 13

3. He adds further, that of dramatic exhibitors, some
address themselves to the crowd and populace, and others
again to a few ; but it is a hard matter to say which of
them all knew what was befitting in both the kinds. But
Aristophanes is neither grateful to the vulgar, nor tolerable
to the wise ; but it fares with his poesy as it doth with a
courtesan who, when she finds she is now stricken and past
her prime, counterfeits a sober matron^ and then the vulgar
cannot endure her affectation, and the better sort abominate

'her lewdness and wicked nature. But Menander hath
with his charms shown himself every vray sufficient for
satisfaction, being the sole lecture, argument, and dispute
at theatres, schools, and at tables ; hereby rendering his
poesy the most universal ornament that was ever produced
by Greece, and showing what and how extraordinary his
ability in language w^as, while he passes every way with an
U'resistible persuasion, and wins every man's ear and under-
standing who has knowledge of the Greek tongue. And
for what other reason in truth should a man of parts and
erudition be at the pains to frequent the theatre, but for the
sake of Menander only 1 And when are the play-houses
better filled with men of letters, than when his comic
mask is exhibited? And at private entertainments among
friends, for whom doth the table more justly make room or
Bacchus give place than for Menander 1 To philosophers
also and hard students (as painters are wont, when they
have tired out their eyes at their work, to divert them to
certain florid and green colors) Menander is a repose from
their auditors and intense thinkings, and entertains their
minds with gay shady meadows refreshed with cool and
gentle breezes.

4. He adds, moreover, that though this city breeds at this
time very many and excellent representers of comedy, Me-
nander's plays participate of a plenteous and divine salt, as
if they were made of the very sea out of which Venus her-

14 ARISTOPHANES AND MENANDER.

self sprang. But that of Aristophanes is harsh and coarse,
and hath in it an angry and biting sharpness. And for my
part I cannot tell where his so much boasted ability lies,
whether in his style or persons. The parts he acts I am
sure are quite over-acted and depraved. His knave (for
instance) is not fine, but dirty ; his peasant is not assured,
but stupid ; his droll is not jocose, but ridiculous ; and his
lover is not gay, but lewd. So that to me the man seems
not to have written his poesy for any temperate person, but
to have intended his smut and obscenity for the debauched*
and lewd, his invective and satire for the malicious and
ill-humored.

OF BANISHMENT, OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY.

1. One may say of discourses what they use to say of
friends, that they are the best and firmest that afford their
useful presence and help in calamities. Many indeed pre-
sent themselves and discourse with those that are fallen
into misfortunes, who yet do them more harm than good.
Like men that attempt to succor drowning persons and
have themselves no skill in diving under water, they en-
tangle one another, and sink together to the bottom. The
discourses of friends, such as would help an afiiicted person,
ought to be directed to the consolation, and not to the pa-
ti'onage of his sorrows. For we have no need in our dis-
tresses of such as may bear us company in weeping and
howling, like a chorus in a tragedy, but of such as will
deal freely with us, and will convince us that, — as it is in
all cases vain and foolish and to no purpose to grieve and
cast down one's self, — so, when the things themselves that
afflict us, after a rational examination and discovery of what
they are, give a man leave to say to himself thus,

Thou feel'st but little pain and smart,
Unless thou'lt feign and act a part,

it would be extremely ridiculous for him not to put the
question to his body, and ask it what it has suffered, nor to
his soul, and ask how much worse it is become by this
accident, but only to make use of those teachers of grief
from abroad, who come to bear a part with him in his sor-
row, or to express indignation at what has happened.

16 OF BANISHMENT,

2. Let US therefore, when we are alone, question with
ourselves concerning the things that have befallen us, con-
sidering them as heavy loads. The body, we know, is
under pressure by a burden lying upon it ; but the soul
oft-times adds a further weight of her own to things. A
stone is hard and ice is cold by nature, not by any thing
from without happening to make such qualities and impres-
sions upon them. But as for banishment and disgraces and
loss of honors (and so for their contraries, crowns, chief
rule, and precedency of place), our opinion prescribing the
measure of our joys or sorrows and not the nature of the
things themselves, every man makes them to himself light
or heavy, easy to be borne or grievous. You may hear
Polynices's answer to this question,

JocAST. But say, is't so deplorable a case

To live in exile from one's native place ?
PoLTN. It's sad indeed ; and whatsoe'er you guess,

'Tis worse to endure than any can express.*

But you may hear Alcman in quite another strain, as
the epigrammatist has brought him in saying :

Sardis, my ancient fatherland,

Hadst thou, by Fate's supreme command.

My helpless childhood nourished,

I must have begg'd my daily bread.

Or else, a beardless priest become,

Have toss'd Cybele frantic down.

Now Alcman I am call'd — a name

Inscribed in Sparta's lists of fame.

Whose many tripods record bear

Of solemn wreaths and tripods rare.

Achieved in worship at the shrine

Of Heliconian maids divine.

By whose great aid I'm mounted higher

Than Gyges or his wealthy sire, t

Thus one man's opinion makes the same thing commo-
dious, like current money, and another man's unserviceable
and hurtful.

♦ Eurip. Phoeniss. 388 and 389.

t This translation is taken from Burges's Greek Anthology, p. 470. It is there
■ignedJ.H. M. (G.)

OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 17

3. But let us grant (as many say and sing) that it is a
grievous thing to be banished. So there are also many
things that we eat, of a bitter, sharp, and biting taste, which
yet by a mixture of other things more mild and sweet have
all their unpleasantness taken off. There are also some
colors troublesome to look upon, which bear so hard and
strike so piercingly upon the sight, that they confound and
dazzle it ; if now by mixing shadows with them, or by turn-
ing our eyes upon some green and pleasant color, we rem
edy this inconvenience, thou mayst also do the same to the
afflictions that befall thee, considering them with a mixture
of those advantages and benefits thou still enjoyest, as wealth,
friends, vacancy from business, and a supply of all things
necessary to human life. For I think there are few Sar-
dians but would desire to be in your condition, though ban-
ished, and would choose to live as you may do, though in a
strange country, rather than — like snails that grow to their
shells — enjoy no other good, saving only what they have
at home without trouble.

4. As he therefore in the comedy that advised his unfor-
tunate friend to take heart and to revenge himself of For-
tune, being asked which way, answered. By the help of
philosophy ; so we also may be revenged of her, by acting
worthily like philosophers. For what course do we take
when it is rainy weather, or a cold north wind blows ] We
creep to the fireside, or go into a bath, put on more clothes,
or go into a dry house ; and do not sit still in a shower and
cry. It is in thy power above most men's to revive and
cherish that part of thy life which seems to be chill and
benumbed, not needing any other helps, but only according
to thy best judgment and pi-ndence making use of the
things that thou possessest. The cupping-glasses physi-
cians use, by drawing the worst humors out of the body,
alleviate and preserve the rest ; but they that are prone to
grieve and make sad complaints, by mustering together

18 OF BANISHMENT,

alway the worst of their afflictive circumstances, by de-
bating these things over and over, being fastened (as it
were) to their troubles, make the most advantageous things
to be wholly useless to themselves, and especially when
their case requires most help and assistance. As for those
two hogsheads, my friend, which Homer says lie in heaven,
full, the one of the good, the other of the ill fates of men, —
it is not Jupiter that sits to draw out and transmit to some
a moderate share of evils mixed with good, but to others
only unqualified streams of evil ; but it is we ourselves who
do it. Those of us that are wise, drawing out of the good
to temper with our evils, make our lives pleasant and pota-
ble ; but the greater part (which are fools) are like sieves,
which let the best pass through, but the worst and the very
dregs of misfortune stick to them and ren^ain behind.

5. Wherefore, if we fall into any real evil or calamity,
we must bring in what is pleasant and delightful of the
remaining good things in our possession, and thus, by what
we enjoy at home, mitigate the sense of those evils that
befall us from abroad. But where there is no evil in the
nature of the things, but the whole of that which afflicts
us is framed by imagination and false opinion, in this case
we must do just as we deal with children that are apt to
be frighted with false faces and vizards ; by bringing them
nearer, and making them handle and turn them on every
side, they are brought at last to despise them ; so we, by
a nearer touching and fixing our consideration upon our
feigned evils, may be able to detect and discover the weak-
ness and vanity of what we fear and so tragically deplore.

Such is your present condition of being banished out of
that which you account your country ; for nature has given
us no country, as it has given us no house or field, no smith's
or apothecary's shop, as Ariston said ; but every one of
them is always made or rather called such a man's by his
dwelling in it or making use of it. For man (as Plato says)

OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 19

is not an earthly and unmovable, but a heavenly plant, the
head raising the body erect as from a root, and directed
upwards toward heaven.* Hence is that saying of Her-
cules :

Am I of Thebes or Argos ? Whether
You please, for I'm content with either ;
But to tleterniine one, 'tis pity,
In Greece my country's every city.

But Socrates expressed it better, when he said, he was
not an Athenian or a Greek, but a citizen of the world
(just as a man calls himself a citizen of Rhodes or Cor-
inth), because he did not enclose himself within the limits
of Sunium, Taenarum, or the Ceraunian mountains.

Beliohl how yonder azure sky,
Extendhii; vastly wide .and high
To infinitely distant spaces,
In her soft arras our earth embraces.!

These are the boundaries of our countiy, and no man is
an exile or a stranger or foreigner in these, where there is
the same fire, water, air, the same rulers, administrators,
and presidents, the same sun, moon, and daystar ; where
there are the same laws to all, and where, under one or-
derly disposition and government, are the summer and
winter solstices, the equinoxes, Pleiades, Arcturus, times
of sowing and planting ; where there is one king and su-
preme ruler, which is God, who comprehends the beginning,
the middle, and end of the universe ; who passes through
all things in a straight course, compassing all things accord-
ing to nature : justice follows him to take vengeance on
those that transgress the divine law, which justice we
naturally all make use of towards all men, as being citizens
of the same community.

6. But for thee to complain that thou dost not dwell at
Sardis is no objection ; for all the Athenians do not inhabit
Collytus, nor do all the men of Corinth live in the Cran-
ium, nor all of Lacedaemon in Pitane.

• Plato, Timaeui, p. 90 A. t Euripides, Frag. 985.

20 OF BANISHMENT,

Do you look upon those Athenians as strangers and ban-
ished persons who removed from Melite to Diomea, —
whence they called the month Metageitnion, and the sacri-
fices they offered in memory of their removal Metageitnia,
being pleased with and cheerfully accepting this new
neighborhood to another people ? Surely you will not say
so. What parts of the inhabited earth or of the whole
earth can be said to be far distant one from another, when
mathematicians demonstrate that the whole earth is to be
accounted as an indivisible point, compared with the heav-
ens ] But we, like pismires or bees, when we are cast out
of one ant-hill or hive, are in great anxiety, and take on as
if we were strangers and undone, not knowing how to
make and account all things our own, as indeed they are.
We shall certainly laugh at his folly who shall affirm there
was a better moon at Athens than at Corinth ; and yet we
in a sort commit the same error, when being in a strange
country we look upon the earth, the sea, the air, the heav-
ens doubtfully, as if they were not the same, but quite
different from those we have been accustomed to. Nature
in our first production sent us out free and loose ; we bind
and straiten and pin up ourselves in houses, and reduce
ourselves into a scant and little room.

Moreover, we laugh at the kings of Persia, who (if the
story be true) will drink only the water of the Eiver Choas-
pes, by this means making the rest of the habitable world
to be without water, as to themselves ; but we, when we
remove to other countries, and retaifn our longings after
Cephissus and Eurotas, and are pleased with nothing so
much as the hills Taygetus and Parnassus, we make the
whole earth unhabitable to ourselves, and are without a
house or city where we can dwell.

7. When certain Egyptians, not enduring the anger and
hard usage of their king, went to dwell in Ethiopia, and
some earnestly entreated them to return to their wives

r

OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 21

and children they had left behind them, they very impu-
dently showed them their privy parts, saying they should
never want wives or children whilst they carried those
about them. But it is more grave and becoming to say
that whosoever happens to be provided with a competency
of the necessaries to life, wheresoever he is, is not without
a city or a dwelling, nor need reckon himself a stranger
there ; only he ought to have besides these prudence and
consideration, like a governing anchor, that he may be able
to make advantage of any port at which he arrives. It is
not easy indeed for him that has lost his wealth quickly to
gather it up again ; but every city becomes presently that
man's country w^ho has the skill to use it, and who has
those roots which can live and thrive, cling and grow to
every place. Such had Themistocles, and such had Deme-
trius Phalareus ; for this last named, after his banishment,
being the prime friend of King Ptolemy in Alexandria, not
only was abundantly provided for himself, but also sent
presents to the Athenians. As for Themistocles, lie was
maintained by an allowance suitable to his quality at the
King's charge, and is reported to have said to his wife and
children, We had been undone, if we had not been undone.
Diogenes the Cynic also, Avhen one told him, The Sinopians
have condemned thee to liy from Pontus, replied. And I
have condemned them to stay in Pontus,

Close prisoners there to be,
At th' utmost shore of the tierce Euxine Sea.*

Stratonicus enquiring of his host in the isle of Seriphus
what crime among them was punished with banishment,
and being told forgery was so punished, he asked him why
he did not conmiit that crime that he might be removed
out of that strait place ; and yet there, as the comedian
expresses it, they reap down their figs with slings, and
that island is provided with all things that it wants.

• Eurip. Iph. Taur. 253.

22 OF BANISHMENT,

8. For if you consider the truth of things, setting aside
vain fiincy and opinion, he that has got an agreeable city
to dwell in is a stranger and foreigner to all the rest, for it
seems not reasonable and just, that leaving his own he
should go to dwell in another city. As the proverb is,
" Sparta is the province fallen to your lot, adorn it," though
it should be in no credit or prove unhealthful, though dis-
turbed with seditions, and its affairs in distemper and out
of order. But as for him whom Fortune has deprived of
his own habitation, it gives him leave to go and dwell
where he pleases. That good precept of the Pythago-
reans, " Make choice of the best life you can, and custom
will make it pleasant," is here also wise and useful. Choose
the best and pleasantest place to live in, and time will
make it thy country, and such a country as will not en-
cumber and distract thee, not laying on thee such com
mands as these, — Bring in so much money ; Go on such
an embassy to Rome ; Entertain such a governor ; Bear
such a public office. If a prudent person and no way
conceited, calls these things to mind, he will choose to live
in exile in such a sorry island as Gyarus, or in Cynarus
that is "so hard and barren and unfit for plantation," and
do this without reluctancy, not making such sorrowful com-
plaints as the women do in the poet Simonides :

The troubled sea's dark waves surround me,
And with their horrid noise confound me ;

but will rather remind himself of that saying of King
Philip, who receiving a fall in a place of wrestling, when
he turned himself in rising and saw the print of his body
in the dust, exclaimed. Good God ! what a small portion
of earth has Nature assigned us, and yet we covet the
whole world.

9. I presume you have seen the island of Naxos, or at
least the town of Hyria here hard by ; in the former of
which Ephialtes and Otus made their abode, and in the

OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 23

latter Orion dwelt. Alcmaeons seat was on the newly
hardened mud which the river Achelous had cast up, —
when he fled from the Furies, as the poets tell us, — but 1
guess it was when he fled from the rulers of the state and
from seditions, and to avoid those furies, the sycophants
and informers, that he chose that little spot of ground to
dwell on, where he was free from business and lived in ease
and quiet. Tiberius Caesar passed the last seven years of
his life in the island of Capreae ; and that sacred governing
spirit that swayed the whole world, and was enclosed as it
were in his breast, yet for so long time never removed nor
changed place. And yet the thoughts and cares of the
empire, that were poured in upon him and invaded him on
every side, made that island's repose and retirement to be
less pure and undisturbed to him. But he that by re-
treating to a small island can free himself from great evils
is a miserable man, if he does not often say and sing those
verses of Pindar to himself, —

Where slender cypress grows I'd have a seat,
But care not for the shady woods of Crete !
I've little land and so not many trees,
f But free from sorrow I enjoy much ease, —

not being disquieted with seditions or the edicts of princes,
nor with administering affairs when the public is in straits,
nor undergoing officers that are hard to be put by and
denied.

10. For if that be a good saying of Callimachus, that
we ought not to measure wisdom by a Persian cord, much
less should we measure happiness by cords of furlongs,
or, if we chance to inhabit an island of two hundred fur-
longs and not (like Sicily) of four days' sail in compass,
think that we ought to disquiet ourselves and lament as if
we were very miserable and unfortunate. For what does a
place of large extent contrib\ite to the tranquillity of one's
life? Do you not hear Tantalus saying in tlir trau^c dy :

24 OF BANISHMENT,

I sow the Berecyntian ground,

A field of twelve days' journey round 1

But he says a little after :

My mind, that used to mount the skies,
Fallen to the earth dejected lies,
And now this friendly counsel brings, —
Less to admire all earthly things.*

Nausithous, forsaking the spacious country of Hyperia
because the Cyclops bordered upon it, and removing to an
island far distant from all other people, chose there,

Remote from all commerce t' abide,
By sea's surrounding waves denied ; t

and yet he procured a very pleasant way of living to his
own citizens.

The Cyclades islands were formerly inhabited by the
children of Minos, and afterwards by the children of Codrus
and Neleus ; in which now fools that are banished thither
think they are punished. And indeed, what island is there
to which men are wont to be banished that is not larger
than the land that lies about Scillus, in w^hich Xenophon
after his military expedition passed delicately his old age ?
The Academy near Athens, that was purchased for three
thousand drachmas, was the place w^here Plato, Xeno-
crates, and Polemo dwelt; there they held their schools,
and there they lived all their lifetime, except one day every
year, when Xenocrates came into the city at the time of
the Bacchanals and the new tragedies, to grace the feast,
as they say. Theocritus of Chios reproached Aristotle,
w^ho affected a court-life with Philip and Alexander, that
he chose instead of the Academy rather to dwell at the
mouth of Borborus. Por there is a river by Pella, which
the Macedonians call by that name.

But as for islands, Homer sets himself as it were stu-
diously to commend them in these verses :

* From the Niobe of Aeschylus, Frag. 153 and 154. f Odyss. VI. 204.

f

and
and
and

I

OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 25

He comes to the isle of Lemnos, and the town
Where divine Thoas dwelt, of great renown ;

As much as fruitful Lesbos does contain,
A seat which Gods above do not disdain ;

When he to tli' lofty hills of Scyros came.
And took the town that boasts Enyeus's name ;

These from Dulichium and th' Echinades,
Blest isles, that lie 'gainst Elis, o'er the seas.*

And among the famous men that dwelt in islands they
reckon Aeolus, a great favorite of the Gods, the most pru-
dent Ulysses, the most valiant Ajax, and Alcinous, the most
courteous entertainer of strangers.

11. When Zeno was told that the only ship he had
remaining was cast away at sea with all her lading, he
replied : Well done Fortune, that hast reduced me to the
habit and life of a philosopher. And, indeed, a man that
is not puffed up with conceit nor madly in love with a
crowd will not, I suppose, have any reason to accuse
Fortune for constraining him to live in an island, but will
rather commend her for removing so much anxiety and
agitation of his mind, for putting a stop to his rambles in
foreign countries, to his dangers at sea, and the noise and
tumult of the exchange, and for giving him a fixed, vacant,
undisturbed life, such a life as he may truly call his own,
describing as it were a circle about him, in which is con-
tained the use of all things necessary. For what island is
there that has not a horse, a walk, and a bath in it ; that
has not fishes and hares for such as delight in hunting and
angling and such like sports ? But the chiefest of all is,
that the quiet which others thirst so much after thou com-
monly mayst have here without seeking. For those that
are gamesters at dice, shutting up themselves at home,
there are sycophants and busy spies that hunt them out,
and prosecute them from their houses of pleasure and

• D. XIV. 280 ; XXIV. 644 ; IX. G08 ; II. 626.

26 OF BANISHMENT,

gardens in the suburbs, and hale them by violence before
the judges or the court. But none sails to an island to
give a man any disturbance, no petitioner, no borrower, no
urger to suretyship, no one that comes to beg his voice
when he stands candidate for an office ; only the best
friends and familiars, out of good-will and desire to see
him, may come over thither ; and the rest of his life is
safe and inviolable to him, if he has the will and the skill
to live at ease. But he that cries up the happiness of
those that run about in other countries, or spend the most
of their life in inns and passage-boats, is no wiser than he
is that thinks the planets in a better estate than the fixed
stars. And yet every planet rolling about in its proper
sphere, as in an island, keeps its order. For the sun never
transgresses its limited measures, as Heraclitus says ; if it
did do so, the Furies, which are the attendants of Justice,
would find it out and punish it.

12. These things, my friend, and such like we say and
sing to those who, by being banished into an island, have
no correspondence or commerce with other people,

Hindered by waves of the surrounding dee;>,

Which many 'gainst their mind close prisoners keep.*

But as for thee, who art not assigned to one place only,
but forbidden only to live in one, the prohibiting thee one
is the giving thee leave to dwell anywhere else besides.
If on one hand it is iirged thus against you : You are in
no office, you are not of the senate, nor preside as moder-
ator at the public games, you may oppose on the other
hand thus : We head no factions, we make no expensive
treats, nor give long attendance at the governor's gates ;
we care not at all who is chosen into our province, though
he be choleric or unsuff'erably vexatious.

But just as Archilochus disparaged the island of Thasos
because of its asperity and inequality in some places,

* n. XXI. 59.

OR FLYDsG ONE'S COUNTRY. 27

overlooking its fruitful fields and vineyards, saying thus
of it,

Like ridge of ass's back it stood.
Full of wild plants, for nothing good ;

SO we, whilst we pore upon one part of banishment which
is ignominious, overlook its vacancy from business, and
that leisure and freedom it affords us.

Men admired the happiness of the Persian kings, that
passed their winter in Babylon, their summer in Media,
and the pleasant spring-time at Susa. And he that is an
exile may, if he pleases, when the mysteries of Ceres are
celebrated, go and live at Eleusis ; and he may keep the
feasts of Bacchus at Argos ; at the time of the Pythian
games, he may pass over to Delphi, and of the Isthmian,
to Corinth, if public spectacles and shows are the things
he admires ; if not, then he may be idle, or walk, or read,
or sleep quietly ; and you may add that privilege Diogenes
bragged of when he said, " Aristotle dines when it seems
good to King Philip, but Diogenes when he himself pleases,"
having no business, no magistrate, no prefect to interrupt
and disturb his customary way of living.

13. For this reason, you will find that very few of the
most prudent and wise men were buried in their own
country, but the most of them, when none forced them
to it, weighed anchor and steered their course to live
in another port, removing some to Athens, and others
from it.

Who ever gave a greater encomium of his own countiy
than Euripides in the following verses ?

We are all of this country's native race,
Not brought-in strangers from another place,
As some, like dice hither and thillier thrown,
Remove in haste from this to t'other town.
And, if a woman may have leave to boast,
A temperate air breathes here in every coast ;
We neither curse summer's immoderate heat,
Nor yet complain the winter's cold's too great

28 OF BANISHMENT,

If aught there be that noble Greece doth yield,

Or Asia ricli, by river or by field,

We seek it out and bring it to our doors.

And yet he that wrote all this went himself into Mace-
donia, and passed the rest of his days in the court of
Archelaus; I suppose you have also heard of this short
epigram :

Here lieth buried Aeschylus, the son
Of the Athenian Euphorion ;
In SiciJy his latest breath did yield,
And buried lies by Gela's fruitful field.

For both he and Simonides before him went into Sicily.
And whereas we meet with this title, " This publication
of the History of Herodotus of Halicarnassus," many have
changed it into Herodotus of Thurii, for he dwelt at
Thurii, and was a member of that colony. And that
sacred and divine poet Homer, that adorned the Trojan
war, — why was he a controversy to so many cities (every
one pleading he was theirs) but because he did not cry up
any one of them to the disparagement of the rest ? Many
also and great are the honors that are paid to Jupiter
Hospitalis.

14. If any one object, that these men hunted ambi-
tiously after glory and honor, let him go to the philoso-
phers and the schools and nurseries of wisdom at Athens,
those in the Lyceum, the Academy, the Stoa, the Palla-
dium, the Odeum. If he admires and prefers the Peri-
patetic philosophy before the rest, Aristotle was a native
of Stagira, Theophrastus of Ephesus, Straton of Lamp-
sacus, Glycon of Troas, Ariston of Ceus, Critolaus of
Phaselis. If thou art for the Stoic philosophy, Zeno was
of Citium, Cleanthes of Assus, Chrysippus of Soli, Diogenes
of Babylon, Aritipater of Tarsus, and Archedemus who was
of Athens went over to the Parthians, and left a succes-
sion of Stoic philosophers in Babylon. And who, I pray,
persecuted and chased these men out of their country?

Otl FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 29

Nobody at all ; but they pursued their own quiet, which
men cannot easily enjoy at home that are in any rei)uta-
tion or have any power ; other things they taught us by
what they said, but this by what they did. For even now
the most approved and excellent persons live abroad out
of their own country, not being transported, but departing
voluntarily, not being driven thence, but iiying from busi-
ness and from the disquiets and molestations which they
are sure to meet with at home.

It seems to me that the Muses helped the ancient
writers to finish their choicest and most approved compo-
sitions, by calling in, as it were, banishment to their as-
sistance. Thucydides the Athenian wrote the Pcloponne-
sian and Athenian War in Tlirace, hard by the forest of
Scapte ; Xenophon wrote his history in Scillus belonging
to Elis ; Philistus in Epirus, Timaeus of Tauromenum at
Athens, Androtion the Athenian in Megara, Baccliylides
the poet in Peloponnesus. These and many more, after
they had lost their country, did not lose all hope nor were
dejected in their minds, but took occasion thereupon to
express the vivacity of their spirit and the dexterity of
their wit, receiving their banishment at the hands of For-
tune as a viaticum that she had sent them ; whereby they
became renowned everywhere after death, whereas there
is no remaining mention of those factious persons that
expelled them.

15. He therefore is ridiculous that looks upon it as an
ignominious thing to be banished. For what is it that thou
sayest 1 Was Diogenes ignominious, when Alexander,
who saw him sitting and sunning himself, came and asked
liim whether he wanted any thing, and he answered him,
that he lacked nothing but that he would go a little aside
and not stand in his light ] The king, admiring the pres-
ence of his mind, turned to his followers and said : If I
were not Alexander, I would be Diogenes. Was Camillus

30 OF BANISHMENT,

inglorious because he was expelled Rome, considering
he has got the reputation of being its second founder ?
Neither did Themistocles by his banishment lose any of
the renown he had gained in Greece, but added to it that
which he had acquired among the barbarians ; neither is
there any so without all sense of honor, or of such an ab-
ject mind, that had not rather be Themistocles the ban-
ished, than Leobates that indicted him ; or be Cicero that
had the same fate, than Clodius that expelled him Eome ;
or be Timotheus that abandoned his country, than Aristo-
phon that was his accuser.

16. But because the words of Euripides move many, who
seems to frame a heavy charge against banishment and to
urge it home, let us see what he says more particularly in
his questions and answers about it.

JocASTA. But is't so sad one's country to forego,

And live in exile'? Pniy, son, let me know.
Pol. Some ills when told are great, when tried are less ;

But tins is saddest felt, though sad t' express.
Joe. What is't, I pray, afflicts the banislied most?
Pol. That liberty to speak one's mind is lost.
Joe. He is indeed a slave that dares not utter

His thoughts, nor 'gainst his cruel masters mutter.
Pol. But all their insolencies must o'erpass,

And bear their follies tamely like an ass.*

These assertions of his are neither good nor true. For
first, not to speak what one thinks is not a piece of slavery ;
but it is the part of a prudent man to hold one's peace and
be silent when time and the circumstances of affairs re-
quire it ; as he himself says better elsewhere, that a wise
man knows

Both when it's best no tongue to find,
And when it's safe to speak his mind.

Again, as for the rudeness and insolency of such as have
power in their hands, they that stay in their country are
no less forced to bear and endure it than those that are
driven out of it ; nay, commonly the former stand more in

♦ Eurip. Phoeniss. 388.

h

OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 81

fear of false informations and the violence of unjust rulers
in cities than the latter. But hi» greatest mistake and
absurdity is his taking away all freedom of speech from
exiles. It is wonderful indeed if Theodorus had no free-
dom of this kind, who, — when King Lysimachus said to
him : Thou being such a criminal, the country cast thee
forth, did it not] — replied: Yes, not being able to bear
me ; just as Semele cast out Bacchus, when she could bear
him no longer. And when the king showed him Telcs-
phorus in an iron cage, with his eyes digged out of their
holes, his nose and ears and tongue cut off, and said : So I
deal with those that injure me, he was not abashed.
AVhat! did not Diogenes retain his wonted freedom of
speaking, who coming into King Philip's camp, when he
was going to give the Grecians battle, was brought before
him for a spy ; and confessed that he was so, but that he
came to take a view of his unsatiable greediness of em-
pire and of his madness and folly who was going in the
short time of a fight to throw a die for his crown and
life ?

And what say you to Hannibal the Carthaginian ? Did
not he use a convenient freedom towards Antiochus (he at
that time an exile, and the other a king), when upon an
advantageous occasion he advised him to give his enemies
battle ] He, when he had sacrificed, told him the entrails
forbade it. Hannibal sharply rebuked him thus : You are
for doing what the fiesh of a beast, not what the reason of
a wise man, adviseth.

Neither does banishment deprive geometricians or mathe-
maticians of the liberty of discoursing freely concerning
matters they know and have skill in ; and why should any
worthy or good man be denied it? But meanness of
thought obstructs and hinders the voice, strangles the
power of speech, and makes a man a mute. But let us
see what follows from Euripides :

32 OF BANISHMENT,

Joe. Upon good hopes exiles ciin tlirive, they say.
Pol. Hopes have fine looks, but kill one with delay.*

This is also an accusation of men's folly rather than of
banishment ; for it is not the well instructed and those that
know liow to use what they have aright, but such as de-
pend upon what is to come and desire what they have not,
that are carried and tossed up and down by hopes, as in a
floating vessel, though they have scarce ever stirred beyond
the gates of their own city. But to go on :

Joe. Did not your father's friends aid your distress ?
Pol. Take care to thrive ; for if you once are poor,

Those you call friends will know you then no more.
Joe. Did not your high birth stand you in some stead ?
Pol. It's sad to want, for honor buys no bread.

These also are ungrateful speeches of Polynices, who
accuses banishment as casting disparagement upon noble
birth and leaving a man without friends, who yet because
of his high birth was thought worthy, though an exile, to
have a king's daughter given him in marriage, and also by
the powerful assistance of his friends gathered such an
army as to make war against his own country, as he con-
fesses himself a little after :

Many a famous Grecian peer
And captain from Mycenae here
In readiness t' assist me tarry ;
Sad service 'tis, but necessary .t

Neither are the words of his lamenting mother any wiser :

No nuptial torch at all I liglited liave
To thee, as doth a wedding-feast beseem ;
^'o marriage-song was sung ; nor thee to lave
Was water brought from fair Ismenus' stream.

She ought to have been well pleased and rejoiced when
she heard that her son dwelt in such kingly palaces ; but,
whilst she laments that the nuptial torch was not lighted,
and the want of waters from Ismenus's river for him to

♦ Eurip. Phoeniss. 896. t Ibid., 430 and 344

OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 33

have bathed m (as if people at Argos were destitute both
of fire and water at their weddings), she makes those evils,
which her own conceit and folly produced, to be the effects
of banishment.

17. But is it not then an ignominious thing to be an ex-
ile ? Yes, it is among fools, with whom it is a reproach to
be poor, to be bald, or of low stature, and (with as much
reason) to be a stranger or a pilgrim. But they that do not
fall into these mistakes admire good men, though they hap-
pen to be poor or strangers or in exile. Do not we see the
temple of Theseus venerated by all men, as well as the
Parthenon and Eleusinium ] And yet Theseus was ban
ished from Athens, by whose means it is at this time
inhabited ; and lost his abode in that city, which he did
not hold as a tenant, but himself built. And what re-
markable thing is there remaining in Eleusis, if we are
ashamed of Eumolpus, who coming thither from Thrace
initiated the Greeks, and still does so, in the mysteries of
religion 1 And whose son was Codrus, that reigned at
Athens, but of that Melanthus who was banished from
Messene ] Will you not commend that speech of Antis-
thenes, who, when one said to him, Phrygia is thy mother,
replied. She was also the mother of the Gods ? And if
any one reproach thee with thy banishment, why canst not
thou answer, that the father of the great conqueror Her-
cules was an exile 1 And so was Cadmus the grandfather
of Bacchus, who, being sent abroad in search for Europa,
did return no more :

Sprung from Phoenicia, to Thebes he came ;
Theles to his pranilson Bacchus hiys a claim,
Who tliere inspires wilh rage llie feinalo rout,
That worship him by running mad about.*

As for those things which Aeschylus obscurely insinuates
in that expression of his,

• From the Phryxuf of Euripides, Frag. 816,

TOL. III. 8

34: OF BANISHMENT,

And of Apollo, chaste God, banished heaven,

I'll favor my tongue, as Herodotus phrases it, and say
nothing.
Empedocles, when he prefaces to his philosophy thus, —

This old decree of fate unchanged stands, —

Whoso with horrid crimes defiles his hands,

To long-Hved Daemons this commission's given

To cliase him many ages out of heaven.

Into tliis sad condition I am hurled,

Banished from God to wander through the world, —

does not here only point at himself; but in what he
says of himself he shows the condition of us all, that we
are pilgrims and strangers and exiles here in this world.
For know, says he, O men, that it is not blood nor a spirit
tempered with it that gave being and beginning to the soul,
but it is your terrestrial and mortal body that is made up
of these. And by the soft name of pilgrimage, he insinu-
ates the origin of the soul, that comes hither from another
place. And the truth is, she flies and wanders up and down,
being driven by the divine decrees and laws ; and after-
wards, as in an island surrounded with a great sea, as
Plato speaks, she is tied and linked to the body, just like
an oyster to its shell, and because she is not able to re-
member nor relate,

From what a vast and high degree
Of honor and felicity

she has removed, — not from Sardis to Athens, not from
Corinth to Lemnos or Scyros, but having changed heaven
and the moon for earth and an earthly life, — if she is
forced to make little removes here from place to place, the
soul hereupon is ill at ease and troubled at her new and
strange state, and hangs her head like a decaying plant.
And indeed some one country is found to be more agree-
able to a plant than another, in which it thrives and flour-
ishes better ; but no place can deprive a man of his hap-
piness, unless he pleases, no more than of his virtue and

OR FLYING ONE'S COUNTRY. 35

prudence. For Anaxagoras wrote his book of the Squar-
ing of a Circle in prison ; and Socrates, just when he was
going to drink the poison that killed him, discoursed of
philosophy, and exhorted his friends to the study of it ;
who then admired him as a happy man. But Phaeton
and Tantalus, though they mounted up to heaven, yet,
the poets tell us, through their folly fell into the extremest
calamities.

OF BROTPIERLY LOVE.

1. The ancient statues of Castor and Pollux are called
by the Spartans Docana ; and they are two pieces of wood
one over against the other joined with two other cross
ends, and the community and undividedness of this con-
secrated representation seems to resemble the fraternal
love of these two Gods. In like manner do I devote this
discourse of Brotherly Love to you, Nigrinus and Quintus,
as a gift in common betwixt you both, who well deserve
it. Yov as to the things it advises to, you will, while you
already practise them, seem rather to. give your testimonies
to them than to be exhorted by them. And the satisfac-
tion you have from well-doing will give the more firm dur-
ance to your judgment, when you shall find yourselves ap-
proved by wise and judicious spectators. Aristarchus the
father of Theodectes said indeed once, by way of flout
of the Sophists, that formerly there were scarce seven
Sophists to be found, but that in his time there could
hardly be found so many who were not Sophists. But I
see brotherly love is as scarce in our days as brotherly
hatred was in ancient times, the instances of which have
been publicly exposed in tragedies and public shows for
theu' strangeness. But all in our times, when they have
fortuned to have good brothers, do no less admire them
than the famed Molionidae, that are supposed to have been
born with their bodies joined with each other. And to
enjoy in common theu' fathers' wealth, friends, and slaves

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 37

is looked upon as incredible and prodigious, as if one soul
should make use of the hands, feet, and eyes of two
bodies.

2. And Nature hath given us veiy near examples of the
use of brothers, by contriving most of the necessary parts
of our bodies double, as it were, brothers and twins, —
as hands, feet, eyes, ears, nostrils, — thereby telling us
that all these were thus distinguished for mutual benefit
and assistance, and not for variance and discord. And
when she parted the very hands into many and unequal
fingers, she made them thereby the most curious and arti-
ficial of all our members ; insomuch that the ancient phi-
losopher Anaxagoras assigned the hands for the reason of
all human knowledge and discretion. But the contrary to
this seems the truth. For it is not man's having hands
that makes him the wisest animal, but his being nalurally
reasonable and capable of art was the reason w^hy such
organs were conferred upon him. And this also is most
manifest to every one, that the reason why Nature out of
one seed and source formed two, three, and more breth
ran was not for difference and opposition, but that their
•being apart might render them the more capable of assist-
ing one another. For those that were treble-bodied and
hundred-handed, if any such there were, while they had
all their members joined to each other, could do nothing
without them or apart, as brothers can who can live to-
gether and travel, undertake public employments and prac-
tise husbandry, by one another's help, if they preserve
but that principle of benevolence and concord that Nature
liath bestowed upon them. But if they do not, they will
not at all differ in my opinion from feet that trip up one
another, and fingers that are unnaturally writhen and dis-
torted by one another. Yea, rather, as things moist and
dry, cold and hot, pai-take of one nature in the same body,
and by their consent and agreement engender the best

38 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

and most pleasant temperament and harmony, — without
which (they say) there is neither satisfaction nor benefit in
either riches or kingship itself, which renders man equal to
Gods, — but if excess and discord befall them, they misera-
bly ruinate and confound the animal ; so, where there is an
unanimous p,ccordance amongst brothers, the family thrives
and flourishes, and friends and acquaintance, like a well
furnished choir, in all their actions, words, and thoughts
maintain a delightful harmony.

But jarring feuds advance the worst of men,

such as a vile ill-tongued slave at home, an insinuating
parasite abroad, or some other envious person. For as
diseases in bodies nauseating their ordmary diet incline
the appetite to every improper and noxious thing ; so
calumny freely entertained against relations, and through
prejudging credulity enhanced into suspicion, occasions an
adopting the pernicious acquaintance of such as are ready
enough to crowd into the room of their betters.

3. The Arcadian prophet in Herodotus was forced to
supply the loss of one of his feet with an artificial one
made of wood. But he who in a difference throws off his
brother, and out of places of common resort takes a stran-
ger for his comrade, seems to do no less than wilfully to
mangle off a part of himself, attempting to repair the bar-
barous breach by the unnatural application of an extraneous
member. For the ordinary inclinations and desires of men,
being after some sort of society or other, sufficiently ad-
monish them to set the highest value upon relations, to pay
them all becoming respects, and to have a tender regard
for their persons, nothing being more irksome to nature
than to live in that destitution and solitude that denies
them the happiness of a friend and the privilege of com-
munication. Well therefore was that of Menander :

*Ti8 not o' th' store of spriglitly wine,
Nor plenty of delicious meats,

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 39

Though generous Nature should design
T' oblige us wiih perpetual treats ;
*Tis not on these we for content depend,
So much as on the shadow of a friend.

For a great deal of friendship in the world is really no
better and no more than the mere imitation and resem-
blance of that first affection tliat Nature wrought in par-
ents towards their children, and in their children towards
one another. And whoever has not a particular esteem
and regard for this kind of friendship, I know no reason
any one has to credit his kindest pretensions. For what
shall we make of that man wlio in his complaisance, either
in company or in his letters, salutes his friend by the name
of brother, and yet scorns the company of that very brother
whose name was so serviceable to him in his compliment ?
For, as it is the part of a madman to adorn and set out
the effigies of his brother, and in the mean time to abuse,
beat, and maim his person ; so, to value and honor the
name in others but to hate and shun the brother himself is
likewise an action of one that is not so well in his wits as he
should be, and that never yet considered that Nature is a
most sacred thing.

4. I remember, when I was at Eome, I undertook an
umpirage between two brothers. The one pretended to the
study of philosophy, but (as it appeared by the event) with
as little reason as to the relation of a brother. For, when
I advised him that now was the time for him to show his
philosophy, in the prudent managery and government of
himself, whilst he was to treat with so dear a relation as a
brother, and such a one especially as wanted those advan-
tages of knowledge and education that he had ; Your
counsel, replied my philosopher, may do well with some
illiterate novice or other ; but, for my part, I see no such
great matter in that which you so gravely allege, our being
the issue of the same parents. True, I answered, you de-
clare evidently enough that you make no account of your

40 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

affinity. But, by your favor, Mr. Philosopher, all of your
profession that I ever was acquainted with, whatever their
private opinions were, affirm both m their prose and poetry
that, next to the Gods and the laws, her conservators and
guardians. Nature had assigned to parents the highest
honor and veneration. And there is nothing that men can
perform more grateful to the Gods, than freely and con-
stantly to pay their utmost acknowledgments and thanks
to their parents, and those from whom they received their
nurture and education ; as, on the other hand, there is no
greater argument of a profane and impious spirit than a
contemptuous and surly behavior towards them. We are
therefore enjoined to take heed of doing any one Avrong.
But he that demeans not himself with that exactness before
his parents that all his actions may afford them a pleasure
and satisfaction, though he give them no other distaste,
is sure to undergo a very hard censure. Now what can
more effectually express the gratitude of children to their
parents, or what actions or dispositions in their children
can be more delightful and rejoicing, than firm love and
amity amongst them ?

5. And this may be understood by lesser instances. For,
if parents will be displeased when an old servant that has
been favored by them shall be reproached and flouted at
by the children, or if the plants and the fields wherein
they took pleasure be neglected, if the forgetting a dog or
a beloved horse fret their humorsome age (that is very apt
to be jealous of the love and obedience of their children),
if, lastly, when they disaffect and despise those recreations
that are pleasing to the eye and ear, or those juvenile exer-
cises and games which they themselves formerly delighted
in, — if at any of all these things the parents will be angry
and offended, — how will they endure such discord as in-
flames their children with mutual malice and hatred, fills
their mouths with opprobrious and execrating language,

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 41

and works them into such an inveteracy that the contrary
and spiteful method of their actions declares a di'ift and
design of ruining one another ? If, I say, those smaller
matters provoke their anger, how will all the rest be re-
sented ? Who can resolve me ? But, on the other hand,
where the love of brothers is such that they make up that
distance Nature has placed them at (in respect of their
different bodies) by united affections, insomuch that their
studies and recreations, their earnest and their jest, keep
true time and agree exactly together, such a pleasing con-
sort amongst their children proves a nursing melody to the
decayed parents to preserve and maintain their quiet and
peace in their old (though tender) age. For never was
any father so intent upon oratory, ambitious of honor, or
craving after riches, as fond of his children. Wherefore
neither is it so great a satisfaction to hear them speak well,
find them grow wealthy, or see them honored with the
power of magistracy, as to be endeared to each other in
mutual affection. Wherefore it is reported of Apollonis
of Cyzicum, mother of King Eumenes and three other sons.
Attains, Philetaerus, and Athenaeus, that she always ac-
counted herself happy and gave the Gods thanks, not so
much for wealth or empire, as because she saw her three
sons guarding the eldest, and him reigning securely among
his armed brothers. And on the contrary, Artaxerxes, un-
derstanding that his son Ochus had laid a plot against his
brothers, died with sorrow at the surprise. For the quar-
rels of brothers are pernicious, saith Euripides, but most of
all to the parents themselves. For he that hates and
plagues his brother can hardly forbear blaming the father
who begot and the mother who bare him.

6. Wherefore Pisistratus, being about to marry again,
his sons being grown up to a mature age, gave them their
deserved character of praise, together with the reason of
his designs for a second marriage, — that he might be the

42 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

happy father of more such children. Now those who are
truly ingenious do not only love one another the more en-
tirely for the sake of their common parents, but they love
their very parents for the sake of one another ; always
owning themselves bound to their parents especially for the
mutual happiness that they enjoy in each other, and look-
ing upon their brethren as the dearest and the most valua-
ble treasure they could have received from their parents.
And thus Homer elegantly expresses Telemachus bewail-
ing the want of a brother :

Stern Jove has in some angry mood
Condemned our race to solitude.*

But I like not Hesiod's judgment so well, who is all for a
single son's inheriting. Not so well (I say) from Hcsiod, a
pupil of the Muses, who being endeared sisters kept always
together, and therefore from that inseparate union ((>{^ov
ovaai) were called Muses. To parents therefore the love of
brothers is a plain argument of their children's love to
themselves. And to the children of the brothers them-
selves it is the best of precedents, and that which affords
the most effectual advice that can be thought of; as again,
they will be forward enough in following the worst of their
parents' humors and inheriting their animosities. But for
one who has led his relations a contentious life, and quar-
relled himself up into wrinkles and gray hairs, — for such
a one to begin a lecture of love to his children is just like
him

Who boldly takes the fees,
To cure in others what's his own disease.t

In a word, his own actions weaken and confute all the
arguments of his best counsel. Take Eteoclcs of Thebes
reflecting upon his brother and flying out after this man-
ner;

I'd mount the Heavens, I'd strive to meet the sun
In's setting forth, I'd travel with him down

♦ Odyss. XVI. 117. t Euripides, Frag.1071.

OF BROTHERLr LOVE. 43

Beneath the earth, I'd balk no enterprise,
To gain Jove's niigbty power and tyrannize.*

Suppose, I say, out of this rage, he had presently fallen
into the softer strain of good advice to his children, charg-
ing them thus :

Prize gentle amity that vies

AVith none for grandeur ; concord prize

That joins togellier friends and states,

And keeps them long confederates.

Equality ! — whatever else deceives

Our trust, 'lis this our very selves outlives ;

Avho is there that would not have despised him ? Or what
would you have thought of x\treus, after he had treated his
brother at a barbarous supper, to hear him afterwards thus
instructing his children :

Such love as doth become related friends
Alone, when ills betide, its succor lends 1

7. It is therefore very needful to throw off those ill dis-
positions, as being very grievous and troublesome to their
parents, and more destructive to children in respect of the
ill example. Besides, it occasions many strange censures
and much obloquy amongst men. For they will not be apt
to imagine that so near and intimate relations as brothers,
that have eaten of the same bread and all along participated
of the same common maintenance, and who have conversed
80 familiarly together, should break out into contention,
except they were conscious to themselves of a great deal
of naughtiness. For it must be some great matter that
violates the bonds of natural affection ; whence it is that
such breaches are so hardly healed up again. For, as
those things which are joined together by art, being parted,
may by the same art be compacted again, but if there be a
fracture in a natural body, there is much difficulty in set-
ting and uniting the broken parts ; so, if friendships that
through a long tract of time have been firmly and closely

• Earip. Phoenitt. 504 and 586.

44 OF BliOTHERLY LOVE.

contracted come once to be violated, no endeavors will
bring thein together any more. And brothers, Avhen they
have once broke natural affection, are hardly made true
friends again ; or, if there be some kind of peace made
betwixt them, it is like to prove but superficial only, and
such as carries a filthv festerino: scar aloni; with it. Now
all enmity between man and man which is attended with
these perturbations of quarrelsomeness, passion, envy,
recording of an injury, must needs be troublesome and
vexatious ; but that which is harbored against a brother,
with whom they communicate in sacrifices and other relig-
ious rites of their parents, with whom they have the same
common charnel-house and the same or a near habitation,
is much more to be lamented, — especially if we reflect
upon the horrid madness of some brothers, in being so
prejudiced against their own flesh and blood, that his face
and person once so welcome and familiar, his voice all
along from his childhood as well beloved as known, should
on a sudden become so very detestable. How loudly does
this reproach their ill-nature and savage dispositions, that,
whilst they behold other brethren lovingly conversing in
the same house and dieting together at the same table,
managing the same estate and attended by the same ser-
vants, they alone divide friends, choose contrary acquaint-
ance, resolving to abandon every thing that their brother
may approve of? Now it is obvious to any to understand,
that .new friends and companions may be compassed and
new kindred may come in when .the old, like decayed
weapons and worn-out utensils, are lost and gone. But
there is no more regaining of a lost brother, than of a hand
that is cut off or an eye that is beaten out. The Persian
woman therefore spake truth, when she preferred the sav-
ing her brother's life before her very children's, alleging
that she was in a possibility of having more children if
she should be deprived of those she had, but, her parents

OF BROTHERLr LOVE. 45

being dead, she could hope for no more brothers after
him.*

8. You will ask me then, What shall a man do with an
untoward brother] I answer, every kind and degree of
friendship is subject to abuse from the persons, and in that
respect has its taint, according to that of Sophocles :

Who into human things makes scrutinies,
He may on most his censures exercise.

For, if you examine the love of relations, the love of asso-
ciates, or the more sensual passion of fond lovers, you will
find none of them all clear, pure, and free from all faults.
Wherefore the Spartan, when he married a little wife, said
that of evils he had to choose the least. But brothers
would do well to bear with one another's familiar failings,
rather than to adventure upon the trial of strangers. For
as the former is blameless because it is necessary, so the
other is blameworthy because it is voluntary. For it is not
to be expected that a sociable guest or a wild crony should
be bound by the same

Chains of respect, forged by no human hand,

as one who was nourished from the same breast and carries
the same blood in his veins. And therefore it would be-
come a virtuous mind to make a favorable construction of
his brother's miscarriages, and to bespeak him with this
candor :

I cannot leave you thus under a cloud
Of infelicities,!

whether debauched with vice or eclipsed with ignorance,
for fear my inadvertency to some failing that naturally
descends upon you from one of our parents should make
me too severe against you. For, as Theophrastus said, as
lo strangers, judgment must nde affection rather than affec-
tion prescribe to judgment; but where nature denies judg-
ment this prerogative, and will not wait for the bushel of

• See Sophoclei, Antlg. 906-912. t Odyii. XIII. 881.

46 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

salt (as the proverb has it) to be eaten, but has ah-eady
infused and begun in us the principle of love, there we
should not be too rigid and exact in the examining of
faults. Now what would you think of men when they can
easily dispense with and smile at the sociable vices of their
acquaintance, and in the mean time be so implacably in-
censed with the irregularities of a brother ] Or when fierce
dogs, horses, wolves, cats, apes, lions, are so much their
favorites that they feed and delight in them, and yet can-
not stomach only their brother's passion, ignorance, or am-
bition ? Or of others who have made away their houses
and lands to harlots, and quarrelled with their brothers
only about the floor or corner of the house ? Nay, further,
such a prejudice have they to them, that they justify the
hating them from the rule of hating every ill thing, mali-
ciously accounting them as such ; and they go up and down
cursing and reproaching their brothers for their vices, while
they are never offended or discontented therewith in others,
but are willing enough daily to frequent and haunt their
company.

9. And this may serve for the beginning of my discourse.
I shall enter upon my instructions not as others do, with
the distribution of the parents' goods, but with advice rather
to avoid envious strifes and emulation whilst the parents
are living. Agesilaus was punished with a mulct by the
Lacedaemonian council for sending every one of the ancient
men an ox as a reward of his fortitude ; the reason they
gave for their distaste was, that by this means he won too
much upon the people, and made the commonalty become
wholly serviceable to his own private interest. Now I
would persuade the son to show all possible honor and
reverence to his parents, but not with that greedy design
of engrossing all their love to himself, — of which too many
have been guilty, working their brethren out of favor, on
purpose to make way for their own interest, — a fault which

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 47

they are apt to palliate with specious, but unjust pretences.
For they deprive and cheat their brethren out of the great-
est and most valuable good they are capable of receiving
from their parents, viz., their kindness and affection, whilst
they slyly and disingenuously steal in upon them in their
business, and surprise them in their errors, demeaning
themselves with all imaginable observance to their parents,
and especially with the greatest care and preciseness in
those things wherein they see their brethren have been
faulty or suspected to be so. But a kind brother, and one
that truly deserves the name, will make his brother's con-
dition his own, freely take upon himself a share of his
sufferings, particularly in the anger of his parents, and be
ready to do any thing that may conduce to the restoring him
into f\ivor ; but if he has neglected some opportunity or
something which ought to have been done by him, to ex-
cuse it upon his nature, as being more ready and seriously
disposed for other things. That of Agamemnon therefore
was well spoken in the behalf of his brother :

Nor sloth, nor silly humor makes him stay ;
I am the only cause. All his delay
Waits my attempts : ♦

and he says that this charge was delivered him by his
brotlicr. Fathers willingly allow of the changing of names
and have an inclination to believe their children when they
make the best interpretation of their brother's failings, —
as when they call carelessness simple honesty, or stu-
pidity goodness, or, if he be quarrelsome, term him a
smart-spirited youth and one that will not endure to be
trampled on. By this means it comes to pass, that he who
makes his brother's peace and ingratiates him with his
offended father at the same time fairly advances his own
interest, and grows deservedly the more in favor.

10. But when the storm is once over, it is necessary to

• II. X. 122.

48 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

be serious with him, to reprehend him sharply for his
crime, discovering to him with all freedom wherein he
has been wanting in his duty. For as such guilty brothers
are not to be allowed in their faults, neither are they to be
insulted with raillery. For to do the latter were to rejoice
and find advantage in their failings, and to do the former
were to take part in them. Therefore ought they so to
manage their severities that they may show a solicitude
and concernedness for their brethren and much discom-
posure and trouble at their follies. Now he is the fittest
person to school his brother smartly who has been a ready
and earnest advocate in his behalf. But suppose the
brother wrongfully charged, it is fitting he should be obse-
quious to his parents in all other things whatsoever, and
to bear with their angry humors ; but a defence made be-
fore them for a brother that suffers by slander and false
accusation is unreprovable and very good. In all such
there is no need to fear that check in Sophocles,

Curst son ! who with thy father durst contend ; *

for there is allowed a liberty of vindicating a traduced
brother. And where the parents are convinced of their
injury, in cases of this kind defeat is more pleasant to
them than victory.

11. But when the father is dead, it is fitting brothers
should close the nearer in afiection ; immediately in their
sadness and sorrow communicating their mutual love, and,
in the next place, rejecting the suspicious stories and sug-
gestions of servants, discountenancing their sly methods
and subtle applications, and amongst other stories, ad-
verting to the fable of Jupiter's sons. Castor and Pollux,
whose love to one another was such that Pollux, when
one was whispering to him somewhat against his brother,
killed him with a blow of his fist. And when they
come to dividing their parents' goods, let them take

* Soph. Antig. 742.

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 49

heed that they come not with prejudice and contentious
rcsohitions, giving defiance and shouting the warcry,
as so many do. But let them observe with caution
that day above all others, as it may be to them the begin-
ning cither of mortal enmity or of friendship and concord.
And then, either amongst themselves, or, if need be, in
tlic presence of some common and indiifercnt friend, let
them deal fau'ly and openly, allowing Justice (as Plato
says) to draw the lot, giving and receiving what may con-
sist with love and friendship. Thus they will appear to
be sharers only in the care and disposal of these things,
whilst the propriety and enjoyment is free and common to
them all. But they that take an advantage in the contro-
versy, and seize from one another nurses and children
who have been fostered and brought up with them, pre-
vaiUng by their eagerness, may perhaps go away with the
gain of a single slave, but they have forfeited in the stead
of it the best legacy their parents could have left them,
the love and confidence of their brothers. I have known
some brothers, without the instigation of lucre, and merely
out of a savage disposition, fly upon the goods of their
deceased parents with as much ravine and fierceness as
they would upon the spoil of an enemy. Such were the
actions of Charicles and Antiochus the Opuntians, who
divided a silver cup and a garment in two pieces, as
though by some tragical imprecation they had been set on

To share the patrimony with a sword.*

Others I have known proclaiming the success of their
subtle methods of fierce and eager and sometimes sly and
fallacious reasonings, by which means they have compassed
larger proportion from their deluded brethren. Whereas
their just actions and their kind and humble can*iage had
less reproached their pride, but raised the esteem of their
persons. Wherefore that action of Athenodorus is very

• Earip. Phoeniss. 68.

VOT.. III. »

50 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

memorable, and indeed generally remembered by our coun-
trymen. His elder brother Xeno in the time of his guar-
dianship had wasted a great part of his substance, and at
last was condemned for a rape, and all that was left was
confiscated. Athenodorus was then but a youth ; but
when his share of the estate was given to him, he had
that regard to his brother, that he brought all his own pro-
portion and freely exposed it to a new division with him.
And though in the dividing it he suffered great abuse from
him, he resented it not so much as to repent of what he
had done, but endured with most remarkable meekness
and unconcerned ease his brother's outrage, that was
become notorious throughout all Greece.

12. Solon discoursing about the commonwealth approv-
ed of equality, as being that which would occasion no
tumult or faction. But this opinion appeared too popular ;
for by this arithmetical method he would have set up
democracy in the room of a far happier government, con-
sisting with a; more suitable (viz., a geometrical) proportion.
But he that advises brethren in the dividing of an estate
should give them Plato's counsel to the citizens, that they
would lay aside self-interest, or, if they cannot be per-
suaded to that, to be satisfied with an equal division. And
this is the way to lay a good and lasting foundation of love
and peace betwixt them. Besides that, he may have the
advantage of naming eminent instances. Such was that of
Pittacus, who, being asked of the Lydian king whether he
had any estate, replied that he had twice as much as he
wanted, his brother being dead. But since that not only
in the affluence or want of riches he that has a loss share
is liable to hostility with him that has more, but generally,
as Plato says, in all inequality there is inquietude and dis-
turbance, and in the contrary a during confidence ; so a
disparity among brethren tends dangerously to discord.
But for them to be equal in all respects, I grant, is impos-

OF BROTHERLY LOYE. 51

sible. For what through the difference that nature made
immediately betwixt them at the first, and what through
the following contingencies of their lives, it comes to pass
that they contract an envy and hatred against one another,
and such abominable humors as render them the ])lngues
not only of their private families but even of common-
wealths. And this indeed is a disease which it were well
to prevent, or to cure when it is engendered. I would
persuade that brother therefore that excels his fellows in
any accomplishments, in those very things to communicate
and impart to them the utmost he can, that they may shine
in his honor, and flourish with his interest. For instance,
if he be a good orator, to endeavor to make that faculty
theirs, accounting it never the less for being imparted. And
care oujrht to be taken that all this kindness be not fol-
lowed with a fastidious pride, but rather with such a
becoming condescension and familiarity as may secure
his worth from envy, and by his own equanimity and
sweet disposition, as far as is possible, make up the
inequality of their fortunes. LucuUus refused the honor
of magistracy on purpose to give way to his younger
brother, contentedly waiting for the expu-ation of his year.
Pollux chose rather to be half a deity with his brother
than a deity by himself, and therefore to debase himself
into a share of mortality, that he might raise his brother as
much above it. You then are a happy man, one would
think, that can oblige your brother at a cheaper rate, illus-
trate him with the honor of your lirtues, and make him
great like yourself, without any damage or derogation.
Thus Plato made his brothers famous by mentioning them
in the choicest of his books, — Glauco and Adimantus in
that concerning the Commonwealth, and Antipho his
yoimgest brother in his Parmenides.

13. Besides, as there is difference in the natures and
fortunes of brothers, so neither is it possible that the one

52 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

should excel the other in every particular thing. The
elements exist out of one common matter, yet they are
qualified with quite contrary faculties. No* one ever saw
two brothers by the same father and mother so strangely
distmguished that, whereas the one was a Stoic and withal
a wdse man, — a comely, pleasant, liberal, eminent,
wealthy, eloquent, studious, courteous man, — the other
was quite contrary to all these. But, however, the vilest,
the most despicable things have some proportion of good,
or natural disposition to it.

Thus amongst hated thorns and prickly briers
Tlie fragrant violet retires.

Now therefore, he who has the eminency in other things,
if he yet do not hinder nor stifie the credit of what is
laudable in his brother, like an ambitious antagonist that
grasps at all the applause, but if he rather yield to him,
and declare that in many thmgs he excels him, by this
means takes away all occasion of envy, which being like
fire without fuel, must needs die without it. Or rather he
prevents the very beginnings of envy, and suffers it not so
much as to kindle betwixt them. But he who, where he
knows himself far superior to his brother, calls for his
help and advice, whether it be in the business of a rlieto-
ricijtn, a magistrate, or a friend, — in a word, he that ne-
glects or leaves him out in no honorable employment or
concern, but joins him with himself in all his noble and
worthy actions, employs him when present, waits for him
when absent, and makes the world take notice that he is
as fit for business as himself, but of a more modest and
yielding disposition, — all this while has done himself no
wrong, and has bravely advanced his brother.

14. And this is the advice one would offer to the excel-
ling brother. The other should consider that, as his
brother excels him in wealth, learning, esteem, he must
expect to come behind not him only but millions more,

Who live o' th* offsprings of the spacious earth.

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 53

But if he envies all that are so happy, or is the only one
in the world that repines at his own brother s felicity, his
malicious temper speaks him one of the most wretched
creatures in the world. Wherefore, as Metellus's opinion
was, that the Romans were bound to thank the Gods that
Scipio, being such a brave man, was not born in another
city ; so he who aspires after great things, if he miss of
his designs for himself, can do no less than entitle his
brother to his best wishes. But some are so unlucky in
estimating of virtuous and worthy actions that, whereas
they are overjoyed to see thek friends grow in esteem, and
are not a little proud of entertaining persons of honor or
great opulency, their brother's worth and eminency is in
the mean time looked upon with a jealous eye, as though
it threatened to cloud and eclipse the splendor of their
condition. How do they exalt themselves at the memory
of some prosperous exploits of theii* father, or the wise
conduct of their great-grandfather, by all which they are
nothing advantaged ? But again, how are they daunted
and dispirited to see a brother preferred to inheritances,
dignities, or honorable marriage ? But we should not
envy any one ; but if this cannot be, we ought at least to
turn our malice and rancor out of the family against worse
objects, in imitation of those who ease the city of sedition
by turning the same upon their enemies without. We may
say, as Diomedes said to Glaucus :

Trojans I have and friends ; you, what I liatc, —
Grecians tu envy and to emulate *

15. Brothers should not be like the scales of a balance,
the one rising upon the other's sinking ; but rather like
numbers in arithmetic, the lesser and greater mutually
hel[)iug and improving each other. For that finger which
is not active in writing or touching musical instruments is
not infeiior to those that can do both ; but they all move and

• 11. VL 227.

54 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

act, one as well as another, and are assistant to each other,
which makes the inequality among them seem designed
by Nature, when the greatest cannot be without the help
of the least that is placed in opposition to it. Thus Cra-
terus and Perilaus, brothers to kings Antigonus and Cas-
sander, betook themselves, the one to managing of military,
the other of his domestic affairs. On the other hand,
the men like Antiochus, Seleucus, Grypus, and Cyzicenus,
disdaining any meaner things than purple and diadems,
brought a great deal of trouble and mischief upon one
another, and made Greece itself miserable with their quar-
rels. But in regard that men of ambitious inclinations
will be apt to envy those who have got the start of them
in honor, I judge it most convenient for brothers to take
different methods in pursuit of it, rather than to vex and
emulate one another in the same way. Those beasts fight
and war one with another who feed in one pasture, and
wrestlers are antagonists when they strive in the same
game. But those that pretend to different games are the
greatest friends, and ready to take one another's parts with
the utmost of their skill and power. So the two sons of
Tyndarus, Castor and Pollux, carried the day, — Pollux at
cuffs, and Castor at racing. Thus Homer brings in Teu-
cer as expert in the bow, whom his brother Ajax, who was
best in close fight.

Protected over with a glittering shield *

And amongst those who are concerned in the Common
wealth a general of an army docs not much envy the
leaders of the people, nor among those that profess rhetoric
do the lawyers envy the sophisters, nor amongst the physi-
cians do those who prescribe rules for diet envy the chi-
rurgeon ; but they mutually aid and assert the credit of one
another. But for brothers to study to be eminent in the
same art and faculty is all the same, amongst ill men, as

♦ II. VIIL 272.

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 55

if rival lovers, courting one and the same mistress, should
both strive to gain the greatest interest in her aflfections.
Those indeed that travel different ways can probably do
one another but little good ; but those who carry on quite
different designs, and take several methods in their con-
versations, avoid envy, and many times do one another a
kindness. As Demosthenes and Chares, and again Aes-
chincs and Eubulus, Hyperides and Leosthenes, the one
treating the people with their discourses and writmgs, the
others assisting them by action and conduct. Therefore,
where the disposition of brothers is such that they cannot
agree in prosecuting the same methods of becoming great,
it is convenient that one of them should so command him-
self as to assume the most different inclinations and designs
from his brother ; that, if they both aim at honor, they
may serve theu* ambition by different means, and that they
may cheerfully congratulate each other on the success of
their designs, and so enjoy at once their honor and them
selves.

16. But, besides this, they must beware of the sugges-
tions of kindred, servants, or even wives, that may work
much in a vain-glorious mind. Your brother, say they, is
the great man of action, whom the people honor and admire ;
but nobody comes near or regards you. Now a man that
well understood himself would answer, I have indeed a
brother that is a plausible man in the world, and the great-
est part of his honor I have a right to. For Socrates said
that he would rather have Darius for his friend than a
Daric. But to a prudent and ingenious brother, it would
be as great a satisfaction to sec his brother an excellent
orator, a person of great wealth or authority, as if he had
been any or all these himself. And thus especially may
that trouble and discontent, that arises from the great odds
that are betwixt brethren, be mitigated. But there are
other differences that happen amongst ill-ron^tructed broth-

56 or BROTHERLY LOVE.

ers in respect of their age. For, whilst the elder justly
claim the privilege of pre-eminence and authority over the
younger, they become troublesome and uneasy to them ;
and the younger, growing pert and refractory, begin to
slight and contemn the elder. Hence it is that the younger,
looking upon themselves as hated and curbed, decline and
stomach their admonitions. The elder again, being fond
of superiority, are jealous of their brothers' advancement,
as though it tended to lessen them. Therefore, as we judge
of a kindness that it ought to be valued more by the party
obliged than by him who bestows it, so, if the elder would
be persuaded to set less by his seniority and the younger
to esteem it more, there would be no supercilious slight-
ing and contemptuous carriage betwixt them. But, seeing
it is fitting the elder should take care of them, lead, and in-
struct them, and the younger respect, observe, and follow
them ; it is likewise convenient that the elder's care should
carry more of familiarity in it, and that he should act more
by persuasion than command, being readier to express much
satisfaction and to applaud his brother when he does well
than to reprove and chastise him for his faults. Now the
younger's imitation should be free from such a thing as
angry striving. For unprejudiced endeavors in following
another speak the esteem of a friend and admirer, the
other the envy of an antagonist. Whence it is that those
who, out of love to virtue, desire to be like their brother
are beloved ; but those again who, out of a stomaching am
bition, contend to be equal with them meet with answer-
able usage. But above all other respects due from the
yoimger to the elder, that of observance is most commend-
able, and occasions the return of a strong affection and
equal regard. Such was the obsequious behavior of Cato
to his elder brother Caepio all along from their childhood,
that, when they came to be men, he had so much overcome
him with his humble and excellent disposition, and his

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 57

meek silence and attentive obedience had begot in him
such a reverence towards him, that Caepio neither spake
nor did any thing material without him. It is recorded
that, when Caepio had sealed some w riting of depositions,
and his brother coming in was against it, he called for the
writing and took off his seal, without so much as asking
Cato why he did suspect the testimony. The reverence
that Epicurus's brothers showed him was likewise remark-
able, and well merited by his good will and affectionate
care for them. They were so especially influenced by him
in the way of his philosophy, that they began betimes to
entertain a high opinion of his accomplishments, and to
declare that there was never a wiser man heard of than
Epicurus. If they erred, yet we may here observe the
obliging behavior of Epicurus, and the return of their pas-
sionate respects to him. And amongst later philosophers,
Apollonius the Peripatetic convinced him who said honor
was incommunicable, by raising his younger brother Sotion
to a higher degree of eminence than himself. Amongst
all the good things I am bound to Fortune for, I have that
of a kind and affectionate brother Timon, which cannot be
unknown to any who have conversed with me, and espe-
cially those of my own family.

17. There are yet other disturbances that brothers near
the same age ought to be warned of; they are but small
indeed at present, but they are frequent and leave a last-
ing grudge, such as makes them ready upon all occasions
to fret and exasperate one another, and conclude at last in
im|)lacable hatred and malice. For, having once begun to
fall out in their sports, and to differ about little things, like
the feeding and fighting of cocks and other fowl, the exer-
cises of children, the hunting of dogs, the racing of horses,
it comes to pass that they have no government of them-
selves in greater matters, nor the power to restrain a proud
and contentious liumor. So the great men among the

58 OF BROTH -.RLY LOVE.

Grecians in our time, disagreeing first about players
and musicians, afterward about the bath in Aedepsus,
and again about rooms of entertainment, from contend-
ing and opposing one another about places, and from
cutting and turning water-courses, they were grown so
fierce and mad against one another, that they were dis-
possessed of all their goods by a tyrant, reduced to ex-
treme poverty, and put to very hard shifts. In a word, so
miserably were they altered from themselves, that there
was nothing of the same but their inveterate hatred re-
maining in them. Wherefore there is no small care to be
taken by brothers in subduing theu* passions and pre-
venting quarrels about small matters, yielding rather for
peace's sake, and taking greater pleasure in indulging than
crossing and conquering one another's humors. For the
ancients accounted the Cadmean victory to be no other
than that between the brothers at Thebes, esteeming that
the worst and basest of victories. But you will say. Are
there not somQ things wherein men of mild and quiet dis
positions may have occasion to dissent from others ? There
are, doubtless ; but then they must take care that the main
difference be betwixt the things themselves, and that their
passions be not too much concerned. But they must
rather have a regard to justice, and as soon as they have
referred the controversy to arbitrament, immediately dis-
charge their thoughts of it, for fear too much ruminating
leave a deep impression of it in the mind, and render it
hard to be forgotten. The Pythagoreans were imitable
for this, that, though no nearer related than by mere com-
mon discipline and education, if at any time in a passion
they broke out into opprobrious language, before the sun
sot they gave one another their hands, and with them a dis-
charge from all injuries, and so with a mutual salutation
concluded friends. For as a fever attending an inflamed
sore threatens no great danger to the body, but, if the

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 59

sore being healed the fever stays, it appears then to be a
distemper and to have some deeper cause ; so, when among
brothers upon the ending of a difference all discord ceases
betwixt them, it is an argument that the cause lay in the
matter of difference only, but, if the discord survive the
decision of the controversy, it is plain that the pretended
matter served only for a false scar, drawn over on purpose
to hide the cause of an incurable wound.

18. It is worth the while at present to hear an account
of a dispute between two foreign brothers, not concerning
a little patch of land, nor a few servants or cattle, but no
less than the kingdom of Persia. When Darius was dead,
some were for Ariamenes's succeeding to the crown as be-
ing eldest son ; others were for Xerxes, who was born to
Darius of Atossa, the daughter of Cyrus, in the time of his
reijrn over Persia. Ariamenes therefore came from Media
in no hostile posture, but very peaceably, to hear the mat-
ter determined. Xerxes being there used the majesty and
power of a king. But when his brother was come, he laid
down his crown and other royal ornaments, went and meet-
ing greeted him. And sending him presents, he gave a
charge to his servants to deliver them with these words :
With these presents your brother Xerxes expresses the
honor he has for you ; and, if by the judgment and suf-
frage of the Persians I be dechxred king, I place you next
to myself Ariamenes replied : I accept your gifts, but
presume the kingdom of Persia to be my right. Yet for
all my younger brethren I shall have an honor, but for
Xerxes in the first place. The day of determining who
should reign being come, the Persians made Artabanus
brother to Darius judge. Xerxes excepting against him,,
confiding most in the multitude, his mother Atossa re-
proved him, saying : Why, son, are you so shy of Artabanus,
your uncle, and one of the best men amongst the Pci*sians 1
And why should you dread the trial, where the worst you

60 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

can fear is to be next the throne, and to be called the king
of Persia's brother 1 Xerxes at length submitting, after
some debate Artabanus adjudged the kingdom to Xerxes.
Ariamenes presently started up, and went and showed obei-
sance to his brother, and taking him by the hand, placed
him in the throne. And from that time, being placed him-
self by Xerxes next in the kingdom, he continued the same
affection to him, insomuch that, for his brother's honor en-
gaging himself in the naval fight at Salamis, he was killed
there. And this may serve for a clear and unquestionable
instance of true kindness and greatness of mind.

Antiochus's restless ambition after a crown was as
much to be condemned ; but still we may admire this in
him, that it did not totally extinguish natural affection and
destroy the love of a brother. He went to war with his
brother Seleucus for the kingdom, himself being the
younger brother, and having the assistance of his mother.
In the durance of w^hich war Seleucus joins battle with
the Galatians and is defeated ; beini^ not heard of for a
time, he is supposed to be slain and his whole army to
be slaughtered by the enemy. Antiochus, understanding
it, put off his purple, w^ent into mourning, caused his
palace to be shut up, and retired to lament the death of
his brother. But, within a short time after, hearing that
his brother was safe and raising new forces, he went and
offered sacrifices for joy, and commanded his subjects to
do the like and to crown themselves with garlands. But
the Athenians, though they made a ridiculous story about
a falling out amongst the Deities, compensated for the ab-
surdity pretty well in striking out the second day of their
month Boedromion, because upon that day Neptune and
Minerva were at variance. And why should not we cancel
out of our memories, as an unhappy day and no more to be
spoken of, that wherein we have differed with any of our
family or relations ? But rather, far be it from us that the

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 61

feuds of that day should bury the memory of all that
happier time wherein we were educated and conversed
toi^ethor. For, except nature has bestowed those virtues
of meekness and patience upon us in vain and to no pur-
j)ose, we have certainly the greatest reason to exercise them
towards our intimate friends and kindred. Now the ac-
knowledgments of the offender and the begging pardon
for the crime express a kind and amicable nature no less
than the remitting of it. Wherefore it is not for us to
slight the anger of those whom we have incensed through
our folly, neither should they be so implacable as to refuse
an humble submission ; but rather, where we have done
the wrong, we should endeavor to prevent a distaste by the
earliest and humblest acknowledgments and impetrations
of pardon, and where we have received any, to be as ready
and free in the forgiving of it. Euclides, Socrates's audi-
tor, was famous in the schools for his mild return to his
raving brother, whom he heard bellow out threats against
him after this manner: Let me perish, if 1 be not revenged
on you. He answered : And let me perish, if I do not pre-
vail with you to desist from this passion, and to let us be as
good friends as ever we were. This Euclides spake ; but
what king Eumenes did was an act of meekness seldom to
be paralleled, and never yet outdone. For Perseus king
of Maccdon, being his great enemy, had engaged some
persons to attempt the killing him. In order to which
barbarous act they lay in wait for him at Delphi, and,
when they perceived him going from the sea toward
the Oracle, came behind him and set upon him with
great stones, wounding him in the head and neck, till
reeling with his hurt he fell down and was supposed
dead. The rumor of this action dispersed every way, and
some friends and servants of bis coming to Pergamus,
who were the amazed spectators of the supposed mur-
der, brought the news. Whereupon Attains, Eumenes's

62 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

eldest brother, a well-tempered man and one that had
showed the greatest affection and ^respect to his brother,
was proclaimed king, and not only assumed the crown, but
married his deceased brother's queen, Stratonica. But in-
telligence coming a while after that Eumenes was alive
and coming liome, he presently laid aside the crown, and
putting on his usual habiliments, went with the rest of the
guard to meet and attend him. Eumenes received him
with the most affectionate embrace, and saluted the queen
with honorable respect and mucb endearment. And not
long after, at his death, he was so free from passion or
jealousy against his brother, that he bequeathed to him
both his crown and his queen. The return of Attains to
his brother's kindness was ingenuous and very remarkable.
For after his brother's death he took no care to advance
his own children, though he had many, but provided es-
pecially for the education of Eumenes's son, and when he
came to age, placed the crown upon his head, and saluted
him with the title of king. But Cambyses, being disturbed
only with a dream that his brother was like to reign over
Asia, without any enquiry after farther evidence or ground
for his jealousy, caused him to be put to death. Where-
upon the succession went out of Cyrus's family into the
line of Darius, a prince who understood how to share the
management of his affairs and even his regal authority not
merely with his brothers, but also with his friends.

19. Again, this rule is to be observed, that, whenever
any difference happens betwixt brothers, during the time
of strangeness especially they hold a correspondence with
one another's friends, but by all means avoid their enemies.
The Cretans are herein very observable ; who, being accus-
tomed to frequent skirmishes and fights, nevertheless, as
soon as they were attacked by a foreign enemy, were
reconciled and went together. And that was it which
they commonly called Syncretism. For there are some

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 63

who, like waters running among loose and chinky grounds,
overthrow all familiarity and friendship ; enemies to both
parties, but especially bent upon the ruining of him whose
weakness exposes him most to danger. For every sin-
cere substantial friend joins in affection with one that
approves himself such to him. And you shall observe, on
the other hand, that the most inveterate and pernicious
enemy contributes the poison of his ill-nature to heighten
the passion of an angry brother. Therefore as the cat, in
Aesop, out of pretended kindness asked the sick hen how
she did, and she answered, The better if you were further
off ; after the same manner one would answer an incen-
diary that throws in words to breed discord, and to that
end pries into things that are not to be spoken of, saying :
I have no controversy with my brother nor he with me, if
neither of us shall hearken to such sycophants as you are.
I cannot understand why — seeing it is commonly held
convenient for those who have tender eyes and a weak
sight to shun those objects that are apt to make a strong
reflection — the rule should not hold good in morals, and
why those whom we would imagine sick of the trouble of
fraternal quarrels and contentions should rather seem to
take pleasure in them, and even seek the company of those
who will only excite them the more and make all worse.
How much more prudential a course would they take in
avoiding the enemies of their offended brethren, and rather
conversing with their relations and friends or even with
their wives, and discovering their grievances to them
frankly and with plainness of speech I But some are of
that scrupulous opinion, that brothers walking together
must not suffer a stone to lie in the way betwixt them, and
are very much concerned if a dog happen to run betwixt
them ; and many such things, being looked upon as omi-
nous, discompose and terrify them. Whereas none of
them nil any way tends to the breaking of friendship or

64 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

the causing of dissension; but they are not in the least
aware that men of snarling dispositions, base detractors,
and instigators of mischief, whom they improvidently ad-
mit into their society, are the things that do them the
greatest hurt.

20. Therefore (this discourse suggesting one thing after
another) Theoplirastus said well: If there ought to be all
things common amongst friends, why should not the best
of those things, their friends themselves, be communicated?
And this is advice that cannot be too soon tendered to
brethren, for their separate acquaintance and conversation
conduce to the estranging them from one another. Eor
those who affect divers friends will be apt to delight in
them so much as to emulate them, and will therefore be
easily drawn and persuaded by them ; for friendships have
their distinctive marks and manners, and there is no
greater argument of a different genius and disposition
than the choice of different friends. Wherefore neither
the common table nor the common recreations nor any
other sort of intimacy comprehends so much of amity be-
twixt brothers, as to be united in their interest and to
have the same common friends and enemies ; for ordinary
friendship suifers neither calumnies nor clashings, but if
there be any anger or discontent, honest and impartial
friends make an end of it. For as tin unites and solders
up broken brass, being put to the ends and attempered to
the nature of the broken pieces ; so it is the part of a
friend betwixt two brothers, to suit and accommodate
himself to the humors of both, that he may confirm and
secure their friendship. But those of different and uncom-
plying tempers are like improper notes in music, that serve
only to spoil the consort, and offend the ear with a harsh
noise. It is a question therefore whether Hesiod was in
the right or not when he said :

Let not thy friend become thy brother's peer.*
♦ Hesiod, Works and Days, 707.

OF BROTHERLY LOVE. 65

For one of an even behavior, that freely communicates
himself between both, may by his interest in both contract
a firm and happy tie and engagement of love between
brothers. But liesiod, it seems, spoke of those he sus-
pected, — the greatest part and the worst sort of friends,
— men of envious and selfish designs. He is wise who
avoids such friends ; and if in the mean time he divide his
kindness equally between a true friend and a brother, let
him do it with this reserve always, that the brother have
the preference in magistracy and the management of pub-
lic affairs, that he have the greater respect shown him in
invitations and in contracting acquaintance with great
persons, and in any thing that looks honorable and great
in the eyes of the people, that the pre-eminence be given
to Nature ; for in these instances to prefer a friend does
him not so much credit as that base and unworthy action
of lessening and slighting a brother does the vilifying
brother disgrace. But several have given their opinions
in this thing. That of Menander is very well,

No one who loves will bear to be contemned.

This may remind brothers to preserve a tender regard to
one another, and not to presume that Nature will overcome
all their slights and disdain. A horse naturally loves a
man, and a dog his master ; but, if they are neglected in
what is fitting and necessary for them, they will grow
strange and unmanageable. The body, that is so inti-
mately united to the soul, if the soul suspend a careful
influence from it, will not be forward to assist it in its
operations ; it may rather spoil and cross them.

21. Now as the kind regards of brother to brother are
highly commendable, so may they be expressed to the
greater advantage, when he confines them not wholly to
his person, but pays them, as occasion serves, rather by
reflection to his kindred and such as retain to him ; when
he maintains a kind and complaisant humor amidst all

VOL. III. 6

66 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

contingencies, when he obliges the servile part of the
family with a courteous and affable carriage, when he is
grateful to the physician and good friends for the safe
recovery of his brother, and is ready to go upon any expe-
dition or service for him. Again, it is highly commend-
able in him to have the highest esteem and honor for his
brother's wife, reputing and honoring her as the most
sacred of all his brother's sacred treasures, and thus to do
honor to him ; condoling with her when she is neglected,
and appeasing her when she is angered ; if she have a
little offended, to intercede and sue for her peace ; if there
have been any private difference between himself and his
brother, to make his complaint before her in order to a re-
concilement. But especially let him be much troubled at his
brother s single state ; or, if he be married, at his want of
children. If not married, let him follow him with argu-
ments and persuasions, to teaze him with rebukes and
reproaches, and to do every thing that may incline him to
enter into a conjugal state. When he has children, let
him express his affection and respects to both parents
with the greater ardency. Let him love the children
equally with his own, but be more favorable and indul-
gent to them, that, if it chance that they commit some of
their youthful faults, they may not run away and hide
themselves among naughty acquaintances through fear of
their parents' anger, but may have in their uncle a recourse
and refuge, where they will be admonished lovingly and
will find an intercessor to make their excuse and get their
pardon. So Plato reclaimed his nephew Speusippus, that
was far gone in idleness and debauchery ; the young man,
impatient of his parents' reprehensions, ran away from
them, who were more impatient of his extravagancies.
His uncle expressed nothing of disturbance at all this,
but continued calm and free from passion ; whereupon
Speusippus was seized with an extraordinary shame, and

OF BRO^THERLY LOVE. 67

from tliat time became an admirer of both his uncle and
his philosophy. Many of Phito's friends bhmicd him that
he had not instructed the youth ; he made answer, that he
instructed him by his life and conversation, from which he
might learn, if he pleased, the difference betwixt ill and
virtuous actions. The father of Aleuas the Thessalian,
looking upon his son as of a fierce and injurious nature,
kept him under with a great deal of severity, but his uncle
received him with as great kindness. When therefore the
Thessalians sent some lots to the oracle at Delphi, to
enquire by them who should be their king, his uncle stole
in one lot privately in the name of Aleuas ; the priestess
answered from the oracle, that Aleuas should be king.
His father being surprised averred that there was never
a lot thrown in for Aleuas that he knew of; at last all
concluded that some mistake was committed in putting
down the names, whereupon they sent again to enquii-e
of the oracle. The priestess, confirming her first words,
answered :

I mean the youtli with reddish hair,
Whom dame Archedice did bear.

Thus Aleuas was by the oracle, through his uncle's kind
policy, declared king ; by which means he surmounted all
his ancestors, and advanced his family into a splendid con-
dition. For it is prudence in a brother, when he beholds
with joy the brave and worthy actions of his nephews grow-
ing great and honorable by their own deserts, to prompt
and encourage them on by congratulation and applause.
For to praise his own son may be absurd and offensive, but
to commend the good actions of a brother's son, is an ex-
cellent thing, and one which proceeds from no self-interest,
nor any other principle but a true veneration for virtue.
Now the very name of uncle {Oeio^-) intimates that mutual
beneficence and friendship that ought to be between him
and his nephews. Besides this, wc have a precedent from

68 OF BROTHERLY LOVE.

those that are of a sublimer make and nature than our-
selves. Hercules, who was the father of sixty-eight sons,
had a brother's son that was as dear to him as any of his
own ; and even to this time Hercules and his nephew lolaus
have m many places one common altar betwixt them, and
share m the same adorations. He is called literally Her-
cules's assistant. And when his brother Iphicles was slain
in a battle at Lacedaemon, in his exceeding grief he left
the whole of Peloponnesus. Also Leucothea, her sister
being dead, took her infant, nursed him up, and consecrated
him with herself among the deities ; from whenr«? the Roman
matrons, upon the festivals of Leucothea (whom they call
also Matuta) have a custom of nursing their sisters' children
instead of their own, during the time of the festival.

WHEREFORE THE PYTHLVN PRIESTESS NOW CEASES
TO DELIVER HER ORACLES IN VERSE.

I. BASILOCLES, PIIILIXUS.
II. nilLIXUS, DIOGEXIA^'US, TUEO, SEIUPIO, IIOETHUS, INTERPRETERS.

1. Basilocles. You have spun out the time, Philinus,
till it is late in the evening, in giving the strangers a full
sight of all the consecrated rarities ; so that I am quite
tired with waiting longer for your society.

Philinus. Therefore we walked slowly along, talking
and discoursing, O Basilocles, sowdng and reaping by the
way such sharp and hot disputes as offered themselves,
which sprung up anew and grew about us as w^e walked,
like the armed men from the Dragon's teeth of Cadmus.

Basilocles. Shall we then call some of those that were
present ; or wilt thou be so kind as to tell us what were
the discourses and who were the disputants 1

Philinus. That, Basilocles, it must be my business to do.
For thou wilt hardly meet with any one else in the city
able to serve thee ; for we saw most of the rest ascending
with the stranger up to tlie Corycian cave and to Lycorea.

Basilocles. This same stranger is not only covetous of
seeing what may be seen, but wonderfully civil and genteel.

Philinus. lie is besides a great lover of science, and
studious to learn. But tlicse are not the only exercises
which are to be admired in him. He is a person modest,
yet facetious, smart and prudent in dispute, void of all pas-
sion and contumacies in his answers ; in short, you will say
of him at first sight that he is the son of a virtuous father.

70 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

For dost thou not know Diogenianus, a most excellent
person ?

Basilocles. I have not seen him, Philinus, but many-
report several tilings of tlie young gentleman, much like
what you say. But, pray now, what was the beginning of
these discourses ? Upon what occasion did they arise ?

2. Philinus. The interpreters of the sacred mysteries
acted without any regard to us, who desired them to con-
tract their relation into as few words as might be, and to
pass by the most part of the inscriptions. But the stranger
was but indifferently taken with the form and workmanship
of' the statues, being one, as it appeared, who had already
been a spectator of many rare pieces of curiosity. He
admired the beautiful color of the brass, not foul and rusty,
but shining with a tincture of blue. What, said he, was
it any certain mixture and composition of the ancient
artists in brass, like the famous art of giving a keen edge
to swords, without which brass could not be used in Avar ]
For Corinthian brass received its lustre not from art, but by
chance, when a fire had devoured some house wherein
there was both gold and silver, but of brass the greater
plenty ; which, being intermixed and melted into one mass,
derives its name from the brass, of which there was the
greater quantity. Then Theo interposing said: But we
have heard another more remarkable reason than this ;
how an artist in brass at Corinth, happening upon a chest
full of gold, and fearing to have it divulged, cut the gold
into small pieces, and mixed it by degrees with the brass,
till he found the more noble metal gave a more than usual
lustre to the baser, and so transformed it that he sold at a
great rate the unknown mixture, that was highly admired
for its beauty and color. But I believe both the one and
the other to be fabulous ; for by all likelihood this Cor-
inthian brass was a certain mixture and temperature of
metals, prepared by art ; just as at this day artisans temper

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 71

gold and silver together, and make a peculiar and won-
derful pale yellow metal ; howbeit, in my eye it is of a
sickly color and a corrupt hue, without any beauty in the
world.

3. What then, said Diogenianus, do you believe to be
the cause of this extraordinary color in the brass ? And
Theo replied : Seeing that of those first and most natural
elements, Avliich are and ever will be, — that is to say, fire,
air, earth, and water, — there is none that approaches so
near to brass or that so closely environs it as air alone, we
have most reason to believe that the air occasions it, and
that from thence proceeds the difference which brass displays
from other metals Or did you know this even " before
Theognis was born," as the comic poet intimates ; but would
you know by what natural quality or by what virtual power
this same air thus colors the brass, being touched and sur-
rounded by it ] Yes, said Diogenianus ; and so would I,
dear son, replied the worthy Theo. First then let us en-
deavor, altogether with submission to your good pleasure,
said the first propounder, to find out the reason wherefore
of all moistures oil covers brass wdth rust. For it cannot
be imagined that oil of itself causes that defilement, if
Avhcn first laid on it is clean and pure. By no means, said
the young gentleman, in regard the effect seems to proceed
from another cause ; for the rust appears through the oil,
which is thin, pure, and transparent, whereas it is clouded
by other more thick and muddy liquors, and so is not able
to show itself. It is well said, son, replied the other, and
truly ; but hear, however, and then consider the reason
which Aristotle produces. I am ready, returned the young
gentleman. He says then, answered the other, that the
rust insensibly penetrates and dilates itself through other
licjuids, as being of parts unequal, and of a thin substance ;
but tliat it grows to a consistency, and is, as it were, incor-
porated by thr more dense substance of the oil. Now if

72 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

we could but suppose how this might be done, we should
not want a charm to lull this doubt asleep.

4. When we had made our acknowledgment that he had
spoken truth, and besought him to proceed, he told us
that the air of the city of Delphi is heavy, compacted,
thick, and forcible, by reason of the reflection and resist-
ency of the adjacent mountains, and besides that, is sharp
and cutting (as appears by the eager stomachs and swift
digestion of the inhabitants) ; and that this air, entering
and penetrating the brass by its keenness, fetches forth
from the body of the brass much rust and earthy matter,
which afterwards it stops and coagulates by its ow^n density,
ere it can get forth ; by which means the rust abounding
in quantity gives that peculiar grain and lustre to the super-
ficies. When we approved this argument, the stranger
declared his opinion, that it needed no more than one of
those suppositions to clear the doubt ; for, said he, that
tenuity or subtilty seems to be in some measure contrary
to that thickness supposed to be in the air, and therefore
there is no reason to suppose it ; for -the brass, as it grows
old, of itself exhales and sends forth that rust, which after-
wards, being stopped and fixed by the thickness of the air,
becomes apparent by reason of its quantity. Then Theo
replied : and what hinders but that the same thing may
be thick and thin both together, like the woofs of silk or
fine linen 1 — of which Homer says :

Thin was the stuff.

Yet liquid oil ran o'er the tissued woof,*

intimating the extreme fineness of the texture, yet so close
woven that it could not suffer oil to pass through it. In
like manner may we make use of the subtilty of the air,
not only to scour the brass and fetch the rust out of it, but
also to render the color more pleasing and more azure-like,
by intermixing light and splendor amidst the blue.

* Odyss. VII. 107.

I

i

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 73

5. This said, after short silence, the guides began again
to cite certain words of an ancient oracle in verse, which,
as it seemed to me, pointed at the sovereignty of Aegon
king of Argos. I have often wondered, said Diogenianus,
at the meanness and ill-contrived hobbling of the verses
which conveyed the ancient oracles into the world. And
yet Apollo is called the chief of the Muses ; whom it
therefore behooved to take no less care of elegancy and
beauty in style and language, than of the voice and man-
ner of singing. Besides, he must needs be thought to
surpass in a high degree either Homer or Ilesiod in poetic
skill. Nevertheless we find several of the oracles lame
and erroneous, as well in reference to the measure as to
the words. Upon which the poet Scrapie, newly come
from x\thens, being then in company, said : If we believe
that those verses were composed by Apollo, can we ac-
knowledge what you allege, that they come short of the
beauty and elegancy Avhich adorn the Avritings of Homer
and Ilesiod ; and shall we not make use of them as ex-
amples of neatness and curiosity, correcting our judgment
anticipated and forestalled by evil custom ] To whom
Bocthus the geometer (the person who you know has
lately gone over to the camp of Epicurus) said: Have you
not heard the story of Pauson the painter ? Not I, replied
Scrapie. It is worth your attention, answered Boethus.
He, having contracted to paint a horse wallowing upon
his back, drew the horse galloping at full speed ; at which
when the person that had agreed with him seemed to be
not a little displeased, Pauson fell a laughing, and turned
the picture upside downward ; by which means the pos-
ture was quite altered, and the horse that seemed to run
before lay tumbling now upon the ground. This (as Wuni
says) fretpicntly happens to propositions, when t\w\ are
once inverted ; for some will deny the oracles to be elegant,
because they come from Apollo ; others will deny Apollo

74 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

to be the author, because of then* rude and shapeless com-
posure. For the one is dubious and uncertain ; but this
is manifest, that the verses wherein the oracles are gene-
rally delivered are no way laboriously studied. Nor can I
appeal to a better jiulgc than yourself, whose compositions
and poems are not only written so gravely and philosophi-
cally, but, for invention and elegancy, more like to those
of Homer and llesiod than the homely Pythian raptures.

6. To whom Scrapie : We labor, Boethus, said he, un-
der the distempered senses both of sight and hearing,
being accustomed through niceness and delicacy to esteem
and call that elegant which most delights ; and perhaps we
may find fault with the Pythian priestess because she does
not warble so charmingly as* the fair lyric songstress
Glauca, or else because she does not perfume herself with
precious odors or appear in rich and gaudy habit. And
some may mislike her because she burns for incense rather
barley-meal and laurel than frankincense, ladanon, and
cinnamon. Do you not see, some one will say, what a
grace there is in Sappho's measures, and how they delight
and tickle the ears and fancies of the hearers ? Whereas
the Sibyl with her frantic grimaces, as Ileraclitus says,
uttering sentences altogether thoughtful and serious, neither
bespiced nor perfumed, continues her voice a thousand
years by the favor of the Deity that speaks within her.
Pindar therefore tells us that Cadmus heard from heaven a
sort of music that was neither lofty nor soft, nor shattered
into trills and divisions ; for severe holiness will not admit
the allurements of pleasure, that was for the most part
thrown into the w^orld and flowed (as it appears) into the
ears of men at the same time with the Goddess of mis-
chief.

7. Serapio thus concluding, Theo with a smile proceeded.
Scrapie, said he, lias not forgot his wonted custom of
taking an opportunity to discourse of pleasure. But we,

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 75

Boethus, believe not these prophetic verses to be the com-
positions of Apollo, if they are worse than Homer's ; but
we believe that he sup plied _the principle of motion, and
that every one of the prophetesses was disposed to receive
his inspiration. For if the oracles were to be set down in
writhig, not verbally to be pronounced, surely we should
not find fault with the hand, taking it to be Apollo's, be-
cause the letters were not so fairly written as in the epistles
of kings. For neither the voice, nor the sound, nor the
word, nor the metre proceeds from the God, but from the
woman. God only presents the visions, and kindles in
the soul a light to discover future events ; which is called
divine inspiration. But in short, I find it is a hard matter
to escape the hands of Epicurus's priests (of which num-
ber I perceive you are), since you reprove the ancient
priestesses for making bad verses, and the modern prophet-
esses for delivering the oracles in prose and vulgar lan-
guage, which they do that they may escape being by you
called to an account for their lame and mistaken verses.
But then, Diogenianus, I beseech you, said he, in the name
of all the Gods, be serious with us ; unriddle this question,
and explain this mystery unto us, which is now grown
almost epidemical. For indeed there is hardly any person
that does not with an extreme curiosity search after the
reason wherefore the Pythian oracle has ceased to make
use of numbers and verse. Hold, son, said Theo, we shall
disoblige our historical directors by taking their province
out of their hands. First suffer them to make an end,
and then at leisure we will go on with what you please.

8. Thus walking along, we were by this time got as
far as the statue of Hiero the tyrant, while the stranger,
althougli a most learned historian, yet out of his complais-
ant and affable disposition, attentively leaned to the pres-
ent relations. But then, among other things, hearing how
that one of the brazen pillars that supported the said statue

76 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

.of Hiero fell of itself the same day that the tyrant died
at Syracuse, he began to admire the accident. Thereupon
at the same time I called to mmd several other examples
of the like nature : as that of lliero the Spartan, the eyes
of whose statue fell out of its head just before he was
slain at the battle of Leuctra ; — how the two stars van-
ished which Ly Sander offered and consecrated to the Gods
after the naval engagement near Aegos Potami, and how
there sprung of a sudden from his statue of stone such a
multitude of thorny bushes and weeds as covered all his
face; — how, when those calamities and misfortunes befell
the Athenians m Sicily, the golden dates dropped from the
palm-tree, and the ravens with their beaks pecked holes
in the shield of Pallas ; — how the crown of the Cnidians
which Philomelus, the tyrant of the Phocians, gave Phar-
sali'a, a female dancer, was the occasion of her death ; for,
passing out of Greece into Italy, one day as she was play-
ing and dancing in the temple of Apollo in the city of
Metapontum, having that crown upon her head, the young
men of the place falling upon her, and fighting one among
another for lucre of the gold, tore the damsel in pieces.
Now, though Aristotle was wont to say that only Homer
composed names and terms that had motion, by reason of
the vigor and vivacity of his expressions, for my part I am
apt to believe that the offerings made in this city of statues
and consecrated presents sympathize with 13 i vine Provi-
dence, and move themselves jointly therewith to foretell
and signify future events ; and that no part of all those
sacred donatives is void of sense, but that every part is
full of the Deity.

It is very probable, answered Boethus ; for, to tell you
truth, we do not think it sufficient to enclose the Divin-
ity every month in a mortal body, unless we incorporate
him with every stone and lump of brass ; as if Fortune and
Chance were not sufficient artists to bring about such acci-

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 77

dents and events. Say ye so then 1 said I. Seems it to you
that these things happen accidentally and by hap-hazard ;
and is it likely that your atoms never separate, never move
or incline this or that way either before or after, but just in
that nick of time when some one of those who have made
these offerings is to fare either better or worse? Shall
Epicurus avail thee by his writings and his sayings, whicli
he wrote and uttered above three hundred years ago, and
shall the Deity, unless he crowd himself into all substances
and blend himself with all things, not be allowed to be a
competent author of the principles of motion and afTection '?
9. This was the reply I made Boethus, and the same
answer I gave him touching the Sibyl's verses ; for when
we drew near that part of the rock which joins to the
senate-house, which by common fame was the seat of
the first Sibyl that came to Delphi from Helicon, where
she was bred by the Mnses (tliough others affirm that she
fixed herself at Maleo, and that she was the daughter of
Lamia, the daughter of Neptune), Scrapie made mention
of certain verses of hers, wherein she had extolled herself
as one that should never cease to prophesy even after her
death ; for that after her decease she should make her
abode in the orb of the moon, being metamorphosed into
the face of that planet ; that her voice and prognostications
should be always heard in the air, intermixed with the
winds and by them driven about from place to place ; and
that from her body should spring various plants, herbs,
and fruits to feed the sacred victims, which should have
sundry forms and qualities in their entrails, whereby men
would be able to foretell all manner of events to come.
At this Boethus laughed outright ; but the stranger re-
plied that, though the Sibyl's vain-glory seemed altogether
fabulous, yet the subversions of several Grecian cities,
transmigrations of the inhabitants, several invasions of
barbarian armies, the destructions of kingdoms and prin-

78 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

cipalities, testified the truth of ancient prophecies and
predictions. And were not those accidents that fell out
not many years ago in our memories at Cumae and Pu-
teoli, said he, long before that time the predictions and
promises of the Sibyl, which Time, as a debtor, afterwards
discharged and paid ? Such were the breaking forth of
kindled fire from the sulphuric wombs of mountains, boil-
ing of the sea, cities so swallowed up as not to leave be-
hind the least footsteps of the ruins where they stood ;
things hard to be believed, much harder to be foretold,
unless by Divine foresight.

10. Then Boethus said : I would fain know what acci-
dents fall ont which time does not owe at length to Nature.
What so prodigious or unlooked for, either by land or sea,
either in respect of cities or men, which, if it be foretold,
may not naturally come to pass at one season or other, in
process of time ? So that such a prophecy, to speak prop-
erly, cannot be called a prediction, but a bare speech or
report, or rather a scattering or sowing of words in bound-
less infinity that have no probability or foundation ; which,
as they rove and wander in the air, Fortune accidentally
meets, and musters together by chance, to correspond and
agree with some event. For, in my opinion, there is a
great difference between the coming to pass of what has
been said and the saying of what shall happen. For the
discourse of things that are not, being already in itself
erroneous and faulty, cannot, in justice, claim the honor
of after-credit from a fortuitous accident. Nor is it a true
sign that the prophet foretells of his certain knowledge,
because what he spoke happened to come to pass ; in re-
gard there are an infinite number of accidents, that fall in
the course of nature, suitable to all events. He therefore
that conjectures best, and whom the common proverb avers
to be the exactest diviner, is he who finds out what shall
happen hereafter, by tracing the footsteps of future proba-

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 79

bilitics. Whereas these Sibyls and enthusiastic wizards
have only thrown into the capacious abyss of time, as into
a vast and boundless ocean, whole heaps of words and
sentences, comprehending all sorts of accidents and events,
whicli, though some perchance may come to pass, were
yet false when uttered, though afterwards by chance they
may happen to be true.

11. Bocthus having thus discoursed. Scrapie replied,
that Boethus had rightly and judiciously argued in refer-
ence to cursory predictions uttered not detcrminately and
without good ground. One fairly guessed that such a
captain should get the victory, and he won the field ; an-
other cried that such things portended the subversion of
such a city, and it was laid in ashes. But when the per-
son does not only foretell the event, but how and when, by
what means, and by whom it shall come to pass, this is no
hazardous conjecture, but an absolute demonstration, and
pre-inspired discovery of what shall come to pass here-
after, and that too by the determined decree of fiite, long
before it comes to pass. For example, to instance the
halting of Agesilaus,

Sparta, beware, though tliou art fierce and proud.
Lest a lame king thy ancient glories cloud ;
For then 'twill be thy fate to undergo
Tedious turmoils of war, and sudden woe ;

together with what was prophesied concerning the island
which the sea threw up right against Thera and Therasia ;
as also the prediction of the war between King Philip and
the Romans,

When Trojan race shall tame Phoenicians bold,
Prodigious wonders shall the world Lehold ;
From burning sens shall flames immense ascend ;
Lightning and whirlwinds hideous rocks shall rend
From their foundations, and an island rear.
Dreadful to sight and terrible to hear.
In vain shall greater strength and valor then
Withstand the contemned force of weaker iu«ii.

80 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

Soon after this island shot up out of the ocean, sur-
rounded with flames and boiling surges ; and then it was
that Hannibal was overthrown, and the Carthaginians
were subdued by the distressed and almost ruined Ro-
mans, and that the Aetolians, assisted by the E^omans, van-
quished Philip King of Macedon. So that it is never to
be imagined that these thinj^s w^re the effects of nealiirent
and careless chance ; besides, the series and train of events
ensuing the prodigy clearly demonstrate the foreknowl-
edge of a prophetic spirit. The same may be said of the
prophecy made five hundred years beforehand to the Ro-
mans of the time when they should be engaged in war
with all the world at once ; which happened when their
own slaves made war upon their masters. In all this
there w^as nothing of conjecture, nothing of blind uncer-
tainty, nor is there any occasion to grope into the vast
obscurity of chance for the reason of these events ; but
we have many pledges of experience, that plainly demon-
strate the beaten path by which destiny proceeds. For
certainly there is no man who will believe that ever those
events answered accidentally the several circumstances of
the prediction ; otherwise we may as well say that Epi-
curus himself never wrote his book of dogmatic precepts,
but that the work was perfected by the accidental meeting
and interchange of the letters, one among another.

12. Thus discoursing, we kept on our w^alk ; but when
we came into the Corinthian Hall and observed the brazen
palm-tree, the only remainder left of all the consecrated
donatives, Diogenianus wondered to observe several fig-
ures of frogs and water-snakes, all in cast work about
the root of the tree. Nor w^ere we less at a stand, well
knowing the palm to be no tree that grows by the water
or delights in moist or fenny places ; neither do frogs at
all concern or belong to the Corinthians, either by way of
emblem or religious ceremony, or as the city arms ; as the

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 81

Selinuntines formerly offered to their Gods parsley or
smallage (selinon) of goldsmith's work and of the choicest
yellow metal : aud the inhabitants of Tenedos always kept
in their temple a consecrated axe, a fancy taken from their
esteem of the crab-fish that breed in that island near the
promontory of Asterium, they being the only crabs that
carry the figure of an axe upon the upper part of their
shells. For as for Apollo, we were of opinion that crows,
swans, wolves, sparrow-hawks, or any other sort of crea-
ture, would be more acceptable to him than despicable
animals. To this Serapio replied, that sui'e the workman
thereby designed to show that the Sun was nourished by
moisture and exhalations ; whether it was that he thought
at that time of that verse in Homer,

The rising Sun then causing day to break.
Quits the cool pleasure of the oozy lake,*

or whether he had seen how the Egyptians, to represent
sunrise, paint a little boy sitting upon a lotus. There-
upon, not able to refrain laughing. What, said I, are you
going about to obtrude your stoicisms again upon us ; or
do you think to slide insensibly into our discourse your
exhalations and fiery prodigies? What is this but, like
the Thessalian women, to call down the Sun and Moon
by enchantments from the skies, while you derive their
original from the earth and water ?

Therefore Plato will have a man to be a heavenly tree,
growing with his root, which is his head, upward. But
you deride Empedocles for affirming that the Sun, being
illumined by the reflection of the celestial light, with an
intrepid countenance casts a radiant lustre back upon the
convex of heaven ; while you yourselves make the Sun to
be a mere terrestrial animal or water plant, confining him
to ponds, lakes, and such like regions of frogs. But let
us refer these things to the tragical monstrosity of Stoical

♦ Odysi. m. 1.

VOL. III. 6

82 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

opinions, and now make some particular reflections touch-
ing the extravagant pieces of certain artificers, who, as
they are ingenious and elegant in some things, so are no
less weakly curious and ambitious in others of their in-
ventions; like him who, designing to signify the dawn of
day-light or the hours of sunrise, painted a cock upon the
hand of Apollo. And thus may these frogs be thought to
have been designed by the artist to denote the spring,
when the Sun begins to exercise his power in the air and
to dissolve the winter congealments ; at least, if we may
believe, as you yourselves affirm, that Apollo and the Sun
are both one God, and not two distinct Deities. Why,
said Serapio, do you think the Sun and Apollo diff'er the
one from the other'? Yes, said I, as the Moon difl'ers
from the Sun. Nay, the difference is somewhat greater.
For the Moon neither very often nor from all the world
conceals the Sun; but the Sun is the cause that all men
are ignorant of Apollo, by sense withdrawing the rational,
intellect from that which is to that which appears.

13. After this, Serapio put the question to the Histor-
ical Directors, why that same hall did not bear the name
of Cypselus, who was both the founder and the consecra-
tor, but was called the Corinthians' Hall? When all the
rest were silent, because perhaps they knew not what to
say ; How can we imagine, said I with a smile, that these
people should either know or remember the reason, having
been so amused and thunderstruck by your high-flown
discourses of prodigies altogether supernatural? How-
ever we have heard it reported, when the monarchical
government of Corinth was dissolved by the ruin of Cyp-
selus, the Corinthians claimed the honor to own both the
golden statue at Pisa, and the treasure that lay in that
place ; which was also by the Delphians decreed to be
their just right. This glory being envied them by the
Eleans, they were by a decree of the Corinthians utterly

CEASES HER OBACLES IN VERSE. SS

excluded from the solemnities of the Isthmian games.
This is the true reason, that never since any person of the
country of Elis was admitted to any trial of skill at those
festivals. For as for that murder of the Molionidae, slain
by Hercules near Cleonae, that was not the reason where
fore Eleans were excluded, as some have vainly alleged ;
for on the contrary it had been more proper for the Eleans
themselves to have excluded the Corinthians from the
Olympic games, had they any animosity against them on
this account. And this is all that I have to say in refer-
ence to this matter.

1^. But when we came into the treasury of the Acan-
thians and Brasidas, the director showed us the place
w here formerly stood the obelisks dedicated to the memory
of the courtesan Rhodopis. Then Diogenianus in a kind
of passion said: It was no less ignominy for this city to
allow Rhodopis a place wherein to deposit the tenth of her
gains got by the prostitution of her body, than to put
Aesop her fellow-servant to death. But why should you
be offended at this, said Serapio, when you have but to
cast up your eye, and you may yonder behold the golden
statue of Mnesarete standing between kings and emperors,
which Crates averred to be a trophy of the Grecian in-
temperance? The young man observed the statue, and
said : But it was Phryne of whom Crates uttered that ex-
pression. That is very true, replied Serapio ; for her
propel name was Mnesarete ; but Phryne was a nickname,
given her by reason of the yellowness of her complexion,
like the color of a toad that lies among moist and over-
grown bushes, called in Greek cfQvrt], For many times it
happens that nicknames eclipse and drown the proper
names both of men and women. Thus the mother of
Alexander, whose true name was Polyxena, was afterwards
called Myrtale, then Olympias, and Stratonice ; Eumctis the
Corinthian was aft(M*wards called from her fatlier's name

84 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

Cleobiile ; and Heropbyle of the city of Erythraea, skilful
in divination, was called Sibylla. And the grammarians
will tell you that Leda herself was first called Mnesionoe,
and Orestes Achaeus. But how, said he, looking upon
Theo, can you answer this complaint concerning Phryne,
for being placed in so much state above her quality ?

15. In the same manner, and as easily, replied Serapio,
as 1 may charge and accuse yourself for reproaching the
slightest faults among the Greeks. For as Socrates repre-
hended Callias for, being always at enmity with perfumes
and precious odors, while yet he could endure to see boys
and girls dance and tumble together, and to be a spectator
of the lascivious gestures of wanton mummers and merry-
andrews ; so, in my opinion, it is with you that envy the
standing of a woman's statue in the temple, because she
made ill use of her beauty. Yet, though you see Apollo
surrounded with the first-fruits and tenths of murders,
wars, and plunder, and all the temple full of spoils and
pillage taken from the Greeks, these things never move
your indignation ; you never commiserate your countrymen,
when you read engraved upon these gaudy donatives such
doleful inscriptions as these, — Brasidas and the Acan-
thians dedicate these spoils taken from Athenians, — the
Athenians these from the Corinthians, — the Phocians
these from the Thessalians, — the Orneatae these from the
Sicyonians, — the Amphictyons these from the Phocians.
Now if it is true that Praxiteles offended Crates by erecting
a statue in honor of his mistress, in my opinion Crates
rather ought to have commended him for placing among
the golden monuments of kings and princes the statue of
a courtesan, thereby showing a contempt and scorn of
riches, to which there is nothing of grandeur or veneration
due ; for it becomes princes and kings to consecrate to
the God the lasting monuments of justice, temperance,
magnanimity, not of golden and superfluous opulency,

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 85

which are as frequently erected to the most flagitious of
men.

16. But you forgot, said one of the directors, that Croe-
sus honored the woman that baked his bread with a golden
statue, which he caused to be set up in this place, not to
make a show of royal s'uperfluity, but upon a just and
honest occasion of gratitude, which happened thus. It is
reported that Alyattes, the father of Croesus, married a
second wife, by whom he had other children. This same
step-dame, therefore, designing to remove Croesus out of
the way, gave the woman- baker a dose of poison, with a
strict charge to put it in the bread which she made for the
young prince. Of this the woman privately informed
Croesus, and gave the poisoned bread to the queen's chil-
dren. By which means Croesus quietly succeeded his
father ; when he did no less than acknowledge the fidelity
of the woman by making even the God himself a testimony
of his gratitude, wherein he did like a worthy and virtuous
prince. And therefore it is but fitting that we should ex-
tol, admire, and honor the magnificent presents and off'er-
ings consecrated by several cities upon such occasions, like
that of the Opuntines. For when the tyrants of Phocis
had broken to pieces, melted down, and coined into money
the most precious of their sacred donatives, which they
spent as profusely in the neighboring parts, the Opuntines
made it their business to buy up all the plundered metal,
wherever they could meet with it ; and putting it up into
a vessel made on purpose, they sent it as an off'cring to
Apollo. And, for my part, I cannot but highly applaud
the inhabitants of Myrina and Apollonia, who sent hither
the first-fruits of their harvests in sheaves of gold ; but
much more the Eretrians and Magncsians, who dedicated
to our God the first-fruits of their men, not only acknowl-
edging that from him all the fruits of the earth proceeded,
but that he was also the giver of children, as being the

86 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

author of generation and a lover of mankind. But I blame
the Megarians, for that they alone erected here a statue of
our God holding a spear in his hand, in memory of the
battle which they won from the Athenians, whom they van-
quished after the defeat of the Medes, and expelled their
city, of which they were masters before. However, after-
wards they presented a golden plectrum to Apollo, remem-
bering perhaps those verses of Scythinus, who thus wrote
of the harp :

This was the harp which Jove's most beauteous son
Framed by celestial skill to play upon ;
And for his plectrum the Sun's beams he used,
To strike those cords that mortal ears amused.

17. Now as Serapio was about to have added something
of the same nature, the stranger, taking the words out of
his mouth, said: I am wonderfully pleased to hear dis-
courses upon such subjects as these ; but I am constrained
to claim your first promise, to tell me the reason wherefore
now the Pythian prophetess no longer delivers her oracles
in poetic numbers and measures. And therefore, if you
please, we will surcease the remaining sight of these curi-
osities, choosing rather to sit a while and discourse the
matter among ourselves. For it seems to be an assertion
strangely repugnant to the belief and credit of the oracle,
in regard that of necessity one of these two things must
be true, either that the Pythian prophetess does not ap-
proach the place where the deity makes his abode, or that
the sacred vapor that inspired her is utterly extinct, and
its efficacy lost. Walking therefore to the south side of
the temple, we took our seats within the portico, over
against the temple of Tellus, having from thence a pros-
] ect of the Castalian fountain ; insomuch that Boethus
presently told us that the very place itself favored the
stranger's question. For formerly there stood a temple
dedicated to the Muses, close by the source of the rivulet,

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 87

whence they drew their water for the sacrifices, according
to that of Simonides :

There flows the spring, whose limpid stream supplies
The fair-liaired Muses water for their hands,
Before they touch the hallowed sacrifice.

And the said Simonides a little lower calls Clio somewhat
more curiously

The chaste inspectress of those sacred wells,
Whose fragrant water all her cisterns fills ;
Water, through dark ambrosial nooks conveyed,
By which Castalian rivulets are fed.

And therefore Eudoxus erroneously gave credit to those
that gave the epithet of Stygian to this water, near which
the wiser sort placed the temple of the Muses, as guardians
of the springs and assistants to prophecy ; as also the
temple of Tellus, to which the oracle appertained, and
where the answers were delivered in verses and songs.
And here it was, as some report, that" first a certain heroic
verse was heard to this efi'ect:

Ye birds, bring hither all your plumes ;
Ye bees, bring all your wax ;

which related to the time that the oracle, forsaken by the
Deity, lost its veneration.

18. These things, then said Serapio, seem to belong of
right to the Muses, as being their particular province ; for
it becomes us not to fight against the gods, nor with divi-
nation to abolish providence and divinity, but to search for
convincement to refel repugnant arguments ; and, in the
mean time, not to abandon that religious belief and per-
suasion which has been so long propagated among us,
from father to son, for so many generations.

You say very right, said I, Serapio ; for we do not as
yet despair of philosophy or give it over for lost, because,
although formerly the ancient philosophers published their
precepts and sentences in verse, — as did Orpheus, Hesiod,
Pormenides, Xenophanes, Empedocles, and Thales, — yet

88 . WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

that custom has been lately laid aside by all others except
yourself. For you indeed once more have arrayed philos-
ophy in poetic numbers, on purpose to render it more
sprightly, more charming, and delightful to youth. Nor is
astrology as yet become more ignoble or less valued, be-
cause Aristarchus, Timochares, Aristillus, and Hipparchus
have written in prose, though formerly Eudoxus, Hesiod,
and Thales wrote of that science in verse ; at least if that
astrology was the legitimate offspring of Thales which
goes under his name. Pindar also acknowledges his dis-
satisfaction touching the manner of melody neglected in
this time, and wonders why it should be so despised.
Neither is it a thing that looks like hurtful or absurd, to
enquire into the causes of these alterations. But to de-
stroy the arts and faculties themselves because they have
undergone some certain mutations, is neither just nor
rational.

19. Upon which Theo interposing said: It cannot be
denied but that there have been great changes and innova-
tions in reference to poetry and the sciences ; yet is it as
certain, that from all antiquity oracles have been delivered
in prose. For we find in Thucydides, that the Lacedaemo-
nians, desirous to know the issue of the war then entered
into against the Athenians, were answered in prose, that
they should become potent and victorious, and that the
Deity would assist them, whether invoked or not invoked ;
and again, that unless they recalled Pausanias, they would
plough with a silver ploughshare.* To the Athenians
consulting the oracle concerning their expedition into
Sicily, he gave order to send for the priestess of Minerva
from the city of Erythrae ; which priestess went by the
name of Hesychia, or repose. And when Dinomenes
the Sicilian enquired what should become of his children,
the oracle returned for answer, that they should all three

* See Thucydides, I. 118 ; V. 16.

CEASES HER ORACLES IX VERSE. 89

be lords and princes. And when Dinomencs replied,
But then, most powerful Apollo, let it be to their confu-
sion ; the God made answer, That also I both grant and
promise. The consequence of which was, that Gelo was
troubled with the dropsy during his reign, Iliero was
afflicted with the stone, and the third, Thrasybulus, sur-
rounded with war and sedition, was in a short time ex-
pelled his dominions. Procles also, the tyrant of Epidaurus,
after he had cruelly and tyrannically murdered several
others, put Timarchus likewise to death, who fled to him
for protection from Athens with a great sum of money, —
after he had pledged him his faith and received him at
his first arrival with large demonstrations of kindness
and affection, — and then threw his carcass into the sea,
enclosed in a pannier. All this he did by the persuasion
of one Oleander of Aegina, no other of his courtiers being
privy to it. After which, meeting with no small trouble
and misfortune in all his affairs, he sent to the oracle his
brother Cleotimus, with orders to enquire whether he
should provide for his safety by flight, or retire to some
other place. Apollo made answer, that he advised Procles
to fly where he had directed his Aeginetan guest to dispose
of the pannier, or where the hart had cast his horns.
Upon which the tyrant, understanding that the oracle
commanded him either to throw himself into the sea or to
bury himself in the earth (in regard that a stag, when he
sheds his antlers, scrapes a hole in the ground and hides
his ignominy), demurred a while ; but at length, seeing the
condition of his affairs grew every day worse and worse,
he resolved to save himself by flight ; at which time the
friends of Timarchus, having seized upon his person, slew
him and threw his body into the sea. But what is more
than all this, the oracular answers according to which
Lycurgus composed the form of the Lacedaemonian com-
monwealth were given in prose. Besides, Alyrius, Hero-

90 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

dotus, Philochorus and Ister, than whom no men have been
more diligent to collect the answers of the oracles, among
the many which they cite in verse, quote several also in
prose. And Theopompus, the most diligent that ever
made scrutiny into oracular history, sharply reprehends
those who believed the Pythian oracles were not delivered
in verse at that time ; and yet, when he labors to prove
his assertion, he is able to produce but very fcAV, because
doubtless the rest even then were uttered in prose.

20. Yet there are some that now at this day run in
verse ; one of which has become notorious above the rest.
There is in Phocis a temple consecrated to Hercules the
woman-hater, the chief priest of which is forbid by the law
and custom of the place to have private familiarity with his
wife during the year that he officiates ; for which reason
they most commonly make choice of old men to perform
that function. Nevertheless, some time since a young
man, no way vicious and covetous of honor, yet doting
upon a new married wife, took upon him the dignity. At first
he was very chaste and temperate, and abstained from the
woman ; but soon after, the young lady coming to give him
a visit as he was laid down to rest himself after a brisk
dancing and drinking bout, he could not resist the charm-
ing temptation. But then, coming to himself and remem-
bering what he had done, perplexed and terrified, he fled to
the oracle to consult Apollo upon the crime which he had
committed ; who returned him this answer,

All things necessary God permitteth.

But should we grant that in our age no oracles are deliv-
ered in verse, we should be still doubtful about the ancient
times, when the oracles were delivered sometime in verse
sometime in prose. Though, whether it be in prose or
verse, the oracle is never a whit the falser or the more
miraculous, so that we have but a true and religious opin-

fl

CEASES HER ORACLES IX VERSE. 91

ion of the Deity ; not irreverently conceiting that formerly
he composed a stock of verses to be now repeated by the
prophetess, as if he spoke through masks and visors.

21. But these thmgs requhe a more prolix discourse
and a stricter examination, to be deferred till another time.
For the present, therefore, let us only call to mind thus
much, that the body makes use of several instruments, and
the soul employs the body and its members ; the soul be
ing the organ of God. Now the perfection of the organ
is to imitate the thing that makes use of it, so far as it is
capable, and to exhibit the operation of its thought, accord-
ing to the best of its own power ; since it cannot show it
as it is in the divine operator himself, — neat, without any
affection, fault, or error whatsoever, — but imperfect and
mixed. For of itself, the thing is to us altogether unknown,
till it is infused by another and appears to us as fully par-
taking of the nature of that other. I forbear to mention
gold or silver, brass or wax, or whatever other substances
are capable to receive the form of an imprinted resem-
blance. For true it is, they all admit the impression ; but
still one adds one distinction, another another, to the imita-
tion arising from their presentation itself ; as we may read-
ily perceive in mirrors, both plane, concave, and convex,
infinite varieties of representations and faces from one and
the same original ; there being no end of that diversity.

But there is no mirror that more exactly represents any
shape or form, nor any instrument that yields more obse-
quiously to the use of Nature, than the Moon herself And
yet she, receiving from the Sun his masculine splendor and
fiery light, does not transmit the same to us ; but when it
intermixes with her pellucid substance, it changes color
and loses its power. For warmth and heat abandon the
pale planet, and her light grows dim before it can reach
our sight. And this is that which, in my opinion, Ilera-
clitus seems to have meant, when he said that the prince

9^ WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

who rules the oracle of Delphi neither speaks out nor con-
ceals, but signifies. Add then to these things thus rightly
spoken this farther consideration, that the Deity makes use
of the Pythian prophetess, so far as concerns her sight and
hearing, as the Sun makes use of the Moon ; for he makes
use of a mortal body and an immortal soul as the organs of
prediction. Now the body lies dull and immovable of
itself; but the soul being restless, when once the soul be-
gins to be in motion, the body likewise stirs, not able to
resist the violent agitation of the nimbler spirit, while it is
shaken and tossed as in a stormy sea by the tempestuous
passions that ruffle within it. For as the whirling of bodies
that merely move circularly is nothing violent, but when
they move round by force and tend downward by nature,
there results from both a confused and irregular circumro-
tation ; thus that divine rapture which is called enthusiasm
is a commixture of two motions, wherewith the soul is
agitated, the one extrinsic, as by inspiration, the other by
nature. For, seeing that as to inanimate bodies, which
always remain in the same condition, it is impossible by
preternatural violence to offer a force which is contrary to
their nature and intended use, as to move a cylinder spher-
ically or cubically, or to make a lyre sound like a flute, or
a trumpet like a harp ; how is it possible to manage an
animate body, that moves of itself, that is indued with
reason, will, and inclination, otherwise than according to its
pre-existent reason, power, or nature ; as (for example) to
incline to music a person altogether ignorant and an utter
enemy to music, or to make a grammarian of one that never
knew his letters, or to make him speak like a learned man
that never understood the least tittle of any science in the
world ]

22. For proof of this I may call Homer for my witness,
who affirms that there is nothing done or brought to per-
fection of which God is not the cause, supposing that God

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 93

makes use not of all men for all things alike, but of every
man according to his ability either of art or nature. Thus,
dost thou not find it to be true, fiiend Diogenianus, that
when Minerva would persuade the Greeks to imdertake
any enterprise, she brings Ulysses upon the stage ? — when
she designs to break the truce, she finds out Pandarus ? —
when she designs a rout of the Trojans, she addresses her-
self to Diomede ? For the one was stout of body and valiant ;
the other was a good archer, but without brains ; the other
a shrewd politician and eloquent. For Homer was not of
the same opinion with Pindar, at least if it was Pindar that
made the following verses :

Were it the will of Heaven, an ozier bough
Were vessel safe enough the seas to plough .♦

For he well knew that there were different abilities and
natures designed for different effects, every one of which is
qualified with different motions, though there be but one
moving cause that gives motion to all. So that the same
virtual power which moves the creature that goes upon all
four cannot cause it to fly, no more than he that stammers
can speak fluently and eloquently, or he that has a feeble
squeaking voice can give a loud hollow. Therefore in my
opinion it was that Battus, when he consulted the oracle,
was sent into Africa, there to build a ncAV city, as being a
person who, although he lisped and stammered, had never-
theless endowments truly royal, which rendered him fit for
sovereign government. In like manner it is impossible the
Pythian priestess should learn to speak learnedly and ele-
gantly ; for, though it cannot be denied but that her parent-
age was virtuous and honest, and that she always lived a
sober and a chaste life, yet her education was among poor
laboring people ; so that she was advanced to the oracular
seat rude and unpolished, void of all the advantages of art
or experience. For as it is the opinion of Xenophon, that

• Oeov OiXovTOf, kuv M /itTdf irUotf,

94 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

a virgin ready to be espoused ought to be carried to the
bridegroom's house when she has seen and heard as little
as possible ; so the Pythian priestess ought to converse
with Apollo, illiterate and ignorant almost of every thing,
still approaching his presence with a truly and pure virgin
soul.

But it is a strange fancy of men ; they believe that the
God makes use of herons, wrens, and crows to signify future
events, expressing himself according to their vulgar notes,
but do not expect of these birds, although they are the
messengers and ambassadors of the God, to deliver their
predictions in words clear and intelligible ; but they will
not allow the Pythian priestess to pronounce her answers
in plain, sincere, and natural expressions, but they demand
that she shall speak in the poetical magnificence of high
and stately verses, like those of a tragic chorus, with meta-
phors and figurative phrases, accompa^iied with the delight-
ful sounds of flutes and hautboys.

23. What then shall we say of the ancients ] Not one,
but many things. First then, as hath been said already,
that the ancient Pythian priestesses pronounced most of
their oracles in prose. Secondly, that those ages produced
complexions and tempers of body much more prone
and inclined to poetry, with which immediately were asso-
ciated those other ardent desires, afifections, and preparations
of the mind, which wanted only something of a beginning
and a diversion of the fancy from more serious studies, not
only to draw to their purpose (according to the saying of
Philinus) astrologers and philosophers, but also in the heat
of wine and pathetic affections, either of sudden compassion
or surprising joy, to slide insensibly into voices melodiously
tuned, and to fill banquets with charming odes or love songs,
and whole volumes with amorous canzonets and mirthful
inventions. Therefore, though Euripides tells us,

Love makes men poets who before no music knew.

3»

I

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 95

he does not mean that love infuses music and poetry^ into
men that were not already inclined to those accomplish-
ments, but that it warms and awakens that disposition
which lay unactive and drowsy before. Otherwise we
might say that now there were no lovers in the Avorld,
but that Cupid himself was vanished and gone, because
that now-a-days there is not one

Who now, true arclier-like,
Lets his poetic raptures fly
To praise his mistress's lip or eye,

as Pindar said. But this were absurd to affirm. For
amorous impatiencies torment and agitate the minds of
many men not addicted either to music or poetry, that
know not how to handle a flute or touch a harp, and yet
are no less talkative and inflamed with desire than the
ancients. And I believe there is no person who would be
so unkind to himself as to say that the Academy or the
quires of Socrates and Plato were void of love, with
whose discourses and conferences touching that passion
we frequently meet, though they have not left any of their
poems behind. And would it not be the same thing to
say, there never was any woman that studied courtship
but Sappho, nor ever any that were endued with the gift
of prophecy but Sibylla and Aristonica and those that
delivered their oracles and sacred raptures in verse ? For
wine, as saith Chaeremon, soaks and infuses itself into the
manners and customs of them that drink it. Now poetic
rapture, like the raptures of love, makes use of the ability
of its subject, and moves every one that receives it, accord-
ing to its proper qualification.

2-4. Nevertheless, if we do but make a right reflection
upon God and his Providence, we shall find the alteration
to be much for the better. For the use of speech seems
to be like the exchange of money ; that which is good
and lawful is commonly current and known, and goes

96 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

sometimes at a higher, sometimes at a lower vahie. Thus
there was once a time when the stamp and coin of lan-
guage was approved and passed current in verses, songs,
and sonnets; for then all histories, all philosophical learn-
ing, all affections and subjects that required grave and
sohd discussion, were written in poetry and fitted for mus-
ical composition. For what now but a few will scarce
vouchsafe to hear, then all men listened to.

The shepherd, ploughman, and bird-catcher too,*

as it is in Pindar ; all delighted in songs and verses. For
such was the inclination of that age and their readiness to
versify, that they fitted their very precepts and admonitions
to vocal and instrumental music. If they were to teach,
they did it in songs fitted to the harp. If they were to
exhort, reprove, or persuade, they made use of fables and
allegories. And then for their praises of the Gods, their
vows, and paeans after victory, they were all composed in
verse ; by some, as being naturally airy and flowing in
their invention ; by others, as habituated by custom. And
therefore it is not that Apollo envies this ornament and
elegancy to the science of divination ; nor was it his design
to banish from the Tripos his beloved Muse, but rather
to introduce her when rejected by others, being rather a
lover and kindler of poetic rapture in others, and choosing
rather to furnish laboring fancies with imaginations, and
to assist them to bring forth the lofty and learned kind of
language, as most becoming and most to be admired.

But afterwards, when the conversation of men and cus-
tom of living altered with the change of their fortunes and
dispositions, consuetude expelling and discarding all man-
ner of superfluity rejected also golden top-knots, and silken
vestments loosely flowing in careless folds, clipped their
long dishevelled locks, and, laying aside their embroidered

* Pindar, Isthra. I. 67.

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 97

buskin, taught men to glory in sobriety and frugality in
opposition to wantonness and superfluity, and to place true
bonor in simplicity and modesty, not in pomp and vain
curiosity. And then it was that, the manner of writing
being quite altered, history alighted from versifying, as it
were from riding in chariots, and on foot distinguished
truth from fable ; and philosophy, in a clear and plain
style, familiar and proper to instruct rather than to aston-
ish the world with metaphors and figures, began to dispute
and enquire after truth in common and vulgar terms. And
then it was, that Apollo caused the Pythian priestess to
surcease calling her fellow-citizens fire-inflaming, the Spar-
tans serpent-devourers, men by the name of Oreanes, and
rivers by the name of mountain-drainers ; and discard-
ing verses, uncouth words, circumlocutions, and obscurity,
taught the oracles to speak as the laws discourse to cities,
and as princes speak to their people and their subjects, or
as masters teach their scholars, appropriating their manner
of speech to good sense and persuasive grace.

25. For, as Sophocles tells us, we are to believe the
Deity to be

Easy to wise men, who can truth discern ;
The fool's bad teacher, who will never learn.

And ever since belief and perspicuity thus associated to-
gether, it came to pass by alteration of circumstances that,
whereas formerly the vulgar looked with a high venera-
tion upon whatever was extraordinary and extravagant,
and conceived a more than common sanctity to lie con-
cealed under the veil of obscurity, afterwards men desirous
to understand things clearly and easily, without flowers of
circumlocutions and disguisements of dark words, not only
liogan to find fault with oracles enveloped with poetry, as
repugnant to the easy understanding of the real meaning,
and overshadowing the sentence with mist and darkness,
but also suspected the truth of the very prophecy itself

98 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

which was muffled up in so many metaphors, riddles, and
ambiguities, which seemed no better than holes to creep
out at and evasions of censure, should the event prove
contrary to what had been foretold. And some there were
who reported that there were several extempore poets en-
tertained about the Tripos, who were to receive the words
as they dropped roughly from the oracle, and presently by
virtue of their extempore fancy to model them into verses
and measures, that served (as it were) instead of hampers
and baskets to convey the answers from place to place.
I forbear to tell how far those treacherous deceivers like
Onomacritus, Herodotus (?), and Cyneso, have contributed
to dishonor the sacred oracles, by their interlarding of
bombast expressions and high-flown phrases, where there
was no necessity of any such alteration. It is also as
certain, that those mountebanks, jugglers, impostors, gip-
sies, and all that altar-licking tribe of vagabonds that set
up their throats at the festivals and sacrifices to Cybele
and Serapis, have highly undervalued poesy ; some of
them extempore, and others by lottery from certain little
books, composing vain predictions, which they may sell to
servants and silly women, that easily sufl'er themselves to
be deluded by the overawing charms of serious ambiguity
couched in strained and uncouth ballatry. Whence it
comes to pass, that poetry, seeming to prostitute itself
among cheats and deluders of the people, among mercen-
ary gipsies and mumping charlatans, has lost its ancient
credit, and is therefore thought unworthy the honor of the
Tripos.

26. And therefore I do not wonder that the ancients
stood in need of double meaning, of circumlocution, and
obscurity. For certainly never any private person con-
sulted the oracle when he went to buy a slave or hire
workmen ; but potent cities, kings and princes, whose
undertakings and concernments were of vast and high

I

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 99

concernment, and whom it was not expedient for those
that had the charge of the oracle to disoblige or incense
by the return of answers ungrateful to their ears. For
the deity is not bound to observe that law of Euripides,
where he says,

PJiocbus alone, and none but he,
Should unto men the prophet be.

Therefore, when he makes use of mortal prophets and
agents, of whom it behooves him to take a more especial
care that they be not destroyed in his service, he does not_
altogether go about to juj^press the truth, but only eclipses
the manifestation of it, like a light divided into sundry
reflections, rendering it by the means of poetic umbrage
less severe and ungrateful in the delivery. For it is not
convenient that princes or their enemies should presently
know what is by Fate decreed to their disadvantage.
Therefore he so envelops his answers with doubts and
ambiguities as to conceal from others the true understand-
ing of what was answered ; though to them that came to
the oracle themselves, and gave due attention ta the de-
liverer, the meaning of the answer is transparently obvious.
Most impertinent therefore are they who, considering the
present alteration of things, accuse and exclaim against
the Deity for not assisting in the same manner as before.

27. And this may be farther said, that poetry brings no
other advantage to the answer than this, that the sentence
being comprised and confined within a certain number of
words and syllables bounded by poetic measure is more
easily carried away and retained in memory. Therefore it
behooved those that formerly lived to have extraordinary
memories, to retain the marks of places, the times of such
and such transactions, the ceremonies of deities beyond
the sea, the hidden monuments of heroes, hard to be
found in countries far from Greece. For in those ex-
peditions of Phalanthus and several other admirals of

100 WHY THE PYTHIAN TRIESTESS

great navies, how many signs were they forced to observe,
how many conjectures to make, ere they could find the
seat of rest allotted by the oracle ! In the observance of
which there were some nevertheless that failed, as Battus
among others. For he said that he failed because he had
not landed in the right place to which he was sent ; and
therefore returning back he complained to the oracle.
But Apollo answered :

As well as I thou knowest, who ne'er hast been
In Libya covered o'er with sheep and kine ;
If this is true, thy wisdom I admire :

and so sent him back again. Lysander also, ignorant of
the hillock Archelides, also called Alopecus, and the river
Hoplites, nor apprehensive of what was meant by

The earth-born dragon, treacherous foe behind,

being overthrown in battle, was there slain by Neochorus
the Haliartian, who bare for his device a dragon painted
upon his shield. But it is needless to recite any more of
these ancient examples of oracles, difficult to be retained
in memory, especially to you that are so well read.

28. And now, God be praised, there is an end of all those
questions which were the grounds of consulting the oracle.
For now we repose altogether in the soft slumbers of peace ;
all our wars are at an end. There arg now no tumults, no
civil seditions, no tyrannies, no pestilences nor calamities
depopulating Greece, no epidemic diseases needing power-
ful and choice drugs and medicines. Now, when there is
nothing of variety, nothing of mystery, nothing dangerous,
but only bare and ordinary questions about small trifles
and vulgar things, as whether a man may marry, whether
take a voyage by sea, or lend his money safely at interest,
— and when the most important enquiries of cities are con-
cerning the next harvest, the increase of their cattle, or
the health of the inhabitants, — there to make use of
verses, ambiguous words, and confounding obscurities,

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 101

Nvhere the questions require short and easy answers, causes
us to suspect that the sacred minister studies only cramp
expressions, like some ambitious sophister, to wrest admi-
ration from the ignorant. But the Pythian priestess is
naturally of a more generous disposition ; and therefore,
when she is busy with the Deity, she has more need of
truth than of satisfying her vain-glory, or of minding
either the commendations or the dispraise of men.

29. And well it were, that we ourselves should be so af-
fected. 13ut on the contrary, being in a quandary and
jealousy lest the oracle should lose the reputation it has
had for these three thousand years, and lest people should
forsake it and forbear going to it, we frame excuses to our-
selves, and feign causes and reasons of things which we do
not know, and which it is not convenient for us to know ;
out of a fond design to persuade the persons thus oddly
dissatisfied, whom it became us rather to let alone. For
certainly the mistake must redound to ourselves,* when we
shall have such an opinion of our Deity as to approve and
esteem those ancient and pithy proverbs of wise men,
written at the entrance into the temple, " Know thyself,"
" Nothing to excess," as containing in few words a full and
close compacted sentence, and yet find fault with the
modern oracle for delivering answers concise and plain.
Whereas those apophthegms are like waters crowded and
pent up in a narrow room or running between contracted
banks, where we can no more discern the bottom of the
water than we can the depth and meaning of the sentence.
And yet, if we consider what has been written and said
concerning those sentences by such as have dived into tlieir
signification with an intent to clear their abstruseness. we
shall hardly find disputes more prolix than those are. But
the language of the Pythian priestess is such as the mathe-
maticians define a right line to be, that is to say, the

• Odytt. II. 190.

102 WHY THE PYTHIAN PRIESTESS

shortest that may be drawn betwixt two points. So like-
wise doth she avoid all winding and circles, all double
meanings and abstruse ambiguities, and proceedjLirectly
to the truth. And though she has been obnoxious to
strict examination, yet is she not to be misconstrued with-
out danger, nor could ever any person to this very day
convict her of falsehood ; but on the other side, she has
filled the temple with presents, gifts, and offerings, not only
of the Greeks but barbarians, and adorned the seat of the
oracle with the magnificent structures and fabrics of the
Amphictyons. And we find many additions of new build-
ings, many reparations of the old ones that were fallen
down or decayed by time. And as we see from trees over-
grown with shade and verdant boughs other lesser shoots
sprout up ; thus has the Delphian concourse afforded
growth and grandeur to the assembly of the Amphictyons,
which is fed and maintained by the abundance and af-
fluence arising from thence, and has the form and show of
magnificent temples, stately meetings, and sacred waters ;
which, but for the ceremonies of the altar, would not have
been brought to perfection in a thousand years. And to
w^hat other cause can we attribute the fertility of the Ga-
laxian Plains in Boeotia but to their vicinity to this oracle,
and to their being blessed with the neighboring influences
of the Deity, where from the well-nourished udders of the
bleating ewes milk flows in copious streams, like water
from so many fountain-heads ?

Ttieir pails run o'er, and larger vessels still
With rich abundance all their dairies fill.

To US appear yet more clear and remarkable signs of
the Deity's liberality, while we behold the glory of far-
famed store and plenty overflowing former penury and
barrenness. And I cannot but think much the better of my-
self for having in some measure contributed to these things
\vith Polycrates and Petraeus. Nor can I less admire the

CEASES HER ORACLES IN VERSE. 103

first author and promoter of this good order and manage-
ment. And yet it is not to be thought that such and so
great change should come to pass in so small a time by
human industry, without the favor of the Deity assisting
and blessing his oracle.

30. But although there were some formerly who blamed
the ambiguity and obscurity of the oracle, and others who
at this day find fault with its modern plainness and per-
spicuity, yet are they both alike unjust and foolish in their
passion ; for, like children better pleased with the sight
of rainbows, comets, and those halos that encircle the sun
and moon, than to see the sun and moon themselves in
their splendor, they are taken with riddles, abstruse words,
and figurative speeches, which are but the reflections of
oracular divination to the apprehension of our mortal un-
derstanding. And because they are not able to make a
satisfactory judgment of this change, they find fault with
the God himself, not considering that neither we nor they
are able by discourse of reason to reach unto the hidden
counsels and designs of the Deity.

OF THOSE SENTIMENTS CONCERNING NATURE WITH
WHICH PHILOSOPHERS WERE DELIGHTED.

BOOK L

It being our determination to discourse of Natural Phi-
losophy, we judge it necessary, in the first place and chiefly,
to divide the body of philosophy into its proper members,
that we may know what is that which is called philosophy,
and what part of it is physical, or the explanation of nat-
ural things. The Stoics affirm that wisdom is the knowl-
edge of things human and divine ; that philosophy is the
exercise of that art which is expedient to this knowledge ;
that virtue is the sole and sovereign art which is thus ex-
pedient ; and this distributes itself into three general parts,
—-natural, moral, and logical. By which just reason (they
say) philosophy is tripartite ; of which one is natural, the
other moral, the third logical. The natural is when our
enquiries are concerning the world and all things con-
tained in it ; the ethical is the employment of our minds in
those things which concern the manners of man's life ; the
logical (which they also call dialectical) regulates our con-
versation with others in speaking. Aristotle, Theophras-
tus, and after them almost all the Peripatetics give the fol-
lowing division of philosophy. It is absolutely requisite
that the complete person be contemplator of things which
have a being, and the practiser of those things which are
decent ; and this easily appears by the following instances.
If the question be proposed, whether the sun, which is so
conspicuous to us, be informed with a soul or inanimate,

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 105

he that makes this disquisition is the thinking man ; for
he proceeds no farther than to consider the nature of that
thing which is proposed. Like'wise, if the question be
proposed, whether the world be infinite, or whether be-
yond the system of this world there is any real being, all
these things are the objects about which the understand-
ing of man is conversant. But if these be the questions,
— what measures must be taken to compose the well or-
dered life of man, what are the best methods to govern
and educate children, or what are the exact rules whereby
sovereigns may command and establish laws, — all these
queries are proposed for the sole end of action, and the
man conversant therein is the moral and practical man.

CHAPTER I.

WHAT 18 NATURE?

Since we have undertaken to make a diligent search
into Nature, I cannot but conclude it necessary to declare
what Nature is. It is very absurd to attempt a discourse
of the essence of natural things, and not to understand
what is the power and sphere of Nature. If Aristotle be
credited, Nature is the principle of motion and rest, in
that thing in which it exists principally and not by acci-
dent. For all things that are conspicuous to our eyes,
which are neither fortuitous nor necessary, nor have a
divine original, nor acknowledge any such like cause, are
called natural and enjoy their proper nature. Of this sort
are earth, fire, water, air, plants, animals ; to these may be
added all things produced from them, such as showers,
hail, thunders, hurricanes, and winds. All these confess
they had a beginning, none of these were from eternity, but
had something as the origin of them ; and likewise animals
and plants have a piinciple whence they are produced.

106 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

But Nature, which m all these thmgs hath the priority, is
the principle not only of motion but of repose ; whatso-
ever enjoys the principle of motion, the same has a possi-
bility to find a dissolution. Therefore on this account it is
that Nature is the principle of motion and rest.

CHAPTER II.

WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A PRINCIPLE AND AN ELEMENT?

The followers of Aristotle and Plato conclude that the
elements are discriminated from a principle. Thales the
Milesian supposeth that a principle and the elements are
one and the same thing, but it is evident that they vastly
differ one from another. For the elements are things
compounded ; but we do pronounce that principles ad-
mit not of a composition, nor are the effects of any other
being. Those which we call elements are earth, water,
air, and fire. But we term those principles which have
nothing precedent to them out of which they are produced ;
for otherwise not these themselves, but rather those things
whereof they are produced, would be the principles.
Now there are some things which have a pre-existence
to earth and water, from which they are begotten ; to wit,
matter, which is without form or shape ; then form, which
we call IvreXexsia (actuality) ; and lastly, privation. Thales
therefore is very peccant, by affirming that water is both
an element and a principle.

CHAPTER HI.

OF PRINCIPLES, AND WHAT THEY ARE.

Thales the Milesian doth affirm that water is the prin-
ciple whence all things in the universe spring. This

PHILOSOrHERS DELIGHTED IN. 107

person appears to be the first of philosophers ; from
liim the Ionic sect took its denomination, for there are
many families and successions amongst philosophers. After
he had professed philosophy in Egypt, when he was very
old, he returned to Miletus. He pronounced, that all things
had their original from water, and into water all things are
resolved. His first reason was, that whatsoever was the
prolific seed of all animals was a principle, and that is
moist ; so that it is probable that all things receive their
original from humidity. His second reason was, that all
plants are nourished and fructified by that thing which is
moist, of which being deprived they wither away. Thirdly,
that that fire of which the sun and stars are made is nour-
ished by watery exhalations, — yea, and the world itself;
which moved Homer to sing that the generation of it was
from water: —

The ocean is
Of all things the kind genesis.*

Anaximander, who himself was a Milesian, assigns the
principle of all things to the Infinite, from whence all things
fiow, and into the same are corrupted ; hence it is that in-
finite worlds are framed, and those vanish again into that
whence they have their original. And thus he farther
proceeds, For what other reason is there of an Infinite
but this, that there may be nothing deficient as to the gen-
eration or subsistence of what is in nature? There is his
error, that he doth not acquaint us what this Infinite is,
whether it be air, or water, or earth, or any other such
like body. Besides he is peccant, in that, giving us the
material cause, he is silent as to the efficient cause of beings ;
for tliis thing which he makes his Infinite can be nothing
but matter ; but operation cannot take place in the sphere
of matter, except an efficient cause be annexed.

Anaximenes his fellow-citizen pronounceth, that air is the

♦ n. XIV. 246.

108 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

principle of all beings ; from it all receive their original,
and into it all return. He affirms that our soul is nothing
but air ; it is that which constitutes and preserves ; the
whole world is invested with spirit and air. For spirit
and air are synonymous. This person is in this deficient,
that he concludes that of pure air, which is a simple body
and is made of one only form, all animals are composed.
It is not possible to think that a single principle should be
the matter of all things, from whence they receive their
subsistence ; besides this there must be an operating cause.
Silver (for example) is not of itself sufficient to frame a
drinking cup ; an operator also is required, which is the
silversmith. The like may be applied to vessels made of
wood, brass, or any other material.

Anaxagoras the Clazomenian asserted Homoeomeries
(or parts similar or homogeneous) to be the original cause
of all beings ; it seemed to him impossible that any thing
could arise of nothing or be resolved into nothing. Let
us therefore instance in nourishment, which appears sim-
ple and uniform, such as bread which Ave owe to Ceres,
and water which w^e drink. Of this very nutriment, our
hair, our veins, our arteries, nerves, bones, and all our
other parts are nourished. These things thus being per-
formed, it must be granted that the nourishment which is
received by us contains all those things by which these
parts of us are increased. In it there are those particles
which are producers of blood, bones, nerves, and all other
parts ; which particles (as he thought) reason discovers
for us. For it is not necessary that we should reduce all
things under the objects of sense ; for bread and water are
fitted to the senses, yet in them there are those particles
latent which are discoverable only by reason. It being
therefore evident that there are particles in the nourish-
ment similar to what is produced thereby, he terms these
homogeneous parts, averring that they are the principles

]?HILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 100

of beings. Matter is according to him these similar parts,
and the efficient cause is a Mind, which orders all things
that have an existence. Thus he begins his discourse :
" All things were confused one among another ; but Mind
divided and reduced them to order." In this he is to be
commended, that he yokes together matter and an intellec-
tual agent.

Archelaus the son of Apollodorus, the Athenian, pro-
nounceth, that the principles of all things have their origi-
nal from an infuiite air rarefied or condensed. Air rarefied
is fire, condensed is water.

These philosoi)hers, the followers of Thales, succeeding
one another, made up that sect which takes to itself the
denomination of the Ionic.

Pythagoras the Samian, the son of Mnesarchus, from
another origin deduces the principles of all things ; it was
he who first gave philosophy its name. He assigns the first
principles to be numbers, and those symmetries resulting
from them which he styles harmonies ; and the result of
both combined he terms elements, called geometrical.
Again, he enumerates unity and the indefinite binary num-
ber amongst the principles. One of these principles tends
to an efficient and forming cause, which is Mind, and that
is God ; the other to the passive and material part, and
that is the visible world. Moreover the nature of num-
ber (he saith) consists in the ten ; for all people, whether
Grecians or barbarians, reckon from one to ten, and thence
return to one again. Farther he avers the virtue of ten
consists in the quaternion ; the reason whereof is this, —
if any person reckon from one. and by addition place his
numbers so as to take in the quaternary, he shall complete
the number ten ; if he exceed the four, he shall go beyond
the ten ; for one, two, three, and four being cast up together
make up ten. The nature of numbei*8, therefore, if we re-

110 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

gard the units, resteth in the ten ; but if we regard its
power, in the four. Therefore the Pythagoreans say that
their most sacred oath is by that God who delivered to
them the quaternary.

By th' founder of the sacred number four,
Eternal Nature's font and root, they swore.

Of this number the soul of man is composed ; for mind,
knowledge, opinion, and sense are the four that complete
the soul, from which all sciences, all arts, all rational fac-
ulties derive themselves. For what our mind perceives, it
perceives after the manner of a thing that is one, the soul
itself being a unity ; as for instance, a multitude of perr
sons are not the object of our sense nor are comprehended
by us, for they are infinite ; our understanding gives the gen-
eral notion of a mem, in which all individuals agree. The
number of individuals is infinite ; the generic or specific
nature of all being is a unit, or to be apprehended as one
only thing ; from this one conception we give the genuine
measures of all existence, and therefore we affirm that a
certain class of beings are rational and discoursive beings.
But when we come to give the nature of a horse, it is that
animal which neighs ; and this being common to all horses,
it is manifest that the understanding, which hath such like
conceptions, is in its nature unity. The number which
is called the infinite binary must needs be science ; in
every demonstration or belief belonging to science, and in
every syllogism, we draw that conclusion w^hich is the
question doubted of, from those propositions which are by
all granted, by which means another proposition is demon-
strated. The comprehension of these we call knowledge ;
for which reason science is the binary number. But
opinion is the ternary ; for that rationally follows from com-
prehension. The objects of opinion are many things, and
the ternary number denotes a multitude, as " Thrice happy
Grecians ; " for which reason Pythagoras admits the ter-

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IS, 111

nar}\ This sect of philosophers is called the Italic, by
reason Pythagoras opened his school in Italy ; his hatred
of the tyranny of Polycrates enforced him to leave his na-
tive country Samos.

lleraclitus and Ilippasus of Metapontum suppose that
fire gives the origination to all beings, that they all flow
from fire, and in fii*e they all conclude ; for of fire when
first quenched the world was constituted. The first part of
the world, being most condensed and contracted within
itself, made the earth ; but part of that earth being loos-
ened and made thin by fire, water was produced ; after-
wards this water being exhaled and rarefied into vapors
became air ; after all this the world itself, and all other
corporeal beings, shall be dissolved by fire in the universal
conflagration. By them therefore it appears that fire is
what gives beginning to all things, and is that in which all
things receive their period.

Epicurus the son of Neocles, the Athenian, his pliilo-
sophical sentiments being the same with those of Democri-
tus, afiirms that the principles of all being are bodies
which are perceptible only by reason ; they admit not of
a vacuity, nor of any original, but being of a self-existence
are etenial and incorruptible ; they are not liable to any
diminution, they are indestructible^ nor is it possible for
them to receive any transformation of parts, or admit of any
alterations ; of these reason only is the discoverer ; they
are in a perpetual motion in vacuity, and by means of the
empty space ; for the vacuum itself is infinite, and the
bodies that move in it are infinite. Those bodies acknowl-
edge these three accidents, figure, magnitude, and gravity.
Democritus acknowledged but two, magnitude and figure.
Epicurus added the third, to wit, gravity ; for he pro-
nounced that it is necessary that bodies receive their mo-
tion from that impression which springs from gravity,
otherwise they could not be moved. The figures of atoms

il2 The sentiments of nature

cannot be apprehended by our senses, but they are not
infinite. These figures are neither hooked nor trident-
shaped nor ring-shaped, such figures as these being easily
broken ; but the atoms are impassible, impenetrable ; they
have indeed figures proper to themselves, which are dis-
covered only by reason. It is called an atom, by reason
not of its smallness but of its indivisibility ; in it no va-
cuity, no passible affection is to be found. And that there
is an atom is perfectly clear ; for there are elements which
have a perpetual duration, and there are animals which
admit of a vacuity, and there is a unity.

Empedocles the Agrigentine, the son of Meton, affirms
that there are four elements, fire, air, earth, and water, and
two powers which bear the greatest command in nature,
concord and discord, of which one is the union, the other
the division of beings. Thus he sings,

Mark the four roots of all created things : —
Bright sinning Jove, Juno that giveth life,
Pluto beneath the earth, and Nestis who
Doth with her tears supply the mortal fount.

By Jupiter he means fire and aether, by Juno that gives
life he means the air, by Pluto the earth, by Nestis and
the fountain of all mortals (as it were) seed and water.

Socrates the son of Sophroniscus, and Plato son of Aris-
ton, both natives of Athens, entertain the same opinion
concerning the universe ; for they suppose three principles,
God, matter, and the idea. God is the universal under-
standing ; matter is that which is the first substratum, ac
commodated for the generation and corruption of beings ;
the idea is an incorporeal essence, existing in the cogita-
tions and apprehensions of God ; for God is the soul and
mind of the world.

Aristotle the son of Nichomachus, the Stagirite, consti-
tutes three principles ; Entelecheia (which is the same with
form), matter, and privation. He acknowledges four ele-

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 113

merits, and adds a certain fifth body, which is ethereal and
not obnoxious to mutation.

Zeno son of Mnaseas, the native of Citium, avers these
principles to be God and matter, the first of which is the
efficient cause, the other the passible and receptive. Four
elements he likewise confesses.

CHAPTER IV.

now WAS THIS WORLD COMPOSED IN THAT ORDER AND AFTER THAT

MANNER IT IS?

The world being broken and confused, after this man-
ner it was reduced into figure and composure as now it is.
The insectible bodies or atoms, by a wild and fortuitous mo-
tion, without any governing power, incessantly and swiftly
were hurried one amongst another, many bodies being
jumbled together ; upon this account they have a diversity
in the figures and magnitude. These therefore being so
jumbled together, those bodies which were the greatest
and heaviest sank into the lowest place ; they that were
of a lesser magnitude, being round, smooth, and slippery,
meeting with those heavier bodies were easily broken into
pieces, and were carried into higher places. But when that
force whereby these variously figured particles fought with
and struck one another, and forced the lighter upwards,
did cease, and there was no farther power left to drive them
into superior regions, yet they were wholly hindered from
descending downwards, and were compelled to reside in
those places capable to receive them ; and these were the
heavenly spaces, unto which a multitude of these little bod-
ies were whirled, and these being thus shivered fell into
coherence and mutual embraces, and by this means the
heaven was produced. Then a various and great multitude
of atoms enjoying the same nature, as it is before asserted,

114: THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

being hurried aloft, did form the stars. The multitude
of these exhaled bodies, having struck and broke the air
in shivers, forced a passage through it ; this being con-
verted into wind invested the stars, as it moved, and whirled
them about, by which means to this present time that cir-
culary motion which these stars have in the heavens is
maintained. Much after the same manner the earth was
made ; for by those little particles whose gravity made
them to reside in the lower places the earth was formed.
The heaven, fire, and air were constituted of those par-
ticles which were carried aloft. But a great deal of matter
remaining in the earth, this being condensed by the forci-
ble driving of the winds and the breathings from the stars,
every little part and form of it was broken in pieces, which
produced the element of water ; but this being fluidly dis-
posed did run into those places which were hollow, and
these places were those that were capable to receive and
protect it ; or else the water, subsisting by itself, did make
the lower places hollow. After this manner the principal
parts of the world were constituted.

CHAPTER V.

WHETHER THE UNIVERSE IS ONE.

The Stoics pronounce that the world is one thing, and
this they say is the universe and is corporeal.

Empedocles's opinion is, that the world is one ; yet by no
means the system of this world must be styled the universe,
but that it is a small part of it, and the remainder is idle
matter.

What to Plato seems the truest he thus declares, that
there is one world, and that world is the universe ; and
this he endeavors to evince by three arguments. First,
that the world could not be complete and perfect, if it did

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 115

not within itself include all beings. Secondly, nor could it
give the true resemblance of its original and exemplar, if
it were not the one only begotten thing. Thirdly, it could
not be incorruptible, if there were any being out of its
compass to whose power it might be obnoxious. But to
Plato it may be thus returned. Fu'st, that the world is not
complete and perfect, nor doth it contain all things within
itself. And if man is a perfect being, yet he doth not en-
compass all things. Secondly, that there are many exem-
plars and originals of statues, houses, and pictures. Thirdly,
how is the world perfect, if any thing beyond it is possible
to be moved about it 1 But the world is not incorruptible,
nor can it be so conceived, because it had an original.

To Mctrodorus it seems absurd, that in a large field one
only stalk should grow, and in an infinite space one only
world exist ; and that this universe is infinite is manifest
by this, that there are causes infinite. Now if this world
were finite and the causes which produced it infinite,
it is necessary that the worlds likewise be infinite ; for
where all causes do concur, there the effects also must
appear, let the causes be what they will, either atoms or
elements.

CHAPTER VL

WHENCE DID MEN OBTAIN THE KNOWLEDGE OP THE EXISTENCB
AND ESSENCE OP A DEITY?

The Stoics thus define the essence of a God. It is a
spirit intellectual and fiery, which acknowledges no shape,
but is continually changed into what it pleases, and assim-
ilates itself to all things. The knowledge of this Deity
they first received from the pulchritude of those things
which so visibly appeared to us ; for they concluded that
nothing beauteous could casually or fortuitously be formed,
but that it was framed from the art of a great understand-

116 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

ing that produced the world. That the world is very re-
splendent is made perspicuous from the figure, the color,
the magnitude of it, and likewise from the wonderful va-
riety of those stars which adorn this world. The world is
spherical ; the orbicular hath the pre-eminence above all
other figures, for being round itself it hath its parts like-
wise round. (On this account, according to Plato, the un-
derstanding, which is the most sacred part of man, is in
the head.) The color of it is most beauteous ; for it is
painted with blue ; which, though little blacker than pur-
ple, yet hath such a shining quality, that by reason of the
vehement efficacy of its color it cuts through such an in-
terval of air ; whence it is that at so great a distance the
heavens are to be contemplated. And in this very great-
ness of the world the beauty of it appears. View all
things : that which contains the rest carries a beauty with
it, as an animal or a tree. Also all things which are vis-
ible to us accomplish the beauty of the world. The ob-
lique circle called the Zodiac in the heaven is with
different images painted and distinguished:

There's Cancer, Leo, Virgo, and tlie Claws ;
Scorpio, Arcitenens, and Capricorn ;
Anipliora, Pisces, then the Kam, and Bull;
The lovely i)air of Brothers next succeed.*

There are a thousand others that give us the suitable
reflections of the beauty of the world. Thus Euripides :

The starry splendor of the skies,
The wondrous work of that most wise
Creator, Time.t

From this the knowledge of a God is conveyed to man ;
that the sun, the moon, and the rest of the stars, being car-
ried under the earth, rise again in their proper color, mag-
nitude, place, and times. Therefore they who by tradition

* From Aratus.

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

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 117

delivered to us the knowledge and veneration of the Gods
did it by these three manner of ways : — first, from Nature ;
secondly, from fables ; thirdly, from the testimony given by
the laws of commonwealths. Philosophers taught the nat-
ural way ; poets, the fabulous ; and the political way is
received from the constitutions of each commonwealth.
All sorts of this learning are distinguished into these seven
parts. The first is from things that are conspicuous, and
the observation of those bodies which are in places supe-
rior to us. To men the heavenly bodies that are so visible
did give the knowledge of the Deity ; when they contem-
plated that they are the causes of so great an harmony, that
they regulate day and night, winter and summer, by their
rising and setting, and likewise considered those things
which by their influences in the earth do receive a being
and do likewise fructify. It was manifest to men that the
Heaven was the father of those things, and the Earth the
mother; that the Heaven was the father is clear, since
from the heavens there is the pouring down of waters,
which have their spermatic faculty ; the Earth the mother,
because she receives them and brings forth. Likewise men
considering that the stars are running (dtovteg) in a perpet-
ual motion, that the sun and moon give us the power to
view and contemplate {Oeansrv)^ they call them all Gods

In the second and third place, they thus distinguished
the Deities into those which are beneficial and those that
are injurious to mankind. Those which are beneficial they
call Jupiter, Juno, Mercury, Ceres ; those who are mis-
chievous the Dirae, Furies, and Mars. These, which threaten
dangers and violence, men endeavor to appease and concil-
iate by sacred rites. The fourth and the fifth order of
Gods they assign to things and passions ; to passions, Love,
Venus, and Desire ; the Deities that preside over things,
Hope, Justice, and Eunomia.

i

118 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

The sixth order of deities are those made by the poets ;
Hesiod, willing to find out a father for those Gods that
acknowledge an original, invented their progenitors,

Hyperion, Coeus, and lapetus,
With Creius ; *

upon which account this is called the fabulous. The
seventh rank of the deities added to the rest are those
which, by their beneficence to mankind, were honored with
a divine worship, though they were born of mortal race ;
of this sort were Hercules, Castor and Pollux, and Bacchus.
These are reputed to be of a human species ; for of all be-
ings that Avhich is divine is most excellent, and man
amongst all animals is adorned with the greatest beauty,
and is also the best, being distinguished by virtue above
the rest because of his intellect : therefore it was thought
that those who were admirable for goodness should re-
semble that which is the best and most beautiful.

CHAPTER VII.

WHAT IS GOD ?

Some of the philosophers, such as Diagoras the Melian,
Theodorus the Cyrenean, and Euemerus the Tegeatan, did
unanimously deny there were any Gods ; and Callimachus
the Cyrenean discovered his mind touching Euemerus in
these Iambic verses, thus writing :

To til* ante-mural temple flock apace,
Where he that long ago composed of brass t
Great Jupiter, Thrasonic old bald pate,
Now writes his impious books, — a boastful ass !

meaning books which denote there are no Gods. Euripi-
des the tragedian durst not openly declare his sentiment ;

* Hesiod, Theogony, 134.

t According to Bentley, '* Panchaean Jove." See Diodorus, VI. Frag. 2 ; and
Bentley's note to Callimachus, Erag. 86. (G.)

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 119

the court of Areopagus terrified him. Yet he sufficiently
manifested his thoughts by this method. He presented in
his tragedy Sisyphus, the first and great patron of this
opinion, and introduced himself as one agreeing with
him :

Disorder in those days did domineer,
And brutal power kept the world in fear.

Afterwards by the sanction of laws wickedness was sup-
pressed ; but by reason that laws could prohibit only pub-
lic villanies, yet could not hinder many persons from acting
secret impieties, some wise persons gave this advice, that
we ought to blind truth with lying disguises, and to per-
suade men that there is a God :

There's an eternal God does hear and see

And understand every impiety ;

Though it in dark recess or thought committed be.

But this poetical fable ought to be rejected, he thought,
together with Callimachus, who thus saith :

If you believe a God, it must be meant
That you conceive this God omnipotent.

But God cannot do every thing ; for, if it were so, then
God could make snow black, and the fu'e cold, and him that
is in a posture of sitting to be upright, and so on the con-
trary. The brave-speaking Plato pronounceth that God
formed the world after his own image ; but this smells rank
of the old dotages, old comic poets would say ; for how
did God, casting his eye upon himself, frame this universe?
Or how can God be spherical, and not be inferior to
man?

Anaxagoras avers that bodies did consist from all eter-
nity, but the divine intellect did reduce them into their
proper orders, and effected the origination of all beings.
Plato did not suppose that the primary bodies had their
consistence and repose, but that they were moved con-
fusedly and in disorder ; ])nt God. knowing that order was

120 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

better than confusion, did digest them into the best meth-
ods. Both these were equally peccant ; for both suppose
God to be the great moderator of human affairs, and for
that cause to have formed this present world; when it is
apparent that an immortal and blessed being, replenished
with all his glorious excellencies, and not at all obnoxious
to any sort of evil, but being wholly occupied with his
own felicity and immortality, would not employ himself
with the concerns of men ; for certainly miserable is the
being which, like a laborer or artificer, is molested by the
troubles and cares which the forming and governing of
this world must give him. Add to this, that the God
whom these men profess was either not at all existing pre-
vious to this present world (when bodies were either
reposed or in a disordered motion), or that then God did
either sleep, or else was in a perpetual watchfulness, or
that he did neither of these. Now neither the first nor
the second can be entertained, because they suppose God
to be eternal ; if God from eternity was in a continual
sleep, he was in an eternal death, — and what is death but
an eternal sleep ] — but no sleep can affect a Deity, for the
immortality of God and alliance to death are vastly differ-
ent. But if God was in a continual vigilance, either there
was something wanting to make him happy, or else his
beatitude was perfectly complete ; but according to neither
of these can God be said to be blessed ; not according to
the first, for if there be any deficiency there is no perfect
bliss ; not according to the second, for, if there be nothing
wanting to the felicity of God, it must be a useless enter-
prise for him to busy himself in human affairs. And how
can it be supposed that God administers by his own pro-
vidence human concerns, when to vain and trifling persons
prosperous things happen, to great and high adverse ?
Agamemnon was both

A virtuous prince, for warlike acts renowned,*
* n. III. 17^

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 121

and by an adulterer and adulteress was vanquished and
perfidiously slain. Hercules, after he had freed the life
of man from many things that were pernicious to it, per-
ished by the witchcraft and poison of Deianira.

Thalcs said that the intelligence of the world was God.

Anaximander concluded that the stars were heavenly
Deities.

Democritus said that God, being a globe of fire, is intel-
ligence and the soul of the world.

Pythagoras says that, of his piinciples, unity is God ; and
the perfect good, which is indeed the nature of a unity, is
mind itself ; but the binary number, which is infinite, is a
devil, and in its own nature evil, — about which the multi-
tude of material beings, and this world which is the object
of our eyes, are conversant.

Socrates and Plato agree that God is that which is one,
hath its original from its own self, is of a singular sub-
sistence, is one only being perfectly good ; all these vari-
ous names signifying goodness do all centre in mind ; hence
God is to be understood as that mind and intellect, which
is a separate idea, that is to say, pure and unmixed of all
matter, and not twisted with any thing obnoxious to
passions.

Aristotle's sentiment is, that God hath his residence in
superior regions, and hath placed his throne in the sphere
of the universe, and is a separate idea ; which sphere is an
ethereal body, which is by him styled the fifth essence or
quintessence. For there is a division of the universe into
spheres, which are contiguous by their nature but appear to
reason to be separated ; and he concludes that each of the
spheres is an animal, composed of a body and soul ; the
body of them is ethereal, moved orbicularly, the soul is
the rational form, which is unmoved, and yet is the cause
that the sphere is actually in motion.

The Stoics affiim that God is a thing more common and

122 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

obvious, and is a mechanic fire which every way spreads
itself to produce the world ; it contains in itself all seminal
virtues, and by this means all things by a fatal necessity
were produced. This spirit, passing through the whole
world, received various names from the mutations in the
matter through which it ran in its journey. God therefore
is the world, the stars, the earth, and (highest of all) the
supreme mind in the heavens.

In the judgment of Epicurus all the Gods are anthropo-
morphites, or have the shape of men ; but they are per-
ceptible only by reason, for their nature admits of no other
manner of being apprehended, their parts being so small
and fine that they give no corporeal representations. The
same Epicurus asserts that there are four other natural
beings which are immortal : of this sort are atoms, the
vacuum, the infinite, and the similar parts ; and these last
are called Homoeomeries and likewise elements.

CHAPTER VIII.

OF THOSE THAT ARE CALLED GENIUSES AND HEROES.

Having treated of the essence of the deities in a just
order, it follows that we discourse of daemons and heroes.
Thales, Pythagoras, Plato, and the Stoics do conclude that
daemons are essences which are endowed with souls ; that
the heroes are the souls separated from their bodies, some
are good, some are bad ; the good are those whose souls
are good, the evil those whose souls are wicked. All this
is rejected by Epicurus.

CHAPTER IX.

OP MATTER.

Matter is that first being which is substrate for genera-
tion, coriuption, and all other alterations.

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 123

The disciples of Thales and Pythagoras, with the Stoics,
are of opinion that matter is changeable, mutable, convert-
ible, and sliding through all things.

The followers of Democritus aver that the vacuum, the
atom, and the incorporeal substance are the first beings,
and not obnoxious to passions.

Aristotle and Plato affirm that matter is of that species
which is corporeal, void of any form, species, figure, and
quality, but apt to receive all forms, that she may be the
nurse, the mother, and origin of all other beings. But they
that do say that water, earth, air, and fire are matter do
likewise say that matter cannot be without form, but con-
clude it is a body ; but they that say that individual par-
ticles and atoms are matter do say that matter is without
form.

CHAPTER X.

OF IDEAS.

An idea is a being incorporeal, which has no subsistence
by itself, but gives figure and form unto shapeless matter,
and becomes the cause of its manifestation.

Socrates and Plato conjecture that these ideas are es-
sences separate from matter, having their existence in the
understanding and fancy of the Deity, that is, of mind.

Aristotle objected not to forms and ideas ; but he doth
not believe them separated from matter, or patterns of
what God has made.

Those Stoics, that are of the school of Zeno, profess that
ideas are nothing else but the conceptions of our own
mind.

CHAPTER XL

OP CAUSES.

A CAUSE is that by which any thing is produced, or by
which any thing is effected.

124 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

Plato gives this triple division of causes, — the material,
the efficient, and the final cause ; the principal cause he
judges to be the efficient, which is the mind and intellect.

Pythagoras and Aristotle judge the first causes are in-
corporeal beings, but those that are causes by accident or
participation become corporeal substances ; by this means
the world is corporeal.

The Stoics grant that all causes are corporeal, inasmuch
as they are breath.

CHAPTER XIL

OF BODIES.

A BODY is that being which hath these three dimensions,
breadth, depth, and length ; — or a bulk which makes a sen-
sible resistance ; — or whatsoever of its own nature pos-
sesseth a place.

Plato saith that it is neither heavy nor light in its own
nature, when it exists in its own place ; but being in the
place where another should be, then it has an inclination
by which it tends to gravity or levity.

Aristotle saith that, if we simply consider things in their
own nature, the earth only is to be judged heavy, and fire
light ; but air and water are sometimes heavy and some-
times light.

The Stoics think that of the four elements two are light,
fire and air ; two ponderous, earth and water ; that which
is naturally light doth by its own nature, not by any in-
clination, recede from its own centre ; but that which is
heavy doth by its own nature tend to its centre ; for the
centre is not a heavy thing of itself.

Epicurus thinks that bodies are not to be limited ; but
the first bodies, which are simple bodies, and all those
composed of them, all acknowledge gravity ; that all atoms

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 125

are moved, some perpendicularly, some obliquely ; some
are carried aloft either by dii-ect impulse or with vibrations.

CHAPTER XIII.

OF THOSE THINGS THAT ARE LEAST IN NATURE.

Empedocles, precedent to the four elements, introduceth
the most minute bodies which resemble elements ; but
they did exist before the elements, having similar parts
and orbicular.

Heraclitus brings in the smallest fragments, and those
indivisible.

CHAPTER XIV.

OP FIGURES.

A FIGURE is the exterior appearance, the circumscrip-
tion, and the boundary of a body.

The Pythagoreans say that the bodies of the four ele-
ments are spherical, fire being in the supremest place only
excepted, whose figure is conical.

CHAPTER XV.

OF COLORS.

Color is the visible quality of a body.

The Pythagoreans called color the outward appearance
of a body. Empcdocles, that which is consentaneous to
the passages of the eye. Plato, that they are fires emitted
from bodies, which have parts harmonious for the sight.
Zeno the Stoic, that colors arc the first figurations of mat-
ter. The Pythagoreans, that colors are of four sorts,
white and black, red and pale ; and they derive the variety

126 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

of colors from the diversity of the elements, and that seen
in animals also from the variety of food and the air in
which they live and are bred.

CHAPTER XVI.

OF THE DIVISION OP BODIES.

The disciples of Thales and Pythagoras grant that all
bodies are passible and divisible unto infinity. Others
hold that atoms and indivisible parts are there fixed, and
admit not of a division into infinity. Aristotle, that all
bodies are potentially but not actually divisible into infinity.

CHAPTER XVII.

HOW BODIES ARE MIXED AND CONTEMPERATED ONE WITH ANOTHER.

The ancient philosophers held that the mixture of ele-
ments proceeded from the alteration of qualities ; but the
disciples of Anaxagoras and Democritus say it is done by
apposition. Empedocles composes the elements of still
smaller bulks, those which are the most minute and may
be termed the elements of elements. Plato assigns three
bodies (but he will not allow these to be elements, nor prop-
erly so called), air, fire, and water, which are mutable into
one another ; but the earth is mutable into none of these.

CHAPTER XVIII.

OF A VACUUM.

All the natural philosophers from Thales to Plato re-
jected a vacuum. Empedocles says that there is nothing
of a vacuity in nature, nor any thing superabundant. Leu-

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 127

cippus, Democritus, Demetrius, Metrodorus, Epicurus, that
the atoms are infinite in number ; and that a vacuum is
infinite in magnitude. The Stoics, that within the compass
of the world there is no vacuum, but beyond it the vacuum
is infinite. Aristotle,* that the vacuum beyond the world
is so great that the heaven has liberty to breathe into it,
for the heaven is fiery.

CHAPTER XIX.

OP PLACE.

Plato, to define place, calls it that thing which in its
own bosom receives forms and ideas ; by which metaphor
he signifies matter, being (as it were) a nurse or receptacle
of beings. Aristotle, that it is the ultimate superficies of
the circumambient body, contiguous to that which it doth
encompass.

CHAPTER XX.

OP SPACE.

The Stoics and Epicureans make a place, a vacuum, and
a space to differ. A^vacunm js that which is void of any
thing that may be called a body ; placejs that which is pos-
sessed by a body ; a s^ace that which is partly filled with
a body, as a cask with wine.

CHAPTER XXI.

OP TIMB.

In the sense of Pythagoras, time is that sphere which
encompasses the world. Plato says that it is a movable

♦ Wo ihould probabljr here read " P/thngorM." (0.)

128 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

image of eternity, or the interval of the world's motion.
Eratosthenes, that it is the solar motion.

CHAPTER XXII.

OP THE ESSENCE AND NATURE OF TIME.

Plato says that the heavenly motion is time. Most of the
Stoics affirm that motion itself is time. Most philosophers
think that time had no beginning ; Plato, that time had
only an ideal beginning.

CHAPTER XXIII.

OF MOTION.

Plato and Pythagoras say that motion is a change and
alteration in matter. Aristotle, that it is the actual opera-
tion of that which may be moved. DemcTcritus, that there
is but one sort of motion, and it is that which is vibratory.
Epicurus, that there are tAVO species of motion, one per-
pendicular, and the other oblique. Herophilus, that one
species of motion is obvious only to reason, the other to
sense. Heraclitus utterly denies that there is any thing of
quiet or repose in nature ; for that is the state of the dead ;
one sort of motion is eternal, which he assigns to beings
eternal, the other perishable, to those things which are per-
ishable.

CHAPTER XXIV.

OF GENERATION AND CORRUPTION.

Parmenides, Melissus, and Zeno deny that there are any
such things as generation and corruption, for they suppose
that the universe is unmovable. Empedocles, Epicurus, and

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 129

other philosophers that combine in this, that the world is
framed of small corporeal particles meeting together, affirm
that corruption and generation are not so properly to be ac-
cepted ; but there are conjunctions and separations, which do
not consist in any alteration according to their qualities, but
are made according to quantity by coalition or disjunction.
Pythagoras, and all those who take for granted that matter
is subject to mutation, say that generation and corruption
are to be accepted in their proper sense, and that they are
accomplished by the alteration, mutation, and dissolution
of elements.

CHAPTER XXV.

OP NECESSITY.

Thales says that necessity is omnipotent, and that it ex-
erciseth an empire over every thing. Pythagoras, that the
world is invested by necessity. Parmenides and Democri-
tus, that there is nothing in the world but what is necessa-
rily, and that this same necessity is otherwise called fate,
justice, providence, and the architect of the world.

CHAPTER XXVL

OP THE NATURE OF NECESSITY.

Plato distinguisheth and refers some things to Provi-
dence, others to necessity. Empedocles makes the nature
of necessity to be that cause which cmi)loys principles and
elements. Democritus makes it to be a resistance, impulse,
and force of matter. Phito sometimes says that necessity
is matter ; at other times, that it is the habitude or respect
of the efficient cause towards matter.

130 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

CHAPTER XXVII.

OF DESTINY OR FATE.

Heraclitus, who attributes all things to fate, makes ne-
cessity to be the same thing with it. Plato admits of a
necessity in the minds and the actions of men, but yet he
introduceth a cause which flows from ourselves. The Stoics,
in this agreeing with Plato, say that necessity is a cause in-
vincible and violent ; that fate is the ordered complication
of causes, in which there is an intexture of those things
which proceed from our own determination, so that some
things are to be attributed to fate, others not.

CHAPTER XXVHI.

OF THE NATURE OF FATE.

According to Heraclitus, the essence of fate is a certain
reason which penetrates the substance of all being; and
this is an ethereal body, containing in itself that seminal
faculty which gives an original to every being in the uni-
verse. Plato declares that it is the eternal reason and the
eternal law of the nature of the universe. Chrysippus,
that it is a spiritual faculty, which in due order doth man-
age and rule the universe. Again, in his book styled the
Definitions, that fate is the reason of the world, or that it
is that law whereby Providence rules and administers every
thing that is in the world ; or it is that reason by which
all things past have been, all things present are, and all
things future will be. The Stoics say that it is a chain of
causes, that is, it is an order and connection of causes which
cannot be resisted. Posidonius, that it is a being the third
in degree from Jupiter ; the first of beings is Jupiter, the
second nature, and the third fate.

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 131

CHAPTER XXIX.

OF FORTUNE.

Plato says, that it is an accidental cause and a casual con-
sequence in things which proceed from the election and
counsel of men. Aristotle, that it is an accidental cause in
those things which are done by an impulse to a certain end ;
and this cause is uncertain and unstable : there is a great deal
of difference betwixt that which flows from chance and that
which falls out by Fortune ; for that which is fortuitous ad-
mits also of ^chance, and belongs to things practical ; but
what is by chance cannot be also by Fortune, for it belongs
to things without action : Fortune, moreover, belongs to ra-
tional beings, but chance to rational and irrational beings
alike, and even to inanimate things. Epicurus, that it is
a cause not always consistent, but various as to persons,
times, and manners. Anaxagoras and the Stoics, that it is
that cause which human reason cannot comprehend ; for
there are some things which proceed from necessity, some
things from Fate, some from choice and free-will, some
from Fortune, some from chance.

CHAPTER XXX.

OF NATURE.

EifPEDocLES believes that Nature is nothing else but the
mixture and separation of the elements ; for thus he writes
in the first book of his natural philosophy :

Nfttore giren neither life nor death,
Mutation makes us die or hreatiie.
The elements flrst arc mixe<1, tlien nil
Do wparate : tliis mortals Nature call.

132 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

Anaxagoras is of the same opinion, that Nature is coalition
and separation, that is, generation and corruption.

BOOK IT.

Having finished my dissertation concerning principles
and elements and those things which chiefly appertain to
them, I will turn my pen to discourse of those things
which are produced by them, and will take my beginning
from the world, which contains and encoinpasseth all
beings.

CHAPTER I.

OP THE WORLD.

Pythagoras was the first philosopher that gave the
name of :<6(j[iog to the world, from the order and beauty
of it ; for so that word signifies. Thales and his followers
say the world is one. Democritus, Epicurus, and their
scholar Metrodorus affirm that there are infinite worlds
in an infinite space, for that infinite vacuum in its whole
extent contains them. Empedocles, that the circle which
the sun makes in its motion circumscribes the world, and
that circle is the utmost bound of the world. Seleucus,
that the world knows no limits. Diogenes, that the uni-
verse is infinite, but this world is finite. The Stoics make
a diff"erence between that which is called the universe, and
that which is called the whole world ; — the universe is
the infinite space considered with the vacuum, the vacuity
being removed gives the right conception of the world ; so
that the universe and the world are not the same thing.

,' PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 133

CHAPTER II.

OP THE FIGURE OP THE WORLD.

The Stoics say that the figure of the world is spherical,
others that it is conical, others oval. Epicurus, that the
figure of the world may be globular, or that it may admit
of other shapes.

CHAPTER IIL

WHETHER THE WORLD BE AN ANIMAL.

Democritus, Epicurus, and those philosophers who intro-
duced atoms and a vacuum, affirm that the world is not an
animal, nor governed by any wise Providence, but that it is
managed by a nature which is void of reason. All the other
philosophers affirm that the world is informed with a soul,
and governed by reason and Providence. Aristotle is ex-
cepted, who is somewhat different ; he is of opinion, that
the whole world is not acted by a soul in every part of it,
nor hath it any sensitive, rational, or intellectual faculties,
nor is it guided by reason and Providence in every part of
it ; of all which the heavenly bodies are made partakers,
for the circumambient spheres are animated and are living
beings ; but those things which are about the earth are
void of those endowments ; and though those terrestrial
bodies are of an orderly disposition, yet that is casual and
not primogenial.

CHAPTER IV.

WnETaBR THB WORLD IS BTRRVAL \M> iNCORRUrTIDLB.

PiTiiAGORAs [and Plato], with the Stoics, affirm that the
world was framed by God, and being corporeal is obvious

134 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

to the senses, and in its own nature is obnoxious to de-
struction ; but it shall never perish, it being preserved by
the providence of God. Epicurus, that the world had a
beginning, and so shall have an end, as plants and animals
have. Xenophanes, that the world never had a beginning,
is eternal and incorruptible. Aristotle, that the part of
the world which is sublunary is obnoxious to change, and
there terrestrial beings find a decay.

CHAPTER V.

WHENCE DOES THE WORLD RECEIVE ITS NUTRIMENT?

Aristotle says that, if the world be nourished, it will
likewise be dissolved ; but it requires no aliment, and will
therefore be eternal. Plato, that this very world prepares
for itself a nutriment, by the alteration of those things
which are corruptible in it. Philolaus believes that a de-
struction happens to the world in two ways ; either by
fire falling from heaven, or by the lunary water being
poured down through the whirling of the air; and the
exhalations proceeding from thence are the aliment of
the world.

CHAPTER VI.

FROM WHAT ELEMENT GOD DID BEGIN TO RAISE THE FABRIC OF

THE WORLD.

The natural philosophers pronounce that the forming of
this world took its original from the earth, it being its cen-
tre, for the centre is the principal part of the globe.
Pythagoras, from the fire and the fifth element. Empedo-
cles determines, that the first and principal element
separated from the rest was the ether, then fire, after that
the earth, which earth being strongly compacted by the

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 135

force of a violent revolution, water springs from it, the
exhalations of which water produce the air ; the heaven
took its origin from the ether, and fire gave a being to
the sun ; those things that belong to the earth are con-
densed from the remainders. Plato, that the visible world
was framed after the exemplar of the intellectual world ;
the sQul of the visible world was first produced, then the
corporeal figure, first that which came from fire and earth,
afterwards that which came from air and water. Pythago-
ras, that the world was formed of five solid figures which
are called mathematical ; the earth was produced by the
cube, the fire by tbe pyramid, the air by the octahedron,
the water by the icosahedron, and the globe of the uni-
verse by the dodecahedron. In all these Plato hath the
same sentiments with Pythagoras.

CHAPTER VII.

IN WHAT FORM AND ORDER THE WORLD WAS COMPOSED.

Parmenides believes that there are small coronets alter-
nately twisted one within another, some made up of a thin,
others of a condensed matter ; and there are others be-
tween them mixed mutually together of light and of
darkness, and about them all there is a solid substance,
which like a firm wall surrounds these coronets. Leucip-
pus and Democritus wrap the world round about, as with
a garment and membrane. Epicurus says that that which
bounds some worlds is thin, and that which limits others
is gross and condensed ; and of these worlds some are in
motion, others are fixed. Plato, that fire takes the first
place in the world, the second the ether, after that the
air, under that the water ; the last place the cartli pos-
sesseth : sometimes he puts the ether and the fire in the
same \)h\f'f\ Ari-tn^lf i^ivrs the first place to tlir ether, as

136 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

that which is impassible, it being a kind of fifth body ;
after which he placeth those that are passible, fire, air, and
water, and last of all the earth. To those bodies that are
accounted celestial he assigns a motion that is circuhir, but
to those that are seated under them, if they be light bodies,
an ascending, if heavy, a descending motion. Empedocles,
that the places of the elements are not always fixed and
determined, but they all succeed one another in their
respective stations.

chaptp:r VIII.

WHAT IS THE CAUSE OF THE WORLd's INCLINATION.

Diogenes and Anaxagoras affirm that, after the world
was composed and the earth had produced living creatures,
the world out of its own propensity made an inclination
towards the south. Perhaps this may be attributed to a
wise Providence (they say), that thereby some parts of the
world may be habitable, others uninhabitable, according as
the various climates are affected with a rigorous cold, or a
scorching heat, or a just temperament of cold and heat.
Empedocles, that the air yielding to the impetuous force
of the solar rays, the pole received an inclination ; where-
by the northern parts were exalted and the southern de-
pressed, by which means the whole world received its
inclination.

CHAPTER IX.

OF THAT THING WHICH IS BEYOND THE WORLD, AND WHETHER IT BE A

VACUUM OR NOT.

Pythagoras and his followers say that beyond the world
there is a vacuum, into which and out of which the world
hath its respiration. The Stoics, that there is a vacuum
into which the infinite world by a conflagration shall be

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 137

dissolved. Posidonius, not an infinite vacuum, but as much
as suffices for the dissohition of the world ; and this he
asserts in his first book concerning the Vacuum. Aristotle
affirms, that there is no vacuum. IMato concludes that
neither within nor without the world there is any vacuum.

CHAPTER X.

WHAT FAKTS OF THE WORLD ARE ON THE RIGHT HAND, AND WHAT
PARTS ARE ON THE LEFT.

Pythagoras, Plato, and Aristotle say that the eastern
parts of the world, from whence motion commences, are of
the right, those of the western are of the left-hand of the
world. Empedocles, that those that are of the right-hand
are towards the summer solstice, those of the left towards
the winter solstice.

CHAPTER XI.

OF HEAVEN, WHAT IS ITS NATURE AND ESSENCE.

Anaximenes declares that the circumference of heaven
is the limit of the earth's revolution. Empedocles, that
the heaven is a solid substance, and hath the form and
hardness of crystal, it being composed of the air com-
pacted by fire, and that in both hemispheres it invests the
elements of air and fire. Aristotle, that it is formed by
the fifth body, and by the mixture of extreme heat and
cold

CHAPTER XIL

INTO HOW MANT CIRCLES IS THE HEAVEN DISTINGUISHED; OR, OP TM
DIVISION OF HEAVEN.

Thales, Pythagoras, and the followers of Pythagoras do
distribute the universal globe of heaven into five circles,

138 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURL

which they denominate zones; one of which is called the
arctic circle, which is always conspicuous to us, another is
the summer tropic, another is the equinoctial, another is
the winter tropic, another is the antarctic circle, which
is always invisible. The circle called the zodiac is placed
under the three that are in the midst, and lies obliquely,
gently touching them all. Likewise, they are all cut in
right angles by the meridian, which runs from pole to pole.
It is supposed that Pythagoras made the first discovery of
the obliquity of the zodiac, but one Oenopides of Chios
challenges to himself the invention of it.

CHAPTER XIII.

WHAT IS THE ESSENCE OF THE STARS, AND HOW THEY ARE COMPOSED.

Thales believes that they are globes of earth set on fire.
Empedocles, that they are fiery bodies arising from that
fire which the ether embraced within itself, and did shat-
ter in pieces when the elements were first separated 'one
from another. Anaxagoras, that the circumambient ether
is of a fiery substance, which, by a vehement force in its
whirling about, did tear stones from the earth, and by its
own power set them on fire, and establish them as stars
in the heavens. Diogenes thinks they resemble pumice
stones, and that they are the breathings of the w^orld ; again
he supposeth that there are some invisible stones, which
sometimes fall from heaven upon the earth, and are there
quenched ; as it happened at Aegos-potami, where a stony
star resembling fire did fall. Empedocles, that the fixed
stars are fastened to the crystal, but the planets are
loosened. Plato, that the stars for the most part are of a
fiery nature, but they are made partakers of another ele-
ment, with which they are mixed after the resemblance of
glue. Xenophanes, that they are composed of inflamed

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 139

clouds, which in the daytime are quenched, and in the
night are kindled again. The like we see in coals ; for
the rising and setting of the stars is nothing else but the
quenching and khidling of them. Heraclides and the
Pythagoreans, that every star is a world in an infinite ether,
and itself encompasseth air, earth, and ether ; this opinion
is current among the followers of Orpheus, for they sup-
pose that each of the stars does make a world. Epicurus
condemns none of these opinions, for he embraces any
thing that is possible.

CHAPTER XIV.

OP WHAT FIGURE THE STARS ARE.

The Stoics say that the stars are of a circular form, like
the sun, the moon, and the w^orld. Cleanthes, that they
are of a conical figure. Anaximenes, that they are fast-
ened as nails in the crystalline firmament ; some others,
that they are fiery plates of gold, resembling pictures.

CHAPTER XV.

OF THE ORDER AND PLACE OF THE STARS.

Xenocrates says that the stars are moved in one and
the same supei-ficies. The other Stoics say that they are
moved in various superficies, some being superior, others
inferior. Democritus, that the fixed stars arc in the high-
est place; after those the planets; after which the sun,
Venus, and the moon, in their order. Plato, that the first
after the fixed stars that makes its appearance is Phaenon,
tlie star of Saturn ; the second Phaeton, the star of Ju-
piter ; the third the fiery, which is the stiir of Mars ; the
fourth the morning star, which is the star of Venus;

14:0 ' THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

the fifth the shining star, and that is the star of Mercury ;
in the sixth place is the sun, in the seventh the moon. Plato
and some of the mathematicians conspire in the same
opinion ; others place the sun as the centre of the planets.
Anaximander, Metrodorus of Chios, and Crates assign to
the sun the superior place, after him they place the moon,
after them the fixed stars and planets.

CHAPTER XVI.

OP THE MOTION AND CIRCULATION OF THE STARS.

Anaxagoras, Democritus, and Cleanthes say that all the
stars have their motion from east to west. Alcmaeon
and the mathematicians, that the planets have a contrary
motion to the fixed stars, and in opposition to them are
carried from the west to the east. Anaximander, that
they are moved by those circles and spheres on which they
are placed. Anaximenes, that they are turned under and
about the earth. Plato and the mathematicians, that the
sun, Venus, and Mercury have equal measures in their
motions.

CHAPTER XVII.

WHENCE DO THE STARS RECEIVE THEIR LIGHT?

M ETRODORUS says that all the fixed stars derive their light
from the sun. Heraclitus and tlie Stoics, that earthly
exhalations are those by which the stars are nourished.
Aristotle, that the heavenly bodies require no nutriment,
for they being eternal cannot be obnoxious to corruption.
Plato and the Stoics, that the whole world and the stars
are fed by the same things.

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. lH

CHAPTER XVIIL
Wbat are those stars which are called the Dioscuri, the

TWINS, OR castor AND POLLUX?

Xenophanes says that those which appear as stars in
the tops of ships are little clouds shining by their pe-
culiar motion. Metrodorus, that the eyes of fnghted and
astonished people emit those lights which are called the
Twins.

CHAPTER XIX.

HOW STARS PROGNOSTICATE,, AND WHAT IS THE CAUSE OF WINTER

AND SUMMER.

Plato says that the summer and winter indications pro
ceed from the rising and setting of the stars, that is, from
the rising and setting of the sun, the moon, and the fixed
stars. Anaximenes, that the others in this are not at all
concerned, but that it is wholly performed by the sun.
Eudoxus and Aratus assign it in common to all the stars,
for thus Aratus sings :

Thund'ring Jove stars in lieaven hath fixed.
And them in such beauteous order mixed,
Which yearly future things predict.

CHAPTER XX.

OF THE ESSENCE OP THE SUN.

Anaximander says, that the sun is a circle eight and
twenty times bigger than the earth, and has a circumfer-
ence which very much resembles that of a chariot- wheel,
which is hollow and full of fire ; the fire of which appears
to us through its mouth, as by a hole in a pipe ; and this
is the sun. Xcnophanes, that the sun is constituted of
small bodies of fire compact together and raised from a

142 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

moist exhalation, which collected together make the body
of the sun ; or that it is a cloud enfired. The Stoics, that
it is an intelligent flame proceeding from the sea. Plato,
that it is composed of abundance of fire. Anaxagoras,
Democritus, and Metrodorus, that it is an enfired stone, or
a burning mass. Aristotle, that it is a sphere formed out
of the fifth body. Philolaus the Pythagorean, that the
sun shines as crystal, which receives its splendor from the
fire of the world and so reflecteth its light upon us ; so
that first, the body of fire which is celestial belongs
to the sun ; and secondly, the fiery reflection that pro-
ceeds from it, in the form of a mirror ; and lastly, the
light which is spread upon us by way of reflection from
that mirror ; and this last we call the sun, which is (as it
were) an image of an image. Empedocles, that there are
two suns ; the one the prototype, which is a fire placed in
the other hemisphere, which it totally fills, and is always
ordered in a direct opposition to the reflection of its own
light ; and the sun which is visible to us, formed by the
reflection of that splendor in the other hemisphere (which
is filled with air mixed with heat), the light reflected from
the circular sun in the opposite hemisphere falling upon
the crystalline sun ; and this reflection is carried round
with the motion of the fiery sun. To give briefly the
full sense, the sun is nothing else but the light and bright-
ness of that fire which encompasseth the earth. Epicurus,
that it is an earthy bulk well compacted, with hollow
passages like a pumice-stone or a sponge, which is kindled
by fire.

CHAPTER XXI.

♦ OP THE MAGNITUDE OP THE SUN.

Anaximander says, that the sun itself in greatness is
equal to the earth, but that the circle from whence it

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 143

receives its respiration and in which it is moved is seven
and twenty times hirger than the earth. Anaxagoras, that
it is far greater than Peloponnesus. Heraclitus, that it
is no broader than a man's foot. Epicurus, that he equally
embraceth all the foresaid opinions, — that the sun may
be of magnitude as it appears, or it may be somewhat
greater or somewhat less.

CHAPTER XXII.

WHAT IS THE FIGURE OR SHAPE OF THE SUX.

Anaximenes affirms that in its dilatation it resembles a
leaf. Heraclitus, that it hath the shape of a boat, and is
somewhat crooked. The Stoics, that it is spherical, and it
is of the same figure with the world and the stars. Epi-
curus, that the recited dogmas may be defended.

CHAPTER XXIII.

OF THE TURNING AND RETURNING OF THE SUN, OR THE SUMMER
AND WINTER SOLSTICE.

x\.NAXiMENES thinks that the stars are forced by a con-
densed and resisting air. Anaxagoras, by the repelling
force of the northern air, which is violently pushed on by
the sun, and thus rendered more condensed and powerful.
Empedocles, that the sun is hindered from a continual di-
rect course by its spherical vehicle and by the two circular
tropics. Diogenes, that the sun, when it comes to its utmost
declination, is extinguished, a ngorous cold damping the
heat. The Stoics, that the sun maintains its course only
through that space in which its aliment is seated, let it be
the ocean or the earth ; by the exhalations proceeding from
these it is nourished. Plato, Pythagoras, and Anstotle, that

144 Tilt: SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

the sun receives a transverse motion from the obliquity of
the zodiac, which is guarded by the tropics ; all these the
globe clearly manifests.

CHAPTER XXIV.

OF THE ECLIPSES OF THE SUN.

Thales was the first who affirmed that the eclipse of the
sun was caused by the moon's running in a perpendicular
line between it and the earth ; for the moon in its own na-
ture is terrestrial. And by mirrors it is made perspicuous
that, when the sun is eclipsed, the moon is in a direct line
below it. Anaximander, that the sun is eclipsed when the
fiery mouth of it is stopped and hindered from expiration.
Heraclitus, that it is after the manner of the turning of a
boat, when the concave appears uppermost to our sight,
and the convex nethermost. Xenophanes, that the sun is
eclipsed when it is extinguished ; and that a new sun is
created to rise in the east. He gives a farther account of
an eclipse of the sun which remained for a whole month,
and again of a total eclipse which changed the day into
night. Some say that the cause of an eclipse is the invis-
ible concourse of condensed clouds which cover the orb of
the sun. Aristarchus placeth the sun amongst the fixed
stars, and belie veth that the earth [the moon ? ] is moved
about the sun, and that by its inclination and vergency it
intercepts its light and shadows its orb. Xenophanes, that
there are many suns and many moons, according as the
earth is distinguished by climates, circles, and zones. At
some certain times the orb of the sun, falling upon some
part of the world which is uninhabited, wanders in a
vacuum and becomes eclipsed. The same person affirms
that the sun, proceeding in its motion in the infinite space,
appears to us to move orbicularly, receiving that represen-
tation from its infinite distance from us.

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 145

CHAPTER XXV.

OF THE ESSENCE OP THE MOON.

Anaximander affirms that the circle of the moon is nine-
teen times bigger than the earth, and resembles the sun, its
orb being full of fire ; and it suffers an eclipse when the
Avlieel turneth, — which he describes by the divers turnings
of a chariot- wheel, in the midst of it there being a hollow
replenished with fire, which hath but one way of expira-
tion. Xenophanes, that it is a condensed cloud. The
Stoics, that it is mixed of fii'e and air. Plato, that it is
a body of the greatest part earthy. Anaxagoras and
Democritus, that it is a solid, condensed, and fiery body, in
which there are champaign countries, mountains, and val-
leys. Ileraclitus, that it is an earth covered with a cloud.
Pythagoras, that the body of the moon was of a nature
like a mirror.

CHAPTER XXVI.

OF THE MAGNITUDE OP THE MOON.

The Stoics declare, that in magnitude it exceeds the
earth, as the sun itself doth. Parmenides, that it is equal
to the sun, from whom it receives its light.

CHAPTER XXVII.

OP THE FIGUIIE OF THE MOON.

The Stoics believe that it is of the same figure with the
sun, spherical. Empedocles, that the figure of it resembles
a quoit. Heraclitus, a boat. Others, a cylinder.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

FROM WnSNCR IS IT THAT THE MOON RBCEITE8 DBR LIGHT?

Anaximander thinks that she gives light to herself, but

TOL. III. 10

146 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

it is very slender and faint. Antiphon, that the moon shines
by its own proper light ; but when it absconds itself, the
solar beams darting on it obscure it. Thus it naturally hap-
pens, that a more vehement light puts out a weaker ; the
same is seen in other stars. Thales and his followers, that
the moon borrows all her light of the sun. Heraclitus,
that the sun and moon are after the same manner affected ;
in their configurations both are shaped like boats, and are
made conspicuous to us, receiving their light from moist ex-
halations. The sun appears to us more refulgent, by reason
it is moved in a clearer and purer air ; the moon appears
more duskish, it being carried in an air more troubled and
gross.

CHAPTER XXIX.

OP THE ECLIPSE OF THE MOON.

Anaximenes believes that the mouth of the hollow wheel,
about which the moon is turned, being stopped is the cause
of an eclipse. Berosus, that it proceeds from the turning
of the dark side of the lunar orb towards us. Heraclitus,
that it is performed just after the manner of a boat turned
upside downwards. Some of the Pythagoreans say, that
the splendor arises from the earth, its obstruction from the
Antichthon (or counter-earth). Some of the later philoso-
phers, that there is such a distribution of the lunar flame,
that it gradually and in a just order burns until it be full
moon ; in like manner, that this fire decays by ^degrees,
until its conjunction with the sun totally extinguisheth it.
Plato, Aristotle, the Stoics, and all the mathematicians
agree in this, that the obscurity with which the moon is
every month affected ariseth from a conjunction with the
sun, by whose more resplendent beams she is darkened ;
and the moon is then eclipsed when she falls upon the
shadow of the earth, the earth interposing between the sun

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 14:7

and moon, or (to speak more properly) the earth intercept-
ing the light of the moon.

CHAPTER XXX.

OF TIIK PHASES OF THE MOON, OR THE LUNAR ASPECTS; OR HOW IT
COMES TO PASS THAT THE MOON APPEARS TO US TERRESTRIAL.

The Pythagoreans say, that the moon appears to us ter-
raneous, by reason it is inhabited as our earth is, and in it
there are animals of a larger size and plants of a rarer
beauty than our globe affords ; that the animals in their
virtue and energy are fifteen degrees superior to ours ;
that they emit nothing excrementitious ; and that the days
are fifteen times longer. Anaxagoras, that the reason of
the inequality arise th from the commixture of things earthy
and cold ; and that fiery and caliginous matter is jumbled
together, whereby the moon is said to be a star of a coun-
terfeit aspect. The Stoics, that by reason of the diversity
of her substance the composition of her body is subject
to corruption.

CHAPTER XXXI.

HOW FAR THE MOON IS REMOVED FROM THE SUN.

Empedocles affirms, that the distance of the moon from
the sun is double her remoteness from the earth. The
mathematicians, that her distance from the sun is eighteen
times her distance from the earth. Eratosthenes, that the
sun is remote from the earth seven hundred and eighty
thousand furlongs.

CHAPTER XXXn.

OF TH« TEAR, AND HOW MANT CIRCULATIONS MAKb" UP THE GREAT
TEAR OF EVERY PLANET.

The year of Saturn is comj)letcd when he has had his
circulation in the space of thirty solar yeais ; of Jupiter

148 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

in twelve ; of Mars in two, of the sun in twelve months ;
in so many Mercury and Venus, the spaces of their circu-
lation being equal ; of the moon in thirty days, in which
time her course from her prime to her conjunction is fin-
ished. As to the great year, some make it to consist of
eight years solar, some of nineteen, others of fifty-nine.
Heraclitus, of eighteen thousand. Diogenes, of three hun-
dred and sixty-five such years as Heraclitus assigns. Others
there are who lengthen it to seven thousand seven hundred
and seventy-seven years.

BOOK III.

In my two precedent treatises having in due order taken
a compendious view and given an account of the celestial
bodies, and of the moon which divides between them and
the terrestrial, I must now convert my pen to discourse in
this third book of Meteors, which are beings above the
earth and below the moon, and are extended to the site
and position of the earth, which is supposed to be the
centre of the sphere of this world; and from thence will
I take my beginning.

CHAPTER I.

OF THE GALAXY, OR THE MILKY WAY.

It is a cloudy circle, which continually appears in the
air, and by reason of the whiteness of its colors is called
the galaxy, or the milky way. Some of the Pythago-
reans say that, when Phaeton set the world on fire, a star
falling from its own pUice in its circular passage through
the region caused an inflammation. Others say that origin-
ally it was the first course of the sun ; others, that it is an

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 149

image as in a looking-glass, occasioned by the sun s reflect-
inf' its beams towards the heavens, and this appears in the
clouds and in the rainbow. Metrodorus, that it is merely
the solar course, or the motion of the sun in its own
circle. Parmenides, that the mixture of a thick and thin
substance gives it a color which resembles milk. Anaxag-
oras, that the sun mo\ing under the earth and not being
able to enlighten every place, the shadow of the earth,
being cast upon the part of the heavens, makes the galaxy.
Democritus, that it is the splendor which ariseth from the
coalition of many small bodies, which, being firmly united
amongst themselves, do mutually enlighten one another.
Aristotle, that it is the inflammation of dry, copious, and
coherent exhalations, by which the fiery train, whose seat
is beneath the ether and the planets, is produced. Posido-
nius, that it is a combination of fire, of rarer substance
than the stars, but denser than light.

CHAPTER II.

OF C03IET8 AND SnOOTING FIRES, AND TUOSE WniCH RESEMBLE

BEAMS.

Some of the Pythagoreans say, that a comet is one of
those stars which do not always appear, but after they
have run through their determined course, they then rise
and are visible to us. Others, tliat it is the reflection of our
siglit upon tlie sun, which gives the resembhmce of comets
much after the same manner as images are reflected in mir-
rors. Anaxagoras and Democritus, that two or more stars
being in conjunction by their united light make a comet.
Aristotle, that it is a iicry coalition of dry exhalations.
Strato, that it is the light of the star darting through a
thick cloud that hath invested it; this is seen in light
shining through lanterns. Heraclides, native of Pontus,

150 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

that it is a lofty cloud inflamed by a sublime fire. The
like causes he assigns to the bearded comet, to those circles
that are seen about the sun or stars, or those meteors which
resemble pillars or beams, and all others which are of this
kind. This way unanimously go all the Peripatetics, be-
lieving that these meteors, being formed by the clouds, do
difl"er according to their various configurations. Epigenes,
that a comet arises from an elevation of spirit or wind,
mixed with an earthy substance and set on fire. Boethus,
that it is a phantasy presented to us by inflamed air. Di-
ogenes, that comets are stars. Anaxagoras, that those
styled shooting stars fall down from the ether like sparks,
and therefore are soon extinguished. Metrodorus, that it
is a forcible illapse of the sun upon clouds which makes
them to sparkle as fire. Xenophanes, that all such fiery
meteors are nothing else but the conglomeration of the
enfired clouds, and the flashing motions of them.

CHAPTER III.

OF VIOLENT ERUPTION OF FIRE OUT OF THE CLOUDS. OF LIGHTNING.
OF TEIUNDER. OF HURRICANES. OF WHIRLWINDS.

Anaximander affirms that all these are produced by the
wind after this manner : the wind being enclosed by con-
densed clouds, by reason of its minuteness and lightness it
violently endeavors to make its passage ; and in breaking
through the cloud it gives the noise ; and the rending the
cloud, because of the blackness of it, gives a resplendent
flame. Metrodorus, that when the wind falls upon a cloud
whose densing firmly compacts it, by breaking the cloud it
causeth a great noise, and by striking and rending the cloud
it gives the flame ; and in the swiftness of its motion, the
sun imparting heat to it, it throws out the thunderbolt. The
weak declining of the thunderbolt ends in a violent tempest.

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 151

Anaxagoras, that when heat and cold meet and are mixed
together (that is, ethereal parts with airy), thereby a great
noise of thunder is produced, and the color seen against
the blackness of the cloud causes the flashing of fire ; the
full and great splendor is lightning, the more enhirged and
embodied fii'e becomes a whirlwind, the cloudiness of it
gives the hurricane. The Stoics, that thunder is the clash-
ing of clouds one upon another, the flash of lightning is their
fiery inflammation ; their more rapid splendor is the thun-
derbolt, the faint and weak the whirlwind. Aristotle, that
all these proceed from dry exhalations, which, if they meet
with moist vapors, force their passage, and the breaking
of them gives the noise of thunder ; they, being very dry,
take fire and make lightning ; tempests and hurricanes
arise from the plenitude of matter which each di'aw to
themselves, the hotter parts attracted make the whirlwinds,
the duller the tempests.

CHAPTER IV.

OP CLOUDS, RAIN, SNOW, AND HAIL.

Anaximenes thinks that by the air being very much con-
densed clouds are formed ; this air being more compacted,
rain is compressed through it ; when water in its falling
down freczeth, then snow is generated ; when it is encom-
passed with a moist air, it is hail. Metrodorus, that a cloud
is composed of a watery exhalation carried into a higher
place. Epicurus, that they are made of vapors ; and that
hail and rain are formed in a round figure, being in their
long descent pressed upon by the circumambient air.

CHAPTER V.

OF THE RAINBOW.

Those things which affect the air in the superior places
of it are of two sorts. Some h;ivp a rral subsistence, such

152 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

4

are rain and hail ; others not. Those which enjoy not a
proper subsistence are only in appearance ; of this sort is
the rainbow. Thus the continent to us that sail seems to
be in motion.

Plato says, that men admiring it feigned that it took
origination from one Thaumas, which word signifies admir-
ation. Homer says :

Jove paints the rainbow with a purple dye,
Alluring man to cast his wandering eye.*

Others therefore fabled that the bow hath a head like a
bull, by which it swallows up rivers.

But what is the cause of the rainbow ? It is evident that
what apparent things we see come to our eyes in right or
in crooked lines, or by reflection : these last are incorporeal
and to sense obscure, but to reason they are obvious. Those
which are seen in right lines are those which we see through
the air or horn or transparent stones, for all the parts of
these things are very fine and tenuious ; but those which
appear in crooked lines are in water, the thickness of
the water presenting them bended to our sight. This is the
reason that oars in themselves straight, when put into the
sea, appear to us crooked. The third manner of our see-
ing is by reflection, and this is perspicuous by mirrors.
After this third sort the rainbow is affected. We conceive
it is a moist exhalation converted into a cloud, and in a
short space it is dissolved into small and moist drops.
The sun declining towards the west, it will necessarily fol-
low that the whole bow is seen opposite to the sun ; for
the eye being directed to those drops receives a reflection,
and by this means the bow is formed. The eye doth not
consider the figure and form, but the color of these drops ;
the first of which colors is a shining red, the second a
purple, the third is blue and green. Let us consider
whether the reason of this shining red color be the splendor

* II. XVII. 547.

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN.

153

of the sun falling upon these small drops, the whole body
of light being reflected, by which this bright red color is
produced ; the second part being troubled, and the light
languishing in the drops, the color becomes purple (for the
purple is the faint red) ; but the third part, being more
and more troubled, is changed into the green color. And
this is proved by other eff'ects of Nitture ; if any one shall
put water in his mouth and spit it out so opposite to the
sun that its rays may be reflected on the drops, he shall
see the resemblance of a rainbow ; the same appears to
men that are blear-eyed, when they fix their watery eyes
upon a candle.

Anaximenes thinks the bow is thus formed ; the suu
casting its splendor upon a thick, black, and gross cloud,
and the rays not being in a capacity to penetrate beyond
the superficies. Anaxagoras, that, the solar rays being re-
flected from a condensed cloud, the sun being placed di-
rectly opposite to it forms the bow after the mode of the
repercussion of a mirror ; after the same manner he as-
signs the natural cause of the Parhelia or mock-suns, which
are often seen in Pontus. Metrodorus, that when the sun
casts its splendor through a cloud, the cloud gives itself a
blue, and the light a red color.

CHAPTER VL

OP METi:0R3 WHICH RESKMIILE RODS, OR OF RODS.

These rods and the mock-suns are constituted of a dou-
ble nature, a real subsistence, and a m^o ap;i ; — •
of a real subsistence, because the clouds are the o:)ji'ct of
our eyes ; of a mere appearance, for their proper color is
not seen, but that which is adventitious. The li^< ulrc-
tions, natural and adventitious, in all such thin-^ do
happen.

154 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

CHAPTER VII.

OP WINDS.

Anaximander believes that wind is a fluid air, the sun
putting into motion or melting the moist subtle parts of it.
The Stoics, that all winds are a flowing air, and from the
diversity of the regions w^hence they have their origin re-
ceive their denomination ; as, from darkness and the west
the western wind ; from the sun and its rising the eastern ;
from the north the northern, and from the south the south-
ern winds. Metrodorus, that moist vapors heated by the
sun are the cause of the impetuousness of violent winds.
The Etesian, or those winds which annually commence
about the rising of the Little Dog, the air about the north-
ern pole being more compacted, blow vehemently following
the sun when he returns from the summer solstice.

CHAPTER VIII.

OF WINTER AND SUMilER.

Empedocles and the Stoics believe that winter is caused
by the thickness of the air prevailing and mounting up-
wards ; and summer by fire, it falling downwards.

This description being given by me of Meteors, or
those things that are above us, I must pass to those things
which are terrestrial.

CHAPTER IX.

OP THE EARTH, WHAT IS ITS NATURE AND MAGNITUDE.

Thales and his followers say that there is but one earth.
Hicetes the Pythagorean, that there are two earths, this

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 155

and the Antichthon, or the earth opposite to it. The
Stoics, that this earth is one, and that finite and limited.
Xenophanes, that the earth, being compacted of fire and
air, in its lowest parts hath laid a foundation in an infinite
depth. Metrodorus, that the earth is mere sediment and
dregs of water, as the sun is of the air.

CHAPTER X.

OP THE FIGURE OF THE EARTH.

Thales, the Stoics, and their followers say that the earth
is globular. Anaximander, that it resembles a smooth
stony pillar. Anaximenes, that it hath the shape of a
table. Leucippus, of a drum. Democritus, that it is like
a quoit in its surface, and hollow in the middle.

CHAPTER XI.

OF THE SITE AND POSITION OF THE EARTH.

The disciples of Thales say that the earth is the cen-
tre of the universe. Xenophanes, that it is first, being
rooted in the infinite space. Philolaus the Pythagorean
gives to fire the middle place, and this is the hearth-fire of
the universe ; the second place to the Antichthon ; the third
to that earth which we inhabit, which is seated in opposi-
tion unto and whirled about the opposite, — which is the
reason that those which inhabit that earth cannot be seen
by us. Parmenides was the first that confined the habita-
ble world to the two solstitial (or temperate) zones.

CHAPTER XII.

OP THE INCLINATION OF THE EARTH.

Leucippus affirms that the earth vergeth towards the
fiouthern parts, by reason of the thinness and fineness that

156 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

is in the south ; the northern parts are more compacted,
they being congealed by a rigorous cold, but those parts of
the world that are opposite are enfired. Democritus, be-
cause, the southern parts of the atmosphere being the
weaker, the earth as it enlarges bends towards the south ;
the northern parts are of an unequal, the southern of an
equal temperament ; and this is the reason that the earth
bends towards those parts where the earth is laden with
fruits and its own increase.

CHAPTER XIII.

OF THE MOTION OF THE EARTH.

Most of the philosophers say that the earth remains
fixed in the same place. Philolaus the Pythagorean, that
it is moved about the element of fire, in an oblique circle,
after the same manner of motion that the sun and moon
have. Ileraclides of Pontus and Ecphantus the Pythagorean
assign a motion to the earth, but not progressive, but after
the manner of a wheel being carried on its own axis ; thus
the earth (they say) turns itself upon its own centre from
west to east. Democritus, that when the earth was first
formed it had a motion, the parts of it being small and
light ; but in process of time the parts of it were condensed,
so that by its own weight it was poised and fixed.

CHAPTER XIV.

INTO now MANY ZONES IS THE EARTH DIVIDED ?

Pythagoras says that, as the celestial sphere is dis-
tributed into ii\e zones, into the same number is the
terrestrial ; which zones are the arctic and antarctic,
the summer and winter tropics (or temperate zones), and

nilLOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 157

the equinoctial ; the middle of which zones equally divides
the earth and constitutes the torrid zone ; but that part
which is in the middle of the summer and winter tropics
is habitable, by reason the air is there temperate.

CHAPTER XV.

OP EARTHQUAKES.

Thales and Democritus assign the cause of earthquakes
to water. The Stoics say that it is a moist vapor contained
in the earth, making an irruption into the au% that makes
the earthquake. Anaximenes, that the dryness and rarety
of the earth are the cause of earthquakes, the one of
which is produced by extreme drought, the other by im-
moderate showers. Anaxagoras, that the air endeavoring
to make a passage out of the earth, meeting with a thick
superficies, is not able to force its way, and so shakes the
circumambient earth with a tremblmg. Aristotle, that
a cold vapor encompassing every part of the earth prohibits
the evacuation of vapors ; for those which are hot, being
in themselves light, endeavor to force a passage upwards,
by which means the dry exhalations, being left in the
earth, use their utmost endeavor to make a passage out,
and being wedged in, they suffer vai'ious circumvolutions
and shake the earth. Metrodorus, that whatsoever is in its
own place is incapable of motion, except it be pressed
upon or drawn by the operation of another body ; the
earth being so seated cannot naturally be removed, yet
divers parts and places of the earth may move one upon
another. Parmenides and Democritus, that the earth
being so equally poised hath no sufficient cause why it
should incline rather to one side than to the other ; so
that it may be shaken, but cannot be removed. Anaxime-
nes, that thr rnrtli by reason of its latitude is borae

158 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

upon the air which presscth upon it. Others opine
that the earth swims upon the waters,* as boards and
broad planks, and by that reason is moved. Plato,
that motion is by six manner of ways, upwards, down-
wards, on the right-hand and on the left, behind and
before ; therefore it is not possible that the earth should
be moved in any of these modes, for it is altogether seated
in the lowest place ; it therefore cannot receive a motion,
since there is nothing about it so peculiar as to make it
incline any way ; but some parts of it are so rare and thin
that they are capable of motion. Epicurus, that the pos-
sibility of the earth's motion ariseth from a thick and
aqueous air beneath the earth, which may, by moving
or pushing it, be capable of its quaking ; or that being so
compassed, and having many passages, it is shaken by the
wmd which is dispersed through the hollow dens of it.

CHAPTER XVI.

OF THE SEA, AND HOW IT IS COMPOSED, AND HOW IT BECOMES TO THE

TASTE BITTER.

Anaximander affirms that the sea is the remainder of the
primogenial humidity, the greatest part of which being
dried up by the fire, the influence of the great heat altered
its quality. Anaxagoras, that in the beginning water
did not flow, but was as a standing pool ; and that it was
burnt by the motion of the sun about it, by which the oily
part of the water being exhaled, the residue became salt
and bitter. Empedocles, that the sea is the sweat of the
earth burnt by the sun. Antiphon, that the sweat of that
which was hot was separated from the other parts which
were moist ; these by seething and boiling became bitter,
as happens in all sweats. Metrodorus, that the sea was
strained through the earth, and retained some part of the

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 159

density thereof ; the same is observed in all those things
which are strained through ashes. The schools of Ph\to,
that the element of water being compacted by the rigor of
the air became sweet, but that part which was exhaled
from the earth, being enfircd, became of a brackish taste.

CHAPTER XVII.

OF TIDES, OR OF THE EBBING AND FLOWING OF THE SEA.

Aristotle and HeracHdes say, they proceed from the
sun, which moves and whirls about the winds ; and these
falling with a violence upon the Atlantic, it is pressed and
swells by them, by which means the sea flows ; and their
impression ceasing, the sea retracts, hence they ebb.
Pytheas the Massilian, that the fulness of the moon gives the
flow, the wane the ebb. Plato attributes it all to a certain
oscillation of the sea, which by means of a mouth or orifice
causes the alteiiKite ebb and flow ; and by this means the
seas do rise and flow contrarily. Timaeus believes that
those rivers which fall from the mountains of the Celtic
Gaul into the Atlantic produce a tide. For upon their en-
tering upon that sea, they violently press upon it, and so
cause the flow ; but they disemboguing themselves, there
is a cessation of the impetuousness, by which means the
ebb is produced. Seleucus the mathematician attributes a
motion to the earth ; and thus he pronounceth that the
moon in its circumlation meets and repels the earth in its
motion ; between these two, the earth and the moon, there
is a vehement wind raised and intercepted, which rushes
upon the Atlantic Ocean, and gives us a probable argument
that it is the cause the sea is troubled and moved.

160 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

CHAPTER XVIir.

OF THE HALO, OR A CIRCLE ABOUT A STAR.

The halo or circle is thus formed. A thick and dark air
intervening between the moon or any other star and our
eye, by which means our sight is dilated and reflected,
when now our sight is incident upon the outward circum
ference of the orb of that star, there presently seems a
circle to appear. This circle thus appearing is called the
a)Mg or halo ; and there is constantly such a circle seen by
us, when such a density cf sight happens.

BOOK IV.

Having taken a survey of the general parts of the world,
I will take a view of the particular members of it.

CHAPTER I.

OF THE OVERFLOWING OF THE NILE.

Thales conjectures that the Etesian or anniversary north-
ern winds blowing strongly against Egypt heighten the
swelling of the Nile, the mouth of that river being ob-
structed by the force of the sea rushing into it. Euthy-
menes the Massilian concludes that the Nile is filled by the
ocean and that sea which is outward from it, this being
naturally sweet. Anaxagoras, that the snow in Ethiopia
which is frozen in winter is melted in summer, and this
makes the inundation. Democritus, that the snows which
are in the northern climates when the sun enters the sum-
mer solstice are dissolved and diffused ; from those vapors
clouds are compacted, and these are forcibly driven by the

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 161

Etesian winds into the southern parts and into Egypt, from
whence violent showers are poured ; and by this means the
fens of Egypt are filled with water, and the river Nile hath
its inundation. Herodotus the historian, that the waters of
the Nile receive from their fountain an equal portion of
water in winter and in summer ; but in winter the water
appears less, because the sun, making its approach nearer
to Egypt, draws up the rivers of that country into exhala-
tions. Ephorus the historiographer, that in summer all
Egypt seems to be melted and sweats itself into water, to
which the thin and sandy soils of Arabia and Lybia con-
tribute. Eudoxus relates that the Egyptian priests affirm
that, when it is summer to us who dwell under the north-
ern tropic, it is winter with them that inhabit under the
southern tropic ; by this means there is a various contra-
riety and opposition of the seasons in the year, which cause
such showers to fall as make the water to ovei-flow the
banks of the Nile and diffuse itself throughout all Egypt.

CHAPTER II.

OP THE SOUL.

Thales first pronounced that the soul is that being which
is in a perpetual motion, or that whose motion proceeds
from itself. Pythagoras, that it is a number moving itself;
he takes a number to be the same thing with a mind.
Plato, that it is an intellectual substance moving itself, and
that motion is in a numerical harmony. Aristotle, that it
is the first actuality (tneXextia) of a natural organical
body which has life potentially ; and this actuality must
be understood to be the same thing with energy or opera-
tion. Dicaearchus, that it is the harmony of the four ele-
1 1 M 1 1 1 ^ Asclepiadcs the physician, that it is the concurrent
( \( i( itation of the senses.

VOL. III. 11

162 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

CHAPTER III.

WHETHER THE SOUL BE A BODY, AND WHAT IS THE NATURE AND

ESSENCE OF IT.

All those that have been named by me do affirm that
the soul itself is incorporeal, and by its own nature is in a
perpetual motion, and in its own essence is an intelligent
substance, and the actuality of a natural organical body
which has life. The followers of Anaxagoras, that it is
airy and a body. The Stoics, that it is a hot breath. De-
mocritus, that it is a fiery composition of things which are
perceptible by reason, the same having their forms spherical
and without an inflaming faculty ; and it is a body. Epi-
curus, that it is constituted of four qualities, of a fiery
quality, of an aerial quality, a pneumatical, and of a fourth
quality which hath no name, but it contains the virtue of
the sense. Heraclitus, that the soul of the world is the
exhalation which proceeds from the moist parts of it ; but
the soul of animals, arising from exhalations that are exte-
rior and from those that are within them, is homogeneous
to it.

CHAPTER IV.

OF THE PARTS OF THE SOUL.

Plato *and Pythagoras, according to their former account
distribute the soul into two parts, the rational and irra-
tional. By a more accurate and strict account the soul is
branched into three parts ; they divide the unreasonable
part into the concupiscible and the irascible. The Stoics
say the soul is constituted of eight parts ; five of which
are the senses, hearing, seeing, tasting, touching, smelling,
the sixth is the faculty of speaking, the seventh of generat-
ing, the eighth of commanding ; this is the principal of all,
by which all the other are guided and ordered in their

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 163

proper organs, as we see the arms of a polypus aptly dis-
posed. Democritus and Epicurus divide the soul into two
parts, the rational, which hath its residence in the breast,
and the irrational, which is diffused through the whole
structure of the body. Democritus, that the quality of the
soul is communicated to every thing, yea, to the dead
corpses ; for they are partakers of heat and some sense,
when the most of both is expired out of them.

CHAPTER V.

WUkT IS THE PRINCIPAL PART OF THE SOUL, AND IN WHAT PART
OF THE BODY IT RESIDES.

Plato and Democritus place its residence in the whole
head. Strato, in that part of the forehead where the eye-
brows are separated. Erasistratus, in the Epikranis, or mem-
brane which involves the brain. Herophilus, in that sinus
of the brain which is the basis of it. Parmenidcs, in the
whole breast ; which opinion is embraced by Epicurus.
The Stoics are generally of this opinion, that the seat of
the soul is throughout the heart, or in the spirit which is
about it. Diogenes, in the arterial ventricle of the heart,
which is also filled with vital spirit. Empedocles, in the
mass of the blood. There are that say it is in the neck
of the heart, others in the pericardium, others in the mid-
riff. Certain of the Neoterics, that the seat of the soul is
extended from the head to the diaphragm. Pythagoras,
that the animal part of the soul resides in the heait, the
intellectual in the head.

CHAPTER VI.

or THE MOTION OF THE SOUL.

Plato believes that the soul is in perpetual motion, but
that the mind is immovable with respect to motion from

164 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

place to place. Aristotle, that the soul is not naturally
moved, but its motion is accidental, resembling that which
is in the forms of bodies.

CHAPTER VII.

OF THE soul's immortality.

Plato and Pythagoras say that the soul is immortal ;
when it departs out of the body, it retreats to the soul of
the world, which is a being of the same nature with it.
The Stoics, when the souls leave the bodies, they are car-
ried to divers places ; the souls of the unlearned and
ignorant descend to the coagmentation of earthly things,
but the learned and vigorous endure till the general fire.
Epicurus and Democritus, the soul is mortal, and it per-
isheth with the body. Plato and Pythagoras, that part of
the soul of man which is rational is eternal ; for though
it be not God, yet it is the product of an eternal Deity ;
but that part of the soul which is divested of reason dies.

CHAPTER VIII.

OF THE SENSES, AND OP THOSE THINGS WHICH ARE OBJECTS OF THE

SENSES.

The Stoics give this definition of sense : Sense is the
apprehension or comprehension of an object by means of
an organ. There are several ways of expressing what
sense is ; it is either a habit, a faculty, an operation, or
an imagination which apprehends by means of an organ
of sen«:e, — and also the eighth principal thing, from
whence the senses are derived. The instruments of sense
are intelligent spirits, which from the said commanding
part reach unto all the organs of the body. Epicurus,

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 165

that sense is a faculty, and that which is perceived by the
sense is the product of it ; so that sense hath a double
acceptation, — sense which is the faculty, and the thing
received by the sense, which is the effect. Plato, that
sense is that commerce which the soul and body have
with those things that are exterior to them ; the power of
which is from the soul, the organ by which is from the
body ; but both of them apprehend exterior objects by
means of the imagination. Leucippus and Democritus,
that sense and intelligence arise from external images ;
so neither of them can operate without the assistance of
an image falling upon us.

CHAPTER IX.

WHETHKR WHAT APPEARS TO OUR SENSES AND IMAGINATIONS BB

TRUE OR NOT.

The Stoics say that what the senses represent is true ;
what the imagination, is partly false, partly true. Epi-
curus, that every impression wliich either the sense or
fancy gives us is true, but of those things that fall
under the account of opinion, some are true, some false :
sense gives us a false representation of those things only
which are the objects of our understanding ; but the fancy
gives us a double error, both of things sensible and tilings
intellectual. Empedocles and Ileraclides, that tlie senses
perceive by a just accommodation of the pores in every
case ; every thing that is perceived by the sense being con-
gruously adapted to its proper or£]^im.

CHAPTER X.

now MANY SENSES ARE THERE?

The Stoics say that there are five senses properly so
called, seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, and touching.

166 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

Aristotle indeed doth not add a sixth sense ; but he assigns
a common sense, which is the judge of all compounded
species ; into this each sense casts its proper representa-
tion, in which is discovered a transition of one thing into
another, like as we see in figure and motion where there
is a change of one into another. Democritus, that there
are several species of senses, which appertain to beings
destitute of reason, to the Gods, and to wise men.

CHAPTER XL ^

now THE ACTIONS OP THE SENSES, THE CONCEPTIONS OF OUR
MINDS, AND THE HABIT OP OUR REASON ARE FORMED.

The Stoics affirm that every man, as soon as he is born,
has the principal and commanding part of his soul, which
is in him like a sheet of writing-paper, to which he com-
mits all his notions. The first manner of his inscribing is
by denoting those notions which flow from the senses.
Suppose it be of a thing that is white ; when the present
sense of it is vanished, there is yet retained the remem-
brance ; when many memorative notions of the same simili-
tude do concur, then he is said to have an experience ;
for experience is nothing else but the abundance of
notions that are of the same form met together. Some
of these notions are naturally begotten according to the
aforesaid manner, without the assistance of art ; the others
are produced by discipline, learning, and industry ; these
only are properly called notions, the others are preno-
tions. But reason, which gives us the denomination of
rational, is completed by prenotions in the first seven
years. The conception of the mind is the vision that the
intelligence of a rational animal hath received ; when that
vision falls upon the rational soul, then it is called the
conception of the mind, for it hath derived its name from

PIIILOSOrHERS DELIGHTED IN. 167

the mind Qvvmma from vov>;). Therefore these visions are
not to be found in any other animals ; they are appropri-
ated only to Gods and to us men. If these we consider
generally, they are phantasms ; if specifically, they are
notions. As pence or staters, if you consider them ac-
cording to their own value, are merely pence and staters ;
but if you give them as a price for a naval voyage, they
are called not merely pence, &c., but your fraught.

CHAPTER Xir.

WHAT IS THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN IMAGINATION {(paVTaGlo),
IMAGINABLE (()p«>Trt(7T0r), FANCY {(paVtaaTlx6v)f AND

PHANTOM {(fdvTaafia) ?

Chrysippus affirms, these four are different one from
another. Imagination (he says) is that passion raised in
the soul which discovers itself and that which was the
efficient of it ; for example, after the eye hath looked upon
a thing that is white, the sight of which produce th in the
mind a certain impression, this gives us reason to conclude
that the object of this impression is white, which aifecteth
us. So is it with touching and smelling.

Phantasy or imagination is denominated from qpca^N which
denotes light ; for as light discovers itself and all other
things which it illuminates, so this imagination discovers
itself and that which is the cause of it. The imaginable is
the efficient cause of imagination ; as any thing that is
white, or any thing that is cold, or every thing that may
make an impression upon the imagination. Fancy is a
vain impulse upon the mind of man, proceeding from noth-
ing which is really imaginable ; this is experienced in those
that whirl about their idle hands and fight with shadows ;
for to the imagination there is always some real imagina-
ble thing presented, which is the efficient cause of it ; but
to the fancy nothing. A phantom is that to which we are

168 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

led by such a fanciful and vain attraction ; this is to be
seen in melancholy and distracted persons. Of this
sort was Orestes in the tragedy, pronouncing these words :

Mother, these maids with horror me affriglit ;
Oh hurl tliem not, I pray, into my sight !
They're smeared with blood, and cruel, dragon-Iikei
Skipping about with deadly fury strike.

These rave as frantic persons, they see nothing, and yet
imagine they see. Thence Electra thus returns to him :

O wretched man, securely sleep in bed ;
Nothing thou seest, thy fancy's vainly led.*

After the same manner Theoclymenus in Homer.

CHAPTER XIII.

OP OUR SIGHT, AND BT WHAT MEANS WE SEE.

Democritus and Epicurus suppose that sight is caused
by the insinuation of little images into the visive organ,
and by the entrance of certain rays which return to the eye
after striking upon the object. Empedocles supposes that
images are mixed with the rays of the eye ; these he styles
the rays of images. Hipparchus, that the visual rays ex-
tend from both the eyes to the superficies of bodies, and give
to the sight the apprehension of those same bodies, after
the same manner in which the hand touching the extrem-
ity of bodies gives the sense of feeling. Plato, that the
sight is the splendor of united rays ; there is a light which
reaches some distance from the eyes into a congruous air,
and there is likewise a light emitted from bodies, which
meets and is joined with the fiery visual light in the inter-
mediate air (which is liquid and mutable) ; and the con-
junction of these rays gives the sense of seeing. Tliis is
Plato's corradiancy, or splendor of united rays.

* Eurip. Orestes, 255.

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 169

CHAPTER XIV.

OF THOSE IMAGES WHICH ARE PRESENTED TO OUR EYES IN

MIRRORS.

E.MPEDOCLES says tliat these images are caused by certain
effluvias Avhich, meeting together and insisting upon the
superficies of the mirror, are perfected by that fiery quality
emitted by the said mirror, which transmutes withal the air
that surrounds it. Democritus and Epicurus, that the
specular appearances are formed by the subsistence of the
images which flow from our eyes ; these fall upon the mir
ror and remain, Avhile the light rebounds to the eye. The
followers of Pythagoras explain it by the reflection of
the sight; for our sight being extended (as it were) to the
brass, and meeting with the smooth dense surface thereof
it is struck back, and caused to return upon itself: the
same appears in the hand, when it is stretched out and
then brought back again to the shoulder. Any one
may apply these instances to explain the manner of seeing.

CHAPTER XV.

WHETHER DARKNESS CAN BE VISIBLE TO US.

The Stoics say that darkness is seen by us, for out of our
eyes there issues out some light into it ; and our eyes do
not impose upon us, for they really perceive there is dark-
ness. Chrysippus says that we see darkness by the strik-
ing of the intermediate air ; for the visual spirits which
j)roceed from the principal part of thq soul and reach to
the ball of the eye pierce this air, which, after they have
made those strokes upon it, presses conically on the sur-
rounding air, where this is homogeneous. For from the
eyes those rays arc poured forth which are neither black
nor cloudy. Upon this account darkness is visible to us.

170 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

CHAPTER XVI.

OF HEARING.

Empedocles says that hearing is formed by the insidency
of the air upon the spiral, which it is said hangs within
the ear as a bell, and is beat upon by the air. Alcmaeon,
that the vacuity that is within tlie ear makes us to have
the sense of hearing, for the air forcing a vacuum gives the
sound ; every inanity affords a ringing. Diogenes, the air
which is in the head, being struck upon by the voice, gives
the heal'ing. Plato and his followers, the air which exists
in the head being struck upon, is reflected to the principal
part of the soul, and this causeth the sense of hearing.

CHAPTER XVII.

OF SMELLING.

Alcmaeon believes that the principal part of the soul,
residing in the brain, draws to itself odors by respiration.
Empedocles, that scents insert themselves into the breath-
ing of the lungs ; for, when there is a great difTiculty in
breathing, odors are not perceived by reason of the sharp-
ness ; and this we experience in those who have the de-
fluxion of rheum.

CHAPTER XVIII.

OF TASTE.

Alcmaeon says that a moist warmth in the tongue, joined
with the softness of it, gives the diff'erence of taste. Dio-
genes, that by the softness and sponginess of the tongue,
and because the veins of the body are joined in it, tastes

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED KT. 171

are diffused by the tongue ; for they are attracted from it
to that sense and to the commanding part of the soul, as
from a sponge.

CHAPTER XIX.

OF THE VOICE.

Plato thus defines a voice, — that it is a breath drawn
by the mind through the mouth, and a blow given to the
air and through the ear, brain, and blood transmitted to
the soul. Voice is abusively attributed to irrational and
inanimate beings ; thus we improperly call the neighing
of horses or any other sound by the name of voice. But
properly a voice (cfwr/^) is an articulate sound, which
illustrates (cpmiX^t) the understanding of man. Epicurus
says that it is an efflux emitted from things that are
vocal, or that give sounds or great noises ; this is broken
into those fragments which are after the same configura-
tion. Like figures arc round figures with round, and
irregular and triangular with those of the same nature.
These falling upon the ears produce the sense of hearing.
This is seen in leaking vessels, and in fullers when they
fan or blow their cloths.

Democritus, that the air is broken into bodies of similar
configuration, and these are rolled up and down with the
fragments of the voice ; as it is proverbially said, One
daw lights with another, or, God always brings like to like.
Thus we see upon the shore, that stones like to one another
are found in the same place, in one place the long-shaped,
in another the round arc seen. So in sieves, things that are
of the same form meet together, but those that are differ-
ent are divided ; as pulse and beans falling from the same
sieve are separated one from another. To this it may be
objected : How can some fragments of au* fill a theatre in

172 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

which there is an infinite company of persons ? The Stoics,
that the air is not composed of small fragments, but is a
continued body and nowhere admits a vacuum ; and being
struck with the breath, it is infinitely moved in waves and
in right circles, until it fill that air which invests it ; as we
see in a fish-pool which we smite by a falling stone cast
upon it ; yet the air is moved spherically, the water orbicu-
. larly. Anaxagoras says a voice is then formed, when upon
a solid air the breath is incident, which being repercussed
is carried to the ears ; after the same manner the echo is
produced.

CHAPTER XX.

WHETHER THE VOICE IS INCORPOREAL. WHAT 18 IT THAT GIVES

THE ECHO ?

Pythagoras, Plato, and Aristotle say that the voice is
incorporeal ; for it is not the air that makes the voice, but
the figure which compasseth the air and its superficies,
having received a stroke, give the voice. But every super-
ficies of itself is incorporeal. True it is that it moveth
with the body, but of itself it hath no body ; as we per-
ceive in a staff that is bended, the matter only admits of
an inflection, while the superficies doth not. According to
the Stoics, a voice is corporeal, since every thing that is an
agent or operates is a body ; a voice acts and operates, for
we hear it and are sensible of it ; for it falls and makes an
impression on the ear, as a seal of a ring gives its simili-
tude upon the wax. Moreover, every thing that creates a
delight or molestation is a body ; harmonious music afi'ects
with delight, but discord is tiresome. And every thing that
is moved is a body ; and the voice moves, and having its
illapse upon smooth places is reflected, as when a ball is
cast against a wall it rebounds. A voice spoken in the

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 173

Egyptian pyramids is so broken, that it gives four or five
echoes.

CHAPTER xxr.

BY "WHAT MEANS THE SOUL IS SKN-ir.LK. AND WflAT IS THE PUINCI-
PAL AND COMMANDING rAllT OF IT.

The Stoics say that the highest part of the soul is the
commanding part of it : this is the cause of sense, imagi-
nation, consents, and desires ; and this we call the rational
part. From this prhicipal and commander there arc pro-
duced seven parts of the soul, which are spread through
the body, as the seven arms in a polypus. Of these seven
parts, five are assigned to the senses, seeing, hearing, smell-
ing, tasting, touching. Sight is a spirit which is extended
from the commanding part to the eyes ; hearing is that
spirit which from the principal reacheth to the ears ; smell-
ing a spirit drawn from the principal to the nostrils ; tast-
ing a spirit extended from the principal to the tongue ;
touching is a spirit which from the principal is drawn to
the extremity of those bodies which are obnoxious to a
sensible touch. Of the rest, the one called the spermati-
cal is a spirit which reacheth from the principal to the
generating vessels ; the other, which is the vocal and tinnuHl
the voice, is a spirit extrnch d from tlio principal to the
throat, tongue, and other pro[)cr organs of speaking. And
this principal part itself hath that place in our spherical
head which God hath m the world.

CHAPTER XXII.

OF RESPIRATION OR nUEATIIINO.

Empedocles thinks, that the first breath tli(> i\vM animal
drew was when the moisture in unborn infants was sepa-

174: THE SENTIMENTS OF N/VTURE

rated, and by that means an entrance was given to the ex-
ternal air into the gaping vessels, the moisture in them
being evacuated. After this the natural heat, in a violent
force pressing upon the external air for a passage, begets
an expiration ; but this heat returning to the inward parts,
and the air giving way to it, causeth an inspiration. The
respiration that now is arises when the blood is carried to
the exterior surface, and by this fluxion drives the airy sub-
stance through the nostrils ; thus in its recess it causeth
expiration, but the air being again forced into those places
which are emptied of blood, it causeth an inspiration. To
evince which, he proposeth the instance of a water-clock,
which gives the account of time by the running of water.

Asclepiades supposeth the lungs to be in the manner of
a tunnel, and maketh the cause of breathing to be the
fineness of the inward parts of the breast ; for thither the
outward air which is more gross hastens, but is forced back-
ward, the breast not being capable either to receive or want
it. But there being always some of the more tenuous parts
of the air left, so that all of it is not exploded, to that
which there remains the more ponderous external air with
equal violence is forced ; and this he compares to cupping-
glasses. All spontaneous breathings are formed by the
contracting of the smaller pores of the lungs, and to the
closing up of the pipes in the neck ; for these are at our
command.

Ilerophilus attributes a moving faculty to the nerves,
arteries, and muscles, but believes that the lungs are af-
fected only with a natural desire of enlarging and contract-
ing themselves. Farther, there is the first operation of the
lungs by attraction of the outward air, which is drawn in
because of the abundance of the external air. Next to
this, there is a second natural appetite of the lungs ; the
breast, pouring in upon itself the breath, and being filled, is
no longer able to make an attraction, and throws the su-

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 175

perfluity of it upon the lungs, whereby it is in turn sent
forth by way of expiration ; the parts of the body mutually
concurring to this function by the alternate participation
of fuhicss and emptiness. So that to lungs pertain four
motions; — first, when the lungs receive the outward au*;
secondly, when the outward air thus entertained is trans-
mitted to the breast ; thirdly, when the lungs again receive
that air which they imparted to the breast ; fourthly, when
this air then received from the breast is thrown outwards.
Of these four motions two are dilatations, one when the
lungs attract the external air, another when the breast dis-
chargeth itself of it upon the lungs ; two are contractions,
one when the breast draws into itself the air, the second
when it expels this which was insinuated into it. The
breast admits only of two motions ; — of dilatation, when
it draws from the lungs the breath, and of contraction,
when it returns what it did receive.

CHAPTER XXTII.

OF THE PASSIONS OF THE BODY, AND WHETHER THE SOUL HATH A
SYMPATHETICAL CONDOLENCT WITH IT.

The Stoics say that all the passions are seated in those
parts of the body which are affected, the senses have their
residence in the commanding part of the soul. Epicurus,
that all the passions and all the senses are in those parts
which are affected, but the commanding part is subject to
no passion. Strato, that all the passions and senses of the
soul are in the rational or commanding part of it, and arc
not fixed in those places which are affected ; for in this
part patience takes its residence, and this is apparent in
terrible and dolorous things, as also in timorous and valiimt
persons.

lis THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

BOOK V.
CHAPTER I.

OF DIVINATION.

Plato and the Stoics introduce divination as a divine
enthusiasm, the soul itself being of a divine constitu-
tion, and this prophetic faculty being an inspiration, or
an illapse of the divine knowledge into man ; and sc
likewise they explain interpretation by dreams. And these
same admit many divisions of the art of divination. Xeno
phanes and Epicurus utterly refuse any such art of fore-
telling future contingencies. Pythagoras rejects all manner
of divination which is by sacrifices. Aristotle and Dicae-
archus admit only these two kinds of it, a fury by a divine
inspiration, and dreams ; they deny the immortality of the
soul, yet they affirm that the mind of man hath a partici-
]3ation of something that is divine.

CHAPTER II.

"WUENCE DREAMS DO ARISE.

Democritus says that dreams are formed by the illapse
of adventitious representations. Strato, that the irrational
part of the soul in sleep becoming more sensible is moved
by the rational part of it. llerophilus, that dreams which
are caused by divine instinct have a necessary cause ; but
dreams which have their origin from a natural cause arise
from the soul's forming witliin itself the images of those
things which are convenient for it, and which will happen ;
those dreams which are of a constitution mixed of both
these have their origin from the fortuitous appulse of
images, as when we see those things which please us ;
thus it happens many times to those persons who in
their sleep imagine they embrace their mistresses.

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 177

CHAPTER m.

OP THE NATURE OF GENERATIVE SEED.

Aristotle says, that seed is that thing which contains in
itself a power of moving, whereby it is enabled to produce
a being like unto that from whence it was emitted. Pytha-
goras, that seed is the sediment of that which nourisheth
us, the froth of the purest blood, of the same nature as
the blood and marrow of our bodies. Alcmaeon, that it is
a part of the brain. Plato, that it is the deflux of the
spinal marrow. Epicurus, that it is a fragment torn from
the body and soul. Democritus, that it proceeds from all
the parts of the body, and chiefly from the principal parts,
as the flesh and muscles.

CHAPTER IV.

WHETHER THE SPERM BE A BODY.

Leucippus and Zeno say, that it is a body and a frag-
ment of the soul. Pythagoras, Plato, and Aristotle, that
the spermatic faculty is incorporeal, as the mind is which
moves the body ; but the eff'used matter is corporeal. Strato
and Democritus, that the very power is a body ; for it is
like spirit.

CHAPTER V.

WHETHER WOMEN DO OIYB A SPERMATIC EMISSION AS MEN DO.

Pythagoras, Epicurus, and Democritus say, that women
have a seminal projection, but their spermatic vessels are
inverted ; and it is this that makes them have a venereal
appetite. Aristotle and Plato, that they emit a material
moisture, as sweat we see produced by exercise and labor ;
but that moisture has no spermatic power. Hippo, that

vol.. III. 12

178 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

women have a seminal emission, but not after the mode
of men ; it contributes nothing to generation, for it falls
without the matrix ; and therefore some women without
coition, especially widows, give the seed. The same also
asserts that from men the bones, from women the flesh
proceeds.

CHAPTER VI.

HOW IT IS THAT CONCEPTIONS ARE MADE.

Aristotle says, that conception takes place when the
womb is drawn forward by the natural purgation, and
the monthly terms attract from the whole bulk part of the
purest blood, and this is met by the genital seed of man.
On the contrary, there is a failure by the impurity and
inflation of the womb, by the passions of fear and grief, by
the weakness of women, or the decay of strength in men.

CHAPTER YIL

AFTER WHAT MANNER MALES AND FEMALES ARE GENERATED

Empedocles affirms, that heat and cold give the diffei-
ence in the generation of males and females. Hence is
it, as histories acquaint us, that the first men had their
original from the earth in the eastern and southern parts,
and the first females in the northern parts thereof. Par-
menides is of opinion perfectly contrariant. He affirms
that men first sprouted out of the northern earth, for their
bodies are more dense ; women out of the southern, for
theirs are more rare and fine. Hippo, that the more com-
pacted and strong sperm, and the more fluid and weak,
discriminate the sexes. Anaxagoras and Parmenides, that
the seed of the man is naturally cast from his right side
into the right side of the womb, or from the left side of

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 179

the man into the left side of the womb ; when there is an
alteration in this course of nature, females are generated.
Cleophanes, whom Aristotle makes mention of, assigns the
generation of men to the right testicle, of women to the
left. Leucippus gives the reason of it to the alteration or
diversity of parts, according to which the man hath a yard,
the female the matrix ; as to any other reason he is silent.
Democritus, that the parts which* are common to both
sexes are engendered indifferently by one or the other ;
but the peculiar parts by the one that is more prevalent.
Hippo, that if the spermatic faculty be more effectual, the
male, if the nutritive aliment, the female is generated.

CHAPTER VIII.

BY WHAT MEANS IT IS THAT MONSTROUS BIRTHS ARE EFFECTED.

Empedocles believes that monsters receive their origina-
tion from the abundance or defect of seed, or from its
division into parts which are superabundant, or from some
perturbation m the motion, or else that there is an error by
a lapse into an improper receptacle ; and thus he presumes
he hath given all the causes of monstrous conceptions.
Strato, that it comes from addition, subtraction, or trans-
position of the seed, or the distension or inflation of the
matrix. And some physicians say that the matrix sufFera
distortion, being distended with wind.

CHAPTER IX.

now IT COMES TO PASS THAT A WOMAN's TOO FREQUENT CONVERSA-
TION WITH A MAN HINDERS CONCEITION.

DiocLEs the physician says that either no genital sperm
is projected, or, if there be, it is in a less quantity than

180 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

nature requires, or there is no prolific faculty in it ; or
there is a deficiency of a due proportion of heat, cold,
moisture, and dryness ; or there is a resolution of the
generative parts. The Stoics attribute sterility to the
obliquity of the yard, by which means it is not able to
ejaculate in a due manner, or to the unproportionable mag-
nitude of the parts, the matrix being so contracted as not
to be in a capacity to Teceive. Erasistratus assigns it to
the womb's being more callous or more carneous, thinner
or smaller, than nature does require.

chaptp:r X.

WHENCE IT IS THAT ONE BIRTH GIVES TAVO OR THREE CHILDREN.

Empedocles affirms, that the superabundance of sperm
and the division of it causes the bringing forth of two or
three infants. Asclepiades, that it is performed from the
excellent quality of the sperm, after the manner that
from the root of one barleycorn two or three stalks do
grow ; sperm that is of this quality is the most prolific.
Erasistratus, that superfetation may happen to women as
to irrational creatures ; for, if the womb be well purged
and very clean, then there may be divers births. The
Stoics, that it arise th from the various receptacles that are
in the womb : when the seed illapses into the first and
second of them at once, then there are conceptions upon
conception ; and so two or three infants are born.

CHAPTER XL

WHENCE IT IS THAT CHILDREN REPRESENT THEIR PARENTS AND PRO-
GENITORS.

Empedocles says, that the similitude of children to their
parents proceeds from the vigorous prevalency of the

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN.

181

generating sperm ; the dissimilitude from the evaporation
of the natural heat contained in the same. Parmenides,
that Avhen the sperm descends from the right side of the
womb, then the infant gives the resemblance of the father ;
if from the left, it is stamped with the similitude of the
mother. The Stoics, that the whole body and soul give
the sperm ; and hence arise the resemblances in the
characters and figures of the children, as a painter in his
copy imitates the colors which are in the picture before
him. Women have a concurrent emission of seed ; if the
feminine seed have the predominancy, then the child
resembles the mother ; if the masculine, the father.

CHAPTER XIL

now ir COMES to pass that children iiwe a greater similitudb

WITH STRANGERS THAN WITH THEIR PARENTS.

The greatest part of physicians affirm, that this hap-
pens casually and fortuitously ; for, when the sperm of the
man and woman is too much refrigerated, then children
carry a dissimilitude to their parents. Empedocles, that a
woman's imagination when she conceives impresses a shape
upon the infant ; for women have been enamored with
images and statues, and the children which were born of
them gave their similitudes. The Stoics, that the resem-
blances flow from the sympathy and consent of minds, by
the insertion of effluvias and rays, not of images or pictures.

CHAPTER XIH.

WHENOB ARISETU DARRENNKSS IN WOMEN, AND IMPOTENCT IN MEN?

The physicians maintain, that sterility in women may
arise from the womb ; for if it be after any ways thus

182 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

affected, there will be barrenness, — if it be more con-
densed, or more spongy, or more hardened, or more
callous, or more carneous ; or it may be from low spirits,
or from an atrophy or vicious distemper of body ; or, lastly,
it may arise from a twisted or distorted configuration.
Diodes holds that the sterility in men ariseth from some
of these causes, — either that they cannot at all ejaculate
any sperm, or if they do, it is less than nature doth require,
or else there is no generative faculty in the sperm, or the
genital members are flagging ; or from the obliquity of
the yard. The Stoics attribute the cause of sterility to the
contrariant qualities and dispositions of those who lie with
one another ; but if it chance that these persons are
separated, and there happen a conjunction of those who
are of a suitable temperament, then there is a commixture
according to nature, and by this means an infant is formed.

CHAPTER XIV.

HOW IT COMES TO PASS THAT MULES ARE BARREN.

Alcmaeon says, that the barrenness of the male mules
ariseth from the thinness of the genital sperm, that is, the
seed is too chill ; the female mules are barren, for their
womb does not open its mouth (as he expresses it). Em-
pedocles, the matrix of the mule is so small, so de-
pressed, so narrow, so invertedly growing to the belly,
that the sperm cannot be regularly cast into it, and if it
could, there would be no capacity to receive it. Diodes
concurs in this opinion with him ; for, saith he, in our
anatomical dissection of mules we have seen that their
matrices are of such configurations ; and it is possible that
there may be the same reason why some women are barren.

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 183

CHAPTER XV.

WHETHER THE INFANT IN THE MOTHER'S WOMB BE AN ANIMAL.

Plato says, that the embryo is an animal ; for, being
contained in the mother's womb, motion and aliment are
imparted to it. The Stoics say that it is not an animal,
but to be accounted part of the mother's belly ; like as we
see the fruit of trees is esteemed part of the trees, until it
be full ripe ; then it falls and ceaseth to belong to the tree ;
and thus it is with the embryo. Empedocles, that the em-
bryo is not an animal, yet whilst it remains in the belly it
breathes. The fu*st breath that it draws as an animal is
when the infant is newly born ; then the child having its
moisture separated, the extraneous air making an entrance
into the empty places, a respiration is caused in the infant
by the empty vessels receiving of it. Diogenes, that infants
are bred in the matrix inanimate, yet they have a natural
heat ; but presently, when the infant is cast into the open
air, its heat draws air into the lungs, and so it becomes an
animal. Herophilus acknowledgeth that infants have a
natural, but not a respiratory motion, and that the nerves
are the cause of that motion ; that then they become
animals, when being first born they suck in something of
the air.

CHAPTER XVL

now EMBRYOS ARE NOURISHED, OR HOW THE INFANT IN THE BELLT
RECEIVES ITS ALIMENT.

Democritus and Epicurus say, that the embryos in the
womb receive their aliment by the mouth, for we perceive,
as soon as ever the infant is born, it applies its mouth to
the breast; in the wombs of women (our understanding
conchides) there are little dugs, and the embryos have
small mouths by which they receive their nutriment. The

184 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

Stoics, that by the secundines and navel they partake of
aliment, and therefore the midwife instantly after their
birth binds the navel, and opens the infant's mouth, that it
may receive another sort of aliment. Alcmaeon, that they
receive their nourishment from every part of the body ; as
a sponge sucks in water.

CHAPTER XVII.

WHAT PART OF THE BODY IS FIRST FORMED IN THE WOMB.

The Stoics believe that the greater part is formed at
the same time. Aristotle, as the keel of a ship is first
made, so the first part that is formed is the loins. Alc-
.maeon, the head, for that is the commanding and the prin-
cipal part of the body. The physicians, the heart, in
which are the veins and arteries. Some think the great
toe is first formed ; others affirm the navel.

CHAPTER XVIII.

WHENCE IS IT THAT INFANTS BORN IN THE SEVENTH MONTH ARE

BORN ALIVE.

Empedocles says, that when the human race took first
its original from the earth, the sun was so slow in its
motion that then one day in its length was equal to ten
months, as now they are ; in process of time one day
became as long as seven months are ; and there is the
reason that those infants which are born at the end of
seven months or ten months are born alive, the course
of nature so disposing that the infant shall be brought to
maturity in one day after that night in which it is begotten.
Timaeus says, that we count not ten months but nine, by
reason that we reckon the first conception from the reten-

t

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 185

tion of the menstruas ; and so it may generally pass for
seven months when really there are not seven ; for it some-
times happens that even after conception a woman is
purged in some degree. Polybus, Diodes, and the Empir-
ics acknowledge that the eighth month gives a vital birth to
the infant, though the life of it is more faint and languid ;
many therefore we see born in that month die out of
mere weakness. Though we see many born in that month
arrive at the state of man, yet (they affirm) if children be
born in that month, none are willing to rear them.

Aristotle and Hippocrates, that if the womb is grown
full in seven months, then the child falls from the mother
and is born alive ; but if it falls from her but is not
properly nourished, the navel being weak on account of
the heavy burden of the infant, then it doth not thrive ;
but if the infant continues nine months in the womb, and
then breaks forth from the woman, it is entire and perfect.
Polybus, that a hundred and eighty-two days and a half
suffice for the bringing forth of a living child ; that is,
six months, in which space of time the sun moves from
one tropic to the other ; and this is called seven months,
for the days which are overplus in the sixth are accounted
to give the seventh month. Those children which are
born in the eighth month cannot live, for, the infant then
falling from the womb, the navel, which is the cause of
nourishment, is thereby too much stretched ; and is the
reason that the infant languishes and hath an atrophy.
The astrologers, that eight months arc enemies to every
birth, seven are friends and kind to it. The signs of the
zodiac are then enemies, when they fall upon those stars
which are lords of houses ; whatever infant is then born
will have a life short and unfortunate. Those signs of
the zodiac which are malevolent and injurious to gene-
ration are those pairs of which the last is reckoned the
eighth from the fii*st, as the first and the eighth, the second

186 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

and the ninth, &c. ; so is the Ram unsociable with Scorpio,
the Bull with Sagittarius, the Twins with the Goat, the
Crab with Aquarius, the Lion with Pisces, the Virgin with
the Ram. Upon this reason those infants that are born in
the seventh or tenth months are like to live, but those
in the eighth month will die.

CHAPTER XIX.

OF THE GENERATION OF ANIMALS, HOW ANIMALS ARE BEGOTTEN, AND
"WHETHER THEY ARE OBNOXIOUS TO CORRUPTION.

Those philosophers who entertain the opinion that the
world had an original do likewise assert that all animals
are generated and corruptible. The followers of Epicurus,
who gives an eternity to the world, affirm the generation
of animals ariseth from the various permutation of parts
mutually among themselves, for they are parts of this
world. With them Anaxagoras and Euripides concur:

For nothing dies,
But different changes give their various forms.

Anaximander s opinion is, that the first animals were gen-
erated in moisture, and wxre enclosed in bark on which
thorns grew ; but in process of time they came upon dry
land, and this thorny bark with which they were covered
being broken, they lived for a short space of time. Em-
pedocles says, that the first generation of animals and
plants was by no means completed, for the parts were
disjoined and would not admit of a union ; the second
preparation for their being generated was when their parts
were united and appeared in the form of images ; the
tliird preparation for generation was when their parts mu-
tually amongst themselves gave a being to one another ;
the fourth, when there was no longer a mixture of similar
elements (like earth and water), but a union of animals
among themselves, — in some the nourishment being made

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED Df. 187

dense, in others female beauty provoking a lust of sper-
matic motion. All sorts of animals are discriminated by
their proper temperament and constitution ; some are car-
ried by a proper appetite and inclination to water ; some,
which partake of a more fiery quality, to breathe in the
air ; those that are heavier incline to the earth ; but those
animals whose parts are of a just and equal temperament
are fitted equally for all places.

CHAPTER XX.

HOW MANY SPECIES OP ANI^IA-LS THERE ARE, AND WHETHER ALL
ANIMALS HAVE THE ENDOWMENTS OF SENSE AND REASON.

There is a certain treatise of Aristotle, in which animals
are distributed into four kinds, terrestrial, aqueous, fowl,
and heavenly ; and he calls the stars and the world also
animals, yea, and God himself he defines to be an animal
endowed with reason and immortal. Democritus and Epi-
curus esteem all animals rational which have their resi-
dence in the heavens. Anaxagoras says that animals have
only that reason which is operative, but not that which is
passive, which is justly styled the interpreter of the mind,
and is like the mind itself. Pythagoras and Plato, that the
souls of all those who are styled brutes are rational ; but
by the evil constitution of their bodies, and because they
have a want of a discoursive faculty, they do not act ration-
ally. This is manifested in apes and dogs, which have
voice but not speech. Diogenes, that this sort of animals
are partakers of intelligence and air, but by reason of the
density in some parts of them, and by the superfluity of
moisture in others, they enjoy neither understinding nor
sense ; but they are affected as madmen are, the command-
ing rational part being defectuous and impeached.

188 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

CHAPTER XXI.

WHAT TIME IS REQUIRED TO SHAPE THE PARTS OF ANIMALS IN

THE WOMB.

Empedocles believes, that the jomts of men begin to be
formed from the thirty-sixth day, and their shape is
completed in the nine and fortieth. Asclepiades, that
male embryos, by reason of a greater natural heat, have
their joints begun to be formed in the twenty-sixth day, —
many even sooner, — and that they are completed in all
their parts on the fiftieth day ; the parts of the females
are articulated in two months, but by the defect of heat are
not consummated till the fourth ; but the members of
brutes are completed at various times, according to the
commixture of the elements of Avhich they consist.

CHAPTER XXIL

OF WHAT ELEMENTS EACH OF THE MEMBERS OF US MEN IS

COMPOSED.

Empedocles says, that the fleshy parts of us are consti-
tuted by the contemperation of the four elements in us ;
earth and fire mixed with a double proportion of water make
the nerves ; but when it happens that the nerves are re-
frigerated where they meet the air, then the nails are made ;
the bones are produced by two parts of water and the same
of air, with four parts of fire and the same of earth, duly
mixed together ; sweat and tears flow from the liquefaction
of these bodies of ours.

CHAPTER XXIII.

WHAT ARE THE CAUSES OF SLEEP AND DEATH?

Alcmaeon says, that sleep is caused when the blood re-
treats to the concourse of the veins, but when the blood

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTLD IN. 189

diiFiises itself, then we awake ; and when there is a total
retirement of the blood, then men die. Empedocles, that
a moderate cooHng of the blood causeth sleep, but a total
remotion of heat from blood causeth death. Diogenes, that
when all the blood is so diffused as that it fills all the veins,
and forces the air contained in them to the back and to the
belly that is below it, the breast being thereby more heated,
thence sleep arises ; but if every thing that is airy in the
breast forsjikes the veins, then death succeeds. Tlato and
the Stoics, that sleep ariseth from the relaxation of the
sensitive spirit, it not receiving such total remission as if,
it fell to the earth, but so that that spirit is earned
about the intestine parts of the eyebrows, in which the
principal part has its residence ; but when there is a total
remission of the sensitive spirit, then death ensues.

CHAPTER XXIV.

WHEN AND FROM WHENCE TOE PERFECTION OF A MAN COMMENCES.

Heraclitus and the Stoics say, that men begin their
completeness when the second septenary of years begins,
about which time the seminal serum is emitted. Trees
first begin their perfection when they give their seeds ; till
then they are immature, imperfect, and unfruitful. After
the same manner a man is completed in the second septen-
ai7 of years, and is capable of learning what is good and
evil, and of discipline therein.

CHAPTER XXV.

WIIETHEB SLEEP OR DEATH APPERTAINS TO THE SOUL OR BODT.

Aristotle's opinion is, that both the soul and body sleep ;
and this proceeds from the moisture in the breast, which
doth steam and arise in the manner of a vapor into the

190 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

head, and from the aliment in the stomach, whose natural
heat is cooled in the heart. Death is tlie perfect refrigera-
tion of all heat in the body ; but death is only of the body,
and not of the soul, for the soul is immortal. Anaxagoras
thinks, that sleep makes the operations of the body to
cease ; it is a corporeal passion and affects not the soul.
Death is the separation of the soul from the body. Leu-
cippus, that sleep is only of the body ; but when the
smaller particles cause immoderate evaporation from the
soul's heat, this makes death ; but these affections of death
and sleep are of the body, not of the soul. Empedocles,
that death is nothing else but separation of those fiery parts
by which man is composed, and according to this sentiment
both body and soul die ; but sleep is only a smaller separa-
tion of the fiery qualities.

CHAPTER XXVI.

now PLANTS GROW, AND AVIIETFIER TIIEY ARE ANIMALS.

Plato and Empedocles believe, that plants are animals,
and are informed with a soul ; of this there are clear ar-
guments, for they have tossing and shaking, and their
branches are extended ; when the woodmen bend them
they yield, but they return to their former straightness and
strength again when they are let loose, and even draw up
weights that are laid upon them. Aristotle doth grant that
they live, but not that they are animals; for animals are
affected with appetite, sense, and reason. The Stoics and
Epicureans deny that they are informed with a soul ; by
reason that all sorts of animals have either sense, appetite,
or reason ; but plants move fortuitously, and not by means
of any soul. Empedocles, that the first of all animals
were trees, and they sprang from the earth before the sun
in its glory enriched the world, and before day and night

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 191

were distinguished ; but by the harmony which is in their
constitution they partake of a masculine and feminine
nature ; and they increase by that heat which is exalted out
of the earth, so that they are parts belonging to it, as
embryos in the womb are parts of the womb. Fruits in
plants are excrescences proceeding from water and fire ;
but the plants which have a deficiency of water, when this
is dried up by the heat of summer, lose their leaves ; whereas
they that have plenty thereof keep their leaves on still, as
the olive, laurel, and palm. The differences of their mois-
ture and juice arise from the difference of particles and
various other causes, and they are discriminated by the va-
rious particles that feed them. And this is apparent in
vines ; for the excellence of wine flows not from the differ-
ence in the vines, but from the soil from whence they re-
ceive their nutriment.

CHAPTER XXVII.

OP NOURISHMENT AND GUOWTH.

Empedocles believes, that animals are nourished by the
remaining in them of that which is proper to their own
nature; they are augmented by the apj)lication of heat; and
the subtraction of either of these makes them to languish
and decay. The stature of men in this present age, if com-
pared with the magnitude of those men which were fii*st
produced, is no other than a mere infancy.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

WIIKNCK IT 13 THAT IN ANIMALS THEUK *■:• * 'MM-.TITK.^ AM)
PLEASURKS.

Empedocles says that the want of those elements which
compose auimals gives to them appetite, and pleasures

192 THE SENTIMENTS OF NATURE

spring from humidity. As to the motions of dangers and
such like things, as perturbations, &c. . . .

CHAPTER XXIX.

WHAT IS THE CAUSE OF A FEVER, OR "WHEIHER IT IS AN AFFECTION
OF THE BODY ANNEXED TO A PRIMARY PASSION.

Erasistratus gives this definition of a fever : A fever
is a quick motion of blood, not produced by our consent,
which enters into the vessels proper unto the vital spirits.
This we see in the sea ; it is in a serene calm when noth-
ing disturbs it, but is in motion when a violent preter-
natural wind blows upon it, and then it rageth and is circled
with waves. After this manner it is in the body of man ;
when the blood is in a nimble agitation, then it falls upon
those vessels in which the spirits are, and there being in
an extraordinary heat, it fires the whole body. The opin-
ion that a fever is an appendix to a preceding affection
pleaseth him. Diodes proceeds after this manner : Those
things which are internal and latent are manifested by
those which externally break forth and appear ; and it is
clear to us that a fever is annexed to certain outward
affections, for example, to wounds, inflaming tumors, in-
guinary abscesses.

CHAPTER XXX.

OP HEALTH, SICKNESS, AND OLD AGE.

Alcmaeon says that the preserver of health is an equal
proportion of the qualities of heat, moisture, cold, dryness,
bitterness, sweetness, and the other qualities ; on the con-
trary, the prevaiHng empire of one above the rest is the
cause of diseases land author of destruction. The efficient

PHILOSOPHERS DELIGHTED IN. 19^^

cause of disease is the excess of heat or cold, the material
cause is superabundance or defect, the place is the blood
or brain. But health is the harmonious commixture of the
elements. Diodes, that sickness for the most part pro-
ceeds from the irregular disposition of the elements in the
body, for that makes an ill habit or constitution of it.
Erasistratus, that sickness is caused by the excess of food,
indigestion, and corruptions ; on the contrary, health is the
moderation of the diet, and the taking that which is con-
venient and sufficient for us. It is the unanimous opinion
of the Stoics that the want of heat brings old age, for (they
say) those persons in whom heat more abounds live the
longer. Asclepiades, that the Ethiopians soon grow old,
and at thirty years of age are ancient men, their bodies
being excessively heated and scorched by the sun ; in
Britain persons live a hundred and twenty years, on account
of the coldness of the country, and because the people
contain the fiery element within their bodies ; for the bodies
of the Ethiopians are more fine and thin, because they are
relaxed by the sun's heat, while they who live in northern
countries have a contrary state of their bodies, for they are
condensed and robust, and by consequence live the longer.

TOL. III. 18

A BREVIATE OF A DISCOURSE, SHOWING THAT THE
STOICS SPEAK GREATER IMPROBABILITIES THAN
THE POETS.

1. Pindar's Caeneus hath been taken to task by several,
being improbably feigned, impenetrable by steel and im-
passible in his body, and so

Descending into hell without a wound,

And with sound foot parting in two the ground.

But the Stoics' Lapithes, as if they had carved him out
of the very adamantine matter of impassibility itself, though
he is not invulnerable, nor exempt from either sickness or
pain, yet remains fearless, regretless, invincible, and un-
constrainable in the midst of wounds, dolors, and torments,
and in the very subversions of the walls of his native city,
and other such like great calamities. Again, Pindar's
Caeneus is not wounded when struck ; but the Stoics' wise
man is not detained when shut up in a prison, suffers no
compulsion by being thrown down a precipice, is not tor-
tured when on the rack, takes no hurt by being maimed,
and when he catches a fall in wrestHng he is still uncon-
quered-; when he is encompassed with a rampire, he is
not besieged; and when sold by his enemies, he is still
not made a prisoner. The wonderful man is like to
those ships that have inscribed upon them A prosperous

VOYAGE, or PROTECTING PROVIDENCE, Or A PRESERVATIVE

AGAINST DANGERS, and yet for all that endure storms, and
are miserably shattered and overturned.

2. Euripides's lolaus of a feeble, superannuated old man,
by means of a certain prayer, became on a sudden youth-

THE STOICS' IMPROBABILITIES. 195

ful and strong for battle ; but the Stoics' wise man was
yesterday most detestable and the worst of villains, but to-
day is changed on a sudden into a state of virtue, and ia
become of a wrinkled, pale fellow, and, as Aeschylus
speaks.

Of an old sickly wretch with stitch in's back,
Distent with rending pains as on a rack,

a gallant, god-like, and beauteous person.

3. The Goddess Minerva took from Ulysses his wrinkles,
baldness, and deformity, to make him appear a handsome
man. But these mens wise man, though old age quits
not his body, but contrariwise still lays on and heaps more
upon it, though he remains (for instance) hump-backed,
toothless, one-eyed, is yet neither deformed, disfigured, nor
ill-favored. For as beetles are said to relinquish perfumes
and to pursue after ill scents ; so Stoical love, having used
itself to the most foul and deformed persons, if by means
of philosophy they change into good form and comeliness,
becomes presently disgusted.

4. He that in the Stoics' account was in the forenoon
(for example) the worst man in the world is in the after-
noon the best of men ; and he that falls asleep a very sot,
dunce, miscreant, and brute, nay, by Jove, a slave and a
beggar to boot, rises up the same day a prince, a rich and
a happy man, and (which is yet more) a continent, just,
determined, and unprepossessed person ; — not by shooting
forth out of a young and tender body a downy beard or
the sprouting tokens of mature youth, but by having in a
feeble, soft, unmanful, and undetermined mind, a perfect
intellect, a consummate prudence, a godlike disposition, an
unprejudiced science, and an unalterable habit. All this
time his viciousness gives not the least ground in order to
it, but he becomes in an instant, I had almost said, of the
vilest brute, a sort of hero, genius, or God. For he that
receives his virtue from the Stoics' portico may say,

196 THE STOICS' IMPROBABILITIES.

Ask what thou wilt, it shall he granted thee*

It brings wealth along with it, it contains kingship in it,
it confers fortune ; it renders men prosperous, and makes
them to want nothing and to have a sufficiency of every
thing, though they have not one drachm of silver in the
house.

5. The fabular relations of the poets are so careful of
decorum, that they never leave a Hercules destitute of
necessaries ; but those still spring, as out of some fountain,
as well for him as for his companions. But he that hath
received of the Stoics Amalthaea becomes indeed a rich
man, but he begs his victuals of other men ; he is a king,
but resolves syllogisms for hire ; he is the only man that
hath all things, but yet he pays rent for the house he lives
in, and oftentimes buys bread with borrowed money, or
else begs it of those that have nothing themselves.

6. The king of Ithaca begs with a design that none may
know who he is, and makes himself

As like a dirty sorry beggar t

as he can. But he that is of the Portico, while he bawls
and cries out. It is I only that am a king, It is I only that
am a rich man, is yet many times seen at other people's
doors saying :

On poor Hlpponax, pray, some pity take,

Bestow an old cast coat for heaven's sake ;

I'm well nigh dead with cold, and all o'er quake.

• From Menander. t Odyss. XVI. 273.

TLUTARCH'S SYAIPOSIACS.

BOOK I.

Some, my dear Sossius Senecio, imagine that this sen-
tence, ^iat(o [ivuiwm avfiTzoiar^ was principally designed against
the stewards of a feast, Avho are usually troublesome and
press liquor too much upon the guests. For the Dorians
in Sicily (as I am informed) called the steward fivufioru, a
remembrancer. Others think that this proverb admonish-
eth the guests to forget every thing that is spoken or
done in company ; and agreeably to this, the ancients used
to consecrate forgetfulness with a ferula to Bacchus, thereby
intimating that we sliould either not remember any irregu-
larity committed in mirth and company, or apply a gentle
and childish correction to the faults. But because you are
of opinion that to forget absurdities is indeed (as Euripides
says) a piece of wisdom, but to deliver over to oblivion all
sort of discourse that merry meetings do usually produce
is not only repugnant to that endearing quality that most
allow to an entertainment, but against the known practice
of the greatest philosophers (for Plato, Xenophon, Aris-
totle, Speusippus, Epicurus, Prytanis, Ilieronymus, Dion
the Academic, have thought it a worthy and noble employ-
ment to deliver down to us those discourses they had at
table), and since it is your pleasure that I should gather
up the chiefcst of those scattered topics which both at
Home and Greece amidst our cups and fejisting we have
disputed on, in obedience to your commands I have sent

198 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

three books, each containing ten problems ; and the rest
shall quickly follow, if these find good acceptance and do
not seem altogether foolish and impertinent.

QUESTION I.

Whether midst our Cups it is fit to talk Learnedly and
Philosophize?

SOSSIUS SENECIO, ARISTO, PLUTARCH, CRATO, AND OTHERS.

1. The first question is, Whether at table it is allowable
to philosophize % For I remember at a supper at Athens
this doubt was started, whether at a merry meeting it was
fit to use philosophical discourse, and how far it might be
used ] And Aristo presently cried out : What then, for
heaven's sake, are there any that banish philosophy from
company and wine? And I replied: Yes, sir, there are,
and such as with a grave scoff tell us that philosophy, like
the matron of the house, should never be heard at a merry
entertainment ; and commend the custom of the Persians,
who never let their wives appear, but drink, dance, and
wanton with their whores. This they propose for us to
imitate ; they permit us to have mimics and music at our
feasts, but forbid philosophy ; she, forsooth, being very unfit
to be wanton with us, and we in a bad condition to be
serious. Isocrates the rhetorician, when at a drinking
bout some begged him to make a speech, only returned:
With those things in which I have skill the time doth not
suit ; and in those things Avith which the time suits I have
no skill.

2. And Crato cried out: By Bacchus, he was right in
forswearing talk, if he designed to make such long-winded
discourses as would have spoiled all mirth and conversa-
tion ; but I do not think there is the same reason to forbid
philosophy as to take away rhetoric from our feasts. For
philosophy is quite of another nature ; it is an art of living,

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 199

and therefore must be admitted into every part of our con-
versation, into all our gay humors and our pleasures, to
regulate and adjust them, to proportion the time, and keep
them from excess ; unless, perchance, upon the same scoff-
ing pretence of gravity, they would banish temperance,
justice, and moderation. It is true, were we to feast in a
court-room, as those that entertained Orestes, and were
silence enjoined by law, that might prove a not unlucky
cloak of our ignorance ; but if Bacchus is really Xvaiog (a
looser of every thing), and chiefly takes off all restraints and
bridles from the tongue, and gives the voice the greatest
freedom, 1 think it is foolish and absurd to deprive that
time in which we are usually most talkative of the most
useful and profitable discourse ; and in our schools to
dispute of the offices of company, in what consists the
excellence of a guest, how mirth, feasting, and wine are to
be used, and yet deny philosophy a place in these feasts,
as if not able to confirm by practice what by precepts it
instructs.

3. And when you affirmed that none ought to oppose
what Crato said, but determine what sorts of philosophical
topics were to be admitted as fit companions at a feast, and
so avoid that just and pleasant taunt put upon the wrang-
ling disputers of the age.

Come now to supper, that we may contend ;

and when you seemed concerned and urged us to
speak to that head, I first replied : Sir, we must consider
what company we have; for if the greater part of the
guests are learned men, — as for instance, at Agatho's
entertainment, men like Socrates, Phaedrus, Pausanias,
Euryximachus ; or at Callias's board, Cliarmides, Antis-
thenes, llermogencs, and the like, — we will permit them to
philosophize, and to mix Bacchus with the Muses Jis well
as with the Nymphs ; for the latter make him wholesome

200 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

and gentle to the body, and the other pleasant and agree-
able to the soul. And if there are some few illiterate per-
sons present, they, as mute consonants with vowels, in the
midst of the other learned, will participate in a voice not
altogether inarticulate and insignificant. But if the greater
part consists of such who can better endure the noise of
any bird, 'fiddle-string, or piece of wood than the voice of
a philosopher, Pisistratus hath shown us what to do ; for
being at diff'erence with his sons, when he heard his ene-
mies rejoiced at it, in a full assembly he declared that he
had endeavored to persuade his sons to submit to him, but
since he found them obstinate, he was resolved to yield and
submit to their humors. So a philosopher, midst those com-
panions that slight his excellent discourse, will lay aside his
gravity, follow them, and comply with their humor as far
as decency will permit ; knowing very well that men can-
not exercise their rhetoric unless they speak, but may their
philosophy even whilst they are silent or jest merrily, nay,
whilst they are piqued upon or repartee. For it is not only
(as Plato says) the highest degree of injustice not to be just
and yet seem so ; but it is the top of wisdom to philoso-
phize, yet not appear to do it ; and in mirth to do the same
with those that are serious, and yet seem in earnest. For
as in Euripides, the Bacchae, though unprovided of iron
weapons and unarmed, wounded their invaders with their
boughs, thus the very jests and merry talk of true philoso-
phers move and correct in some sort those that are not
altogether insensible.

4. I think there are topics fit to be used at table, some
of which reading and study give us, others the present
occasion ; some to incite to study, others to piety and great
and noble actions, others to make us rivals of the boun-
tiful and kind ; which if a man cunningly and without
any apparent design inserts for the instruction of the rest,
he will free these entertainments from many of those con-

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 201

siderable evils which usually attend them. Some that put
borage into the wine, or sprinkle the floor with water in
which verbena and maiden-hair have been steeped, as good
to raise mirth and jolHty in the guests (in imitation of
Homer's Helen, who with some medicament dihitod* the
pure wine she had prepared), do not understand that that
fable, coming round from Egypt, after a long way ends at
last in easy and fit discourse. For whilst they were drink-
ing, Helen relates the story of Ulysses,

IIow Fortune's spite tlie liero did control,
And bore his troubles with a manly soul.*

For that, in my opinion, was the Nepenthe, the care-dis-
solving medicament, — that story exactly fitted to the then
disasters and juncture of affairs. The pleasing men, though
they designedly and apparently instruct, draw on their max-
ims with persuasive and smooth arguments, rather than
the violent force of demonstrations. You see that even
Plato in his Symposium, where he disputes of the chief
end, the chief good, and is altogether on subjects theolog-
ical, doth not lay down strong and close demonstrations ;
he doth not prepare himself for the contest (as he is wont)
like a Avrestler, that he may take the faster hold of his
adversary and be sure of giving him the trip ; but he
draws men on by more soft and pliable attacks, by pleasant
fictions and pat examples.

5. Besides, the questions should be easy, the problems
known, the interrogations plain and familiar, not intricate
and dark, tliat they might neither vex the unlein*ned, nor
fright them from the disquisition. For — as it is allow-
able to dissolve our entertainment into a dance, but if we
force our guests to pitch quoits or play at cudgels, we
shall not only make our feast unpleasant, but hurtful and
unnatural — thus light and easy disquisitions do pleasantly
and profitably excite us, but we must forbear all contea-

• Odyu. IV. 242.

202 PLUTAECH'S SYMPOSIACS.

tious and (to use Democritus's word) wrangling disputes,
which perplex tlie proposers with intricate and inexpli-
cable doubts, and trouble all the others that are present.
Our discourse should be like our wine, common to all, and
of which every one may equally partake ; and they that
propose hard problems seem no better fitted for society
than Aesop's fox and crane. For the fox vexed the crane
with thin broth poured out upon a flat stone, and laughed
at her when he saw her, by reason of the narrowness of
her bill and the thinness of the broth, incapable of par-
taking what he had prepared ; and the crane, in requital,
inviting the fox to supper, brought forth her dainties in a
pot with a long and narrow neck, which sbe could con-
veniently thrust her bill into, whilst tbe fox could not reach
one bit. Just so, when philosophers midst their cups dive
into minute and logical disputes, they are very troublesome
to those that cannot follow them through the same deptlis ;
and those that bring in idle songs, trifling disquisitions,
common talk, and mechanical discourse destroy the very
end of conversation and merry entertainments, and abuse
Bacchus. Therefore, as when Phrynichus and Aeschylus
brought tragedy to discourse of fables and misfortunes, it
was asked, What is this to B-acchus? — so metliinks, when
I hear some pedantically drawing a syllogism into table-
talk, I have reason to cry out. Sir, what is this to Bacchus]
Perchance one, the great bowl standing in the midst, and
the chaplets given round, which the God in token of the
liberty he bestows sets on every head, sings one of those
songs called gao}ju (^crooked or obscure) ; this is not fit nor
agreeable to a feast. Though some say these g/.o}.iu were
not dark and intricate composures ; but that the guests
sang the first song all together, praising Bacchus and de-
scribing the power of the God ; and the second each man
sang singly in his turn, a myrtle bough being delivered to
vcvery one in order, which they call an aiaaxop because he

PLUTARCH'S SYMrOSIACS. 203

that received it was obliged to sing (udm) ; and after this
a harp being carried round the company, the skilful took
it, and fitted the music to the song ; this when the \inskil-
ful could not perform, the song was called axohov, because
it was hard to them, and one in which they could not bear
a part. Others say this myrtle bough was not delivered
in order, but from bed to bed ; and when the uppermost
of the first table had sung, he sent it to the uppermost of
tlie second, and he to the uppermost of the third ; and so
the second in like manner to the second ; and from these
many windings and this circuit it was called anuhop, crooked.

QUESTION IL

WlIETUER THE ENTERTAINER SHOULD SEAT THE GUESTS, OR LET

EVERY Man take his own Place.

TIMOX, A GUEST, rLUTARCII, PLUTARCIl'S FATHER, L.VMFRIAS, AND OTHERS.

1. My brother Timon, making a great entertainment,
desired the guests as tliey came to seat themselves ; for he
had invited strangers and citizens, neighbors and acquaint-
ance, and all sorts of persons to the feast. A great many
being already come, a certain stranger at last appeared,
dressed as fine as hands could make him, his clothes rich,
and an unseemly train of foot-boys at his heels ; he walked
up to the p:irlor-door, and, staring round upon those that
were already seated, turned his back and scornfully re-
tired ; and when a great many stepped after him and
begged him to return, he said, I see no fit place left for
me. At that, the other guests (for the glasses had gone
round) laughed abundantly, and desired his room rather
than his company.

2. But after supper, niy latiKT udchessing liimsclf to
me, who sat at another quarter of the table, — Timou,
said he, and I have a dispute, and you are to be judge, for
I have been upon his skiits already about that stranger ;

204: PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

for if according to my directions he had seated every man
in his proper place, we had never been thought unskil-
ful in this matter, by one

Whose art is great in ordering horse and foot.*

And story says that Paulus Aemilius, after he had con-
quered Perseus the king of Macedon, making an enter-
tainment, besides his costly furniture and extraordinary
provision, was very critical in the order of his feast ; say-
ing. It is the same man's task to order a terrible battle and
a pleasing entertainment, for both of them require skill
in the art of disposing right. Homer often calls the
stoutest and the greatest princes noai^xonag laojv, disj^osei^s
of the 2')^ople ; and you use to say that the great Creator,
by this art of disposing, turned disorder into beauty, and
neither taking away nor adding any new being, but setting
every thing in its proper place, out of the most un-
coQicly figure and confused chaos produced this beauteous,
this surprising face of nature that appears. In these
great and noble doctrines indeed you instruct us ; but our
own observation sufficiently assures us, that the greatest
profuseness in a feast appears neither delightful nor gen-
teel, unless beautified by order. And therefore it is
absurd that cooks and waiters should be solicitous what
dish must be brought first, what next, what placed in the
middle, and what last ; and that the garlands, and oint-
ment, and music (if they have any) should have a proper
place and order assigned, and yet that the guests should be
seated |)romiscuously, and no respect be had to age, honor,
or the like ; no distinguishing order by which the man in
dignity might be honored, the inferior learn to give place,
and the disposer be exercised in distinguishing what is pro-
per and convenient. For it is not rational that, when we
walk or sit down to discourse, the best man should have
the best place, and that the same order should not be

* II. II. 654.

PLUTARCH'S SYMrOSIACS. 205

observed at table ; or that the entertainer should in civility
drink to one before another, and yet make no difference in
their seats, at the lirst dash making the whole company
one Myconus * (as they say), a hodge-podge and confusion.
This my father brought for his opinion.

3. And my brother said : I am not so much wiser than
Bias, that, since he refused to be arbitrator between two
only of his friends, I should pretend to be a judge between
so many strangers and acquaintance ; especially since it is
not a money matter, but about precedence and dignity, as
if I invited my friends not to treat them kindly, but to
abuse them. Menelaus is accounted absurd and passed into
a proverb, for pretending to advise when unasked ; and
sure he would be more ridiculous that instead of an enter-
tainer should set up for a judge, when nobody requests
him or submits to his determination which is the best and
which the worst man in the company ; for the guests do
not come to contend about precedency, but to feast and be
merry. Besides, it is no easy task for him to distinguish ;
for some claim respect by reason of their age, others from
their familiarity and acquaintance ; and, like those that
make declamations consisting of comparisons, he must
have Aristotle's totioi and Thrasymachus's vmn^uRone^^ (books
that furnish him with heads of argument) at his fingers'
end ; and all this to no good purpose or profitable effect,
but to bring vanity from the bar and the theatre into our
feasts and entertainments, and, whilst by good fellowship
we endeavor to remit all other passions, to intend pride
and arrogance, from which, in my opinion, we should be
more careful to cleanse our souls than to wash our feet
from dirt, that our conversation may be free, simple, and
full of mirth. And while by such meetings we strive to
end all differences tliat have at any time risen amongst the

• It wu Mid that all the people in the bland Myconua were bald ; hence th«
proverb fua Hvkovoc, all of a piece. (0.)

206 PLUTARCH'S SrMPOSIACS.

invited, we should make them flame anew, and kindle
them again by emulation, by thus debasing some and
puffing up others. And if, according as we seat them, we
should drink oftener and discourse more with some than
others, and set daintier dishes before them, instead of being
friendly we should be lordly in our feasts. And if in
other things we treat them all equally, why should we not
begin at the first part, and bring it into fashion for all to take
their seats promiscuously, without ceremony or pride, and
to let them see, as soon as they enter, that they are invited
to a dinner whose order is free and democratical, and not
as particular chosen men to the government of a city
where aristocracy is the form ; since the richest and the
poorest sit promiscuously together.

4. When this had been offered on both sides, and all
present required my determination, I said : Being an
arbitrator and not a judge, I shall close strictly with
neither side, but go indifferently in the middle between
both. If a man invites young men, citizens, or acquaint-
ance, they should (as Timon says) be accustomed to be
content with any place, without ceremony or concernment ;
and this good-nature and unconcernedness would be an
excellent means to preserve and increase friendship. But
if we use the same method to strangers, magistrates, or old
men, I have just reason to fear that, whilst we seem to
thrust our pride at the fore-door^ we bring it in again at
the back, together with a great deal of indifferency and
disrespect. But in this, custom and the established rules
of decency must guide ; or else let us abolish all those
modes of respect expressed by drinking to or saluting
first ; which we do not use promiscuously to all the
company, but according to their worth we honor every
one

"With better places, meat, and larger cups,*
* II. XII. 311.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 207

as Agamemnon says, naming the place first, as the chiefest
sign of honor. And we commend Alcinous for placing
his guest next himself :

He stout Laomedon liis son removed,

"Who sat next liini, for hhn he dearly loved ;*

For to place a suppliant stranger in the seat of his
beloved son was wonderful kind, and extreme courteous.
Nay, even amongst the Gods themselves this distinction is
observed ; for Neptune, though he came last into the as-
sembly.

Sat in the middle 8eat,t

as if that was his proper place. And MineiTa seems
to have that assigned her which is next Jupiter himself ;
and this the poet intimates, when speaking of Thetis he
says.

She sat next Jove, Minerva giving place.J

And Pindar plainly says.

She sits just next the thunder-breathing flames.

Indeed Timon urges, we ought not to rob many to honor
one. Now it seems to me that he does this very thing
himself, even more than others ; for he robs that makes
something that is proper common ; and suitable honor to
his worth is each man's propert}% And he gives that pre-
eminence to running fast and making haste, which is due
to virtue, kindred, magistracies, and such other qualities ;
and whilst he endeavors not to affront his guests, he neces-
sarily falls into that very inconvenience ; for he must
affront every one by defrauding them of their proper
honor. Besides, in my opinion it is no hard matter to
make this distinction, and seat our guests according to
their quality; for first, it very seldom happens that many
of equal honor are invited to the same banquet ; and then,
since there are many honorable places, you have room

♦ OdjM. VTL 170. t n. XX. 15. J II. XXIV. 100.

208 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

enough to dispose them according to content, if you can
but guess that this man must be seated uppermost, that in
the middle, another next to yourself, or with his friend,
acquaintance, tutor, or the like, appointing every one some
place of honor ; and as for the rest, I would supply their
want of honor with some little presents, affability, and
kind discourse. But if their qualities are not easy to be
distinguished, and the men themselves hard to be pleased,
see what device I have in that case ; for I seat in the most
honorable place my father, if invited ; if not, my grand-
father, father-ni-law, uncle, or somebody whom the enter-
tainer hath a more particular reason to esteem. And this
is one of the many rules of decency that we have from
Homer ; for in his poem, when Achilles saw^ Menelaus and
Antilochus contending about the second prize of the horse-
race, fearing that their strife and fury would increase, he
gave the prize to another, under pretence of comforting
and honoring Eumelus, but indeed to take away the cause
of their contention.

5. When I had said this, Lamprias, sitting (as he always
doth) upon a low bed, cried out : Sirs, will you give me
leave to correct this sottish judge ? And the company bid-
ding him speak freely and tell me roundly of my faults,
and not spare, he said : And who can forbear that philoso-
pher, who disposes of places at a feast according to the
birth, wealth, or offices of the guests, as if they were seats
in a theatre or the Amphictyonic Council, so that pride and
arrogance must be admitted even into our mirth and enter-
tainments ? In seating our guests w^e should not have re-
spect to honor, but mirth and conversation ; not look after
every man's quality, but their agreement and harmony with
one another, as those do that join several different things
in one composure. Thus a mason doth not set an Athenian
or a Spartan stone, because formed in a more noble coun-
try, before an Asian or a Spanish ; nor does a painter give

i

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 209

the most costly color the chiefest place ; nor a shipwright
the Corinthian fir or Cretan cypress ; but they so distribute
them as will best serve to the common end, and make the
whole composure strong, beautiful, and fit for use. Nay,
you see even the Deity himself (by our Pindar named the
most skilful artificer) doth not everywhere place the fire
above and the earth below ; but, as Empedocles hath it,

The oysters, murets of the sea, and shell-fish every one,
With massy coat, the tortoise eke, with crust as hard as stone,
And vaulted back, which archwise he aloft doth hollow rear.
Show all that heavy earth they do above their bodies bear ;

the earth not having that place that Nature appoints, but
that which is necessai*y to compound bodies and service-
able to the common end, the preservation of the whole.
Disorder is in every thing an evil ; but then its badness is
principally discovered, w^hen it is amongst men whilst they
are making merry ; for then it breeds contentions and a
thousand unspeakable mischiefs, which to foresee and hin-
der shows a man well skilled in good order and dispos-
ing right.

6. We all agreed that he said well, but asked him why
he would not instruct us how to order things aright, and
communicate his skill. I am content, says he, to instruct
you, if you will permit me to change the present order of
the feast, and will yield as ready obedience to me as the
Thebans to Epaminondas when he altered the order of their
battle. We gave him full power ; and he, having turned
all the servants out, looked round upon every one, and said :
Hear (for I will tell you first) how I design to order you
together. In my mind, the Theban Pammcnes justly taxeth
Homer as unskilful in love matters, for setting together, in
his description of an army, tribe and tribe, family and fam-
ily ; for he should have joined the lover and the beloved,
so that the whole body being united in their minds might
perfectly agree. This rule will I follow, not set one rich

VOL. III. U

210 l»LtJT ARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

man by another, a youth by a youth, a magistrate by a mag-
istrate, and a friend by a friend ; for such an order is of no
force, either to beget or increase friendship and good-wilL
But fitting that which wants with something that is able to
supply it, next one that is willing to instruct I will place
one that is as desirous to be instructed ; next a morose, one
good-natured ; next a talkative old man, a youth patient
and eager for a story; next a boaster, a jeering smooth
companion ; and next an angry man, a quiet one. If I see
a wealthy fellow bountiful and kind, I will take some poor
honest man from his obscure place, and set him next, that
something may run out of that full vessel into the other
empty one. A sophister I will forbid to sit by a sophister,
and one poet by another ;

For beggars beggars, poets poets, envy *

I separate the clamorous scoffers and the testy, by putting
some good-nature between them, that they may not justle so
roughly on one another ; but wrestlers, hunters, and fa.rm-
ers I put in one company. For some of the same nature,
when put together, fight as cocks ; others are very sociable
as daws. Drinkers and lovers I set together, not only those
who (as Sophocles says) feel the sting of masculine love,
but those that are mad after virgins or married women;
for they being warmed with the like fire, as two pieces of
iron to be joined, will more readily agree ; unless perhaps
they both fancy the same person.

QUESTION III

Upon what Account is the Place at the Table called
Consular esteemed honorable.

the same.

This raised a dispute about the dignity of places, for the
same place is not accounted honorable amongst all nations ;

* Hesiod, Works and Days, 26.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 211

in Persia the midst, for that is the place proper to tlie king
himself; in Greece the uppermost; at Rome the lower-
most of the middle bed, and this is called the consular ;
the Greeks about Pontus, as those of Heraclea, reckon the
uppermost of the middle bed to be the chief. But we
were most puzzled about the place called consular ; for
though it is esteemed most honorable, yet it is not for any
w^ell-defined reason, as if it were either the first or the
midst ; and its other circumstances are either not proper
to that alone, or very frivolous. Though I confess three
of the reasons alleged seemed to have something in them.
The first was, that the consuls, having dissolved the mon-
archy, and reduced every thing to a more equal level and
popular estate, left the middle, the kingly place, and sat in
a lower seat ; that by this means their power and authority
might be less subject to envy, and not so grievous to their
fellow-citizens. The second was, that, two beds being ap-
pointed for the invited guests, the third — and the first place
in this — is most convenient for the master of the feast,
whence, like a coachman or a pilot, he can guide and order
every thing, and readily overlook the management of the
whole affair. Besides, he is not so f\ir removed but that
he may easily discourse, talk to, and compliment his guests ;
for next below him his wife and children usually are placed ;
next above him the most honorable of the invited, that being
the most proper place, as near the master of the feast. The
third reason w^as, that it is peculiar to this place to be most
convenient for the despatch of any sudden business ; for the
Roman consul is not such a one as Archias the governor
of Thebes, so as to say, when letters of importance are
brought to him at dinner, " serious things to-morrow,"
and then throw aside the packet and take the great
bowl; but he will be careful, circumspect, and mind it
nt that very instant. For not only (as the common saying
hath it)

212 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

Each throw doth make the skilful dicer fear,

but even midst his feasting and bis pleasure a magistrate
should be intent on intervening business ; and he hath this
place appointed, as the most convenient for hirn to receive
any message, answer it, or sign a bill ; for there the second
bed joining with the third,* the turning at the corner leaves
a vacant space, so that a notary, servant, guardsman, or a
messenger from the army might approach, deliver the mes-
sage, and receive commands ; and the consul, having room
enough to speak or use his hand, neither troubles any one,
nor is hindered by any of the guests.

QUESTION IV.

What Manner of Man should a Steward of a Feast be?

crato, tiiegn, rlutarcii, and others.

1. Crato a relative of ours, and Theon my acquaintance,
at a certain banquet, where the glasses had gone round free-
ly, and a little stir arose but was suddenly appeased, began
to discourse of the office of the steward of a feast ; declaring
that it was my duty to wear the chaplet, assert the decaying
privilege, and restore that office which should take care fc^r
the decency and good order of the banquet. This proposal
pleased every one, and they were all an end begging me
to do it. Well then, said I, since you will have it so, I
make myself steward and director of you all, and command
the rest of you to drink every one what he will, but Crato
and Theon, the first proposers and authors of this decree,
I enjoin to declare in short what qualifications fit a man
for this office, what he should principally aim at, and how
behave himself towards those under his command. This
is the subject, and let them agree amongst themselves
which head each shall manage.

* It seems ahsolutely necessary to read Tph'^ for Trpwr?; here, to make *the de-
icription intelligible, and to avoid inconsistency. See Becker's Gallus, III, p. 209. (G.)

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 213

2. They made some slight excuse at first ; but the whole
company urging them to obey, Crato began thus. A cap-
tain of a watch (as Plato says) ought to be most watchful
and diligent himself, and the director of merry companions
ought to be the best. And such a one he is, that will not
be easily overtaken or apt to refuse a glass ; but as Cyrus
in his epistle to the Spartans says, that in many other
things he was more fit than his brother to be a king, and
chiefiy because he could bear abundance of wine. For
one that is drunk nuist have an ill carriage and be apt to
affront ; and he that is perfectly sober, must be unpleasant,
and fitter to be a governor of a school than of a feast. Peri-
cles, as often as lie was chosen general, when he first put
on his cloak, used to say to himself, as it were to refresh
his memory. Take heed, Pericles, thou dost govern free-
men, thou dost govern Greeks, thou dost govern Athenians.
So let our director say privately to himself. Thou art a
governor over friends, that he may remember to neither
suffer them to be debauched nor stint their mirth. Besides,
he ought to have some skill in the serious studies of the
guests, and not be altogether ignorant of mirth and humor ;
yet I would have him (as pleasant wine ought to be) a
little severe and rough, for the liquor will soften and smooth
him, and make his temper pleasant and agreeable. For as
Xcnophon says, that Clearchus's rustic and morose humor
in a battle, by reason of his bravery and heat, seemed pleas-
ant and suri)rising ; thus one that is not of a very sour na-
ture, but grave and severe, being softened by a chirping cup,
beconu^s more pleasant and complaisant. But chiefly he
should be acquainted with every one of the guests' hu-
mors, what alteration the liquor makes in him, what pas-
sion he is most subject to, and what quantity he can bear ;
for it is not to be sui)posed the water bears various ])ro-
portions to different sorts of wine (which kings' cup-bear-
ers understanding sometimes pour in more, sometimes less),

214 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

and that man hath no such relation to them. This our di-
rector ought to know, and knowing, punctually observe;
so that like a good musician, screwing up one and letting
down another, he may make between these different natures
a pleasing harmony and agreement ; so that he shall not pro-
portion his wine by measure, but give every one what was
proper and agreeable, according to the present circum-
stances of time and strength of body. But if this is too
difficult a task, yet it is necessary that a steward should
know the common accidents of age and nature, such as
these, — that an old man will be sooner overtaken than a
youth, one that leaps about or talks sooner than he that
is silent or sits still, the thoughtful and melancholy sooner
than the cheerful and the brisk. And he that understands
these things is much more able to preserve quietness and
order, than one that is perfectly ignorant and unskilful.
Besides, I think none will doubt but that the steward
ought to be a friend, and have no pique at any of the
guests; for otherwise in his injunctions he will be intolera-
ble, in his distributions unequal, in his jests apt to scoff
and give offence. Such a figure, Theon, as out of wax,
hath my discourse framed for the steward of a feast ; and
now I deliver him to you.

3. And Theon replied: He is welcome, — a very well-
shaped gentleman, and fitted for the office ; but whether I
shall not spoil him in my particular application, I cannot
tell. In my opinion he seems such a one as will keep an
entertainment to its primitive institution, and not suffer it
to be changed, sometimes into a mooting hall, sometimes
a school of rhetoric, now and then a dicing-room, a play-
house, or a stage. For do not you observe some making
fine orations and putting cases at a supper, others de-
claiming or reading some of their own compositions, and
others proposing prizes to dancers and mimics ? Alcibia-
des and Theodorus turned Polition's banquet into a place

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 215

of initiation, representing there the sacred procession and
mysteries of Ceres ; now such things as these, in my
opinion, ought not to be suffered by a steward, but he
must permit such discourse only, such shows, such merri-
ment, as promote the particular end and design of such
entertainments ; and that is, by pleasant conversation
either to beget or maintain friendship and good-will
among the guests ; for an entertainment is only a pleas-
ant recreation at the table with a glass of wine, aiming
to contract friendship through mutual good-will.

But now because things pure and unmixed are usually
surfeiting and odious, and the very mixture itself, unless
the simples be well proportioned and opportunely put to-
gether, spoils the sweetness and goodness of the composi-
tion ; it is evident that there ought to be a director who
shall take care that the mirth and jollity of the guests be
exactly and opportunely tempered. It is a common say-
ing, that a voyage near the land and a walk near the sea
are the best recreation. Thus our steward should place
seriousness and gravity next jollity and humor ; that, when
they are merry, they should be on the very borders of
gravity itself, and whea grave and serious, they might be
refreshed as sea-sick persons, having an easy and short
prospect to the mirth and jollity on the shore. For mirth
may be exceeding useful, and make our grave discourses
smooth and pleasant, —

As near the bramble oft the lilj grow^s,

And neighboring rue commends tlie blushing rose.

But against vain and empty humors, that wantonly break
in upon our feasts, like henbane mixed with the wine,
he must caution the guests, lest scoffing and affronts
creep in under these, lest in their questions or commands
they grow scurrilous and abuse, as for instance by enjoin-
ing stutterers to sing, bald-pates to comb their heads, or a
cripple to rise and danre. So the company once abused

216 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

Agapestor the Academic, one of whose legs was lame and
withered, when in a ridiculing frolic they ordained that
every man should stand upon his right leg and take off
his glass, or pay a forfeit ; and he, when it was his turn
to command, enjoined the company to follow his example
and drink as he did, and having a narrow earthen pitcher
brought in, he put his withered leg into it, and drank his
glass, and every one in the company, after a fruitless en-
deavor to imitate, paid his forfeit. It was a good humor
of Agapestor's, and thus every little merry abuse must be
as merrily revenged. Besides, he must give such commands
as will both please and profit, putting such as are familiar
and easy to the person, and when performed will be for
his credit and reputation. A songster must be enjoined to
sing, an orator to speak, a philosopher to solve a problem,
and a poet to make a song ; for every one very readily
and willingly undertakes that

In which he may outdo himself.

An Assyrian king by public proclamation promised a re-
ward to him that would find out any new sort of luxury
and pleasure. And let the governbr, the king of an enter-
tainment, propose some pleasant reward for any one that
introduceth inofi'ensive merriment, profitable delight and
laughter, such as attends not scoffs and abusive jests, but
kindness, pleasant humor, and good- will ; for these matters
not being well looked after and observed spoil and ruin
most of our entertainments. It is the office of a pru-
dent man to hinder all sort of anger and contention ; in
the exchange, that which springs from covetousness ; in the
fencing and wrestling schools, from emulation ; in ofi[ices
and state afi'airs, from ambition ; and in a feast or enter-
tainment, from pleasantness and joke.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 217

QUESTION V.
Why it is commonly said that Love makes a Man a Poet,

SOSSIUS, PLUTARCH, AND OTIIEUS.

1. One day when Sossius entertained us, after singing
some Sapphic verses, this question was started, how it could
be true

That love in all doth vigorous thoughts inspire,
And teaches ignorants to tune the lyre 1 *

Since Philoxenus, on the contrary, asserts, that the Cyclops

With sweet-tongued Muses cured his love.

Some said that love was bold and daring, ventunng at new
contrivances, and eager to accomplish, upon which account
Plato calls it the enterpriser of every thing ; for it makes
the reserved man talkative, the modest complimental, the
negligent and sluggish industrious and observant; and,
what is the greatest wonder, a close, hard, and covetous fel-
low, if he happens to be in love, as iron in fire, becomes
pliable and soft, easy, good-natured, and very pleasant ; as
if there were something in that common jest, A lovers
purse is tied with the blade of a leek. Others said that
love was like drunkenness; it makes men warm, merry,
and dilated ; and, when in that condition, they naturally
slide down to songs and words in measure ; and it is re-
ported of Aeschylus, that he wrote tragedies after he was
heated with a glass of wine ; and my grandfather Lamprias
in his cups seemed to outdo himself in starting questions
and smart disputing, and usually said that, like frankin-
cense, he exhaled more freely after he was wanned. And
as lovei-s are extremely pleased with the sight of theii
beloved, so they praise with as much satisfaction as they
behold ; and as love is talkative in every thing, so more
especially in commendation ; for lovers themselves believe,
and would have all others think, that the object of their

• From Eurip. Stheneboea, Frag. GGG.

218 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

passion is pleasing and excellent ; and this made Candanles
the Lydian force Gyges into his chamber to behold the
beauty of his naked wife. For they delight in the testi-
mony of others, and therefore in all composures upon the
lovely they adorn them with songs and verses, as we dress
images with gold, that more may hear of them, and that
they may be remembered the more. For if they present a
cock, horse, or any other thing to the beloved, it is neatly
trimmed and set off with all the ornaments of art ; and
therefore, when they would present a compliment, they
would have it curious, pleasing, and majestic, as verse
usually appears.

2. Sossius applauding these discourses added : Perhaps
we may make a probable conjecture from Theophrastus's
discourse of Music, for I have lately read the book. Theo-
phrastus lays down three causes of music, — grief, pleas-
ure, and enthusiasm ; for each of these changes the usual
tone, and makes the voice slide into a cadence ; for deep
sorrow has something tunable in its groans, and therefore
we perceive our orators in their conclusions, and actors in
their complaints, are somewhat melodious, and insensibly
fall into a tune. Excess of joy provokes the more airy
men to frisk and dance and keep their steps, though un-
skilful in the art ; and, as Pindar hath it,

They shout, and roar, and wildly toss their heads.

But the graver sort are excited only to sing, raise their
voice, and tune their words into a sonnet. But enthusiasm
quite changes the body and the voice, and makes it far
different from its usual constitution. Hence the very
Bacchac use measure, and the inspired give their oracles
in measure. And we shall see very few madmen but are
frantic in rhyme and rave in verse. This being certain, if
you will but anatomize love a little, and look narrowly into
it, it will appear that no passion in the Avorld is attended

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 219

with more violent grief, more excessive joy, or greater ec-
stasies and fury ; a lover s soul looks like Sophocles's city :

At once 'tis full of sacrifice,

Of joyful songs, of groans and cries.*

And therefore it is no wonder, that since love contains all
the causes of music, — grief, pleasure, and enthusiasm, —
and is besides industrious and talkative, it should incline
us more than any other passion to poetry and songs.

QUESTION VI
"WnETHER Alexander was a Great Drinker.

nilLIXUS, TLUTARCir, AND OTHERS.

1. Some said that Alexander did not drink mucli, but sat
long in company, discoursing with his friends ; but Pliilinus
showed this to be an error from the king's diary, where it
was very often registered that such a day, and sometimes
two days together, the king slept after a debauch ; and tliis
course of life made him cold in love, but passionate and
angry, which argues a hot constitution. And some report
his sweat was fragrant and perfumed his clothes ; which is
another argument of heat, as we see the hottest and driest
climates bear frankincense and cassia ; for a fragrant smell,
as Theophrastus thinks, proceeds from a due concoction of
the humoi*s, when the noxious moisture is conquered by
the heat. And it is thought probable, that he took a ])ique
at Calisthenes for avoiding his table because of the hard
drinking, and refusing the great bowl called Alexander's in
his turn, adding, I will not drink of Alexander's cup, to
stand in need of Aesculapius's. And thus much of Alex-
ander's drinking.

2. Story tells us, that Mitlnidates, the fiimous enemy of
the Romans, among other trials of skill that he instituted,
proposed rewards to the greatest eater and to the stoutest

Soph. Oed. Tyr. 4.

220 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

drinker in his kingdom. He won both the prizes himself;
he out-drank every man living, and for his excellency that
way he was called Bacchus. But this reason for his sur-
name is a vain fancy and an idle story ; for whilst he was
an infant a flash of lightning burnt his cradle, but did his
body no harm, and only left a little mark on his forehead,
which his hair covered when he was grown a boy ; and
after he came to be a man, another flash broke into his
bed-chamber, and burnt the arrows in a quiver that was
hanging under him ; from whence his diviners presaged,
that archers and light-armed men should win him con-
siderable victories in his w^ars ; and the vulgar gave him
this name, because in those many dangers by lightning he
bore some resemblance to the Theban Bacchus.

3. From hence great drinkers were the subject of our
discourse ; and the wrestler Heraclides (or, as the Alexan-
drians mince it, Heraclus), who lived but in the last age, was
accounted one. He, when he could get none to hold out
with him. invited some to take their mornings draught,
others to dinner, to supper others, and others after, to take
a merry glass of wine ; so that as the first went ofl", the
second came, and the third and fourth company, and he all
the while without any intermission took his glass round,
and outsat all the four companies.

4. Amongst the retainers to Drusus, the Emperor Tibe-
rius's son, there was a physician that drank down all the
court ; he, before he sat down, would usually take five or
six bitter almonds to prevent the operation of the wine ;
but whenever he was forbidden that, he knocked under
])resently, and a single glass dozed him. Some think these
almonds have a penetrating, abstersive quality, are able to
cleanse the face, and clear it from the common freckles ;
and therefore, when they are eaten, by their bitterness
vellicate and fret the pores, and by that means draw down
the ascending vapors from the head. But, in my opinion,

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 221

a bitter quality is a drier, and consumes moisture ; and
therefore a bitter taste is the most unpleasant. For, as
Plato says, dryness, being an enemy to moisture, unnatur-
ally contracts the spongy and tender nerves of the tongue.
And green ulcers are usually drained by bitter injections.
Thus Homer :

He squee/c<l his herbs, and bitter juice applied ;

And straight the blood was stanched, the sore was dried.*

And lie guesses well, that what is bitter to the taste is a
drier. Besides, the powders women use to dry up their
sweat are bitter, and by reason of that quality astringent.
This then being certain, it is no wonder that the bitterness
of the almonds hinders the operation of the wine, since it
dries the inside of the body and keeps the veins from
being overcharged ; for from their distention and disturb-
ance they say drunkenness proceeds. And this conjecture
is much confirmed from that which usually happens to a
fox ; for if he eats bitter almonds without drinking, his
moisture suddenly fails, and it is present death.

QUESTION VII

Why Old Men Love pure Wine.

plutarch and others.

It was debated why old men loved the strongest
liquors. Some, fancying that their natural heat decayed
and their constitution grew cold, said, such liquors were
most necessaiy and agreeable to their age ; but this was
mean and obvious, and besides, neither a sufficient nor a
true reason ; for the like happens to all their other senses.
They are not easily moved or wrought on by any qualities,
unless they are in intense degrees and make a vigorous
impression ; but the reason is the laxity of the habit of
their body, for that, being grown lax and weak, loves a

• n. XI. 846.

222 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

smart stroke. Thus tlieir taste is pleased most with strong
sapors, their smeUing with brisk odors ; for strong and
unalloyed qualities make a more pleasing impression on
the sense. Their touch is almost senseless to a sore, and
a wound generally raises no sharp pain. The like also in
their hearing may be observed ; for old musicians play
louder and sharper than others, that they may move their
own dull tympanum with the sound. For what steel is to
the edge in a knife, that spirit is to the sense in the body ;
and therefore, when the spirits fail, the sense grows dull
and stupid, and cannot.be raised, unless by something,
such as strong wine, that makes a vigorous impression.

QUESTION VIII.
"Why Old Men Rkad best at a Distance.

PLUTARCH, LAMPRIAS, AND OTIIEUS.

1. To my discourse in the former problem some objection
may be drawn from the sense of seeing in old men ; for,
if they hold a book at a distance, they will read pretty
well, nearer they cannot see a letter. This Aeschylus

^ means by these verses :

Behold from far ; for near thou canst not see ;
A good old scribe thou mayst much sooner be.

And Sophocles more plainly :

Old men are slow in talk, they hardly hear ;
Far ofi* they see ; but all are blind when near.

And therefore, if old men's organs are more obedient to
strong and intense qualities, why, when they read,- do they
4iot take the reflection near at hand, but, holding the book
a good way off, mix and weaken it by the intervening air,
as wine by water ?

2. Some answered, that they did not remove the book
to lessen the light, but to receive more rays, and let all the
space between the letters and their eyes be filled with

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 228

lightsome air. Others agreed with those that imagine the
rays of vision mix with one another ; for since there is a
cone stretched between each eye and the object, whose point
is in the eye and whose basis is the object, it is probable
that for some way each cone extends apart and by itself;
but, when the distance increases, they mix and make but
one common light; and therefore every object appears
single and not two, though it is seen by both eyes at once ;
for the conjunction of tlie cones makes these two appear-
ances but one. These things supposed, when old men
hold the letters near to their eyes, the cones not being
joined, but each apart and by itself, their sight is weak ;
but when they remove it farther, the two lights being
mingled and increased, they sec better, as a man with
both hands can hold that for which either singly is too
weak.

3. But my brother Lamprias, though unacquainted with
Hieronymus's notions, gave us the same reason. We see,
said he, some species that come from the object to the eye,
which at their fii'st rise are thick and great, and therefore
when near disturb old men, whose eyes are stiff and not
easily penetrated; but when they are separated and dif-
fused into the air, the thick obstructing parts are easily
removed, and the subtile remainders coming to the eye
slide gently and easily into the pores ; and so the disturb-

► ance being less, the sight is more vigorous and clear.
Thus a rose smells most fragrant at a distance ; but if you

bring it near the nose, it is not so pure and delightful ;

and the reason is this, — many earthy disturbing particles
^ are earned with the smell, and spoil the fragrancy when
H near, but in a longer passage those are lost, and the pure
B brisk odor, by reason of its subtility, reaches and acts upon
B the sense.

^H 4. But we, according to Plato's opinion, assert that a

^F bright spirit darted from the cvc mixes with the light

L

224 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

about the object, and those two are perfectly blended mto
one similar body ; now these must be joined in due pro-
portion one to another ; for one part ought not wholly to
prevail on the other, but both, being proportionally and
amicably joined, should agree in one third common power.
Now this (whether flux, illuminated spirit, or ray) in old
men being very weak, there can be no combination, no
mixture with the light about the object ; but it must be
wholly consumed, unless, by removing the letters from
their eyes, they lessen the brightness of the light, so that
it comes to the sight not too strong or unmixed, but well
proportioned and blended with the other. And this ex-
plains that common affection of creatures seeing in the
dark ; for their eye-sight being weak is overcome and
darkened by the splendor of the day ; because the little
light that flows from their eyes cannot be proportionably
mixed with the stronger and more numerous beams ; but
it is proportionable and sufficient for the feeble splendor
of the stars, and so can join with it, and co-operate to
move the sense.

QUESTION IX,

Why Fresh Water Washes Clothes better than Salt.

tiieox, tiiemistocles, metrius florus, plutarch, and others.

1. Theon the grammarian, when Metrius Florus gave
us an entertainment, asked Themistocles the Stoic, why
Chrysippus, though he frequently mentioned some strange
phenomena in nature (as that salt fish soaked in salt
water grows fresher than before, fleeces of wool are more
easily separated by a gentle than a quick and violent force,
and men that are fasting eat slower than those who took a
breakfast), yet never gave any reason for the appearance.
And Themistocles replied, that Chrysippus only proposed
such things by the by, as instances to correct us, who
easily and without any reason assent to what seems likely.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 225

and disbelieve every thing that seems unlikely at the first
sight. But why, sir, are you concerned at this ? For if
you are speculative and would enquire into the causes of
things, you need not want subjects in your own profession;
but pray tell me why Homer makes Nausicaa wash in the
river rather than the sea, though it was near, and in all
likelihood hotter, clearer, and fitter to wash with than that?

2. And Theon replied : Aristotle hath already given an
arcount for this from the grossness of the sea water ; for
in this an abundance of rough earthy particles is mixed,
and those make it salt ; and upon this account swimmers
or any other weights sink not so much in sea water as in
fresh, for the latter, being thin and weak, yields to every
pressure and is easily divided, because it is pure and un-
mixed ; and by reason of this subtility of parts it penetrates
better than salt water, and so looseneth from the clothes
the sticking particles of the spot. And is not this discourse
of Aristotle very probable ?

3. Probable indeed, I replied, but not true ; for I have
observed that with ashes, gravel, or, if these are not to be
gotten, with dust itself they usually thicken the water, as
if the earthy particles being rough would scour better than
fair water, whose thinness makes it weak and ineffectual.
Therefore he is mistaken when he says the thickness of
the sea water hinders the effect, since the shai-pness of the
mixed particles very much conduces to make it cleansing ;
for that opens the pores, and draws out the stain. But
since all oily matter is most difficult to be washed out
and spots a cloth, and the sea is oily, that is the reason
why it doth not scour as well as fresh ; and that it is oily,
even Aristotle himself asserts, for salt in his opinion hath
some oil in it, and therefore makes candles, when sprinkled
on them, burn the better and clearer than before. And sea
water sprinkled on a flame increaseth it, and is more easily
kindled than any other ; and this, in my opinion, makes it

tol; III. 16

226 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

hotter than the fresh. Besides, I may urge another cause ;
for the end of washing is drying, and that seems cleanest
which is driest ; and the moisture that scours (as hellebore,
with the humors that it purges) ought to fly away quickly
together with the stain. The sun quickly draws out the
fresh water, because it is so light; but the salt water
being rough lodges in the pores, and therefore is not easily
dried.

4. And Theon replied : You say just nothing, sir ; for
Aristotle in the same book affirms that those that Avash in
the sea, if they stand in the fresh sun, are sooner dried
than those that wash in the fresh streams. It is true, I
answered, he says so ; but I hope that Homer asserting
the contrary will, by you especially, be more easily believed ;
for Ulysses (as he writes) after his shipwreck meeting
'N'ausicaa,

A frightful sight, and with the salt besmeared,

said to her maidens.

Retire a while, till I have washed my skin.

And when he had leaped into the river,

He from his head did scour the foaming sea.*

The poet knew* very well what happens in such a case ;
for when those that come wet out of the sea stand in the
sun, the subtilest and lightest parts suddenly exhale, but
the salt and rough particles stick upon the body in a crust,
till they are washed away by the fresh water of a spring.

QUESTION X,
Why at Athens the Chorus op the Tribe Aeantis was never

DETERMINED TO BE THE LaST.
PHILOPAPPUS, MARCUS, MILO, GLAUCIAS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. When we were feasting at Serapion s, who gave an
entertainment after the chorus of the tribe Leontis under

♦ See Odyss. VI. 137, 218, 226.

PLUTABCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 227

his order and direction had won the prize (for we were
citizens and free of that tribe), a very pertinent disconrse,
and proper to the then occasion, happened. It had been a
very notable trial of skill, the kkig Philopappiis being
very generous and magnificent in his rewards, and defray-
ing the expenses of all the tribes. He was at the same
feast with us, and being a very good-humored man and
eager for instruction, he would now and then freely dis-
course of ancient customs, and as freely hear.

2. Marcus the grammarian began thus : Neanthes the
Cyzicenian, in his book called the Fabulous Narrations of
the City, affirms that it was a privilege of the tribe
Aeantis that their chorus should never be determined to be
the last. It is true, he brings some stories for confirmation
of what he says ; but if he falsifies, the matter is open,
and let us all enquire after the reason of the thing. But,
says Milo, suppose it be a mere tale. It is no strange
thing, replied Philopappus, if in our disquisitions after
truth we meet now and then with such a thing as Democ-
ritus the philosopher did ; for he one day eating a cucum-
ber, and finding it of a honey taste, asked his maid where
she bouglit it ; and she telling him such a garden, he rose
from table and bade her direct him to the place. The maid
surprised asked him what he meant; and he replied, I
must search after the cause of the sweetness of the fruit,
and shall find it the sooner if I see the place. The maid
with a smile replied. Sit still, pray sir, for I unwittingly put
it into a honey barrel. And he, as it were discontented,
cried out, Shame take thee, yet I will pursue my purpose,
and seek after the cause, as if this sweetness were a taste
natural and proper to the fruit. Therefore neither will we
admit Neanthes's credulity and inadvertency in some stories
as an' excuse and a good reason for avoiding this disquisi-
tion ; for we shall exercise our thoughts by it, though no
other advantage rises from that enquiry.

228 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

3. Presently every one poured out something in com-
mendation of that tribe, mentioning every matter that
made for its credit and reputation. Marathon was brought
in as belonging to it, and Harmodius with his associates,
by birth Aphidneans, were also produced as glorious mem-
bers of that tribe. The orator Glaucias proved that tliat
tribe made up the right wing in the battle at Marathon,
from the elegies of Aeschylus, who had himself fought
valiantly in the same encounter ; and farther evinced that
Callimachus the field marshal was of that tribe, who be-
haved himself very bravely, and was the principal cause
next to Miltiades, with whose opinion he concurred, that
that battle was fought. To this discourse of Glaucias I
added, that the edict which impowered Miltiades to lead
forth the Athenians, was made when the tribe Aeantis
was chief of the assembly, and that in the battle of Plataea
the same tribe acquired the greatest glory ; and upon that
account, as the oracle directed, that tribe offered a sacri-
fice for this victory to the nymphs Sphragitides, the city
providing a victim and all other necessaries belonging to it.
But you may observe (I continued) that other tribes likewise
have their peculiar glories ; and you know that mine, the
tribe Leontids, yields to none in any point of reputation.
Besides, consider whether it is not more probable that this
was granted out of a particular respect, and to please Ajax,
from whom this tribe received its name ; for we know he
could not endure to be outdone, but was easily hurried on
to the greatest enormities by his contentious and passionate
humor ; and therefore to comply with him and afford him
some comfort in his disasters, they secured him from the
most vexing grievance that follows the misfortune of the
conquered, by ordering that his tribe should never be de-
termined to be last.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPUSIACS. 229

BOOK II.

Of the several things that are provided for an entertain-
ment, some, my Sossius Senecio, are absohitely necessary ;
such are wine, bread, meat, couches, and tables. Others
are brought in, not for necessity, but pleasure ; such are
songs, shows, mimics, and buffoons (Uke Philip who came
from the house of Callias) ; which, when present, delight
indeed, but when absent, are not eagerly desired ; nor is
the entertainment looked upon as mean because such are
wanting. Just so of discourses ; some the sober men
admit as necessary to a banquet, and others for their pretty
speculations, as more profitable and agreeable than a fiddle
and a pipe. My former book gives you examples of both
sorts. Of the first are these. Whether we should philoso-
phize at table ] — Whether the entertainer should appoint
proper seats, or leave the guests to agree upon their own ?
Of the second. Why lovers are inclined to poetry ? and
the question about the tribe Aeantis. The former I call
properly aviinotv/.d, table-talk, but both together I compre-
hend under the general name of Symposiacs. Tliey are
promiscuously set down, not in any exact method, but as
each sinijlv occurred to memory. And let not mv readers
wonder that I dedicate these collections to you, which I
have received from others or your own mouth ; for if all
learning is not bare remembrance, yet to learn and to re-
member are very commonly one and the same thing.

QUESTION L

What, as Xf.nopiion ixtimatks, are tub Most Agrekxblk Ques-
tions AND Most Plkasant Uaillkuy at an ENri:ur.\i\MENT?

SOSSIUS SEXKCIO AND rLUT.VRCII.

1. Now each hook being divided into ten questions, that
shall make the first in this, which Socratical Xenophou

230 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

hath as it were proposed; for he tells us that, Gobryas
banqueting with Cyrus, amongst other things that he found
admirable in the Persians, he was surprised to hear them
ask one another such questions that it was more delightful
to be interrogated than to be let alone, and pass such jests
on one another that it was more pleasant to be jested on
than not. For if some, even whilst they praise, offend,
why should not their polite and neat facetiousness be ad-
mired, whose very raillery is delightful and pleasant to him
that is the subject of it ] Once when you were entertaining
us at Patrae, you said : I wish I could learn what kind of
questions those are ; for to be skilled in and make right
use of apposite questions and pleasant raillery, I think is
no small part of conversation.

2. A considerable one, I replied ; but pray observe
whether Xenophon himself, in his descriptions of Socrates's
and the Persian entertainments, hath not sufficiently ex-
plained them. But if you would have my thoughts, — first,
men are pleased to be asked those questions to which they
have an answer ready ; such are those in which the persons
asked have some skill and competent knowledge ; for when
the enquiry is above their reach, those that can return no-
thing are troubled, as if requested to give something beyond
their power ; and those that do answer, producing some
crude and insufficient demonstration, must needs be very
much concerned, and apt to blunder on the wrong. Now,
if the answer not only is easy but hath something not
common, it is more pleasing to them that make it ; and
this happens, when their knowledge is greater than that of
the vulgar, as suppose they are well skilled in points of
astrology or logic. For not only in action and serious
matters, but also in discourse, every one hath a natural
disposition to be pleased (as Euripides hath it)

To seem far to outdo himself.*
* Earip. Antiope, Frag. 183.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 231

And all are delighted when men put such questions as they
understand, and would have others know that they are
acquainted with ; and therefore travellers and merchants
arc most satisfied when their company is inquisitive about
other countries, the unknown ocean, and the laws and'
manners of the barbarians ; they are ready to inform them,
and describe the countries and the creeks, imagining this
to be some recompense for then* toil, some comfort for the
dangers they have passed. In short, whatever we are wont
to discourse of though unrequested, we are desirous to be
asked ; because then we seem to gratify those whom other-
wise our prattle would disturb and force from our conver-
sation. And this is the common disease of navigators.
But more genteel and modest men love to be asked about
those things which they have bravely and successfully per-
formed, and which modesty will not permit to be spoken
by themselves before company ; and therefore Nestor did
well when, being acquainted with Ulysses's desu'e of repu-
tation, he said.

Tell, brave Ulysses, glory of the Greeks,
How you the horses seized.*

For man cannot endure the insolence of those who praise
themselves and repeat their own exploits, unless the com-
pany desires it and they are forced to a relation ; therefore
it tickles them to be asked about their embassies and ad-
ministrations of the commonwealth, if they have done any
thing notable in either. And upon this account the envi-
ous and ill-natured start very few questions of that sort ;
they thwart and hinder all such kind of motions, being
very unwilling to give any occasion or opportunity for that
discourse which shall tend to the advantage of the relator.
In short, we please those to whom we put them, when we
start questions about those matters which their enemies
hate to hear.

• II. X. 544.

232 TLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

3. Ulysses says to Alcinous,

You bid me tell what various ills I bore,*

That the sad tale might make me grieve the more.

And Oedipus says to the chorus,

'Tis pain to raise again a buried grief.t

But Euripides on the contrary,

How sweet it is, when we are lulled in ease,
To think of toils ! — when well, of a disease ! f

True indeed, but not to those that are still tossed, still under
a misfortune. Therefore be sure never to ask a man about
his own calamities ; it is irksome to relate his losses of
children or estate, or any unprosperous adventure by sea or
land ; but ask a man how he carried the cause, how he was
caressed by the King, how he escaped such a storm, such
an assault, thieves, and the like ; this please th him, he
seems to enjoy it over again in his relation, and is never
weary of the topic. Besides, men love to be asked about
their happy friends, or children that have made good prog-
ress in philosophy or the law, or are great at court ; as
also about the disgrace and open conviction of their ene-
mies ; for of such matters they are most eager to discourse,
yet are cautious of beginning it themselves, lest they should
seem to insult over and rejoice at the misery of others.
You please a hunter if you ask him about dogs, a wrestler
about exercise, and an amorous man about beauties ; the
ceremonious and superstitious man discourses about dreams,
and what success he hath had by following the directions
of omens or sacrifices, and by the kindness of the Gods ;
and questions concerning those things will extremely
please him. He that enquires any thing of an old man,
though the story doth not at all concern him, wins his
heart, and urges one that is very willing to discourse :

* Odyss. IX. 12. t Soph. Oed. Colon. 510.

X Eurip. Andromeda, Frae. 131.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 2»33

Nelides I^estor, faithfully relate
How great Atrides died, what sort of fate;
And where was Mcnelaus largely tell ?
])id Argos hold him when the hero fell ?*

Here is a multitude of questions and variety of subjects ;
which is much better than to confine and cramp his an-
swers, and so deprive the old man of the most pleasant
enjoyment he can have. In short, they that had rather
please than distaste will still propose such questions, the
answers to which shall rather get the praise and good-will
than tlie contempt and hatred of the hearers. And so
much of questions.

4. As for raillery, those that cannot use it cautiously
with art, and time it well, should never venture at it. For
as in a slippery place, if you but just touch a man as
you pass by, you throw him down ; so when we are in
di'ink, we are in danger of tripping at every little word
that is not spoken with due address. And we are some-
times more offended with a joke than a plain and scurril-
ous abuse ; for we see the latter often slip from a man
unwittingly in passion, but consider the former as a thing
voluntary, proceeding from malice and ill-nature ; and
therefore we are generally more offended at a sharp jecrer
than a whistling snarler. Such a jeer has indeed some-
thing artfully malicious about it, and often seems to be an
insult devised and thought of beforehand. For instance,
he that calls thee salt-fish monger plainly and openly abus-
eth ; but he that says, I remember when you wi[)ed your
nose upon your sleeve, maliciously jeers. Such was Cicero's
to Octavius, who was thought to be descended from an
African ; for when Cicero spoke something, and Octavius
said he did not hear him, Cicero rejoined. Strange, for you
have a hole through your car. And Melanthius, when he
was ridiculed by a comedian, said. You pay me now some-
thing that you do not owe me. And upon this account

• OdjM. UI. 247.

234: PLUTARCH'S SYMrOSIACS.

jeers vex more ; for like bearded arrows they stick a long
while, and gall the wounded sufferer. Their smartness is
pleasant, and delights the company ; and those that are
pleased with the saying seem to believe the detracting
speaker. For, according to Theophrastus, a jeer is a figura-
tive reproach for some fault or misdemeanor ; and there-
fore he that hears it supplies the concealed part, as if he
knew and gave credit to the thing. For he that laughs
and is tickled at what Theocritus said to one whom he
suspected of a design upon his purse, and who asked him
if he went to supper at such a place, — Yes, he replied, I
go, but shall likewise lodge there all night, — doth, as it
were confirm the accusation, and believe the fellow was a
thief. Therefore an impertinent jeerer makes the whole
company seem ill-natured and abusive, as being pleased
with and consenting to the scurrility of the jeer. It was
one of the excellent rules in Sparta, that none should be
bitter in tlieir jests, and the jeered should patiently en-
dure ; but if he took offence, the other was to forbear, and
pursue the frolic no fartlier. How is it possible therefore
to determine such raillery as shall delight and please the
person that is jested on, when to be smart without offence
is no mean piece of cunning and address ?

5. First then, such as will vex and gall the conscious
must please those that are clean, innocent, and not sus-
pected of the matter. Such a joke is Xenophon's, when
he pleasantly brings in a very ugly ill-looking fellow, and is
smart upon him. for being Sambaulas's minion. Such was
that of Aufidius Modestus, who, when our friend Quintius
in an ague complained his hands were cold, replied, Sir,
you brought them warm from your province ; for this made
Quintius laugh, and extremely pleased him ; yet it had
been a reproach and abuse to a covetous and oppressing
governor. Thus Socrates, pretending to compare faces
with the beauteous Critobulus, rallied only, and not abused.

i

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 235

And Alcibiades again was smart on Socrates, as his rival
in Agatho's affection. Kings are pleased when jests are
put upon them as if they were private and poor men.
Such was the flatterer's to Philip, who chid.ed him : Sir, don't
I keep you ? For those that mention faults of which the
persons are not really guilty intimate those virtues with
which they are really adorned. But then it is requisite
that those virtues should be evident and certainly belong
to them ; otherwise the discourse will breed disturbance
and suspicion. He that tells a very rich man that he will
procure him a sum of money, — a temperate sober man,
and one that drinks water only, that he is foxed, or hath
taken a cup too much, — a hospitable, generous, good-
humored man, that he is a niggard and pinch-penny, — or
threatens an excellent lawyer to meet him at the bar, —
must make the persons smile and please the company.
Thus CyiTis was very obliging and complaisant, when he
challenged his play-fellows at those sports in which he
was sure to be overcome. And Ismcnias piping at a sac-
rifice, when no good omens appeared, the man that hired
him snatched the pipe, and played very ridiculously himself;
and when all found fault, he said : To play satisfactorily
is the gift of Heaven. And Ismenias with a smile replied:
Whilst I played, the Gods were so well pleased that they
were careless of the sacrifice ; but to be lid of thy noise
they presently received it.

6. But more, those that jocosely put scandalous names
upon things commendable, if it be opportunely done, please *
more than he that plainly and openly commends ; for those
that coyer a reproach under fair and respectful words (as
he that calls an unjust man Aristides, a coward Achilles)
gall more than those that openly abuse. Such is that of
Oedipus, in Sophocles,

The faithful Crcon, mj mo«t constant fWtncL*
• Soph. Oed. Tyr. 886.

236 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

The familiar irony in commendations answers to this on
the other side. Such Socrates used, when he called the
kind endeavor and industry of Antisthenes to make men
friends pimping, .hawds-craft, and allurement ; and others
that called Crates the philosopher, who wherever he went
was caressed and honored, the door-opener.

7. Again, a complaint that implies thankfulness for a
received favor is pleasant raillery. Thus Diogenes of his
master Antisthenes :

That man that made me leave my precious ore,
Clotlied me with rags, and forceJ me to be poor ;
That man that made me wander, leg my bread,
And scorn to have a house to hide my head.

For it had not been half so pleasant to have said, that
man that made me wise, content, and happy. And thus a
Spartan, making as if he would find fault with the master
of the exercises for giving him wood that would not
smoke, said, He will not permit us even to shed a tear.
So he that calls a hospitable man, and one that treats
often, a kidnapper, and a tyrant who for a long time would
not permit him to see his own table ; and he whom the
King hath raised and enriched, that says he had a design
upon him and robbed him of his sleep and quiet. So if
he that hath an excellent vintage should complain of Aes-
chylus's Cabeiri for making him Avant vinegar, as they had
jocosely threatened. For such as these have a pungent
pleasantness, so that the praised are not offended nor take
• it ill.

8. Besides, he that Avould be civilly facetious must know
the difference between a vice and a commendable study or
recreation ; for instance, between the love of money or
contention and of music or hunting ; for men are grieved
if twitted with the former, but take it very well if they are
laughed at for the latter. Thus Demosthenes the Mityle-
naean was pleasant enough when, knocking at a man's door

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 237

that was much given to singing and playing on the harp,
and being bid come in, he said, I Avill, if you will tie up
your harp. But the flatterer of Lysimachus was ofFen
sive ; for being frighted at a wooden scorpion that the king
threw into his lap, and leaping out of his seat, he said
after he knew the humor, And Til fright your majesty too ;
give me a talent.

9. In several things about the body too the like caution
is to be observed. Thus he that is jested on for a fiat or
hooked nose usually laughs at the jest. Thus Cassan-
der's friend was not at all displeased when Thco})hrastus
said to him, 'Tis strange, sir, that your eyes don't sing,
since your nose is so near to give them the tune ; and
Cyrus commanded a long hawk-nosed fellow to marry a
flat-nosed girl, for then they would very well agree. But
a jest on any for his stinking breath or filthy nose is irk-
some ; for baldness it may be borne, but for blindness or
infirmity in the eyes it is intolerable. It is true, Antigonus
would joke upon himself, and once, receiving a petition
written in great letters, he said, This a man may read if
he were stark blind. But he killed Theocritus the Chiaa
for saying, -^ when one told him that as soon as he ap-
peared before the Kings eyes he would be pardoned, —
Sir, then it is impossible for me to be saved. And the
Byzantine to Pasiades saying. Sir, your eyes are weak,
replied, You upbraid me with this infirmity, not consider-
ing that thy son carries the vengeance of Heaven on his
back: now Pasiade^'s son was hunch-backed. And Ar-
chippus the popular Athenian was much displeased with
Melanthius for being smart on his crooked back ; for
Melanthius had said that he did not stand at the head of
the state (Ttooetnurui) but bowed down before it (^rooxexvqp/roi).
It is true, some are not much concerned at such jeers.
Thus Antigonus's friend, when he had begged a talent and
was denied, desued a guard, lest somebody should rob him

238 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

of that talent he was now to carry home. Different tem-
pers make men differently affected, and that which troubles
one is not regarded by another. Epaminondas feasting
with his fellow-magistrates drank vinegar ; and some ask-
ing if it was good for his health, he replied, I cannot tell
that, but I know it makes me remember what I drink at
home. Therefore it becomes every man that would rally,
to look into the humors of his company, and take heed to
converse without offence.

10. Love, as in most things else, so in this matter causes
different effects ; for some lovers are pleased and some dis-
pleased at a merry jest. Therefore in this case a fit time
must be accurately observed ; for as a blast of wind puffs
out a fire whilst it is w^eak and little, but when thoroughly
kindled strengthens and increaseth it ; so love, before it is
evident and confessed, is displeased at a discoverer, but
when it breaks forth and blazes in everybody's eyes, then
it is delighted and gathers strength by the frequent blasts
of joke and raillery. When their beloved is present it will
gratify them most to pass a jest upon their passion, but to
fall on any other subject will be counted an abuse. If
they are remarkably loving to their own wives, or entertain
a generous affection for a hopeful youth, then are they
proud, then tickled when jeered for such a love. And
therefore Arcesilaus, when an amorous man in his school
laid down this proposition, In my opinion one thing can-
not touch another, replied. Sir, you touch this person,
pointing to a lovely boy that sat near him.

11. Besides, the company must be considered; for what
a man Avill only laugh at when mentioned amongst his
friends and familiar acquaintance, he will not endure to be
told of before his wife, father, or tutor, unless perhaps it
be something that will please those too ; as for instance,
if before a philosopher one should jeer a man for going
barefoot or studying all night; or before his father, for

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 239

carefulness and thrift ; or in the presence of his wife, for
being cold to his companions and doating upon her. Thus
Tigranes, when Cyrus asked him, What will your wife say
when she hears that you are put to servile offices ] replied,
Sir, she will not hear it, but be present herself and see it.

1*2. Again, those jokes are accounted less affronting
which reHect somewhat also on the man that makes them ;
as when one poor man, base-born fellow, or lover jokes
upon another. For whatever comes from one in the same
circumstances looks more like a piece of mirth tlian a
designed affront ; but otherwise it must needs be irksome
and distasteful. Upon thi?. account, when a slave whom
the King had lately freed and enriched behaved himself
very impertinently in the company of some philosophers,
asking them, how it came to pass that the broth of beans,
whether white or black, was always green, Aridices put-
ting another question, why, let the whips be white or not,
the wales and marks they made were still red, displeased
him extremely, and made him rise from the table in a
great rage and discontent. But Amphias the Tarsian, who
was supposed to be sprung from a gardener, joking upon
the governor's friend for his obscure and mean birth, and
presently subjoining, But 'tis true, T sprung from the same
seed, caused much mirth and laughter. And the harper
very facetiously put a check to Philip's ignorance and im-
pertinence ; for when Philip pretended to correct him, he
cried out, God forbid, sir, that ever you should be brought
so low as to understand these things better than I. For
by this seeming joke he instructed him without giving any
offence. Therefore some of the comedians seem to lay
aside their bitterness in every jest that may reflect upon
themselves ; as Aristophanes, when he is merry upon a
bald-pate ; and Cratiuus in his play Pytine upon drunken-
ness and excess.

13. Besides, you must be very careful that the jest

240 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

should seem to be extempore, taken from some present
question or merry humor; not far fetched, as if premedi-
tate and designed. For as men are not much concerned
at the anger and debates among themselves at table while
they are in the midst of their cups, but if any stranger
should come in and offer abuse to any of the guests, they
would hate and look upon him as an enemy ; so they will
easily pardon and indulge a jest if undesignedly taken
from any present circumstance ; but if it is nothing to the
matter in hand but fetched from another thing, it must
look like a design and be resented as an affront. Such
was that of Timagenes to the husband of a woman that
often vomited, — " Thou beginnest thy troubles when thou
bringest home this vomiting woman,"* — saying ri^rd' tf^ovaav
(this vomitlnr/ looman), when the poet had written n^vda
Movaav (this Muse) ; and also his question to Athenodorus
the philosopher, — Is the affection to our children natural"?
For when the raillery is not founded on some present cir-
cumstance, it is an argument of ill-nature and a mischiev-
ous temper; and such as delight in jests like these do
often for a mere word, the lightest thing in the world (as
Plato says), suffer the heaviest punishment. But those
that know how to time and apply a jest confirm Plato's
opinion, that to rally pleasantly and facetiously is the busi-
ness of a scholar and a wit.

QUESTiojsr n.

Why in Autumn Men have better Stomachs than in other
Seasons op the Yeah.

glaucias, xexocles, lamprias, plutarch, and others.
In Eleusis, after the solemn celebration of the sacred
mysteries, Glaucias the orator entertained us at a feast;

* The wboie line, from some unknown tragic poet, is Ka/fcDv yilp upxeic r^^e
l/Lovaav elauycjv. See Athenaeus, XIV. p. 616 C. (G.)

FLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 241

where, after the rest had done, Xenocles of Delphi, as his
humor is, began to be smart upon my brother Lamprias for
his good Boeotian stomach. I in his defence opposing
Xenocles, who was an Epicurean, said, Pray, sir, do not all
place the very essence of pleasure in privation of pain and
suffering 1 But Lamprias, who prefers the Lyceum before
the Garden, ought by his practice to confirm Aristotle's
doctrine ; for he affirms that every man hath a better
stomach in the autumn than in other seasons of the year,
and gives the reason, which I cannot remember at present.
So much the better (says Glaucias), for when supper is
done, we will endeavor to discover it ourselves. That be-
ing over, Glaucias and Xenocles drew various reasons from
the autumnal fruit. One said, that it scoured the body,
and by this evacuation continually raised new appetites.
Xenocles affirmed, that ripe fruit had usually a pleasing
velli eating sapor, and thereby provoked the appetite better
than sauces or sweetmeats ; for sick men of a vitiated
stomach usually recover it by eating fruit. But Lamprias
said, that our natural heat, the principal instrument of nu-
trition, in the midst of summer is scattered and becomes
rare and weak, but in autumn it unites again and gathers
strength, being shut in by the ambient cold and contraction
of the pores. I for my part said : In summer we are more
thirsty and use more moisture than in other seasons ; and
therefore Nature, observing the same method in all her
operations, at this change of seasons employs the contrary
and makes us hungry ; and to maintain an equal temper in
the body, she gives us dry food to countervail the moisture
taken in the summer. Yet none can deny but that the
food itself is a partial cause; for not only new fruit, bread,
or com, but flesh of the same year, is better tasted than that
of the former, more forcibly provokes the guests, and en-
ticcth them to eat on.

TOL. III. 16

242 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS H

QUESTION III

Which was First, the Bird or the Egg?

plutarch, alexander, sylla, firmus, sossius senecio, and others.

1. When upon a dream I had forborne eggs a long time,
on purpose that in an egg (as in a Carian*) I might make
experiment of a notable vision that often troubled me ;
some at Sossius Senecio's table suspected that I was tainted
with Orpheus's or Pythagoras's opinions, and refused to eat
an egg (as some do the heart and brain) imagining it to be
the principle of generation. And Alexander the Epi-
curean ridiculingly repeated, —

To feed on beans and parents* heads
Is equal sin ;

as if the Pythagoreans covertly meant eggs by the word
nvafioi (heans)^ deriving it from avco or xWco (to conceive), and
thought it as unlawful to feed on eggs as on the animals
that lay them. Now to pretend a dream for the cause of
my abstaining, to an Epicurean, had been a defence more
irrational than the cause itself; and therefore I suffered
jocose Alexander to enjoy his opinion, for he was a pleas-
ant man and excellently learned.

2. Soon after he proposed that perplexed question, that
plague of the inquisitive. Which was first, the bird or the
eggi And my friend Sylla, saying that with this little
question, as with an engine, we shook the great and
weighty question (whether the w^orld had a beginning),
declared his dislike of such problems. But Alexander de-
riding the question as slight and impertinent, my relation
Firmus said : Well, sir, at present your atoms will do me
some service ; for if we suppose that small things must be
the principles of greater, it is likely that the egg was be-
fore the bird ; for an egg amongst sensible things is very
simple, and the bird is more mixed, and contains a greater

♦ Referring to the saying h Kapl KivSweveiv, expermentum Jhcere in corpore vilL ( G.)

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 243

variety of parts. It is universally true, that a principle is
before that whose principle it is ; now the seed is a prin-
ciple, and the e<^g is somewhat more than the seed, and less
than the bird ; for as a disposition or a progress in good-
ness is something between a tractable mind and a habit of
virtue, so an egg is as it were a progress of Nature tendiug
from the seed to a perfect animal. And as in an animal they
say the veins and arteries are formed first, upon the same
account the egg should be before the bird, as the thing
containing before the thing contained. Thus art first
makes rude and ill-shapcn figures, and afterwards perfects
every thing with its proper farm ; and it was for this
reason that the statuary Polycletus said. Then our work is
most difficult, when the clay comes to be fashioned by the
nail. So it is probable that matter, not readily obeying the
slow motions of contriving Nature, at first frames rude and
indefinite masses, as the egg^ and of these moulded anew,
and joined in better order, the animal afterward is formed.
As the canker is first, and then growing dry and cleaving
lets forth a winged animal, called psyche ; so the egg is
first as it were the subject matter of the generation. For
it is certain that, in every change, that out of which the
thing changes must be before the thing changing. Ob-
serve how worms and caterpillars arc bred in trees from
the moisture corrupted or concocted; now none can say
but that the engendering moisture is naturally before all
these. For (as Plato says) matter is as a mother or nurse
in respect of thc^ bodies that are formed, and we call that
matter out of which any thing that is is made. And with
a smile continued he, I speak to those that are acquainted
with the mystical and sacred discourse of Orplicus, who
not only affirms the egg to be before the bird, but makes it
the first being in the whole world. The other parts, be-
cause deep mysteries (as Herodotus would say), we shall
now pass by ; but let us look upon the various kinds of

^44 PLUTAIlCirS SY-MPOSIACS;

Animals, and we shall find almost every one beginning
from an egg, — fowls and fishes ; land animals, as lizards ;
amphibious, as crocodiles ; some with two legs, as a
cock ; some without any, as a snake ; and some with
many, as a locust. And therefore in the solemn feast of
Bacchus it is very well done to dedicate an egg, as the
emblem of that which begets and contains every thing
in itself.

* 3. To this discourse of Firmus, Senecio replied: Sir,
your last similitude contradicts your first, and you have un-
wittingly opened the world (instead of the door, as the
saying is) against yourself. For the world was before all,
being the most perfect ; and it is rational that the perfect
in Nature should be before the imperfect, as the sound be-
fore the maimed, and the whole before the part. For it is
absurd that there should be a part when there is nothing
whose part it is ; and therefore nobody says the seed's
man or egg's hen, but the man's seed and lien's egg ; be-
cause those being after these and formed in them, pay as it
were a debt to Nature, by bringing forth another. For
they are not in themselves perfect, and therefore have a
natural appetite to produce such a thing as that out of
which they were first formed ; and therefore seed is de-
lined as a thing produced that is to be perfected by another
production. Now nothing can be perfected by or want
that which as yet is not. Everybody sees that eggs have
the nature of a concretion or consistence in some animal or
other, but want those organs, veins, and muscles which ani-
mals enjoy. Therefore no story delivers that ever any egg
was formed immediately from earth ; and the poets them-
selves tell us, that the egg out of which came the Tyndaridae
fell down from heaven. But even till this time the earth
produceth some perfect and organized animals, as mice in
Egypt, and snakes, frogs, and grasshoppers almost every-
where, some external and invigorating principle assisting

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. ^ 245

in the production. And in Sicily, where in the servile war
much blood was shed, and many carcasses rotted on the
ground, whole swarms of locusts were produced, and
spoiled the corn over the whole isle. Such spring from
and are nourished by the earth ; and seed being formed in
them, pleasure and titillation provoke them to mix, upon
which some lay eggs, and some bring forth their young
alive ; and this evidently proves that animals first sprang
from earth, and afterwards by copulation, after different
ways, propagated their several kinds. In short, it is th6
same thing as if you said the womb was before the woman ;
for as the womb is to the egg, the egg is to the chick that
is formed in it ; so that he that inquires how birds should
be when there were no eggs, might ask as well how men.
and women could be before any organs of generation were
formed. Parts generally have their subsistence together
with the whole ; particular powers follow particular mem-
bers, and operations follow those powers, and effects those
operations. Now the effect of the generative power is the
seed and ego: : so that these must be after the formation of
the whole. Therefore consider, as there can be no diges-
tion of food before the animal is formed, so there can be
no seed nor egg ; for those, it is likely, are made by some
digestion nnd alterations ; nor can it he that, before the
animal is, the superfluous parts of the food of tiie animal
should have a being. Besides, though seed may perhaps
pretend to be a principle, the egg cannot ; for it doth not
subsist first, nor hath it the nature of a whole, for it is im-
perfect. Therefore we do not affirm that the animal is
produced without a principle of its beiug ; but we call the
principle that power which changes, mixes, and tempers
the matter, so that a living creature is regularly produced ;
but the egg is an after-production, as the blood or milk of
an animal after the takiug in and digestion of the food.
For we never see an egg formed immediately of mud, for

246 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS

it is pl'oduced in the bodies of animals alone ; but a thou-
sand livins: creatures rise from the mud. What need of
many instances "? None ever found the spawn or egg of
an eel ; yet if you empty a pit and take out all the mud,
as soon as other water settles in it, eels likewise are pres-
ently produced. Now that must exist first which hath no
need of any other thing that it may exist, and that after,
which cannot be without the concurrence of another thing.
And of this priority is our present discourse. Besides,
birds build nests before they lay their eggs ; and women
provide cradles, swaddling-clothes, and the like ; yet who
says that the nest is before the egg, or the swaddling-
clothes before the infant 1 For the earth (as Plato says)
doth not imitate a woman, but a woman, and so likewise
all other females, the earth. Moreover it is probable that
the first production out of the earth, which was then vig-
orous and perfect, was self-sufficient and entire, nor stood
in need of those secundines, membranes, and vessels, which
now Nature forms to help the weakness and supply the
defects of breeders.

QUESTION IV.
Whether or no Wrestling is the Oldest Exercise.

SOSICLES, LYSIMACIIUS, rLUTARClI, nilLINUS.

SosicLES of Coronea having at the Pythian games won
the prize from all the poets, we gave him an entertain-
ment. And the time for running, cuffing, wrestling, and
the like drawing on, there was a great talk of the wrest-
lers ; for there were many and very famous men, who came
to try their skill. Lysimachus, one of the company, a
procurator of the Amphictyons, said he heard a gram-
marian lately affirm that wrestling was the most ancient
exercise of all, as even the very name witnessed ; for
some modern things have the names of more ancient

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 247

transferred to them ; thus tuning a pipe is called fitting
it, and playing on it is called striking ; both these being
transferred to it from the harp. Thus all places of exer-
cise they call wrestling schools, wrestling being the oldest
exercise, and therefore denominating the newer sorts.
That, said I, is no good argument, for these palaestras or
wrestluig schools are called so from wrestling (mUjj), not
because it is the most ancient exercise, but because it is
the only sort in which they use clay (m;^.os,), dust, and oil ;
for in these there is neither racing nor cuffing, but wrest-
ling only, and that part of the pancratium in which they
struggle on the ground, — for the pancratium comprises
both wrestling and cuffing. Besides, it is unlikely that
wrestling, being more artificial and methodical than any
other sort of exercise, should likewise be the most ancient;
for mere want or necessity, putting us upon new inven-
tions, produces simple and inartificial things first, and such
as have more of force in them than sleight and skill. This
ended, Sosicles said : You speak right, and I will confirm
your discourse from the very name ; for, in my opinion,
7tu)j;, wrestling, is derived from naUvnv^ i. e. to throw down
by sleight and artifice. And Philinus said, it seems to me
to be derived from mdataz/iy the palm of the hand, for
wrestlers use that part most, as cufFers do the my/i;;, fist ;
and hence both these sorts of exercises have their proper
names, the one ^«^, the other irvj'/<ij. Besides, since the
poets use the word naXvvav for ^icKutuaaziv and aviutdaaur^ to
sprinkle, and this action is most frequent amongst wres-
tlers, this exercise ndhi may receive its name from that
word. But more, consider that racers strive to be distant i
from one another ; cuffcrs, by the judges of the field, are
not permitted to take hold ; and none but wrestlers come
up close breast to breast, and clasp one another round the
waist, and most of their turnings, liftings, lockings, bring
tliem very close. It is probable therefore that this exer-

248 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS;

cise is called Ttdlrj from nhiaia^^uv or Ttikag yiyveadai, to come up
close or to be near together.

QUESTION' K

"Why, in reckoning up different kinds op Exercises, Homer
PUTS Cuffing first, Wrestling next, and Racing last.

LYSIMACHUS, CRATES, TIMON, PLUTARCH.

1. This discourse being ended, and Philinus hummed,
Lysimachus began again. What sort of exercise then shall
we imagine to be first 1 Eacing, as at the Olympian
games 1 For here in the Pythian, as every exercise comes
on, all the contenders are brought in, the boy Avrestlers
first, then the men, and the same method is observed when
the cufi'ers and fencers are to exercise ; but there the boys
perform all first, and then the men. But, says Timon
interposing, pray consider whether Homer hath not deter-
mined this matter ; for in his poems cuffing is always put
in the first place, wrestling next, and racing last. At this
Menecrates the Thessalian surprised cried out. Good God,
what things we skip over! But, xoray sir, if you remem-
ber any of his verses to that purpose, do us the favor to
repeat them. And Timon replied : That the funeral
solemnities of Patroclus had this order I think every one
hath heard ; but the poet, all along observing the same
order, brings in Achilles speaking to Nestor thus :

With this reward I Nestor freely grace.
Unfit for cuffing, wrestling, or the race.

And in his answer he makes the old man impertinently
brag :

I cuffing conquered Oinop's famous son,
With Anceus wrestled, and the garland won,
And outran Iphiclus.*

And again he brings in Ulysses challenging the Phae-
acians

♦ II. XXIII. 620 and 634.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 249

To cuff, to wrestle, or to run tlie race ;

and Alcinous answers :

Neither in cuffing nor in wrestling strong,
Bui swift of foot are we.*

So that he doth not carelessly confound the order, and, ac-
cording to the occasion, now place one sort first and now
another ; but he follows the then custom and practice, and
is constant in the same. And this was so as louix as the
ancient order was observed.

2. To this discourse of my brother's I subjoined, that I
liked what he said, but could not see the reason of this
order. And some of the company, thinking it unlikely
that cuffing or wrestling should be a more ancient exer-
cise than racing, desired me to search farther into the
matter ; and thus I spake upon the sudden. All these
exercises seem to me to be representations of feats of
arms and training therein ; for after all, a man armed at
all points is brought in to show tliat that is the end at
which all these exercises and trainings aim. And the privi-
lege granted to the conquerors — as they rode into the
city, to throw down some part of the wall — hath this
meaning, that walls are but a small advantage to that
city which hath men able to fight and overcome. In
Sparta those that were victors in any of the crowned
games had an honorable place in the army, and were to
fight near the King s person. Of all creatures a horse
only can have a part in these games and win the crown,
for that alone is designed by nature to be trained to war,
and to prove assisting in a battle. If these things seem
probable, let us consider farther, that it is the first work
of a fighter to strike his enemy and ward the other's
blows ; the second, when they come up close and lay hold
of one another, to tnp and overturn him ; and in this, they
say, our counti-ymen being better wrestlers very much dis-

• Od)rgi. VIII. 20G and 210.

250 PLUTAKCH'S SYMPOSIACS

tressed the Spartans at the battle of Lcuctra. Aeschylus
describes a warrior thus,

One stout, and skilled to wrestle in his arms ;

and Sophocles somewhere says of the Trojans,

Tliey rid the horse, they could the bow command.
And wrestle with a rattling shield in hand.

But it is the third and last, either when conquered to fly,
or when conquerors to pursue. And therefore it is likely
that cuffing is set first, wrestling next, and racing last ;
for tlie first bears the resemblance of charging or warding
the blows ; the second, of close fighting and repelling ; and
the third, of fl}ing a victorious, or pursuing a routed
enemy.

QUESTION VI

Why Fir-trees, Pine-trees, and the like will not be Grafted

uroN.

SOCLARUS, crato, nilLO.

1. SocLARUs entertaining us in his gardens, round which
the river Cephissus runs, showed us several trees strangely
varied by the different grafts upon their stocks. We
saw an olive upon a mastic, a pomegranate upon a
myrtle, pear grafts on an oak, apple upon a plane, a mul-
berry on a fig, and a great many such like, which were
grown strong enough to bear. Some joked on Soclarus
as nourishing stranger kinds of things than the poets'
Sphinxes or Chimaeras ; but Crato set us to enquire why
those stocks only that are of an oily nature will not admit
such mixtures, for we never see a pine, fir, or cypress bear
a graft of another kind.
• 2. And Pliilo subjoined : There is, Crato, a reason for
this amongst the philosophers, which the gardeners con-
firm and strengthen. For they say, oil is very hurtful to
all plants, and any plant dipped in it, like a bee, will soon

PLUT ARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 251

die. Now these trees are of a fat and oily nature, inso-
much that they weep pitch and rosin ; and, if you cut them
gore (as it were) appears presently in the wound. Besides,
a torch made of them sends forth an oily smoke, and the
brightness of the flame shows it to be fat ; and upon this
account these trees are as great enemies to all other
kinds of grafts as oil itself. To this Crato added, tliat
the bark was a partial cause ; for that, being rare and dry,
could not afford either convenient room or sufficient nour-
ishment to the grafts ; but when the bark is moist, it
quickly joins wdth those grafts that are let into the body
of the tree.

3. Then Soclarus added : This too ought to be consid-
ered, that that which receives a graft of another kind ought
to be easy to be changed, that the graft may prevail, and
make the sap in the stock fit and natural to itself. Thus
we break up the ground and soften it, that being thus
broken it may more easily be wrought upon, and applied
to what we plant in it ; for things that are hard and rij^id
cannot be so quickly wrought upon nor so easily changed.
Now those trees, being of very light wood, do not mix
well with the grafts, because they are very hard either to
be changed or overcome. But more, it is manifest that the
stock which receives the graft should be instead of a soil
to it, and a soil should have a breeding faculty ; and there-
fore we choose the most fruitful stocks to graft on, as
women that are full of milk, when we would put out a
child to nurse. But everybody knows that the fir, cypress,
and the like arc no great bearers. For as men very fat
have few children (for, the whole nourishment being em-
ployed in the body, there remains no overplus to make
seed), so these trees, spending all their sap in their
own stock, flourish indeed and grow great ; but as for
fruit, some bear none at all, some very little, and that too
slowly ripens ; therefore it is no wonder that they will

252 PLIITAIICH'S SYMPOSIACS.

not nourish another's fruit, when they are so very sparing
to their own.

QUESTION VIL

About the Fish called Remora or Eciieneis.
ciiaeiiemonianus, rlutallcii, and otueks.

1. CiiAEREMONiANUS the Trallian, Avhcn we were at a very
noble fish dinner, pointing to a little, long, sharp-headed
fish, said the echeneis (ship-stopper) was like that, for he
had often seen it as he sailed in the Sicilian sea, and
wondered at its strange force ; for it stopped the ship* when
under full sail, till one of the seamen perceived it sticking
to the outside of the ship, and took it off. Some laughed
at Chaeremonianus for believing such an incredible and
unUkely story. Others on this occasion talked very much
of antipatliies, and produced a thousand instances of such
strange effects ; for example, the sight of a ram quiets an
enraged elephant ; a viper lies stock-still, if touched witli a
beechen leaf; a wild bull grows tame, if bound with the
twigs of a fig-tree ; amber draws all light things to it, ex-
cept basil and such as are dipped in oil ; and a loadstone
will not draw a piece of iron that is rubbed with garlic. Now
all these, as to matter of fact, are very evident ; but it is
hard, if not altogether impossible, to find the cause.

2. Then said I : This is a mere shift and avoiding of
the question, rather than a declaration of the cause ; but
if we please to consider, we shall find a great many acci-
dents that are only consequents of the effect to be un-
justly esteemed the causes of it; as for instance, if we
should fancy that by the blossoming of the chaste-tree
the fruit of the vine is ripened ; because this is a common
saying.

The chaste-tree blossoms, anil the grapes gro\v ripe ;

or that the little protuberances in the candle-snuff thicken
the air and make it cloudy ; or the hookedness of the nails

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 253

is the cause and not an accident consequential to an inter-
nal ulcer. Therefore as those tilings mentioned are but
consequents to the effect, though proceeding from one and
the same cause, so one and the same cause stops the ship,
and joins the echeneis to it ; for the ship continuing dry,
not yet made heavy by the moisture soaking into the wood,
it is probable that it glides lightly, and as long as it is
clean, easily cuts the waves ; but when it is thoroughly
soaked, when weeds, ooze, and filth stick upon its sides,
the stroke of the ship is more obtuse and weak ; and the
water, coming upon this clammy matter, doth not so easily
part from it ; and this is the reason why they usually scrape
the sides of their ships. Now it is likely that the echeneis
in this case, sticking upon the clammy matter, is not thought
an accidental consequent to this cause, but the very cause
itself.

QUESTION- nil

Why tiiet sat those Horses called XvAoand^Eg are vert Met-
tlesome.

rlutarcii, his father, and others.
Some say the horses called IvAocnadsg received tliat name
from the fashion of their bridles (called Imm)^ that had
prickles like the teeth on the wolf's jaw ; for being fiery and
hard-mouthed, the riders used such to tame them. But my
father, who seldom speaks but on good reason, and breeds
excellent horses, said, those that were set upon by wolves
when colts, if they escaped, grew swift and mettlesome,
and were called Xvxocnudi^, Many agreeing to what he said,
it began to be enquired why such an accident as that should
make them more mettlesome and fierce ; and many of the
company thought that, from such an assault, fear and not
courage was produced ; and that thence growing fearful
and apt to start at every thing, their motions became more

254 PLUTABCirS symposiacs.

quick and vigorous, as they are in wild beasts when en-
tangled in a net. But, said I, it ought to be considered
whether the contrary be not more probable ; for the colts
do not become more swift by escaping the assault of a wild
beast, but they had never escaped unless they had been
swift and mettlesome before. As Ulysses was not made
wise by escaping from the Cyclops, but he escaped by
being wise before.

QUESTION IX.
"Why the Flesh op Sheep bittex by Wolves is sweeter than

THAT OF others, AND TPIE WoOL MORE APT TO BREED LiCE.
PATROCIJAS, THE SAME.

After the former discourse, mention was made of those
sheep that wolves have bitten ; for it is commonly said of
them, that their flesh is very sweet, and their wool breeds
lice. Our relation Patroclias seemed to be pretty happy
in his reasoning upon the first part, saying, that the beast
by biting it did mollify the flesh ; for wolves' spirits are so
hot and flery, that they soften and digest the hardest
bones ; and for the same reason things bitten by wolves
rot sooner than others. But concerning the wool we could
not agree, being not fully resolved whether it breeds those
lice, or only opens a passage for them, separating the flesh
by its fretting roughness or proper warmth ; and it seemed
that this power proceeded from the bite of the wolf, which
alters even the very hair of the creature that it kills. And
this some particular instances seem to confirm ; for w^e
know some huntsmen and cooks will kill a beast with one
stroke, so that it never breathes after, whilst others repeat
their blows, and scarce do it with a great deal of trouble.
But (what is more strange) some, as they kill it, infuse
such a quality that the flesh rots presently and cannot be
kept sweet above a day; yet others that despatch it as

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSTACS. 255

soon find no such alteration, but the flesh will keep sweet
a long while. And that by the manner of killing a great
alteration is made even in the skins, nails, and hair of a
beast. Homer seems to witness, when, speaking of a good
hide, he says,

An ox's liiJe that fell by violent blows ; *

for those that fell not by a disease or old age, but by a
violent death, leave us tough and strong hides ; but when
they are bitten by wild beasts, their hoofs grow black, their
hair falls, their skins putrefy and are good for nothing.

QUESTION X
"WiiETHEii THE Ancients, who piiovided evert one nig Mess,

DID BETTER THAN AVE, WHO SET MANY TO THE SAME DlSlI.
PLUTARCH, IIAGIAS.

1. When I was chief magistrate, most of the suppers
consisted of distinct messes, where every particular guest
had his portion of the sacrifice allowed him. Some were
wonderfully well pleased with this order ; others blamed it
as unsociable and ungenteel, and were of the opinion that,
as soon as I was out of my office, the manner of entertain-
ments ought to be reformed; for, says Ilagias, we invite
one another not barely to eat and drink, but to cat and
drink together. Now this division into messes takes away
all society, makes many suppers, and many caters, but no
one sups with another ; but every man takes his pound of
beef, as from the market, sets it before Uimself, and falls
on. And is it not the same thing to provide a different
cup and different table for every guest (as the Demophon-
tidae treated Orestes), as now to set each man his loaf of
bread and mess of meat, and feed him, as it were, out of
liis own proper manger] Only, it is true, we are not (as

• n. in. 876.

256 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS-.

those that treated Orestes were) obliged to be silent and
not discourse. Besides, to show that all the guests should
have a share in every thing, we may draw an argument
from hence ; — the same discourse is common to us all, the
same songstress sings, the same musician plays to all. So,
when the same cup is set in the midst, not appropriated to
any, it is a large spring of good-fellowship, and each man
may take as much as his appetite requires ; not like this
most unjust distribution of bread and meat, which prides
itself forsooth in being equal to all, though unequal,
stomachs ; for the same portion to a man of a small appe-
tite is too much ; to one of a greater, too little. And, sir, as
he that administers the very same dose of physic to all sorts
of patients must be very ridiculous ; so likewise must that
entertainer who, inviting a great many guests that can
neither eat nor drink alike, sets before every one an equal
mess, and measures what is just and fit by an arithmetical
not geometrical proportion. When we go to a shop to
buy, we all use, it is true, one and the same public
measure ; but to an entertainment each man brings his
own belly, which is satisfied with a portion, not because it
is equal to that which others have, but because it is suffi-
cient for itself. Those entertainments where every one
had his single mess Homer mentions amongst soldiers and
in the camp, which we ought not to bring into fashion
amongst us ; but we should rather imitate the good friend-
ship of the ancients, who, to show what reverence they
had for all kinds of societies, not only honored those that
lived with them pr under the same roof, but also those that
drank out of the same cup or ate out of the same dish.
Let us never mind Homer's entertainments ; they were
good for nothing but to starve a man, and the makers of
them were kings, more stingy and observant than the
Italian cooks ; insomuch that in the midst of a battle,
whilst they were at handy-blows with their enemies, they

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 257

could exactly reckon up how many glasses each man drank
at his table. Those that Pindar describes are much bet-
ter,

Where heroes mixed sat round the noble board,

because they maintained society and good fellowship ; for
the latter truly mixed and joined friends, but this modern
custom divides and asperses them as persons who, though
seemingly very good friends, cannot so much as eat with
one another out of the same dish.

2. To this polite discourse of Hagias they urged me to
reply. And I said : Hagias, it is true, hath reason to be
troubled at this unusual disappointment, because having so
great a belly (for he was an excellent trencher-man) he had
no larger mess than others ; for in a fish eaten in common,
Democritus says, there are no bones. But that very thing
is especially apt to bring us a share beyond our own proper
allowance. For it is equality, as the old woman in Euripi-
des hath it.

That fastens towns to towns, and friends to IHends ; *

and entertainments chiefly stand in need of this. The
necessity is from nature as well as custom, and is not lately
introduced or founded only on opinion. For when the
same dish lies in common before all, the man that is slow
and eats little must be off'ended at the other that is too
quick for him, as a slow ship at the swift sailer. Besides,
snatching, contention, shoving, and the like, are not, in my
mind, neighborly beginnings of mirth and jollity ; but they
are absurd, doggish, and often end in anger or reproaches,
not only against one another, but also against the enter-
tainer himself or the carvers of the feast. But as long as
Mocra and Lachesis (division and distribution) kept an
equality in feasts, nothing uncivil or disorderly appeared,
and they called the feasts dcure^f distributions^ the enter-

• Eorip. Phoenisi. 536.

▼OL. III. 17

258 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

tained danvfioveg, and the carvers dairgoh distributers, from
dividing and distributing to every man his proper mess.
The Lacedaemonians had ofB.cers called distributers of the
flesh, no mean men, but the chief of the city ; for Lysander
himself by King Agesilaus was constituted one of these in
Asia. But when luxury crept into our feasts, distribut-
ing was thrown out ; for I suppose they had not leisure to
divide these numerous tarts, cheese-cakes, pies, and other
delicate varieties ; but, surprised with the pleasantness of
the taste and tired with the variety, they left off cutting it
into portions, and left all in common. This is confirmed
from the present practice ; for in our religious or public
feasts, where the food is simple and inartificial, each man
hath his mess assigned him ; so that he that endeavors to
retrieve the ancient custom will likewise recover thrift
and almost lost frugality again. But, you object, w^here
only property is, community is lost. True indeed, where
equality is not ; for not the possession of what is proper
and our own, but the taking away of another's and covet-
ing that which is common, is the cause of all injury and
contention ; and the laws, restraining and confining these
within the bounds of propriety, receive their name from
their office, being a power distributing equality to every
one in order to the common good. Thus every one is not
to be honored by the entertainer with the garland or the
chiefest place ; but if any one brings with him his sweet
heart or a minstrel-wench, they must be common to him
and his friends, that all things may be huddled together in
one mass, as Anaxagoras would have it. Now if propriety
in these things doth not in the least hinder but that things
of greater monient, and the only considerable, as discourse
and civility, may be still common, let us leave off disgracing
distributions or the lot, the son of Fortune (as Euripides
hath it), which hath no respect either to riches or honor,
but which in its inconsiderate wheel now and then raiseth

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 259

up the humble and the poor, and makes him master of
himself, and, by accustoming the great and rich to endure
and not be offended at equality, pleasingly instructs.

BOOK III.

SiMONiDES the poet, my Sossius Senecio, seeing one of
the company sit silent and discourse nobody, said : Sir, if
you are a fool, it is wisely done ; if a wise man, very fool-
ishly. It is good to conceal a man's folly, but (as Ilera-
clitus says) it is very hard to do it over a glass of wine,

Wliich (loth the gravest men to mirth advance.
And let them loose to sinjr.'to laugh, and dance,
And speak what had been better left unsaid.*

In which lines the poet in my mind shows the difference
between being a little heated and downright drunk ; for to
sing, laugh, and dance may agree very well with those that
have gone no farther than a merry cup ; but to prattle,
and speak what had been better left unsaid, argues a man
to be quite gone. Therefore Plato thinks that wine is the
most ingenious discoverer of men's humors ; and Homer,
when he says,

At feasts they had not known each other's minds,t

evidently shows that he knew wine was powerful to open
men's thoughts, and was full of new discoveries. It is true
from the bare eating and drinking, if they say nothing, we
can give no guess at the tempers of the men ; but because
drinking leads them on to discourse, and discourse lays a
great many things open and naked which were secret and
hid before, therefore to sport a glass of wine together lets
us into one another's humors. And therefore a man may

• Odyii. XIV. 464. t Odyss. XXL G6.

260 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

reasonably fall foul on Aesop : Why, sir, would you have
a window m every man's breast, through which we may
look in upon his thoughts'? Wine opens and exposes all,
it will not suffer us to be silent, but takes off all mask and
visor, and makes us regardless of the severe precepts of
decency and custom. Thus Aesop, or Plato, or any other
that designs to look into a man, may have his desires satis-
fied by the assistance of a bottle ; but those that are not
solicitous to pump one another, but to be sociable and
pleasant, discourse of such matters and handle such ques-
tions as make no discovery of the bad parts of the soul, but
such as comfort the good, and, by the help of neat and
polite learning, lead the intelligent part into an agreeable
pasture and garden of delight. This made me collect and
dedicate to you this third dedication of table discourses,
the first of which is about chaplets^made of flowers.

QUESTION I.

Whether it is Becoming to wear Chaplets op Flowers at

Table,
erato, ammonius, trypiio, plutarch, axd others.

1 . At Athens Erato the musician keeping a solemn feast
to the Muses, and inviting a great many to the treat, the
company was full of talk, and the subject of the discourse
garlands. For after supper many of all sorts of flowers
being presented to the guests, Ammonius began to jeer me
for choosing a rose chaplet before a laurel, saying that
those made of flowers were effeminate, and fitted toyish
girls and women more than grave philosophers and men of
music. And I admire that our friend Erato, that abomi-
nates all flourishing in songs, and blames good Agatho,
who first in his tragedy of the Mysians ventured to intro-
duce the chromatic airs, should himself fill his entertainment
with such various and such florid colors, and that, while he

r

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 261

shuts out all the soft delights that through the ears can
enter to the soul, he should introduce others through the
eyes and through the nose, and make these garlands, in-
stead of signs of piety, to be instruments of pleasure. For
it must be confessed that this ointment gives a better smell
than those trifling flowers, which wither even in the hands
of those that wreathe them. Besides, all pleasure must
be banished the company of philosophers, unless it is of
some use or desired by natural appetite ; for as those that
are carried to a banquet by some of their invited friends
(as, for instance, Socrates carried Aristodemus to Agatho's
table) are as civilly entertained as the bidden guests, but
he that goes on his own account is shut out of doors ; thus
the pleasures of eating and drinking, being invited by nat-
ural appetite, should have admission ; but all the others
which come on no account, and have only luxury to intro-
duce them, ought in reason to be denied.

2. At this some young men, not thoroughly acquainted
Avith Ammonius's humor, being abashed, privately tore
their chaplets ; but I, perceiving that Ammonius proposed
this only for discourse and disputation's sake, applying
myself to Trypho the physician, said: Sir, you must put off
that sparkling rosy chaplet as well as we, or declare, as I
have often heard you, what excellent preservatives these
flowery garlands are against the strength of liquor. But
here Erato putting in said: What, is it decreed that no
pleasure must be admitted without profit? And must we
be angry with our delight, unless hired to endure it ? Per-
haps we may have reason to be ashamed of ointments and
purple vests, because so costly and expensive, and to look
upon them as (in the barbarian s phrase) treacherous gar
ments and deceitful odors ; but these natural smells and
colors are pure and simple as fruits themselves, and with-
out expense or the curiosity of art. And I appeal to any
cue, whether it is not absurd to receive the pleasant tastes

262 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

Nature gives us, and reject those smells and colors that the
seasons afford us, because forsooth they blossom with de-
light, if they have no other external profit or advantage.
Besides, we have an axiom against you, for if (as you af-
firm) Nature makes nothing vain, those things that have no
other use were designed on purpose to please and to delight.
Besides, observe that to thriving trees Nature hath given
leaves, for the preservation of the fruit and of the stock
itself; for those sometimes warming sometimes cooling it,
the seasons creep on by degrees, and do not assault it with
all their violence at once. But now the flower, whilst it is
on the plant, is of no profit at all, unless we use it to de-
light our nose with the admirable smell, and to please our
eyes when it opens that inimitable variety of colors. And
therefore, when the leaves are plucked off, the plants as it
were suffer injury and grief. There is a kind of an ulcer
raised, and an unbecoming nakedness attends them ; and
we must not only (as Empedocles says)

By all means spare the leaves that grace the palm,

but likewise the leaves of all other trees, and not injuri-
ously against Nature robbing them of their leaves, bring
deformity on them to adorn ourselves. But to pluck the
flowers doth no injury at all. It is like gathering of grapes
at the time of vintage ; unless plucked when ripe, they
wither of themselves and f^ill. And therefore, like the
barbarians who clothe themselves with the skins more
commonly than with the wool of sheep, those that wreathe
leaves rather than flowers into garlands seem to me to use
the plants according to neither the dictates of reason nor
the design of Nature. And thus much I say in defence of
those who sell chaplets of flowers ; for I am not grammarian
enough to remember those poems which tell us that the
old conquerors in the sacred games were crowned with
flowers. Yet, now I think of it, there is a story of a rosy

PLUTARCH'S SYilPOSIACS. 263

croAMi that belongs to the Muses ; Sappho mentions it in a
copy of verses to a woman unlearned and unacquainted
with the Muses:

Dead thou shalt lie forgotten in thy tomb.
Since not for thee Pierian roses bloom.*

But if Tr)^pho can produce any thing to our advantage
from physic, pray let us have it.

3. Then Trypho taking the discourse said: The an-
cients were very curious and well acquainted with all these
things, because plants were the chief ingredients of their
physic. And of this some signs remain till now ; for the
Tyrians offer to the son of Agenor, and the Magnesians to
Chiron, the first supposed practitioners of physic, as the
first fruits, the roots of those plants which have been suc-
cessful on a patient. And Bacchus was counted a phy-
sician not only for finding wine, the most pleasing and most
potent remedy, but for bringing ivy, the greatest opposite
imaginable to wine, into reputation, and for teaching his
drunken followers to wear garlands of it, that by that means
they might be secured against the violence of a debauch,
the heat of the liquor being remitted by the coldness of
the ivy. Besides, the names of several plants sufficiently
evidence the ancients' curiosity in this matter ; for they
named the walnut-tree naova, because it sends forth a heavy
and drowsy {xagatiixov) spirit, which affects their heads who
sleep beneath it ; and the daffodil, vaQxiaaosy because it be-
numbs the nerves and causes a stupid narcotic heaviness
in the limbs ; and therefore Sophocles calls it the ancient
garland flower of the great (that is, the earthy) Gods. And
some say rue was called ni'iynvov from its astringent qual-
ity ; for, by its diyness proceeding from its heat, it fixes
{7ti]ywai) or coagulates the seed, and is very hurtful to great-
bellied women. But those that imagine the herb amethyst
{dniOvcxoi)^ and the precious stone of the same name, are

* From Sappho, Frag. 68.

264 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

called so because powerful against the force of wine, are
much mistaken ; for both receive their names from their
color ; for its leaf is not of the color of strong wine, but
resembles that of weak diluted liquor. And indeed I could
mention a great many which have their names from their
proper virtues. But the care and experience of the an-
cients sufficiently appears in those of which they made
their garlands when they designed to be merry and frolic
over a glass of wine ; for wine, especially when it seizes on
the head, and strains the body just at the very spring and
origin of the sense, disturbs the w^hole man. Now the
effluvia of flowers are an admirable preservative against
this, they secure the brain, as it were a citadel, against the
eff'orts of drunkenness ; for those that are hot open the
pores and give the fumes free passage to exhale, and those
that are moderately cold repel and keep down the ascend-
ing vapors. Of this last nature are the violet and rose ;
for the odors of both these are prevalent against any ache
and heaviness in the head. The flowers of privet and
crocus bring those that have drunk freely into a gentle
sleep ; for they send forth a smooth and gentle effluvia,
which softly takes off all asperities that arise in the body
of the drunken ; and so all things being quiet and com-
posed, the violence of the noxious humor is abated and
thrown off. The smells of some flowers being received
into the brain cleanse the organs and instruments of sense,
and gently by their heat, without any violence or force, dis-
solve the humors, and warm and cherish the brain itself,
which is naturally cold. Upon this account, they called
thr)se little posies they hung about their necks vTzoOviiideg,
and anointed their breasts with the oils that were squeezed
from them ; and of this Alcaeus is a witness, when he bids
his friends,

Pour ointment o'er his laboring temples, pressed
With various cares, and o'er his aged breast.

I

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 265

•

Hence the odors by means of the heat shoot upward into
the very brain, being caught up by the nostrils. For they
did not call those garlands hung about the neck vTzo&vfiideg
because they thought the heart was the seat and citadel of
the mind (01^6^)1 for on that account they should rather
have called them tmOi'in'ds^; ; but, as I said before, from their
vapor and exhalation. Besides, it is no strange thing that
these smells of garlands should be of so considerable a
virtue ; for some tell us that the shadow of the yew, espec-
ially when it blossoms, kills those that sleep under it ; and
a subtile spirit ariseth from pressed poppy, which suddenly
overcomes the unwary squeezers. And there is an herb
called alyssus, which to some that take it in their hands,
to others that do but look on it, is found a present remedy
against tlie hiccough ; and some affirm that planted near
the stalls it preserves sheep and goats from the rot and
mange. And the rose is called Qodov, probably because it
sends forth a stream {nsvfia) of odors ; and for that reason
it withers presently. It is a cooler, yet fiery to look upon ;
and no wonder, for upon the surface a subtile heat, being
driven out by the inward cold, looks vivid and appears.

QUESTION IT.

Whether Ivy is of a Hot or Cold Nature.

ammoxius, trypho, erato.

1. UroN this discourse, when we all hummed Trypho,
Ammonius with a smile said : It is not decent by any con-
tradiction to pull in pieces, like a cliaplct, this various and
florid discourse of Tiypho's. Yet methinks the ivy is a
little oddly interwoven, and unjustly said by its cold powci-s
to temper the heat of strong wine ; for it is rather fiery
and hot, and its berries steeped in wine make the liquor
more apt to inebriate and inflame. And from this cause.

266 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

as in sticks warped by the fire, proceeds the crookedness
of the boughs. And snow, that for many days will lie on
other trees, presently melts from the branches of the ivy,
and wastes all around, as far as the warmth reaches. But
the greatest evidence is this. Theophrastus tells us, that
when Alexander commanded Harpalus to plant some Gre-
cian trees in the Babylonian gardens, and — because the
climate is very hot and the sun violent — such as were leafy,
thick, and fit to make a shade, the ivy only would not grow ;
though all art and diligence possible was used, it withered
and died. For being hot itself, it could not agree with the
fiery nature of the soil ; for excess in similar qualities is de-
structive, and therefore we see every thing as it were affects
its contrary ; a cold plant flourishes in a hot ground, and a
hot plant is delighted with a cold. Upon which account
it is that bleak mountains, exposed to cold winds and snow,
bear firs, pines, and the like, full of pitch, fiery, and excel-
lent to make a torch. But besides, Trypho, trees of a cold
nature, their little feeble heat not being able to diffuse
itself but retiring to the heart, shed their leaves ; but their
natural oiliness and warmth preserve the laurel, olive, and
cypress always green ; and the like too hi the ivy may be
observed. And therefore it is not likely our dear friend
Bacchus, who called wine [xsOv {intoxicating) and himself
}iE{>v[ivaiog, should bring ivy into reputation for being a pre-
servative against drunkenness and an enemy to wine. But
in my opinion, as lovers of wine, when they have not any
juice of the grape ready, drink ale, mead, cider, or the
like ; thus he that in winter would have a vine-garland on
his head, finding the vine naked and without leaves, used
tlie ivy that is like it ; for its boughs are twisted and
irregular, its leaves moist and disorderly confused, but
chiefly the berries, like ripening clusters, make an exact
representation of the vine. But grant the ivy to be a pre-
servative against drunkenness, — that to please you, Try-

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 267

plio, we may call Bacchus a physician, — still I affirm that
power to proceed from its heat, which either opens the
pores or helps to digest the wine.

2. Upon this Tr} pho sat silent, studying for an answer.
Erato addressing himself to us youths, said : Tr}^pho wants
your assistance ; help him in this dispute about the gar-
lands, or be content to sit without any. Ammonius too
bade us not be afraid, for he would not reply to any of our
discourses ; and Trypho likewise urging me to propose
something, I said: To demonstrate that the ivy is cold is
not so proper a task for me as Trypho, for he often useth
coolers and binders ; but that proposition, that wine in
which ivy berries have been is more inebriating, is not
true ; for that disturbance which it raiseth in those that
drink it is not so properly called drunkenness as alienation
of mind or madness, such as hyoscyamus and a thousand
other things that set men beside themselves usually pro-
duce. The crookedness of the bough is no argument at
all, for such violent and unnatural effects cannot be sup-
posed to proceed from any natural quality or power. Now
sticks are bent by the fire, because that draws the moist-
ure, and so the crookedness is a violent distortion ; but the
natural heat nourishes and preserves the body. Consider
therefore, whether it is not the weakness and coldness of
the body that makes it wind, bend, and creep upon the
ground ; for those qualities check its rise, and depress it
in its ascent, and render it like a weak traveller, that often
sits down and then goes on again. Therefore the ivy
requires something to twine about, and needs a prop ;
for it is not able to sustain and direct its own branches,
because it wants heat, which naturally tends upward. The
snow is melted by the wetness of the leaf, for water de-
stroys it easily, passing through the thin contexture, it
being nothing but a congeries of small bubbles ; and there-
fore in very cold but moist places the snow melts as soon

268 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

as in hot. That it is continually green doth not proceed
from its heat, for to shed its leaves doth not argue the
coldness of a tree. Tims the myrtle and maiden-hair,
though not hot, but confessedly cold, are green all the
year. Some imagine this comes from the equal and duly
proportioned mixture of the qualities in the leaf, to which
Empedocles hath added a certain aptness of pores, through
which the nourishing juice is orderly transmitted, so that
there is still supply sufficient. But now it is otherwise in
trees whose leaves fall, by reason of the wideness of their
higher and narrowness of their lower pores ; for the latter
do not send juice enough, nor do the former keep it, but
pour it out as soon as a small stock is received. This may
be illustrated from the usual watering of our gardens ;
for when the distribution is unequal, the plants that are
always watered have nourishment enough, seldom wither,
and look always green. But you further argue, that being
planted in Babylon it would not grow. It was well done
of the plant, methinks, being a particular friend and fam-
iliar of the Boeotian God, to scorn to live amongst the
barbarians, or imitate Alexander in following the manners
of those nations ; but it was not its heat but cold that
was the cause of this aversion, for that could not agree
with the contrary quality. For one similar quality doth
not destroy but cherish another. Thus dry ground bears
thyme, though it is naturally hot. Now at Babylon they
say the air is so suffocating, so intolerably hot, that many
of the merchants sleep upon skins full of water, that they
may lie cool.

QUESTION IIL
Wnr Women are hardly, Old Men easily, Foxed,

FLORUS, SYLLA.

Florus thought it strange that Aristotle in his discourse
of Drunkenness, affirming that old men are easily, women

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 269

hardly, overtaken, did not assign the cause, since he seldom
failed on such occasions. He therefore proposed it to us
(we were a great many acquaintance met at supper) as a
fit subject for our enquiry. Sylla began: One part will
conduce to the discovery of the other ; and if Ave rightly
hit the cause in relation to the women, the difficulty, as it
concerns the old men, will be easily despatched ; for their
two natures are quite contraiy. Moistness, smoothness,
and softness belong to the one ; and dryness, roughness,
and hardness are the accidents of the other. As for
women, I think the principal cause is the moistness of
their temper ; this produceth a softness in the flesh, a shin-
ing smoothness, and their usual purgations. Now when
wine is mixed with a great deal of weak liquor, it is over-
powered by that, loses its strength, and becomes flat and
waterish. Some reason like^vise may be drawn from Aris-
totle himself; for he affirms that those that drink fast, and
take a large draught without drawing breath, are seldom
overtaken, because the wine doth not stay long in their
bodies, but having acquired an impetus by this greedy
drinking, suddenly runs through ; and women are gene-
rally observed to drink after that manner. Besides, it is
probable that their bodies, by reason of the continual de-
fluction of the moisture in order to their usual purgations,
are very porous, and divided as it were into many little pipes
and conduits ; into which when the wine falls, it is quickly
conveyed away, and doth not lie and fret the principal
parts, from whose disturbance drunkenness proceeds. But
that old men want the natural moisture, even the name
yfiionti, in my opinion, intimates ; for that name was given
them not as inclining to the earth {oiovtn; eiv yitv), but as
being in the habit of their body ytca^tt^ and yti]tmi earthlike
and earthy. Besides, the stiffness and roughness prove
the dryness of their nature. Therefore it is probable that,
when they drink, their body, being grown spongy by the

270 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

dryness of its nature, soaks up the wine, and that lying in
the vessels it affects the senses and prevents the natural
motions. For as floods of water glide over the close
grounds, nor make them slabby, but quickly sink into the
open and chapped fields ; thus wine, being sucked in by
the dry parts, lies and works in the bodies of old men.
.But besides, it is easy to observe, that age of itself hath
all the symptoms of drunkenness. These symptoms every
body knows ; shaking of the joints, faltering of the tongue,
babbling, passion, forge tfulness, and distraction of the
mind ; many of which being incident to old men, even
whilst they are well and in perfect health, are heightened.
by any little irregularity and accidental debauch. So that
drunkenness doth not beget in old men any new and proper
symptoms, but only intend and increase the common ones.
And an evident sign of this is, that nothing is so like an
old man as a young man drunk.

QUESTION IK

Whether the Temper of Women is Colder or Hotter than

THAT OF Men.

APOLLOXIDES, ATHllYILATUS.

1. Thus Sylla said, and Apollonides the marshal sub-
joined: Sir, what you discoursed of old men I willingly
admit ; but in my opinion you have omitted a considerable
reason in relation to the women, the coldness of their tem-
per, which quencheth the heat of the strongest wine, and
makes it lose all its destructive force and fire. This reflec-
tion seeming reasonable, Athryilatus the Thasian, a physi-
cian, kept us from a hasty conclusion in this matter, by
saying that some supposed the female sex was not cold, but
hotter than the male ; and others thought wine rather cold
than hot.

2. When Florus seemed surprised at this discourse,

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 271

Athryliatus continued : Sir, what I mention about wine I
shall leave to this man to make out (pointing to me, for a
few days before we had handled the same matter). But
that women are of a hot constitution, some suppose, may be
proved, first, from their smoothness, for their heat wastes
all the superfluous nourishment which breeds hair ; second-
ly from theu' abundance of blood, which seems to be the
fountain and source of all the heat that is in the body ; —
now this abounds so much in females, that they would be
all on fire, unless relieved by frequent and sudden evacua-
tions. Thu-dly, from a usual practice of the sextons in
burning the bodies of the dead, it is evident that females
are hotter than males ; for the beds-men are wont to put
one female body with ten males upon the same pile, for
that contains some inflammable and oily paits, and serves
for fuel to the rest. Besides, if that that is soonest fit for
generation is hottest, and a maid begins to be furious soon-
er than a boy, this is a strong proof of the hotness of the
female sex. But a more convmcing proof follows : women
endure cold better than men, they are not so sensible of
the sharpness of the weather, and are contented with a
few clothes.

3. And Florus replied : Me thinks, sir, from the same
topics I could draw conclusions against your assertion.
For, first, they endure cold better, because one similar
quality doth not so readily act upon another ; and then
again, their seed is not active in generation, but passive
matter and nourishment to that which the male injects.
But more, women grow effete sooner than men ; that they
burn better than the males proceeds from their fat, which
is the coldest part of the body ; and young men, or such
as use exercise, have but little fat. Their monthly purga-
tions do not prove the abundance, but the corruption and
badness, of their blood ; for being the superfluous and undi-
gested part, and having no convenient vessel in the body, it

272 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

flows out, and appears languid and feculent, by reason of
the weakness of its heat. And the shivering that seizes
them at the time of their purgations sufficiently proves
that which flows from them is cold and undigested. And
who will believe their smoothness to be an effect of heat
rather than cold, when every body knows that the hottest
parts of a man's body are the most hairy 1 For all such
excrements are thrust out by the heat, which opens and
makes passages through the skin ; but smoothness is a con-
sequent of that closeness of the superficies which proceeds
from condensing cold. And that the flesh of women is
closer than that of men, you may be informed by those that
lie with women that have anointed themselves with oil or
other perfumes ; for though they do not touch the women,
yet they find themselves perfumed, their bodies by reason
of their heat and rarety drawing the odor to them. But I
think we have disputed plausibly and sufficiently of this
matter. . . .

QUESTION V.
Whether Wine is potentially Cold.

ATHRYILATUS, PLUTARCH.

1. But now I would fain know upon what account you
can imagine that wine is cold. Then, said I, do you be-
lieve this to be my opinion I Yes, said he, whose else '?
And I replied : I remember a good while ago I met with a
discourse of Aristotle's upon this very question. And
Epicurus, in his Banquet, hath a long discourse, the sum
of which is that wine of itself is not hot, but that it con-
tains some atoms that cause heat, and others that cause
cold ; now, when it is taken into the body, it loses one sort
of particles and takes the other out of the body itself, ac-
cording to the person's nature and constitution ; so that some
when they are drunk are very hot, and others very cold.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 273

2. This way of talking, said Florus, leads us by Protag-
oras directly to Pyrrho ; for it is evident that, suppose we
were to discourse of oil, milk, honey, or the like, we shall
avoid all enquiry into their particular natures, by saying
that things are so and so by their mutual mixture with one
another. But how do you prove that wine is cold ? And I,
being forced to speak extempore, replied : By two argu-
ments. The first I draw from the practice of physicians,
for when their patients' stomachs grow very weak, they
prescribe no hot things, and yet give them wine as an ex-
cellent remedy. Besides, they stop looseness and immod-
erate sweating by wine ; and this shows that they think it
more binding and constipating than snow itself Now if
it were potentially hot, I should think it as wise a thing
to apply fire to snow as wine to the stomach.

Again, most teach that sleep proceeds from the coolness
of the parts ; and most of the narcotic medicines, as man-
drake and opium, are coolers. Those indeed work vio-
lently, and forcibly condense, but wine cools by degrees ;
it gently stops the motion, according as it hath more or
less of such narcotic qualities. Besides, heat is genera-
tive ; for owing to heat the moisture flows easily, and
the vital spirit gains intensity and a stimulating force.
Now the great drinkers are very dull, inactive fellows, no
women's men at all ; they eject nothing strong, vigorous,
and fit for generation, but are weak and unperforming, by
reason of the bad digestion and coldness of their seed.
And it is farther obsciTable that the effects of cold and
drunkenness upon men's bodies are the same, — trembling,
heaviness, paleness, shivering, faltering of tongue, numb-
ness, and cramps. In many, a debauch ends in a dead
palsy, when the wine stupefies and extinguisheth all the
heat. And the physicians use this method in curing the
qualms and diseases gotten by debauch; at night they
cover them well and keep them warm ; and at day they

VOL. III. 18

274 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

anoint and bathe, and give them such food as shall not
disturb, but by degrees recover the heat which the wine
hath scattered and driven out of the body. Thus, I
added, in these appearances we trace obscure qualities
and powers ; but as for drunkenness, it is easily discerned
what it is. For, in my opinion, as I hinted before, those
that are drunk are very much like old men ; and therefore
great drinkers grow old soonest, and they are commonly
bald and gray before their time ; and all these accidents
certainly proceed from want of heat. But mere vinegar
is of a vinous nature and strength, and nothing quenches
fire so soon as that ; its extrer^e coldness overcomes and
kills the flame presently. And of all fruits physicians use
the vinous as the greatest coolers, as pomegranates and
apples. Besides, do they not make wine by mixing honey
with rain-water or snow ; for the cold, because those two
qualities are near akin, if it prevails, changes the luscious
into a poignant taste 1 And did not the ancients of all the
creeping beasts consecrate the snake to Bacchus, and of
all the plants the ivy, because they were of a cold and
frozen nature 1 Now, lest any one should think this is an
evidence of its heat, that if a man drinks juice of hem-
lock, a large dose of wine cures him, I shall on the contrary
affirm that wine and hemlock juice mixed are an incurable
poison, and kill him that drinks it presently. So that we
can no more conclude it to be hot because it resists, than
to be cold because it assists, the poison. For cold is the
only quality by which hemlock juice works and kills.

QUESTION VL
Which is the Fittest Time for a Man to Know his Wife ?
youths, zopyrus, olympichus, soclarus.
1. Some young students, that had not gone far in the learn-
ing of the ancients, inveighed against Epicurus for bringing

PLUTARCH'S SYxMPOSIACS. 275

in, in his Symposium, an impertinent and unseemly dis-
course, about what time was best to lie with a woman ; for
(they said) for an old man at supper in the company of
youths to talk of such a subject, and dispute whether after
or before supper was the most convenient time, argued
him to be a very loose and debauched man. To this some
said that Xenophon, after his entertainment was ended,
sent all his guests home on horseback, to lie wdth thek
wives. But Zopyrus the physician, a man very well read
in Epicurus, said, that they had not duly weighed that
piece ; for he did not propose that question at fii'st, and
then discourse of that matter on purpose ; but after sup-
per he desired the young men to take a walk, and then
discoursed upon it, that he might induce them to continence,
and persuade tliem to abate their desires and restrain their
appetites ; showing them that it was very dangerous at all
times, but especially after they had been eating or making
merry. But suppose he had proposed this as the chief
topic for discourse, doth it never become a philosopher to
enquire which is the convenient and proper time ? Ought
we not to time it well, and direct our embrace by reason ?
Or may such discourses be otherwise allowed, and must
they be thought unseemly problems to be proposed at
table ] Indeed I am of another mind. It is true, I should
blame a philosopher that in the middle of the day, in the
schools, before all sorts of men, should discourse of such
a subject ; but over a' glass of wine between friends and
acquaintance, when it is necessary to propose something
beside dull serious discourse, why should it be a fault to
hear or speak any thing that may inform our judgments or
direct our practice in such matters 1 And I protest I had
rather that Zeno had inserted his loose topics in some
merr)' discourses and agreeable table-talk, than in such a
grave, serious piece as his politics.

2. The youth, startled at this free declaration, sat silent ;

2T6 PLUTARCH'S SrMPOSIACS.

and the rest of the company desired Zopyrus to deliver
Epicurus's sentiment. He said : The particulars I cannot
remember ; but I believe he feared the violent agitations of
such exercises, because 'the bodies employed in them are
so violently disturbed. For it is certain that wine is a very
great disturber, and puts the body out of its usual temper ;
and therefore, when thus disquieted, if quiet and sleep do
not compose it but other agitations seize it, it is likely that
those parts which knit and join the members may be
loosened, and the whole frame be as it were unsettled from
its foundation and overthrown. For then likewise the seed
cannot freely pass, but is confusedly and forcibly thrown
out, because the liquor hath filled the vessels of the body,
and stopped its way. Therefore, says Epicurus, we must
use those sports when the body is at quiet, when the meat
hath been thoroughly digested, carried about and applied
to several parts of the body, but before we begin to want
a fresh supply of food. To this of Epicurus we might
join an argument taken from physic. At day time, while
our digestion is performing, we are not so lusty nor eager
to embrace ; and presently after supper to endeavor it is
dangerous, for the crudity of the stomach, the food being
yet undigested, may be increased by a disorderly motion
upon this crudity, and so the mischief be double.

3. Olympicus, continuing the discourse, said: I very
much like what Clinias the Pythagorean delivers. For
story goes that, being asked when a man should lie with a
woman, he replied, Avhen he hath a mind to receive the
greatest mischief that he can. For Zopyrus's discourse
seems rational, and other times as well as those he men-
tions have their peculiar inconveniences. And therefore,
— as Thales the philosopher, to free himself from the
pressing solicitations of his mother who advised him to
marry, said at first, 'tis not yet time ; and when, now he
was growing old, she repeated her admonition, replied.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 271

nor is it now time, — so it is best for every man to have
the same mind in relation to those sports of Venus ; when
he goes to bed, let him say, 'tis not yet time ; and when he
rises, 'tis not now time.

4. What you say, Olympicus, said Soclarus interposing,
befits wrestlers indeed ; it smells, methinks, of their cotta-
bus, and their meals of flesh and casks of wine, but is not
suitable to the present company, for there are some young
married men here,

Whose duty 'tis to follow Venus* sports.

Nay, we ourselves seem to have some relation to Venus
still, when in our hymns to the Gods we pray thus to her.

Fair Venus, keep off feeble age.

But waving this, let us enquire (if you think flt) whether
Epicurus does well, when contrary to all right and equity
he separates Venus and the Night, though Menander, a
man well skilled in love matters, says that she likes her
company better than that of any of the Gods. For, in my
opinion, night is a very convenient veil, spread over those
that give themselves to that kind of pleasure ; for it is not
fit that day should be the time, lest modesty should be
banished from our eyes, effeminacy grow bold, and such
vigorous impressions on our memories be left, as might still
possess us with the same fancies and raise new inclinations.
For the sight (according to Plato) receives a more vigorous
impression than any other bodily organ, and joining with
imagination, that lies near it, works presently upon the
soul, and ever raises a new and fresh desire by those
images of pleasure which it brings. But the night, hiding
many and the most furious of the actions, quiets and lulls
nature, and doth not suffer it to be carried to intemperance
by the eye. But besides this, how absurd is it, that a man
returning from an entertainment, merry perhaps and joc-
und, crowned and perfumed, should cover himself up,

278 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

turn his back to his wife, and go to sleep ; and then at
day-time, in the midst of his business, send for her out of
her apartment to come to him for such a matter ; or in the
morning, as a cock treads his hens. No, sir, the evening
is the end of our labor, and the morning the beginning.
Bacchus the Loosener and Terpsichore and Thalia preside
over the former; and the latter raiseth us up betimes to
attend on Minerva the Work-mistress, and Mercury the
merchandiser. And therefore songs, dances, and epitha-
lamiums, merry-meetings, with balls and feasts, and sounds
of pipes and flutes, are the entertainment of the one ; but
in the other, nothing but the noise of hammers and anvils,
the scratching of saws, the morning cries of noisy tax-
gatherers, citations to court or to attend this or that prince
and magistrate, are heard.

Then all the sports of pleasure disappear,
Then Venus, tlien gay youth removes ;
No Thyrsus then which Bacchus loves ;
But all is clouded and o'erspread with care.

Besides, Homer makes not one of the heroes lie with
his wife or mistress in the daytime, but only Paris, who,
having shamefully fled from the battle, sneaked into the
embraces of his wife ; intimating that such lasciviousness
by day did not beflt the sober temper of a man, but the
mad lust of an adulterer. But, moreover, the body will not
(as Epicurus fancies) be injured more after supper than at
any other time, unless a man be drunk or overcharged, — for
in those cases, no doubt, it is very dangerous and hurtful.
But if a man is only raised and cheered, not overpowered
by liquor, if his body is pliable, his mind agreeing, if
he interposes some reasonable time between, and then he
sports, he need not fear any disturbance from the load he
has within him ; he need not fear catching cold, or too
great a transportation of atoms, which Epicurus makes the
cause of all the ensuing harm. For if he lies quiet he
will quickly fill again, and new spirits will supply the ves-

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 279

sels that are emptied. But this is especially to be taken
care of, that, the body being then in a ferment and dis-
turbed, no cares of the soul, no business about necessary
affairs, no labor, should distract and seize it, lest they
should corrupt and sour its humors. Nature not having
time enough for settling what has been disturbed. For,
sir, all men have not the command of that happy ease and
tranquillity which Epicurus's philosophy procured him ;
ibr many great incumbrances seize almost upon every one
every day, or at least some disquiets ; and it is not safe to
trust the body with any of these, when it is in such a con-
dition and disturbance, presently after the fury and heat of
the embrace is over. Let, according to his opinion, the
happy and immortal Deity sit at ease and never mind us ;
but if we regard the laws of our country, we must not
dare to enter into the temple and offer sacrifice, if but a
little before we have done any such thing. It is fit there-
fore to let night and sleep intervene, and after there is a
sufficient space of time past between, to rise as it were
pure and new, and (as Democritus was wont to say) " with
new thoughts upon the new day."

QUESTION vn.

Why New Wine doth not Inebriate as soon as Other.

PLUTARCH, HIS FATHER, HAOIAS, ARISTAENETUS, AND OTHER YOUTH.

1. At Athens on the eleventh day of February (thence
called riiOoiyia, (the barrel-opening), they began to taste their
new wine ; and in old times (as it appears), before they
drank, they offered some to the Gods, and prayed that that
cordial liquor might prove good and wholesome. By us
Thcbans the month is named nQoataxt^mogy and it is our cus-
tom upon the sixth day to sacrifice to our good Genius
and tiste our new wine, after the zephyr has done blowing ;
for that wind makes wine ferment more than any other,

280 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

and the liquor that can bear this fermentation is of a strong
body and will keep well. My father offered the usual sac-
rifice, and when after supper the young men, my fellow-
students, commended the wine, he started this question :
Why does not new wine inebriate as soon as other ] This
seemed a paradox and incredible to most of us ; but Ila-
gias said, that luscious things were cloying and would
presently satiate, and therefore few could drink enough to
make them drunk ; for when once the thirst is allayed, the
appetite would be quickly palled by that unpleasant liquor ;
for that a luscious is different from a sweet taste, even the
poet intimates, when he says,

With luscious wine, and with sweet milk and cheese.*

Wine at first is sweet ; afterward, as it grows old, it fer-
ments and begins to be pricked a little ; then it gets a sweet
taste.

2. Aristaenetus the Nicaean said, that he remembered
he had read somewhere that sweet things mixed with wine
make it less heady, and that some physicians prescribe to
one that hath drunk freely, before he goes to bed, a crust
of bread dipped in honey. And therefore, if sweet mix-
tures weaken strong wine, it is reasonable that new wine
should not be heady till it hath lost its sweetness.

3. We admired the acuteness of the young philosophers,
and were well pleased to see them propose something out
of the common road, and give us their own sentiments on
this matter. Now the common and obvious reason is the
heaviness of new wine, — which (as Aristotle says) vio-
lently presseth the stomach, — or the abundance of airy
and watery parts that lie in it; the former of which, as
soon as they are pressed, fly out ; and the watery parts are
naturally fit to weaken the spirituous liquor. Now, when
it grows old, the juice is improved, and though by the

* Odyss. XX. 69.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 281

separation of the watery parts it loses in quantity, it gets
in strength.

QUESTION VIII.
Why those that are Stark Drunk sekm not so much Dc-

BAUCHED AS THOSE THAT ARE BUT HaLP FoXED.
PLUTARCH, HIS FATHER.

1. Well then, said my father, since we have fallen
upon Aristotle, I will endeavor to propose something of
my own concerning those that are half drunk ; for, in my
mind, though he was a very acute man, he is not accurate
enough in such matters. They usually say, I think, that a
soher man's understanding apprehends things right and
judges well ; the sense of one quite drunk is weak and
enfeebled ; but of them that are half drunk the fancy is
vigorous and the understanding weakened, and therefore,
following their own fancies, they judge, but judge ill.
But pray, sirs, what is your opinion in these matters ?

2. This reason, I replied, would satisfy me upon a
private disquisition ; but if you will have my own senti-
ments, let us first consider, whether this difference doth
not proceed from the different temper of the body. For
of those that are only half drunk, the mind alone is dis-
turbed, but the body not being quite overwhelmed is yet
able to obey its motions ; but when it is too much oppressed
and the wine has overpowered it, it betrays and frustrates
the motions of the mind, for men in such a condition never
go so far as action. But those that are half drunk, having
a body serviceable to the absurd motions of the mind, are
rather to be thought to have greater ability to comply with
those they have, than to have worse inclinations tlian the
others. Now if, proceeding on another principle, we con-
sider the strength of the wine itself, nothing hinders but
that this may be different and changeable, according to the

282 TLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

quantity that is diTink. As fire, when moderate, hardens
a piece of clay, but if very strong, makes it brittle and
crumble into pieces ; and the heat of the spring fires our
blood with fevers, but as the summer comes on. the disease
usually abates ; what hinders then but that the mind, be-
ing naturally raised by the power of the wine, when it is
come to a pitch, should by pouring on more be weakened
again, and its force abated] Thus hellebore, before it
purges, disturbs the body ; but if too small a dose be given,
it disturbs only and purges not at all ; and some taking too
little of an opiate are more restless than before ; and some
taking too much sleep well. Besides, it is probable that
this disturbance into which those that are half drunk are put,
when it comes to a pitch, conduces to that decay. For a great
quantity being taken inflames the body and consumes the
frenzy of the mind ; as a mournful song and melancholy
music at a funeral raises grief at first and forces tears, but
as it continues, by little and little it takes away all dismal
apprehensions and consumes our sorrows. Thus wine,
after it hath heated and disturbed, calms the mind again
and quiets the frenzy ; and when men are dead drunk,
their passions are at rest.

QUESTION' IX*

What is the Meaning op the saying: Drink either Five or
Three, but not Four?

aristo, rlutarcii, plutarcil's father.

1 When I had said this, Aristo cried out aloud, as his
manner was, and said : I see well now that there is opened
a return again of measures unto feasts and banquets ; which
measures, although they are most just and democratical,

* In the old translation, Question IX. is entirely omitted, and Question X. is
numbered IX. (G.;

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 283

have for a long time (I wot not by what sober reason) been
banished from thence, as by a tyrant. For, as they who
profess a canonical harmony in sounding of the harp do
hold and say, that the sesquialteral proportion produceth
the symphony diapente (5ta nim), the double proportion the
diapason {pia nuadjv), and that the accord called dlatessaron
{8ui teaadncjv), which is of all most obscure and dull, con-
sisteth in the epitrite proportion ; even so they that make
profession of skill in the harmonies of Bacchus have ob-
seiTed, that three symphonies or accords there are between
wine and water, namely, diapente, dlatrion {8ia zmoor), and
diatessaron ; and so they say and sing, — Drink either five
or three, but not four. For the fifth has the sesquialteral
proportion, three cups of water being mingled with two of
wine ; the third has the double proportion, two cups of
water being put to one of wine ; but the fourth answereth
to the epitrite proportion of three parts of water poured
into one of wine. Now this last proportion may be fit for
some grave magistrates sitting in the council-hall, or for
logicians who pull up their brows when they are busy in
watching the unfolding of their arguments ; for surely it is a
mixture sober and weak enough. As for the other twain ;
that medley which carrieth the proportion of two for one
bringeth in that turbulent tone of those who are half-
drunk,

Which 8tir8 the heart-strings never moved before ;

for it suffereth a man neither to be fully sober, nor yet to
drench himself so deep in wine as to be altogether witless
and past his sense ; but the other, standing upon the pro-
portion of three to two, is of all the most musical accord,
causing a man to sleep peaceably and forget all cares, and,
like the cora-field which Hesiod speaks of,

Which (loth from man all curses drive,
And children cause to rest and thrive,

stilling and appeasing all proud and disordered passions

284: Pr-UTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

within the heart, and inducing instead of them a peaceable
calm and tranquillity.

2. These speeches of Aristo no one there would contra-
dict, for it was well known that he spoke in jest. But I
willed him to take a cup, and, as if it were a harp, to set
and tune it to that accord and harmony which he so highly
praised. Then came a boy close unto him, and offered
him strong wine ; but he refused it, saying with laughter,
that his music consisted in theory, and not in practice of the
instrument. Then my father added to what had been said,
that the ancient poets gave two nurses to Jupiter, namely,
Ite and Adrastea ; one to Juno, Euboea; two, moreover,
to Apollo, Alethea and Corythalea ; while they gave many
more to Bacchus. For, as it seemed to him, Bacchus was
nursed and suckled by many Nymphs, because he had
need of many measures of water (vv^cpai), to make him more
tame, gentle, witty, and wise.

QUESTJOI^ X,

Why Flesh Stinks sooner when Exposed to the Moon, than

TO the Sun.

EUTHYDEMUS, SATYKUS.

1. EuTHYDEMUs of Suuium gave us at an entertainment a
very large boar. The guests wondering at the bigness of
the beast, he said that he had one a great deal larger, but
in the carriage the moon had made it stink ; he could not
imagine how this should happen, for it was probable that
the sun, being much hotter than the moon, should make it
stink sooner. But, said Satyrus, this is not so strange as
the common practice of the hunters ; for, when they send
a boar or a doe to a city some miles distant, they drive a
brazen nail into it to keep it from stinking.

2. After supper Euthydemus bringing the question into

PLUTAKCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 285

play again, Moschio the physician said, that putrefaction
was a colliquation of the flesh, and that every thing that
putrefied grew moister than before, and that all heat, if
gentle, did stir the humors, though not force them out,
but if strong, dry the flesh ; and that from these considera-
tions an answer to the question might be easily deduced.
For the moon gently warming makes the body moist ; but
the sun by his violent beams dries rather, and draws all
moisture from them. Thus Archilochus spoke like a nat-
uralist,

I hope hot Sirius's beams will many drain.

And Homer more plainly concerning Hector, over whose
body Apollo spread a thick cloud.

Lest the hot sun should scorch his naked limbs.*

Now the moon's rays are weaker ; for, as Ion says.

They do not ripen well the clustered grapes.

3. AVhen he had done, I said : The rest of the discourse
I like very well, but I cannot consent when you ascribe
this efl'ect to the strength and degree of heat, and chiefly
in the hot seasons ; for in winter eveiy one knows that the
sun warms little, yet in summer it putrefies most. Now
the contraiy should happen, if the gentleness of the heat
were the cause of putrefi\ction. And besides, the hotter
the season is, so much the sooner meat stinks ; and there-
fore this efl'ect is not to be ascribed to the want of heat in
the moon, but to some particular proper quality in her
beams. For heat is not diflcrent only by degrees ; but in
fires there are some proper qualities very much unlike one
another, as a thousand obvious instances will prove. Gold-
smiths heat their gold in chaff fires ; physicians use fires
of vine-twigs in their distillations ; and tamarisk is the
best fuel for a glass-house. OUve-boughs in a vapor-bath
warm very well, but hurt other baths: tl\^y spoil the

• II. xxni. 190.

286 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

timbers, and weaken the foundation ; and therefore the
most skilful of the public officers forbid those that rent
the baths to burn olive-tree wood, or throw darnel seed
into the fire, because the fumes of it dizzy and bring the
headache to those that bathe. Therefore it is no wonder
that the moon differs in her qualities from the sun ; and
that the sun should shed some drying, and the moon some
dissolving, influence upon flesh. And upon this account
it is that nurses are very cautious of exposing their infants
to the beams of the moon ; for they being full of moisture,
as green plants, are easily wrested and distorted. And
everybody knows that those that sleep abroad under the
beams of the moon are not easily waked, but seem stupid
and senseless ; for the moisture that the moon sheds upon
them oppresses their faculty and disables their bodies.
Besides, it is commonly said, that women brought to bed
when the moon is a fortnight old, have easy labors ; and
for this reason I believe that Diana, which was the same
with the moon, was called the goddess of childbirth. And
Timotheus appositely says.

By the blue heaven that wlieels the stars,
And by the moon that eases women's pains.

Even in inanimate bodies the power of the moon is very
evident. Trees that are cut in the full of the moon car-
penters refuse, as being soft, and, by reason of their moist-
ness, subject to corruption ; and in its wane farmers usually
thresh their wheat, that being dry it may better endure the
flail ; for the corn in the full of the moon is moist, and
commonly bruised in threshing. Besides, they say dough
will be leavened sooner in the full, for then, though the
leaven is scarce proportioned to the meal, yet it rarefies
and leavens the whole lump. Now when flesh putrefies,
the combining spirit is only changed into a moist consist-
ence, and the parts of the body separate and dissolve.
And this is evident in the very air itself, for when the

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 287

moon is full, most dew falls ; and this Alcman the Poet
intimates, when he somewhere calls dew the air's and
moon's daughter, saying,

See liow the daugliter of the Moon and Jore
Does nourish all things.

Thus a thousand instances do prove that the light of the
moon is moist, and carries with it a softening and corrupt-
ing quality. Now the brazen nail that is driven through
the flesh, if, as they say, it keeps the flesh from putrefying,
doth it by an astringent quality proper to the brass. The
rust of brass physicians use in astringent medicines, and
they say those that dig brass ore have been cured of a rheum
in their eyes, and that the hair upon their eyelids hath
grown again ; for the dust rising from the ore, being in-
sensibly applied to the eyes, stops the rheum and dries up
the humor. Upon this account, perhaj[is. Homer calls brass
tvi\v(xiQ and vunoyp. Aristotle says, that wounds made by a
brazen dart or a brazen sword are less painful and sooner
cured than those that are made of iron weapons, because
brass hath something medicinal in itself, which in the very
instant is applied to the wound. Now it is manifest that
astringents are contrary to putrefying, and healing to cor-
rupting qualities. Some perhaps may say, that the nail
driven through draws all the moisture to itself, for the
humor still flows to the part that is hurt ; and therefore it
is said that by the nail there always appears some speck
and tumor ; and therefore it is rational that the other parts
should remain sound, when all the corruption gathers
about that

288 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

BOOK IV.

PoLYBius, my Sossius Senecio, advised Scipio Africanus
never to return from the Forum, where he was conversant
about the aifairs of the city, before he had gained one new
friend. Where I suppose the word friend is not to be
taken too nicely, to signify a lasting and unchangeable ac-
quaintance ; but, as it vulgarly means, a well-wisher, and as
Dicearchus takes it, when he says that we should endeavor
to make all men well-wishers, but only good men friends.
For friendship is to be acquired by time and virtue; but
good- will is produced by a familiar intercourse, or by mirth
and trifling amongst civil and genteel men, especially if
opportunity assists their natural inclinations to good-nature.
But consider whether this advice may not be accommo-
dated to an entertainment as well as the Forum ; so that we
should not break up the meeting before we had gained one
of the company to be a well-wisher and a friend. Other
occasions draw men into the Forum, but men of sense come
to an entertainment as well to get new friends as to make
their old ones merry ; indeed to carry away any thing else
is sordid and uncivil, bat to depart with one friend more
than we had is pleasing and commendable. And so, on
the contrary, he that doth not aim at this renders the meet-
ing useless and unpleasant to himself, and departs at last,
having been a partaker of an entertainment with his belly
but not with his mind. For he that makes one at a feast
doth not come only to enjoy the meat and drink, but like-
wise the discourse, mirth, and genteel humor which ends
at last in friendship and good-will. The wrestlers, that
they may hold fast and lock better, use dust ; and so wine
mixed with discourse is of extraordinary use to make us
hold fast of, and fasten upon, a friend. For wine tem-
pered with discourse carries gentle and kind affections out

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 289

of the body into the mind ; otherwise, it is scattered
through the limbs, and serves only to swell and disturb.
Thus as a marble, by cooling red-hot iron, takes away its
softness and makes it hard, fit to be wrought and receive
impression ; thus discourse at an entertainment doth not
permit the men that are engaged to become altogether
liquid by the wine, but coniines and makes their jocund
and obliging tempers very fit to receive an impression
from the seal of friendship if dexterously applied.

QUESTION L

Whether Different Sorts of Food, or one Single Dish fed
UPON at once, is more easily Digested.

PniLO. PLUTARCH, MARCION.

1. The first question of my fourth decade of Table Dis-
courses shall be concerning difi'erent sorts of food eaten at
one meal. When we came to Hyampolis at the feast
called Elaphebolia, Philo the physician gave us a very
sumptuous entertainment ; and seeing some boys who came
with Philinus feeding upon dry bread and calling for
nothing else, he cried out, O Hercules, well I see the
proverb is verified,

Thej fought midst stones, but could not take up one ,

and presently went out to fetch them some agreeable food.
He staid some time, and at last brought them dried figs
and cheese ; upon which I said : It is usually seen that
those that provide costly and supei-fluous dainties neglect,
or are not well furnished with, useful and necessary things.
I protest, said Philo, I did not mind that Philinus designs
to breed us a young Sosastrus, wlio(thcy say) never all his
lifetime drank or ate any thing beside milk, although it
is probable that it was some change in his constitution that
made hira use this sort of diet ; but our Chiron here, —

roL. in. !•

290 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

quite contrary to the old one that bred Achilles from his
very birth, — feeding his son with unbloody food, gives
people reason to suspect that like a grasshopper he keeps
him on dew and air. Indeed, said Philinus, I did not know
that we were to meet with a supper of a hundred beasts,
such as Aristomenes made for his friends ; otherwise I had
come with some poor and wholesome food about me, as a
specific against such costly and unwholesome entertain-
ments. For I have often heard that simple diet is not only
more easily provided, but likewise more easily digested,
than such variety. At this Marcion said to Philo : Philinus
hath spoiled your whole provision by deterring the guests
from eating ; but, if you desire it, I will be surety for you,
that such variety is more easily digested than simple food,
so that without fear or distrust they may feed heartily.
Philo desired him to do so.

2. When after supper we begged Philinus to discover
what he had to urge against variety of food, he thus be-
gan : I am not the author of this opinion, but our friend
Philo here is ever now and then telling us, first, that wild
beasts, feeding on one sort only and simple diet, are much
more healthy than men are ; and that those which are
kept in pens are much more subject to diseases and crudi-
ties, by reason of the prepared variety we usually give
them. Secondly, no physician is so daring, so venturous
at new experiments, as to give a feverish patient different
sorts of food at once. No, simple food, and without
sauce, as more easy to be digested, is the only diet they
allow. Now food must be wrought on and altered by our
natural powers ; in dyeing, cloth of the most simple color
takes the tincture soonest ; the most inodorous oil is soon-
est by perfumes changed into an essence ; and simple diet
is soonest changed, and soonest yields to the digesting
power. For many and diff"erent qualities, having some
contrariety, when they meet disagree and corrupt one an-

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 291

other ; as in a city, a mixed rout are not easily reduced
into one body, nor brought to follow the same concerns ;
for each works according to its own nature, and is very
hardly brought to side with another's quality. Now this
is evident in wine ; mixed wine inebriates very soon, and
drunkenness is much like a cruditv rising: from undiijested
wine ; and therefore the drinkers hate mixed liquors, and
those that do mix them do it privately, as afraid to have
their design upon the company discovered. Every change
is disturbing and injurious, and therefore musicians are
very careful how they strike many strings at once ; though
the mixture and variety of the notes would be the only
harm that would follow. This I dare say, that belief and
assent can be sooner procured by disagreeing arguments,
than concoction by various and different qualities. But
lest I should seem jocose, weaving this, I will return to
Philo's observations again. We have often heard him de-
clare that it is the quality that makes meat hard to be
digested ; that to mix many things together is hurtful, and
begets unnatural qualities ; and that every man should take
tliat which by experience he finds most agreeable to his
temper.

Now if nothing is by its ovm nature hard to be digested,
but it is the quantity that distiubs and corrupts, I think
we have still greater reason to forbear that variety with
which Philo's cook, as it were in opposition to his master's
practice, would draw us on to surfeits and diseases. For,
by the different sorts of food and new ways of dressing, he
still keeps up the unwearied appetite, and leads it from one
dish to another, till tasting of every thing we take more
than is sufficient and enough ; as Hypsipyle*s foster-child,

Who, in a gnrclen placed, plucked up the flowers.

One after one, and Kpent deliKlitful houn ;

But still his irreedy appetite goes on,

And still lie plucked till all the fluwers were gone.*

* From Uie Uypsip^le of Euripides, Frag. 754.

292 PLUTAKCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

But more, methinks, Socrates is liere to be remembered,
who adviseth us to forbear those junkets which provoke
those that are not hungry to eat ; as if by this he cautioned
us to fly variety of meats. For it is variety that in every
thing draws us on to use more than bare necessity requires.
This is manifest in all sorts of pleasures, either of the eye,
ear, or touch ; for it still proposeth new provocatives ; but
in simple pleasures, and such as are confined to one sort,
the temptation never carries us beyond nature's wants. In
short, in my opinion, we should more patiently endure to
hear a musician praise a disagreeing variety of notes, or a
perfumer mixed ointments, than a physician commend the
variety of dishes ; for certainly such changes and turnings
as must necessarily ensue will force us out of the right
way of health.

3. Philinus having ended his discourse, Marcion said :
In my opinion, not only those that separate profit from
honesty are obnoxious to Socrates's curse, but those also
that separate pleasure from health, as if it were its enemy
and opposite, and not its great friend and promoter. Pain
we use but seldom and unwillingly, as the most violent
instrument. But from all things else, none, though he
would willingly, can remove pleasure. It still attends
when we eat, sleep, bathe, or anoint, and takes care of and
nurses the diseased ; dissipating all that is hurtful and dis-
agreeable, by applying that which is proper, pleasing, and
natural. For what pain, what want, what poison so quickly
and so easily cures a disease as seasonable bathing ? A
glass of wine, when a man wants it, or a dish of palatable
meat, presently frees us from all disturbing particles, and
settles nature in its proper state, there being as it were a
calm and serenity spread over the troubled humors. But
those remedies that are painful do hardly and only by little
and little promote the cure, every difficulty pushing on and
forcing Nature. And therefore let not Philinus blame us,

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 293

if we do not make all the sail we can to fly from pleasure,
but more diligently endeavor to make pleasure and health,
than other philosophers do to make pleasure and honesty,
agree. Now, in my opinion, Philinus, you seem to be out
in your first argument, where you suppose the beasts use
more simple food and are more healthy than men ; neither
of which is true. The first the goats in Eupolis confute,
for they extol their pasture as full of variety and all sorts
of herbs, in this manner,

We feed almost on every kind of trees,
Young firs, the ilex, and the oak we crop :
Sweet trefoil, fragrant juniper, and yew,
Wild olives, thyme, — all freely yield their store.

These that I have mentioned are very different in taste,
smell, and other qualities, and he reckons more sorts which
I have omitted. The second Homer skilfully refutes, when
he tells us that the plague first began amongst the beasts.
Besides, the shortness of their lives proves that they are
very subject to diseases ; for there is scarce any irrational
creature long lived, besides the crow and the chough ; and
those two every one knows do not confine themselves to
simple food, but eat any thing. Besides, you take no good
rule to judge what is easy and what is hard of digestion
from the diet of those that are sick ; for labor and exercise,
and even to chew our meat well, contribute very much to
digestion, neither of wliich can agree with a man in a
fever. Again, that the variety of meats, by reason of the
different qualities of the particulars, should disagree and
spoil one another, you have no reason to fear. For if
Nature chooses from dissiniihu* bodies what is fit and agree
able, the diverse nourishment transmits many and sundry
(qualities into the mass and bulk of the body, applying to
every part that which is meet and fit ; so that, as Emped-
oclcs words it,

The tweet rant to tlie tweet, the sour comblnet
With tour, the tharp with tharp, tlie hot with hot;

294 PLUTAliCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

and after the mixture is spread through the mass by the
heat which is in the spirit, the proper parts are separated
and applied to the proper members. Indeed, it is very
probable that such bodies as ours, consisting of parts of
different natures, should be nourished and built up rather
of various than of simple matter. But if by concoction
there is an alteration made in the food, this will be more
easily performed when there are different sorts of meat,
than when there is only one, in the stomach ; for similars
cannot work upon similars, and the very contrariety in the
mixture considerably promotes the alteration of the en-
feebled qualities. But if, Philinus, you are against all
mixture, do not chide Philo only for the variety of his
dishes and sauces, but also for using mixture in bis sov-
ereign antidotes, which Erasistratus calls the Gods' hands.
Convince him of absurdity and vanity, when he mixes
things vegetable, mineral, and animal, and things from
sea and land, in one potion ; and advise him to let these
alone, and to confine all physic to barley-broth, gourds, and
oil mixed with water. But you urge farther, that variety
enticeth the appetite that hath no command over itself.
That is, good sir, cleanly, wholesome, sweet, palatable,
pleasing diet makes us eat and drink more than ordinary.
Why then, instead of fine flour, do not we thicken our
broth with coarse bran ] And instead of asparagus, why
do we not dress nettle-tops and thistles ; and leaving this
fragrant and pleasant wine, drink sour harsh liquor that
gnats have been buzzing about a long while ? Because,
perhaps you may reply, wholesome feeding doth not con-
sist in a perfect avoiding of all > that is pleasing, but in
moderating the appetite in that respect, and making it
prefer profit before pleasure. But, sir, as a mariner has a
thousand ways to avoid a stiff gale of wind, but when it is
clear down and a perfect calm, cannot raise it again ; thus
to correct and restrain our extravagant appetite is no hard

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 295

matter, but when it grows weak and faint, when it fails as
to its proper objects, then to raise it and make it vigorous
and active again is, sir, a very difficult and hard task. And
therefore variety of viands is as much better than simple
food, which is apt to satisfy by being but of one sort, as it
is easier to stop Nature when she makes too much speed,
than to force her on when languishing and faint. Beside,
what some say, that fulness is more to be avoided than
emptiness, is not true ; but, on the contrary, fulness then
only hurts when it ends in a surfeit or disease ; but empti-
ness, though it doth no other mischief, is of itself unnat-
ural. And let this suffice as an answer to what you
proposed. But you who stick to salt and cummin have
forgot, that variety is sweeter and more desu'ed by the
appetite, unless too sweet. For, the sight preparing the
way, it is soon assimilated to the eager receiving body ; but
that which is not desirable Nature either throws off again,
or keeps it in for mere want. But pray observe this, that
I do not plead for variety in tarts, cakes, or sauces ; — those
are vain, insignificant, and superfluous things ; — but even
Plato allowed variety to those fine citizens of his, setting
before them onions, olives, leeks, cheese, and all sorts
of meat and fish, and besides these, allowed them some
diied fruits.

QUESTION IL

WlIT MrSHROOMS ARE THOUGHT TO BB PRODUCED BT ThUNDER,

AND wiir IT IS bblievkd that Men Asleep abb never Thun-
derstruck.

aoemaciiufl, plutarch. dorotheu8.

1. At a supper in Elis, Agemachus set before us very
large mushrooms. And when all admired at them, one
with a smile said, These are worthy the late thunder,
as it were deriding those who imagine mushrooms are pro*

296 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

duced by thunder. Some said that thunder did split the
earth, using the air as a wedge for that purpose, and that by
those chinks those that sought after mushrooms were di-
rected where to find them ; and thence it grew a common
opinion, that thunder engenders mushrooms, and not only
makes them a passage to appear ; as if one should imagine
that a shower of rain breeds snails, and not rather makes
them creep forth and be seen abroad. Agemachus stood
up stiffly for the received opinion, and told us, we should
not disbelieve it only because it was strange, for there are
a thousand other effects of thunder and lightning and a
thousand omens deduced from them, whose causes it is
very hard, if not impossible, to discover ; for this laughed-
at, this proverbial mushroom doth not escape the thunder
because it is so little, but because it hath some antipatheti-
cal qualities that preserve it from blasting ; as likewise a fig-
tree, the skin of a sea-calf (as they say), and that of the
hyena, with which sailors cover the ends of their sails.
And husbandmen call thunder-showers fertilizing, and
think them to be so. Indeed, it is absurd to wonder at
these things, when we see the most incredible things im-
aginable in thunder, as flame rising out of moist vapors,
and from soft clouds such astonishing noises. Thus, he
continued, I prattle, exhorting you to enquire after the
cause ; and I shall accept this as your club for these
mushrooms.

2. Then I began: Agemachus himself helps us ex-
ceedingly toward this discovery ; for nothing at the pres-
ent seems more probable than that, together with the
thunder, oftentimes generative waters fall, which receive
that quality from the heat mixed with them. For the
piercing pure parts of the fire break away in lightning ;
but the grosser flatulent part, being wrapped up in the cloud,
changes its nature, taking away the coldness and rendering
the moisture mild and gentle, and altering and being altered

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 297

with it, warms it so that it is made fit to enter the pores of
pUiuts, and is easily assimilated to them. Besides, such rain
gives those things which it waters a peculiar temperature
and difference of juice. Thus dew makes the grass sweeter
to the sheep, and the clouds from which a rainbow is re-
flected make those trees on which they fall fragi-ant. And
our priests, distinguishing it by this, call the wood of those
trees rainbow-struck, imagining that Iris, or the rainbow,
hath rested on them. Now it is probable that when these
thunder and lightning showers with a great deal of warmth
and spirit descend forcibly into the caverns of the earth,
the ground is moved thereby, and knobs and tumors are
formed like those produced by heat and noxious humors
in our bodies, which we call wens or kernels. For a
mushroom is not like a plant, neither is it produced with-
out rain ; it hath no root nor sprouts, it depends on nothing,
but is a being by itself, having the consistence only of the
earth, which hath been a little changed and altered. If
this discourse seems frivolous, I assure you that such are
most of the eff'ects of thunder and liglitning which we
see ; and upon that account men think them to be imme-
diately du'ected by Heaven, and not depending on natural
causes.

3. Dorotheus the rhetorician, one of our company, said :
You speak right, sir, for not only the vulgar and illiterate,
but even some of the philosophers, have been of that
opinion. I remember here in this town lightning broke
into a house, and did a great many strange things. It let
the wine out of a vessel, thougli the earthen vessel remained
whole ; and falling upon a man asleep, it neither hurt him
nor blasted his clothes, but melted certain pieces of money
that he had in his pocket, defaced them quite, and made
them run into a lump. Upon this he went to a philoso-
pher, a Pythagorean, that sojourned in the town, and asked
the reason ; the philosopher directed him to some expiating

298 PLUTABCirS symposiacs.

rites, and advised him to consider seriously Avith himself,
and go to prayers. And I have been told, that lightning
falling upon a sentinel at Rome, as he stood to guard the
temple, burned the latchet of his shoe, and did no other
harm ; and several silver candlesticks lying in wooden
boxes, the silver was melted Avhile the boxes lay un-
touched. These stories you may believe or not as you
please. But that which is most wonderful, and' which
everybody knows, is this, — the bodies of those that are
killed by lightning never putrefy. For many neither burn
nor bury such bodies, but let them lie above ground with a
fence about them, so that every one may see they remain
uncorrupted, confuting by this Euripides's Clymene, who
says thus of Phaeton,

My best beloved, but now he lies
And putrefies in some dark vale.

And I believe brimstone is called d-slov (^divine), because its
smell is like that fiery offensive scent which rises from
bodies that are thunderstruck. And I suppose that, be-
cause of this scent, dogs and birds will not prey on such
carcasses. Thus far have I gone; let him proceed, since
he hath been applauded for his discourse of mushrooms,
lest the same jest might be put upon us that was upon
Androcydes the painter. For when in his landscape of
Scylla he painted fish the best and most to the life of any
thing in the whole draught, he was said to use his appetite
more than his art, for he naturally loved fish. So some
may say that we philosophize about mushrooms, the cause
of whose production is confessedly doubtful, for the pleas-
ure we take in eating them. . . .

4. And when I put in my advice, saying that it was as
seasonable to discourse of thunder and lightning amidst
our cups as it would be in a comedy to bring in engines to
throw out lightning, the company agreed to set aside all
other questions relating to the subject, and desired me only

PLUTARCH'S SYMrOSIACS. 299

to proceed on this head, Why are men asleep never blasted
with lightning] And I, though I knew I should get no
great credit by proposing a cause whose reason was com-
mon to other things, said thus : Lightning is wonderfully
piercing and subtile, partly because it rises from a very
pure substance, and partly because by the swiftness of its
motion it purges itself and throws off all gross earthy par-
ticles that are mixed with it. Nothing, says Democritus,
is blasted with lightning, that cannot resist and stop the
motion of the pure flame. Thus the close bodies, as brass,
silver, and the like, which stop it, feel its force and are
melted, because they resist ; whilst rare, thin bodies, and
such as are full of pores, are passed through and not hurted,
as clothes or dry wood. It blasts green wood or grass, the
moisture within them being seized and kindled by the
flame. Now, if it is true that men asleep are never killed
by lightning, from what we have proposed, and not from
any thing else, we must endeavor to draw the cause. Now
the bodies of those that are awake are stiffer and more
apt to resist, all the parts being full of spirits ; which as it
were in a harp, distending and screwing up the organs of
sense, makes the body of the animal firm, close, and com-
pacted. But when men are asleep, the organs are let
down, and the body becomes rare, lax, and loose ; and the
spirits failing, it hath abundance of pores, through which
small sounds and smells do flow insensibly. For in that
case, there is nothing that can resist, and by this resistance
receive any sensible impression from any objects that ai'e
presented, much less from such as are so subtile and move
80 swiftly as lightning. Things that are weak Nature
shields from harm, fencing them about with some hard
thick covering ; but those things that cannot be resisted
do less harm to the bodies that yield than to those that
oppose their force. Besides, those that are asleep are not
Btartled at the thunder ; they have no consternation upon

300 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

them, which kills a great many that are no otherwise hurt,
and we know that thousands die with the very fear of
being killed. Even shepherds teach their sheep to run
together into a flock when it thunders, for whilst they lie
scattered they die with fear ; and we see thousands fall,
which have no marks of any stroke or fire about them,
their souls (as it seems), like birds, flying out of their bodies
at the fright. For many, as Euripides says,

A clap hath killed, yet ne'er drew drop of blood.

For certainly the hearing is a sense that is soonest and
most vigorously wrought upon, and the fear that is caused
by any astonishing noise raiseth the greatest commotion
and disturbance in the body ; from all which men asleep,
because insensible, are secure. But those that are awake
are oftentimes killed with fear before they are touched ;
and fear contracts and condenses the body, so that the
stroke must be strong, because there is so considerable a
resistance.

QUESTION III

Why Men usually Invite many Guests to a Wedding Supper.

sossius senecio, plutarch, tiieo.

1. At my son Autobulus's marriage, Sossius Senecio from
Chaeronea and a great many other noble persons were
present at the same feast ; Avhich gave occasion to this
question (Senecio proposed it), why to a marriage feast
more guests are usually invited than to any other. Nay
even those law-givers that chiefly opposed luxury and pro-
fusenes£ have particularly confined marriage feasts to a set
number. Indeed, in my opinion, he continued, Hecataeus
the Abderite, one of the old philosophers, hath said noth-
ing to the purpose in this matter, when he tells us that
those that marry wives invite a great many to the enter-
tainment, that many may see and be witnesses that they

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 301

being free born take to themselves wives of the same con-
dition. For, on the contrary, the comedians reflect on
those who revel at their marriages, who make a great ado
and are pompous in their feasts, as such who are marry-
ing with no great confidence and courage. Thus, in Me-
nander, one repHes to a bridegroom that bade him beset
the house with dishes, . . .

Your words are great, but what's this to jour bride ?

2. But lest I should seem to find fault with those reasons
others give, only because I have none of my own to pro-
duce, continued he, I begin by dechiring that there is no
such evident or public notice given of any feast as there
is of one at a marriage. For when we sacrifice to the
Gods, when we take leave of or receive a friend, a great
many of our acquaintance need not know it. But a mar-
riage dinner is prodaimed by the loud sound of the wed-
ding song, by the torches and the music, which as Homer
expresseth it.

The women stand before the doors to see and hear. •

And therefore when everybody knows it, the persons are
ashamed to omit the formality of an invitation, and there-
fore entertain their friends and kindred, and every one that
they are any way acquainted with.

3. This being generally approved, Well, said Theo,
speaking next, let it be so, for it looks like truth ; but let
this be added, if you please, that such entertainments are
not only friendly, but also kindredly, the persons beginning
to have a new relation to another family. But there is
something more considerable, and that is this; since by
this marriage two families join in one, the man thinks it
his duty to be civil and obliging to the woman's friends,
and the woman's friends think themselves obliged to return
the same to him and his ; and upon this account the com-

•n. XVIII. 496.

302 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

pany is doubled. And besides, since most of the little
ceremonies belonging to the wedding are performed by
women, it is necessary that, where they are entertained,
their husbands should be likewise invited.

QUESTION IV,

Whether the Sea or Land affords better Food,
callistratus, symmachus, polycrates-

1. Aedepsus in Euboea, where the baths are, is a place
by nature every way fitted for free and gentle pleasures, and
withal so beautified with stately edifices and dining rooms,
that one would take it for no other than the common place
of repast for all Greece. Here, though the earth and air
yield plenty of creatures for the service of men, the sea no
less furnisheth the table with variety of dishes, nourishing
a store of delicious fish in its deep and clear waters. This
place is especially frequented in the spring ; for hither at
this time of year abundance of people resort, solacing
themselves in the mutual enjoyment of all those pleasures
the place aff'ords, and at spare hours pass away the time in
many useful and edifying discourses. When Callistratus
the sophist lived here, it was a hard matter to dine at any
place besides his house ; for he was so extremely courteous
and obliging, that no man whom he invited to dinner could
have the face to say him nay. One of his best humors
was to pick up all the pleasant fellows he could meet with,
and put them in the same room. Sometimes he did, as
Cimon one of the ancients used to do, and satisfactorily
treated men of all sorts and fashions. But he always (so
to speak) followed Celeus, who was the first man, it is said,
that daily assembled a number of honorable persons of
good mark, and called the place where they met the Pryta-
neum.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 303

2. Several times at these public meetings divers agree-
able discourses were raised ; and it fell out that once a
very splendid treat, adorned with variety of dainties, gave
occasion for enquiries concerning food, whether the land or
sea yielded better. Here when a great part of the com-
pany were highly commending the land, as abounding
with many choice, nay, an infinite variety of all sorts of
creatures, Polycrates calling to Symmachus, said to him :
But you, sir, being an animal bred between two seas, and
brought up among so many which surround your sacred
XicopoHs, will not you stand up for Neptune? Yes, I
will, replied Symmachus, and therefore command you to
stand by me, who enjoy the most pleasant part of all the
Achaean Sea. Well, says Polycrates, the beginning of my
discourse shall be grounded upon custom ; for as of a great
number of poets we usually give one, who far excels the
rest, the famous name of poet ; so though there be many
sorts of dainties, yet custom has so prevailed, that the fish
alone, or above all the rest, is called 6wov, because it is more
excellent than all others. For we do not call those glut-
tonous and great eaters who love beef, as Hercules, who
after flesh used to eat green figs ; nor those that love figs,
as Plato ; nor lastly, those that are for grapes, as Arcesi-
luus ; but those who frequent the fish-market, and soonest
hear the market-bell. Thus when Demosthenes told Philo-
c rates that the gold he got by treachery was spent upon
whores and fish, he upbraids him as a gluttonous and las-
civious follow. And Ctesiphon said pat enough, when a
certain glutton cried aloud in the Senate that he should burst
asunder : No, by no means let us be baits for your, fish !
And what was his meaning, do you think, who made this
verse,

Ton capert gnaw, when yon may itnrgeon eat f

And what, for God's sake, do those men mean who, inviting
one another to sumptuous collations, usually say : To-day

304 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

we will dine upon the shore ? Is it not that they suppose,
what is certainly true, that a dinner upon the shore is of
all others most delicious ? Not by reason of the waves and
stones in that place, — for who upon the sea-coast would
be content to feed upon a pulse or a caper ] — but because
their table is furnished with plenty of fresh fish. Add to
this, that sea-food is dearer than any other. Wherefore
Cato, inveighing against the luxury of the city, did not
exceed the bounds of truth, when he said that at Rome a
fish was sold for more than an ox. For they sell a small
pot of fish for a price which a hecatomb of sheep with an
ox would hardly bring. Besides, as the physician is the
best judge of physic, and the musician of songs ; so he is
able to give the best account of the goodness of meat who
is the greatest lover of it. For I will not make Pythagoras
and Xenocrates arbitrators in this case ; but Antagoras the
poet, and Philoxenus the son of Eryxis, and Androcydes
the painter, of whom it was reported that, when he drew a
landscape of Scylla, he drew fish in a lively manner swim-
ming round her, because he was a great lover of them.
So Antigonus the king, surprising Antagoras the poet in
the habit of a cook, broiling congers in his tent, said to
him: Dost thou think that Homer was dressing congers
when he writ Agamemnon's famous exploits ? And he as
smartly replied: Do you think that Agamemnon did so
many famous exploits when he was enquiring who dressed
congers in the camp ? These arguments, says Polycrates,
I have urged in behalf of fishmongers, drawing them from
testimony and custom.

3. But, says Symmachus, I will go more seriously to
work, and more like a logician. For if that may truly be
said to be a dainty which gives meat the best relish, it will
evidently follow, that that is the best sort of dainty which
gets men the best stomach to their meat. Therefore, as
those philosophers who were called Elpistics (from the

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 305

Greek word signifying hope, which above all others they
cried up) averred that there was nothing in the world
which concurred more to the preservation of life than
hope, without whose gracious influence life would be a
burden and altogether intolerable ; in the like manner
that of all things may be said to get us a stomach to our
meat, without which all meat would be unpalatable and
nauseous. And among all those things the earth yields,
we find no such things as salt, which we can have only
from the sea. First of all, there would be nothing eatable
without salt, which mixed with flour seasons bread also.
Hence it was that Neptune and Ceres had both the same
temple. Besides, salt is the most pleasant of all relishes.
For those heroes who, like champions, used themselves to
a spare diet, banishing from their tables all vain and super-
fluous delicacies, to such a degree that when they en-
camped by the Hellespont they abstained from fish, yet for
all this could not eat flesh without salt ; which is a suffi-
cient evidence that salt is the most desirable of all relishes.
For as colors need light, so tastes need salt, that they may
afl'ect the sense, unless you would have them very nauseous
and unpleasant. For, as Heraclitus used to say, a carcass
is more abominable than dung. Now all flesh is dead, and
part of a lifeless carcass ; but the virtue of salt, being
added to it, like a soul, gives it a pleasing relish and
poignancy. Hence it comes to pass that before meat men
use to take sharp things, and such as have much salt in
them ; for these beguile us into an appetite. And who-
ever has his stomach sharpened with these sets cheerfully
and freshly upon all other sorts of meat. But if he begin
with any other kind of food, all on a sudden his stomach
grows dull and languid. And therefore salt doth not only
make meat but drink palatable. For Homer's onion,
which, he tells us, they were used to eat before they drank,
was fitter for seamen and boatmen than kings. Things

VOL. III. 'JO

306 PLUTAECH'S SYxMPOSIACS.

moderately salt, by being agreeable to the mouth, make all
sorts of wine mild and palatable, and water itself of a
pleasing taste. Besides, salt creates none of those troubles
which an onion does, but digests all other kinds of meat,
making them tender and fitter for concoction ; so that at
the same time it is sauce -to the palate and physic to the
body. But all other sea-food, besides this pleasantness, is
also very innocent ; for though it be fleshly, yet it does .not
load the stomach as all other flesh does, but is easily con-
cocted and digested. This Zeno will avouch for me, and
Crato too, who confine sick persons to a fish diet, as of all
others the lightest sort of meat. And it stands with reason,
that the sea should produce the most nourishing and whole-
some food, seeing it yields us the most refined, the purest,
and therefore the most agreeable air.

4. You say right, says Lamprias, but let us think of some-
thing else to confirm what you have spoken. I remember
my old grandfather was used to say in derision of the Jews,
that they abstained from most lawful flesh ; but we will
say that that is most lawful meat which comes from the sea.
For we can claim no great right over land creatures, which
are nourished with the same food, draw the same air, wash
in and drink the same water, that we do ourselves ; and
when they are slaughtered, they make us ashamed of what
we are doing, with their hideous cries ; and then again,
by living amongst us, they arrive at some degree of famil-
iarity and intimacy with us. But sea creatures are alto-
gether strangers to us, and are born and brought up as it
were in another world ; neither does their voice, look, or
any service they have done us plead for their life. For
this kind of creatures are of no use at all to us, nor is
there any necessity that we should love them. But that
place which we inhabit is hell to them, and as soon as ever
they enter upon it they die.

rLUTARCH'S STMPOSIACS. 307

QUESTION V.

Whether the Jews Abstained from Swine's Flesh becausb
TiiET Worshipped that Creature, or because tuet had an
Antipathy against it.

CaLUSTRATUS, rOLYCRATES, LAMPRIAS.

1. After these things were spoken, and some in the
company were minded to say something in defence of
the contrary opinion, Callistratus interrupted their dis-
course and said: Sirs, what do you think of that which
was si)okcn against the Jews, that they abstain from the
most lawful flesh? Very well said, quoth Polycrates,
for that is a thing I very much question, whether it was
that the Jews abstained from swine's flesh because they
conferred divine honor upon that creature, or because they
had a natural aversion to it. For whatever we find in
their own writings seems to be altogether fabulous, except
they have some more solid reasons which they have no
mind to discover.

2. Hence it is, says Callistratus, that I am of an opinion
that this nation has that creature in some veneration ; and
though it be granted that the hog is an ugly and filthy
creature, yet it is not quite so vile nor naturally stupid as a
beetle, griffin, crocodile, or cat, most of which are wor-
sjiipped as the most sacred things by some priests amongst
the Egyptians. But the reason why the hog is had in so
much honor and veneration amongst them is, because, as
the report goes, that creature breaking up the eartli with
its snout showed the way to tilUige, and taught them how
to use the ploughshare, which instrument for that very
reason, as some say, was called hynls from iv, n swine.
Now the Egyptians inhabiting a country situated low, and
whose soil is naturally soft, have no need of the plotjgh ;
but after the river Nile hath retired from the grounds it
overflowed, they presently let all their hogs into the fields,

308 PLUTAKCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

and they with their feet and snouts break up the ground,
and cover the sown seed. Nor ought this to seem strange
to any one, that there are in the world those who abstain
from swine's flesh upon such an account as this ; Avhen it
is evident that among barbarous nations there are other
animals had in greater honor and veneration for lesser,
if not altogether ridiculous, reasons. For the field-mouse
only for its blindness was worshipped as a God among the
Egyptians, because they were of an opinion that darkness
was before light, and that the latter had its birth from mice
about the fifth generation at the new moon ; and moreover
that the liver of this creature diminishes in the wane of
the moon. But they consecrate the lion to the sun, be-
cause the lioness alone, of all clawed quadrupeds, brings
forth her young with their eyesight ; for they sleep a mo-
ment, and when they are asleep their eyes sparkle. Be-
sides, they place gaping lions' heads for the spouts of their
fountains, because Nilus overflows the Egyptian fields
when the sign is Leo : they give it out that their bird ibis,
as soon as hatched, weighs two drachms, which are of the
same weight with the heart of a new-born infant; and
that its legs being spread with the bill make an exact
equilateral triangle. And yet who can find fault with the
Egyptians for these trifles, when it is left upon record that
the Pythagoreans worshipped a white cock, and of sea
creatures abstained especially from the mullet and urtic.
The Magi that descended from Zoroaster adored the land
hedgehog above other creatures, but had a deadly spite
against water-rats, and thought that man was dear in the
eyes of the Gods who destroyed most of them. But I
should think that if the Jews had such an antipathy
against a hog, they would kill it as the magicians do
mice ; when, on the contrary, they are by their religion as
much prohibited to kill as to eat it. And perhaps there
may be some reason given for this ; for as the ass is wor-

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 309

shipped by them as the fii-st discoverer of fountains, so per-
haps the hog may be had in like veneration, which first
taught them to sow and plough. Nay, some say that the
Jews also abstain from hares, as abominable and unclean.
3. They have reason for that, said Lamprias, because a
hare is so like an ass which they detest ; * for in its color,
ears, and the sparkling of its eyes, it is so like an ass, that
I do not know any little creature that represents a great
one so much as a hare doth an ass ; unless in this likewise
they imitate the Egyptians, and suppose that there is some-
thing of divinity in the swiftness of this creature, as also
in its quickness of sense ; for the eyes of hares are so un-
wearied that they sleep with them open. Besides they
seem to excel all other creatures in quickness of hearing ;
whence it was that the Egyptians painted the ear of a hare
amongst their other hieroglyphics, as an emblem of hear-
ing. But the Jews do hate swine's flesh, because all the
barbarians are naturally fearful of a scab and leprosy,
which they presume comes by eating such kind of flesh.
For we may observe that all pigs under the belly are over-
spread with a leprosy and scab ; which may be supposed
to proceed from an ill disposition of body and corruption
within, which breaks out through the skin. Besides,
swine's feeding is commonly so nasty and filthy, that it
must of necessity cause coiTuptions and vicious humors ;
for, setting aside those creatures that are bred from and
live upon dung, there is no other creature that takes so
much delight to wallow in the mire, and in other unclean
and stinking places. Hogs' eyes are said to be so flattened
and fixed upon the ground, that they see nothing above
them, nor ever look up to the sky, except when forced
upon their back they tiu*n their eyes to the sun against na-
ture. Therefore this creature, at other times most clamor-
ous, when laid upon his back, is still, as astonished at the

• The Greok text here it Udljr mutlUted. (0.)

310 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIAC§.

imiisual sight of the heavens ; while the greatness of the
fear he is m (as it is supposed) is the cause of his silence.
And if it be lawful to intermix our discourse with fables,
it is said that Adonis was slain by a boar. Now Adonis
is supposed to be the same with Bacchus ; and there are a
great many rites in both their sacrifices which confirm this
opinion. Others will have Adonis to be Bacchus's para-
mour ; and Phanocles an amorous love-poet writes thus,

Bacchus on hills the fair Adonis saw,

And ravished him, and reaped a wondrous joy.

QUESTION VI.

What God is Worshipped by the Jews.
symmaciius, lamprias, moeragenes.

1. Here Symmachus, greatly wondering at what was
spoken, says : What, Lamprias, will you permit our tutelar
God, called Evius, the inciter of women, famous for the
honors he has conferred upon him by madmen, to be in-
scribed and enrolled in the mysteries of the Jews ] Or is
there any solid reason that can be given to prove Adonis
to be the same with Bacchus'? Here Moeragenes inter-
posing, said: Do not be so fierce upon him, for I who am
an Athenian answer you, and tell you, in short, that these
two are the very same. And no man is able or fit to hear
the chief confirmation of this truth, but those amongst
us who are initiated and skilled in the triennial nanilua,
or great mysteries of the God. But what no religion
forbids to speak of among friends, especially over wine,
the gift of Bacchus, I am ready at the command of these
gentlemen to disclose.

2. When all the company requested and earnestly begged
it of him ; first of all (says he), the time and manner of
the greatest and most holy solemnity of the Jews is exactly
agreeable to the holy rites of Bacchus ; for that which

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 311

they call the Fast they celebrate in the midst of the vin-
tage, furnishing their tables with all sorts of fruits, while
they sit under tabernacles made of vines and ivy ; and
the day which immediately goes before this they call the
day of Tabernacles. Within a few days after they cele-
brate another feast, not darkly but openly, dedicated to
Bacchus, for they have a feast amongst them called Krade-
phoria, from carrying palm-trees, and Thyrsophoria, when
they enter into the temple carrying thyrsi. What they
do within I know not ; but it is very probable that they
perform the rites of Bacchus. First they have little trum-
pets, such as the Grecians used to have at their Baccha-
nalia to call upon their Gods withal. Others go before
them playing upon harps, which they call Levites, whether
so named from Lusius or Evius, — either word agrees with
Bacchus. And I suppose that their Sabbaths have some
relation to Bacchus ; for even at this day many call the
Bacchi by the name of Sabbi, and they make use of that
word at the celebration of Bacchus's orgies. And this
may be made appear out of Demosthenes and Menander.
Nor would it be absurd, were any one to say that the name
Sabbath was imposed upon this feast from the agitation
and excitement {a6^^t,at^) which the priests of Bacchus in-
dulged in. The Jews themselves testify no less ; for when
they keep the Sabbath, they invite one another to drink till
they are drunk ; or if they chance to be hindered by some
more weighty business, it is the fashion at least to taste the
wine. Some perhaps may surmise that these are mere
conjectures. But there are other arguments which will
clearly evince the truth of what I assert. The first may
be drawn from their High-priest, who on holidays enters
their temple with his mitre on, arrayed in a skin of a
hind embroidered with gold, wearing buskins, and a coat
hanging down to his ankles ; besides, he has a great many
little bells hanging at his garment which make a noise

312 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

as he walks the streets. So in the nightly ceremonies
of Bacchus (as the fashion is amongst us), they make
use of musical instruments, and call the God's nurses
xaXxodnvaraL High up on the wall of their temple is a rep-
resentation of the thyrsus and timbrels, which surely can
belong to no other God than Bacchus. Moreover they are
forbidden the use of honey in their sacrifices, because they
suppose that a mixture of honey corrupts and deads the
wine. And honey was used for sacrificing in former days,
and with it the ancients were wont to make themselves
drunk, before the vine was known. And at this day bar-
barous people who want wine drink metheglin, allaying
the sweetness of the honey by bitter roots, much of the
taste of our wine. The Greeks ofiered to their Gods these
sober offerings or honey-offerings, as they called them,
because that honey was of a nature quite contrary to wine.
But this is no inconsiderable argument that Bacchus was
worshipped by the Jews, in that, amongst other kinds of
punishment, that was most remarkably odious by which
malefactors were forbid the use of wine for so long a time
as the judge was pleased to prescribe. Those thus pun-
ished . . .

{The remainder of the Fourth Book is wanting.)

QUESTION VII.
Why the Days which bear the Names of the Planets are not Disposed

ACCORDING to THE OrDER OF THE PlANETS, BUT THE CONTRARY. ThERB

IS ADDED A Discourse touching the Position of the Sun.

QUESTION nil.
Why Signet-rings are Worn especially on the Fourth Finger.

QUESTION IX.

Whether we ought to Carry in our Seal-rings the Images of Gods,
OR rather those of Wise Personages.

QUESTION X.
Why Women never Eat the Middle Part of a Lettuce

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 313

BOOK V.

What is your opinion at present, Sossius Senecio, of the
pleasures of mind and body, is not evident to me ;

Because us two a thousand things divide,
Vast shady hills, and the rough ocean's tide.*

But foimerly, I am sure, you did not lean to nor like their
opinion, who will not allow the soul to have any proper
agreeable pleasure, which without respect to the body she
desires for herself; but define that she lives as a form as-
sistant to the body, is directed by the passions of it, and,
as that is affected, is either pleased or grieved, or, like a
looking-glass, only receives the images of those sensible
impressions made upon the body. This sordid and debas
ing opinion is especiiilly in this way confuted ; for at a
feast, the genteel well-bred men after supper fall upon
some topic or another as second course, and cheer one an-
other by their pleasant talk. Now the body hath very lit-
tle or no share in this ; which evidently proves that this is
a particular banquet for the soul, and that those pleasures
are peculiar to her, and different from those which pass to
her through the body and are vitiated thereby. Now, as
nurses, when they feed children, taste a little of their pap,
and have but small pleasure therefrom, but when the
infants arc satisfied, leave crying, and go to sleep, then be-
ing at their own disposal, they take such meat and drink
as is agreeable to their own bodies ; thus the soul partakes
of the pleasures that arise from eating and drinking, like
a nurse, being subservient to the appetites of the body,
kindly yielding to its necessities land wants, and calming
its desu'es ; but when that is satisfied and at rest, then be-
ing free from her business and servile employment, she
seeks her own proper pleasures, revels on discourse, prob-
lems, stories, cuiious questions, or subtle resolutions.

• n. 1. 166.

514 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

Nay, what shall a man say, when he sees the dull un-
learned fellows after supper minding such pleasures as
have not the least relation to the body '? They tell tales,
propose riddles, or set one another a guessmg at names,
comprised and hid under such and such numbers. Thus
mimics, drolls, Menander and his actors were admitted into
banquets, not because they can free the eye from any pain,
or raise any tickling motion in the flesh ; but because the
soul, being naturally philosophical and a lover of instruc-
tion, covets its own proper pleasure and satisfaction, when
it is free from the trouble of looking after the body.

QUESTION L

Why take we Delight in IIearino those that represent the
Passions of Men Angry or Sorrowful, and yet cannot
WITHOUT Concern behold those who are really so Af-
fected ?

TLUTARCn, BOETIIUS.

1. Of this we discoursed in your company at Athens,
when Strato the comedian (for he was a man of great
credit) flourished. For being entertained at supper by
Boethus the Epicurean, with a great many more of tlie sect,
as it usually happens when learned and inquisitive men
meet together, the remembrance of the comedy led us to
this enquiry, — Why we are disturbed at the real voices of
men, either angry, pensive, or afraid, and yet are delighted
to hear others represent them, and imitate their gestures,
speeches, and exclamations. Every one in the company gave
almost the same reason. For they said, he that only repre-
sents excels him that really feels, inasmuch as he doth not
suffer the misfortunes ; which we knowing are pleased and
delighted on that account.

2. But I, though it was not properly my talent, said that
we, being by nature rational and lovers of ingenuity, are

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 315

delighted with and admire eveiy thing that is artificially
and ingeniously contrived. For as a bee, naturally loving
sweet things, seeks after and flies to any thing that has any
mixture of honey in it ; so man, naturally loving ingenui-
ty and elegancy, is very much inclined to embrace and
highly approve eveiy word or action that is seasoned with
wit and judgment. Thus, if any one offers a child a piece
of bread, and at the same time a little dog or ox made in
paste, we shall see the boy run eagerly to the latter ; so
likemse if any one offers him silver in the lump, and an-
other a beast or a cup of the same metal, he will rather
choose that in which he sees a mixture of art and reason.
Upon the same account it is that children are much in love
with riddles, and such fooleries as are difficult and intn-
cate ; for whatever is curious and subtle doth attract and
allure human nature, as antecedently to all instruction
agreeable and proper to it. And therefore, because he
that is really affected with grief or anger presents us with
nothing but the common bare passion, but in the imitation
some dexterity and persuasiveness appeai-s, we are natu-
rally inclined to be disturbed at the former, whilst the lat-
ter delights us. It is unpleasant to see a sick man, or one
that is at his last gasp ; yet with content we can look upon
the picture of Philoctetes, or the statue of Jocasta, in
whose face it is commonly said that the workmen mixed
silver, so that the brass might represent the face and color
of one ready to faint and yield up the ghost. And this,
said I, the Cyrenaics may use as a strong argument against
you Epicureans, that all the sense of pleasurc which arises
from the working of any object on the ear or eye is not in
those organs, but in the intellect itself. Thus the contin-
ual cackling of a hen or cawing of a crow is very ungrate-
f\i\ and disturbing ; yet he that imitates those noises well
pleases the hearers. Thus to behold a consumptive man
is no delightful spectacle ; yet with pleasure we can view

316 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

the pictures and statues of such persons, because the very
imitating hath something in it very agreeable to the mind,
which allures and captivates its faculties. For upon what
account, for God's sake, from what external impression
upon our organ, should men be moved to admire Parme-
no's sow so much as to pass it into a proverb ? Yet it is
reported, thatParmeno being very famous for imitating the
grunting of a pig, some endeavored to rival and outdo
him. And when the hearers, being prejudiced, cried out,
Very well indeed, but nothing comparable to Parmeno's sow ;
one took a pig under his arm and came upon the stage.
And when, though they heard the very pig, they still con-
tinued, This is nothing comparable to Parmeno's sow ; he
threw his pig amongst them, to show that they judged ac-
cording to opinion and not truth. And hence it is very
evident, that like motions of the sense do not always raise
like affections in the mind, when there is not an opinion
that the thing done was not neatly and ingeniously per-
formed.

QUESTION 11.

That the Prize for Poets at the Games was Ancient.

At the solemnity of the Pythian Games, there was a con-
sult about taking away all such sports as had lately crept
in and were not of ancient institution. For after they had
taken in the tragedian in addition to the three ancient,
which were as old as the solemnity itself, the Pythian
piper, the harper, and the singer to the harp, as if a large
gate -were opened, they could not keep out an infinite crowd
of pla}'s and musical entertainments of all sorts that rushed
in after him. Which indeed made no unpleasant variety,
and increased the company, but yet impaired the gravity
and neatness of the solemnity. Besides it must create a
great deal of trouble to the umpires, and considerable dis-

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 317

satisfaction to very many, since but few could obtain tbe
prize. It was chiefly agreed upon, that the orators and
poets should be removed ; and this determination did not
proceed from any hatred to learning, but forasmuch as
such contenders are the most noted and worthiest men of
all, therefore they reverenced them, and were troubled that,
when tliey must judge every one deserving, they could not
bestow the prize equally upon all. I, being present at this
consult, dissuaded those who were for removing things from
their present settled order, and who thought this variety
as unsuitable to the solemnity as many strings and many
notes to an instrument. And when at supper, Petraeus
the president and director of the sports entertaining us,
the same subject was discoursed on, I defended music, and
maintained that poetry was no upstart intruder, but that it
was time out of mind admitted into the sacred games, and
crowns were given to the best performer. Some straight
imagined that I intended to produce some old musty stories,
like the funeral solemnities of Oeolycus the Thessalian or
of Amphidamas the Chalcidean, in which they say Homer
and Hesiod contended for the prize. But passing by these
instances as the common theme of every grammarian, as
likewise their criticisms who, in the description of Patro-
clus's obsequies in Homer, read Qiinore^, orators^ and not
Q (/4or*j?, darters* as if Achilles had proposed a prize for
the best speaker, — omitting all these, I said that Acastus
at his father Pelias's funeral set a prize for contending
poets, and Sibylla won it. At this, a great many demand-
ing some authority for this unlikely and incredible relation,
I happily recollecting myself produced Acesander, who in
his description of Africa hath this relation ; but I must
confess this is no common book. But Polemo the Atheni-
an's Commentary of the Treasures of the City Delphi I
suppose most of you have diligently perused, he being a

♦ n. XXIII. 880.

318 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

very learned man, and diligent in the Greek antiquities.
In him you shall find that in the Sicyonian treasure there
was a golden book dedicated to the God, with this inscrip-
tion: Aristomache, the poetess of Erythraea, dedicated
this after she had got the prize at the Isthmian games.
Nor is there any reason, I continued, why we should so
admire and reverence the Olympic games, as if, like Fate,
they were unalterable, and never admitted any change
since the first institution. For the Pythian, it is true, hath
had three or four musical prizes added ; but all the exer-
cises of the body were for the most part the same from
the beginning. But in the Olympian all beside racing are
late additions. They instituted some, and abolished them
again ; such were the races of mules, either rode or in a
chariot, as likewise the crown appointed for boys that were
victorious in the ^ye contests. And, in short, a thousand
things in those games are mere novelties. And I fear to
tell you how at Pisa they had a single combat, where he
that yielded or was overcome was killed upon the place,
lest again you may require an author for my story, and I
may appear ridiculous if amidst my cups I should forget
the name.

QUESTION III.

Why was the Pine counted Sacred to Neptune and Bacchus ?
And why at first was the Conqueror in the Isthmian
Games Crowned with a Garland op Pine, afterwards with
Parsley, and now again avitii Pine ?

lucanius, praxiteles.

1. This question was started, why the Isthmian garland
Avas made of pine. We were then at supper in Corinth,
in the time of the Isthmian games, with Lucanius the
chief priest. Praxiteles the commentator brought this
fable for a reason ; it is said that the body of Melicertes
was found fixed to a pine-tree by the sea; and not far

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 319

from ^fegara, there is a place called the Race of a Fair
Lady, through which the Megarians say that Ino, with her
son Melicertes in her arms, ran to the sea. And when
many advanced the common opinion, that the pine-tree
garland peculiarly belongs to Neptune, and Lucanius added
that it is sacred to Bacchus too, but yet, for all that, it
might also be appropriated to the honor of Melicertes, this
began the question, why the ancients dedicated the pine to
Neptune and Bacchus. As for my part, it did not seem
incongruous to me, for both the Gods seem to preside over
the moist and generative principle ; and almost all the
Greeks sacrifice to Neptune the nourisher of plants, and
to Bacchus the preserver of trees. Beside, it may be
said that the pine peculiarly agrees to Neptune, not, as
Apollodorus thinks, because it grows by the sea-side, or
because it loves a bleak place (for some give this reason),
but because it is used in building ships ; for the pine
together with the like trees, as fir and cypress, affords the
best and the lightest timber, and likewise pitch and rosin,
without which the compacted planks would be altogether
unserviceable at sea. To Bacchus they dedicate the pine,
because it gives a pleasant seasoning to wine, for amongst
pines they say the sweetest and most delicious grapes grow.
The cause of this Theophrastus thinks to be the heat of
the soil; for pines grow most in chalky grounds. Now
chalk is hot, and therefore must very much conduce to the
concoction of the wine ; as a chalky spring affords the
lightest and sweetest water ; and if chalk is mixed with
com, by its heat it makes the grains swell, and considerably
increases the heap. Besides, it is probable that the \\ne
itself is bettered by the pine, for that contains several things
which are good to preserve wine. All cover the iusides of
wine-casks with pitch, and many mix rosin with wine, as
the Eubocans in Greece, and in Ittily those that live about
the iiv( 1 I'o. Trom the parts of Gaul about Vienna

320 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

there is a sort of pitched wine brought, which the Eomans
value very much; for such things mixed with it do not
only give it a good flavor, but make the wine generous,
taking away by their gentle heat all the crude, watery, and
undigested particles.

2. When I had said thus much, a rhetorician in the
company, a man well read in all sorts of polite learning,
cried out : Good Gods ! was it not but the other day that
the Isthmian garland began to be made of pine ] And was
not the crown anciently of twined parsley^ I am sure in
a certain comedy a covetous man is brought in speaking
thus :

The Isthmian garland I will sell as cheap
As common wreaths of parsley may be sold.

And Timaeus the historian says that, when the Corinthians
were marching to fight the Carthaginians in the defence
of Sicily, some persons carrying parsley met them, and
when several looked upon this as a bad omen, — because
parsley is accounted unlucky, and those that are danger-
ously sick we usually say have need of parsley, — Timoleon
encouraged them by putting them in mind of the Isthmian
parsley garland with which the Corinthians used to crown
the conquerors. And besides, the admiral-ship of Antigo-
nus's navy, having by chance some parsley growing on
its poop, was called Isthmia. Besides, a certain obscure
epigram upon an earthen vessel stopped with parsley
intimates the same thing. It runs thus :

The Grecian earth, now hardened by the flame,

Holds in its hollow belly Bacchus' blood ;

And hath its mouth nvith Isthmian branches stopped.

Sure, he continued, they never read these authors, who cry
up the pine as anciently wreathed in the Isthmian garlands,
and would not have it some upstart intruder. The young
men yielded presently to him, as being a man of various
reading and very learned.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 321

3. But Liicanius, with a smile looking upon me, cried
out: Good God! here's a deal of learning. But others
ha\e taken advantage of our ignorance and unacquainted-
ness with such matters, and, on the contrary, persuaded us
that the pine was the first garland, and that afterwards in
honor of Hercules the parsley was received from the
Nemeau games, which in a little time prevailing, thrust
out the pine, as if it were its right to be the wreath ; but
a little while after the pine recovered its ancient honor,
and now flourishes in its glory. I was satisfied, and upon
consideration found that I had met with a great many au-
thorities for it. Thus Euphorion writes of Melicertes,

They mourned the youth, and him on pine boughs laid
Of which the Isthmian victors' crowns are made.
Fate had not yet seized beauteous Mene's son
By smooth Asopus ; since whose fall the crown
Of parsley wreathed did grace the victor's brow.

And Callimachus is plainer and more express, when he
makes Hercules speak thus of parsley.

This at Isthmian games
To Neptune's glory now shall be the crown ;
The pine shall be disused, which heretofore
In Corinth's plains successful victors wore.

And beside, if I am not mistaken, in Pkx U s's liistory of
the Isthmian games I met with this passage ; at first a pine
garland crowned the conqueror, but when this game began
to be reckoned amongst the sacred, then from the Xcmean
solemnity the parsley was received. And this Procles was
one of Xenocrates*8 fellow-students at the Academy.

QUESTION IV.

COXOERNIVO THAT EXPRESSION IN HOMER, {iu^e^OT dt Xf'QCUt,*
MCERATU8, SOSICUES, ▲IfTIPATIR, PLUTARCH.

1. Some at the table were of opinion that Achilles Uilked
nonsense when he bade Patroclus ** mix the wine stronger,"
subjoining this reason,

•XL IX. 203.

TOL. III. 21

322 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

For now I entertain my dearest friends.

But Niceratus a Macedonian, my particular acquaintance,
maintained that ^(oqov did not signify pure but hot wine ;
as if it were derived from ^(onxog and ^mg {life-giving and
boiling), and it were requisite at the coming of his friends
to temper a fresh bowl, as every one of us in his offering
at the altar pours out fresh wine. But Socicles the poet,
remembering a saying of Empedocles, that in the great
universal change those things which before were «xo«t«,
unmixed, should then be ^cogd, affirmed that C«(>oV there sig-
nified EWQcaov, well tempered, and that Achilles might with
a great deal of reason bid Patroclus provide well- tempered
wine for the entertainment of his friends ; and it was not
absurd (he said) to use ^aQor^Qov for C«c^oV, any more than
bE^ixEQov for 8e^i6v, or &r]7.vTSQov for 'Orjlvy for the comparatives
are very properly put for the positives. My friend Anti-
pater said that years were anciently called aQoi, and that
the particle Ca in composition signified greatness ; and
therefore old wine, that had been kept for many years,
was called by Achilles ^(aQov.

2. I put them in mind that some imagine that {yeniiov,
hot, is signified by ^(oqoteqov, and that hotter means sin»ply
faster, as when we command servants to bestir themselves
more hotly or in hotter haste.- But I must confess, your
dispute is frivolous, since it is raised upon this supposition,
that if l^MQOT^Qov signifies m^ore pure wine, Achilles's com-
mand would be absurd, as Zoilus of AmphipoUs imagined.
For first he did not consider that Achilles saw Phoenix and
Ulysses to be old men, who are not pleased with diluted
wine, and upon that account forbade any mixture. Besides,
having been Chiron's scholar, and from him having learned
the rules of diet, he considered that weaker and more
diluted liquors were fittest for those bodies that lay at ease,
and were not employed in their customary exercise or labor.
Thus with the other provender he gave his horses smallage,

PLUTARCH'S STMPOSIACS. 323

and this upon very good reason ; for horses that lie still
grow sore in their feet, and smallage is the hest remedy in
the world against that. And you will not find smallage
or any thing of the same nature given to any other horses
in the whole Iliad. Thus Achilles, being skilled in
physic, provided suitable provender for his hoi*ses, and
used the lightest diet himself, as the fittest whilst he lay at
ease. But those that had been wearied all day in fight he
did not think convenient to treat like those that had lain at
ease, but commanded more pure and stronger wine to be
prepared. Besides, Achilles doth not appear to be natu-
rally addicted to drinking, but he was of a haughty inex-
orable temper.

No pleasant humor, no soft mind he bore.
But was all fire and rage.*

And in another place very plainly Homer says, that

Afany a sleepless night ho knew.1

Now little sleep cannot content those that drink strong
liquors ; and in his railing at Agamemnon, the first ill
name he gives him is dnmkard, proposing his great drink-
ing as the chiefest of his faults. And for these reasons it
is likely that, when they came, he thought his usual mix-
ture too weak and not convenient for them.

QUESTION V.

CONCRRNTNO TnOSB THAT InVITE MAXT TO ▲ SUPPBR.
PLUTAnCII, 0XE8ICRATRS, LAMPRIAB TUB ELDBB.

1. At my return from Alexandria all my friends by turns
treated me, inviting all such too as were any way acquainted,
so that our meetings were usually tumultuous and suddenly
dissolved ; which disorders gave occasion to discourses
concerning the inconveniences that attend such crowded

♦D. XX. 407. tIl.lX.825.

324: PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

entertainments. But when Onesicrates the physician in
his turn invited only the most famihar acquaintance, and
men of the most agreeable temper, I thought that what
Plato says concerning the increase of cities might be ap-
plied to entertainments. For there is a certain number
which an entertainment may receive, and still be an enter-
tainment; but if it exceeds that, so that by reason of the
number there cannot be a mutual conversation amongst all,
if they cannot know one another nor partake of the same
jollity, it ceaseth to be such. For we should not need mes-
sengers there, as in a camp, or boatswains, as in a galley ;
but we ourselves should immediately converse with one
another. As in a dance, so in an entertainment, the last
man should be placed within hearing of the first.

2. As I was speaking, my grandfather Lamprias cried
out : Then it seems there is need of temperance not only
in our feasts, but also in our invitations. For methinks
there is even an excess in kindness, when we pass by none
of our friends, but draw them all in, as to see a sight or
hear a play. And I think, it is not so great a disgrace for
the entertainer not to have bread or wine enough for his
guests, as not to have room enough, with which he ought
always to be provided, not only for invited guests, but
strangers and chance visitants. For suppose he hath not
wine and bread enough, it may be imputed either to the
carelessness or dishonesty of his servants ; but the want of
room must be imputed to the imprudence of the inviter.
Hesiod is very much admired for beginning thus,

A vast chaos first was made.*

For it was necessary that there should be first a place and
room provided for the beings that were afterward to be
produced ; and not what was seen yesterday at my son's
entertainment, when, as Anaxagoras said,

All lay jumbled together.
♦ Hesiod, Theog. 116.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 825

But suppose a man hath room and provision enough, yet a
muhitude itself is to be avoided for its own sake, as hinder-
ing all familiarity and conversation ; and it is more tolerable
to let the company have no wine, than to exclude all con-
verse from a feast. And therefore Theophrastus jocularly
called the barbers* shops feasts without >vine ; because
those that sit there usually prattle and discourse. But
those that invite a crowd at once deprive all of free com-
munication of discourse, or rather make them divide into
cabals, so that two or three privately talk together, and
neither know nor look on those that sit, as it were, half a
mile distant

Some took this waj to valiant Ajax' tent,
And some the other to Achilles' went.*

And therefore some rich men are foolishly profuse, who
build rooms big enough for thirty tables or more at once ;
for such a preparation certainly is for unsociable and un-
fiiendly entertainments, and such as are fit for a panegyri-
arch rather than a symposiarch to preside over. But this
may be pardoned in those ; for wealth would not be wealth,
it would be really blind and imprisoned, unless it had wit-
nesses, as tragedies would be without spectators. Let us
entertain few and often, and make that a remedy against
having a crowd at once. For those that innte but seldom
are forced to have all their friends, and all that upon any
account they are acquainted with together ; but those that
invite frequently, and but three or four, render tlieir enter-
tiinments like little barks, light and nimble. Besides, the
very reason why we invite teaches us to select some out of
the number of our many friends. For as when we are in
want we do not call all together, but only those that can
best afford help in that particular case, — when we would
be advised, the wiser part ; and when we are to have a trial,
the best pleaders ; and when we are to go a journey, those

• a XI. 7.

326 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

that can live pleasantly and are at leisure, — thus to our
entertainments we should call only those that are at the
present agreeable. Agreeable, for instance, to a prince's
entertainment will be the magistrates, if they are his
friends, or chiefest of the city; to marriage or birth-day
feasts, all their kindred, and such as are under the protec-
tion of the same Jupiter the guardian of consanguinity ;
and to such feasts and merry-makings as this those are to
be invited whose tempers are most suitable to the occasion.
When we offer sacrifice to one God, we do not w^orship all
the others that belong to the same temple and altar at the
same time ; but suppose we have three bowls, out of the
first we pour oblations to some, out of the second to others,
and out of the third to the rest, and none of the Gods take
distaste. And in this a company of friends may be likened
to the company of Gods ; none takes distaste at the order
of the invitation, if it be prudently managed and every one
allowed a turn.

QUESTION VL

What is the Keason that the same Room which at the Be-
ginning OF A Supper seems too Narrow for the Guests
APPEARS Wide enough afterwards?

After this it was presently asked, why the room which
at the beginning of supper seems too narrow for the guests
is afterwards wide enough; when the contrary is most
likely, after they are filled with the supper. Some said,
the posture of our sitting was the cause ; for they sit,
when they eat, with their full breadth to the table, that
they may command it with their right hand ; but after they
have supped, they sit more sideways, and make an acute
figure with their bodies, and do not touch the place ac-
cording to the superficies, if I may so say, but the line,
Now as cockal bones do not take up as much room when

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

327

they fall upon one end as when they fall flat, so ever}^ one
of us at the beginning sitting broadwise, and with a full
face to the table, afterwards changes the figure, and turns
his depth, not his breadth, to the board. Some attribute
it to the beds whereon we sat, for those when pressed
stretch ; as strait shoes after a little wearing have their
pores widened, and grow fit for — sometimes too big for —
the foot. An old man in the company merrily said, that the
same feast had two very difierent presidents and directors ;
in the beginning. Hunger, that is not the least skilled in
ordering and disposing, but afterward Bacchus, whom all
acknowledge to be the best orderer of an army in the
world. As therefore Epaminondas, when the unskilful
captains had led their forces into narrow disadvantageous
straits, relieved the phalanx that was fallen foul on itself
and all in disorder, and brought it into good rank and file
again ; thus we in the beginning being like greedy hounds
confused and disordered by hunger, the God (hence named
the looser and the dance-arranger) settles us in a friendly
and agreeable order.

QUESTION VIL

Concerning thosb that are Said to Bewitch.

mstbiu8 fl0ru8, plutarch, soclarus, patr0clb8» caius.

1. A DISCOURSE happening at supper concerning those
that are said to bewitch or have a bewitching eye, most of
the company looked upon it as a whim, and laughed at it.
But Metrius Florus, who then gave us a supper, said that
the strange events wonderfully confirmed the report ; and
because we cannot give a reason for the thing, therefore
to disbelieve the relation was absurd, since there are a
thousand things which evidently are, the reasons of which
we cannot readily assign. And, in short, he that requires
every thing should be probable destroys all wonder and ad-

328 TLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

miration ; and where the cause is not obvious, there we
begin to doubt, that is, to philosophize. So that they who
disbelieve all wonderful relations do in some measure take
away philosophy. The cause why any thing is so, reason
must find out; but that a thing is so, testimony is a
sufficient evidence ; and we have a thousand instances of
this sort attested. We know that some men by looking
upon young children hurt them very much, their weak and
soft temperature being wrought upon and perverted, whilst
those that are strong and firm are not so liable to be
wrought upon. And Phylarchus tells us that the Thi-
bians, the old inhabitants about Pontus, were destructive
not only to little children, but to some also of riper years ;
for those upon whom they looked or breathed, or to whom
they spake, would languish and grow sick. And this,
likely, those of other countries perceived who bought
slaves there. But perhaps this is not so much to be Avon-
dered at, for in touching and handling there is some appar
ent principle and cause of the effect. And as when you
mix other birds' wings with the eagles', the plumes waste
and suddenly consume ; so there is no reason to the con-
trary, but that one man's touch may be good and advanta-
geous, and another's hurtful and destructive. But that
some, by being barely looked upon, are extremely preju-
diced is certain ; though the stories are disbelieved, be-
cause the reason is hard to be given.

2. True, said I, but methinks there is some small track
to t&e cause of this effect, if you come to the effluvia
of bodies. For smell, voice, breath, and the like, are
effluvia from animal bodies, and material parts that move
the senses, which are wrought upon by their impulse.
Now it is very likely that such effluvia must continually
part from animals, by reason of their heat and motion ; for
by that the spirits are agitated, and the body, being struck
by those, must continually send forth effluvia. And it

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 329

is probable that these pass chiefly through the eye. For
the sight, being very vigorous and active, together with the
spirit upon which it depends, sends forth a strange fiery
power ; so that by it men act and suffer very much, and
are always proportionably pleased or displeased, according
as the visible objects are agreeable or not. Love, that
greatest and most violent passion of the soul, takes its be
ginning from the eye ; so that a lover, when he looks upon
tlie fair, flows out, as it were, and seems to mix with them.
And therefore why should any one, that believes men can
be afl"ected and prejudiced by the sight, imagine that they
cannot act and hurt as well ? For the mutual looks of
mature beauties, and that which comes from the eye,
whether light or a stream of spirits, melt and dissolve
the lovers with a pleasing pain, which they call the bitter-
sweet of love. For neither by touching or hearing the
voice of their beloved are they so much wounded and
wrought upon, as by looking and being looked upon again.
There is such a communication, such a flame raised by one
glance, that those must be altogether unacquainted with
love that wonder at the Median naphtha, that takes fire at a
distance from the flame. For the glances of a fair one,
though at a great distance, quickly kindle a fire in the
lover's breast. Besides everybody knows the remedy for
the jaundice ; if they look upon the bird called charad-
rios, they are cured. For that animal seems to be of that
temperature and nature as to receive and draw away the
disease, that like a stream flows out through the eyes ; so
tliat the charadrios will not look on one that hath the jaun-
dice ; he cannot endure it, but turns away his head and
shuts his eyes, not envying (as some imagine) the cure he
perfoiTOS, but being really hurted by the effluvia of the
])atient. And of all diseases, soreness of the eyes is the
most infectious ; so strong and vigorous is the sight, an4
so easily does it c:\mc infirmities in another.

330 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

3. Very right, said Patrocles, and you reason well as
to changes wrought upon the body ; but as to the soul,
which in some measure exerts the power of witchcraft, how
can this give any disturbance by the eye ? Sir, I replied,
do not you consider, that the soul, when affected, works
upon the body] Thoughts of love excite lust, and rage
often blinds dogs as they fight with wild beasts. Sor-
row, covetousness, or jealousy makes us change color,
and destroys the habit of the body ; and envy more than
any passion, when fixed in the soul, fills the body full of
ill humors, and makes it pale and ugly ; which deformities
good painters in their pictures of envy endeavor to repre-
sent. Now, when men thus perverted by envy fix their
eyes upon another, and these, being nearest to the soul,
easily draw the venom from it, and send out as it were
poisoned darts, it is no wonder, in my mind, if he that is
looked upon is Imrt. Thus the biting of a dog when
mad is most dangerous ; and then the seed of a man is
most prolific, when he embraces one that he loves ; and in
general the affections of the mind strengthen and invigor-
ate the powers of the body. And therefore people im-
agine that those amulets that are preservative against
witchcraft are likewise good and efficacious against envy ;
the sight by the strangeness of the spectacle being di-
verted, so that it cannot make so strong an impression
upon the patient. This, Florus, is what I can say ; and
pray, sir, accept it as my club for this entertainment.

4. Well, sad Soclarns, but let us try whether the money
be all good or no ; for, in my mind, some of it seems brass.
For if we admit the general report about these matters to
be true, you know very well that it is commonly supposed
that some have friends, acquaintance, and even fathers,
that have such evil eyes ; so that the mothers will not
show their children to them, nor for a long time suffer
them to be looked upon by such ; and how can the effects

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIA CS. 831

wrought by these proceed from envy? But what, for
God's sake, wilt thou say to those that are reported to
bewitch themselves ? — for I am sure you have heard of
such, or at least read these lines :

Curls once on Eutel's head in order stood ;
But wlien he viewed his figure in a flood.
He overlooked himself, and now disease . . .

For they say that this Eutelidas, appearing very delicate
and beauteous to himself, was affected with that sight and
grew sick upon it, and lost his beauty and his health.
Now, pray sir, what reason can you find for these wonder-
ful effects'?

5. At any other time, I replied, I question not but 1
shall give you full satisfaction. But now, sir, after such a
large pot as you have seen me take, I boldly afhrm, that
all passions which have been fixed in the soul a long time
raise ill humors in the body, which by continuance grow-
ing strong enough to be, as it were, a new nature, being
excited by any intervening accident, force men, though
unwilling, to their accustomed passions. Consider the
timorous, they are afraid even of those things that pre-
serve them. Consider the pettish, they are angry with
their best and dearest friends. Consider the amorous and
lascivious, in the height of their fury they dare violate a
Vestal. For custom is very powerful to draw the temper
of the body to any thing that is suitable to it ; and he that
is apt to fall will stumble at every thing that lies in his
way. So that we need not wonder at those that have
raised in themselves an envious and bewitching habit, if
according to the peculiarity of then* passion they are car-
ried on to suitable effects ; for when they are once moved,
tliey do that which the nature of the thing, not which
their will, leads them to. For as a sphere must ne-
cessarily move spherically, and a cylinder cylindrically,
according to the difference of their figures ; thus his dis

332 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

position makes an envious man move enviously to all
things ; and it is likely they should chiefly hurt their most
familiar acquaintance and best beloved. And that fine fel-
low Eutelidas you mentioned, and the rest that are said to
overlook themselves, may be easily and upon good rational
grounds accounted for ; for, according to Hippocrates, a
good habit of body, when at height, is easily perverted,
and bodies come to their full maturity do not stand at a
stay there, but fall and waste down to the contrary ex-
treme. And therefore when they are in very good plight,
and see themselves look much better than they expected,
they gaze and wonder ; but then their body being nigh to
change, and their habit declining into a worse condition,
they overlook themselves. And this is done when the ef-
fluvia are stopped and reflected by the water rather than
by any other specular body ; for this breathes upon them
whilst they look upon it, so that the very same parti-
cles which would hurt others must hurt themselves. And
this perchance often happens to young children, and the
cause of their diseases is falsely attributed to those that
look upon them.

6. When I had done, Gains, Floras's son-in-law, said :
Then it seems you make no more reckoning or account of
Democritus's images, than of those of Aegium or INIegara ;
for he delivers that the envious send out images which are
not altogether void of sense or force, but full of the dis-
turbing and poisonous qualities of those from whom they
come. Now these being mixed with such qualities, and
remaining with and abiding in those persons that are over-
looked, disturb and injure them both in mind and body;
for this, I think, is the meaning of that philosopher, a
man in his opinions and expressions admirable and divine.
Very true, said I, and I wonder that you did not observe
that I took nothing from those effluvia and images but
life and will ; lest you should imagine that, now it is al-

PLUTAKCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 333

most midnight, I brought in spectres and wise and un-
derstanding images to terrify and fright you ; but in the
morning, if you please, we will talk of those things.

QUESTION VIIL

Why Homer calls the Apple-tree ayXaoAafyrtov, and Empedocles
CALLS Apples vmQtpXotu.

PLUTARCn, TRYPIIO, CERTAIN GRAMMARIANS, LAMPRIAS THE ELDER.

1. As we were at supper in Chaeronea, and had all sorts
of fruit at the table, one of the company chanced to speak
these verses,

The fig-trees sweet, the apple-trees that bear
Fair fruit, and olives green through all the year.*

Upon this there arose a question, why the poet calls apple-
trees particularly dyXao^anTtoi^ hearing fair fruit. Trypho
the physician said, that this epithet was given compara-
tively in respect of the tree, because, being small and no
goodly tree to look upon, it bears fair and large fruit.
Somebody else said, that the particular excellencies that
are scattered amongst all other fruits are united in this
alone. As to the touch, it is smooth and clean, so that it
makes the hand that toucheth it odorous without defiling:
it ; it is sweet to the taste, and to the smell and sight very
pleasing ; and therefore there is reason that it should be
duly praised, as being that which congregates and allures
all the senses together.

2. This discourse we liked indifferently well. But
whereas Empedocles has thus written,

Why pomegranates so late do grow,

And apples bear a lovely show {vnrpfh)ut) ;

I understand well (said I) the epithet given to pomegran-
ates, because that at the end of autumn, and when the
heats begin to decrease, they ripen the fruit ; for the sun

• Odys.. VU. 116.

334 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

will not suffer the weak and thin moisture to thicken into
a consistence until the air begins to wax colder ; therefore,
says Theophrastus, this only tree ripens its fruit best and
soonest in the shade. But in what sense the philosopher
gives the epithet vmQcpXoia to apples, I much question, since
it is not his custom to strive to adorn his verses with
varieties jof epithets, as with gay and florid colors. But in
every verse he gives some dilucidation of the substance
and virtue of the subject upon which he treats ; as when
he calls the body encircling the soul the mortal-encom-
passing earth ; as also when he calls the air cloud-gather-
ing, and the liver full of blood.

3. When now I had said these things myself, certain
grammarians affirmed, that those apples were called vTttQcploia
by reason of their vigor and florid manner of growing ; for
to blossom and flourish after an extraordinary manner is
by the poets expressed by the word Cfjlomv. In this sense,
Antimachus calls the city of Cadmeans flourishing with
fruit; and Aratus, speaking of the dog-star Sirius, says
that he

To some gave strength, but others did consume,
Their bloom and verdure parching ;

calling the greenness of the trees and the blossoming of
the fruit by the name of cploog. Nay, there are some of the
Greeks also who sacrifice to Bacchus surnamed (hloTog,
And therefore, seeing the verdure and floridness chiefly
recommend this fruit, philosophers call it vTtsQcploiov. But
Lamprias our grandfather said that the word vTtt'Q did not
only denote excess and vehemency, but external and su-
pernal ; thus we call the lintel of a door vnmdvQov, and the
upper part of the house vTtsQojov ; and the poet calls the out-
ward parts of the victim the upper-flesh, as he calls the
entrails the inner-flesh. Let us see therefore, says he,
whether Empedocles did not make use of this epithet in
this sense, seeing that other fruits are encompassed with

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 335

an outward rind and with certain skins and membranes,
but the only husk that the apple has is a glutinous and
smooth tunic (or core) containing the seed, so that the
part which is fit to be eaten, and lies without, was prop-
erly called vrtiQCfloiov, that is over or outside of the husk.

QUESTION IX.

What is the Reason that the Fig-tree, being itself of a.
VEKY SiiAUP and Bitter Taste, bears so Sweet Fruit?

LAMPRL^S TIIE ELDER, AXD OTHERS.

Tins discourse ended, the next question was about fig-
trees, how so luscious and sweet fruit should come from so
bitter a tree. For the leaf from its roughness is called
{>Qiov, The wood of it is full of sap, and as it burns sends
forth a very biting smoke ; and the ashes of it thoroughly
burnt are so acrimonious, that they make a lye extremely
detersive. And, which is very strange, all other trees that
bud and bear fruit put forth blossoms too; but the fig-tree
never blossoms. And if (as some say) it is never thunder-
struck, that likewise may be attributed to the sharp juices
and bad temper of the stock ; for such things are as secure
from thunder as the skin of a sea calf or hyena. Then said
the old man : It is no wonder that when all the sweetness is
separated and employed in making the fruit, that which is
left should be bitter and unsavory. For as the liver, all the
gall being gathered in its proper place, is itself very sweet ;
so the fig-tree having parted with its oil and sweet particles
to the fruit, reserves no portions for itself. For that this
tree hath some good juice, I gather from what they say of
rue, which growing under a fig-tree is sweeter than usual,
and hath a sweeter and more palatable juice, as if it drew
some sweet particles from the tree which mollified its of-
fensive and corroding qualities; unless perhaps, on the

336 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

contrary, the fig-tree robbing it of its nourishment draws
likewise some of its sharpness and bitterness away.

QUESTION' X.

What are those that are said to be mQi ala xa? xviuvov, and

WHY DOES Homer call Salt Divine?

FLORUS, APOLLOPHAXES, PLUTARCH, PHILINUS.

1. Florus, when we were entertained at his house, put
this question, What are those in the proverb who are said
to be about the salt and cummin ? Apollophanes the gram-
marian presently satisfied him, saying, by that proverb were
meant intimate acquaintance, who could sup together on
salt and cummin. Thence we proceeded to enquire how
salt should come to be so much honored as it is ; for
Homer plainly says,

And after that he strewed his salt divine,*

and Plato delivers that by man's laws salt is to be accounted
most sacred. And this difficulty was increased by the
customs of the Egyptian priests, who professing chastity
eat no salt, no, not so much as in their bread. For if it be
divine and holy, why should they avoid it?

2. Florus bade us not mind the Egyptians, but speak
according to the Grecian custom on the present subject.
But I replied : The Egyptians are not contrary to the Greeks
in this matter; for the profession of purity and chastity
forbids getting children, laughter, wine, and many other
very commendable and lawful things ; and perhaps such
votaries avoid salt, as being, according to some men's
opinions, by its heat provocative and apt to raise lust. Or
they refuse it as the most pleasant of all sauces, for indeed
salt may be called the sauce of all sauces ; and therefore

♦ n. IX. 214.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 337

some call salt x«i"^«^' because it makes food, which is
■accessary for life, to be relishing and pleasant.

3. What then, said Florus, shall we say that salt is
termed divine for that reason ? Indeed that is very con-
siderable, for men for the most part deify those common
things that are exceedinor useful to their necessities and
wants, as water, light, the seasons of the year; and the
earth they do not only think to be divine, but a very God.
Now salt is as useful as either of these, being a sort of pro-
tector to the food as it comes into the body, and making it
palatable and agreeable to the appetite. But consider
farther, whether its power of preserving dead bodies from
rotting a long time be not a divine property, and opposite
to death ; since it preserves part, and will not suffer that
which is mortal wholly to be destroyed. But as the soul,
which is our diviner part, connects the limbs of animals,
and keeps the composure from dissolution ; thus salt ap-
plied to dead bodies, and imitating the work of the soul,
stops those parts that were falling to corruption, binds and
confines them, and so makes them keep their union and
agreement with one another. And therefore some of the
Stoics say, that swine's flesh then deserves the name of a
body, when the soul like salt spreads through it and keeps
the parts from dissolution. Besides, you know that we
account lightninor to be sacred and divine, because the
bodies that are thunder-struck do not rot for a long time ;
what wonder is it then, that the ancients called salt as well
as lightning divine, since it hath the same property and
power ?

4. I making no reply, Philinus subjoined : Do you not
think that that which is generative is to be esteemed divine,
seeing God is the principle of all things ] And I assenting,
he continued: Salt, in the opinion of some men, for in-
stance the Egyptians you mentioned, is very operative that
way ; and those that breed dogs, when they find their

vol.. III. 22

338 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS

bitches not apt to be hot, give them salt and seasoned
flesh, to stir up and awaken their sleeping lechery and
vigor. Besides, the ships that carry salt breed abundance
of mice ; the females, as some imagine, conceiving without
the help of the males, only by licking the salt. But it is
most probable that the salt raiseth an itching in animals,
and so makes them salacious and eager to couple. And
perhaps for the same reason they call a surprising and
bewitching beauty, such as is apt to move and entice,
aliivQov xat 8q(hv, saltish. And 1 think the poets had a re-
spect to this generative power of salt in their fable of
Venus springing from the sea. And it may be farther
observed, that they make all the sea Gods very fruitful,
and give them large families. And beside, there are no
land animals so fruitful as the sea animals ; agreeable to
which observation is that verse of Empedocles,

Leading the foolish race of fruitful fish.

BOOK VL

TiMOTHEus the son of Conon, Sossius Senecio, after a
full enjoyment of luxurious campaign diet, being enter-
tained by Plato in his Academy, at a neat, homely, and (as
Ion says) no surfeiting feast (such an one as is constantly
followed by sound sleep, and, by reason of the calm and
pleasant state the body enjoys, rarely interrupted with
dreams and apparitions), the next day, being sensible of
the difference, said that those that supped with Plato were
well treated, even the day after the feast. For such a tem-
per of a body not over-charged, but expedite and fitted
for the ready execution of all its enterprises, is without all
doubt a great help for the more comfortable passing aAvay

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 339

of the (lay. But there is another benefit not inferior to
the former, which does usually accrue to those that sup
with Plato, namely, the recollection of those points that
were debated at the table. For the remembrance of those
pleasures which arise from meat and drink is ungenteel,
and short-lived withal, and nothing but the remains of yes-
terday's smell. But the subjects of philosophical queries
and discourses, being always fresh after they are imparted,
are equally relished by all, as well by those that were
absent as by those that were present at them ; insomuch
that learned men even now are as much partakers of Socra-
tes's feasts as those who really supped with him. But if
things pertaining to the body had afforded any pleasure,
Xenophon and Plato should have left us an account not of
the discourse, but of the great variety of dishes, sauces, and
other costly compositions that were prepared in the houses
of Callias and Agatho. Yet there is not the least mention
made of any such things, though questionless they were
as sumptuous as possible ; but whatever things were treated
of and learnedly discussed by then* guests were left upon
record and transmitted to posterity as precedents, not only
for discoursing at table, but also for remembering the
things that were handled at such meetings.

QUESTION L

What is the Reason that those that are Fasting are morb
Thirsty than Hungry ?

plutarch and others.

I PRESENT you with this Sixth Book of Table Discourses,
wherein the first thing that comcth to be discussed is an
enquiry into the reason why those that are fasting are
more inclinable to drink than to eat. For the assertion
carries in it a repugnancy to the standing rules of reason ;
forasmuch as the decayed stock of dry nourisiiment seems

340 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 341

QUESTION- IL
Whether Want op Nourishment causeth Hunger and Thirst,
OR the Change in the Figure op the Pores or Passages
OF the Body.

rniLO, PLUTARCH.

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

2. I must confess this discourse seemed to carry in it

342 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

some shadow of reason and probability ; but in the main
it is directly repugnant to the chief end of nature, to which
appetite directs every animal. For that makes it desire a
supply of what they stand in need of, and avoid a defect of
their proper food. Now to deny that this very thing, which
principally distinguishes an animate creature from an inan-
imate, conduces to the preservation and duration of such a
creature, being that which craves and receives those things
which the body needs to supply its wants, and, on the con-
trary, to suppose that such an appetite arises from the
transfiguration or the greater or lesser size of the pores,
is an absurdity worthy only of such as have no regard at
all for Nature. Besides, it is absurd to think that a body
through the want of natural heat should be chilled, and
should not in like manner hunger and thirst through the
want of natural moisture and nourishment. And yet this
is more absurd, that Nature when overcharged should
desire to disburden herself, and yet should not require to
be filled on account of emptiness, but on account of some
afi*ection or other, I know not what. Moreover, these
needs and supplies in relation to animals have some resem-
blance to those we see in husbandry. There are a great
many like qualities and like provisions on both sides. For
in a drought we water our grounds, and in case of exces-
sive heat, we frequently make use of moderate coolers ;
and when our fruits are too cold, w^e endeavor to preserve
and cherish them, by covering and making fences about
them. And for such things as are out of the reach of
human power, we implore the assistance of the Gods, that
is, to send us softening dews, sunshines qualified with
moderate winds ; that so Nature, being always desirous of
a due mixture, may have her wants supplied. And for
this reason I presume it was that nourishment is called
xQQcp'i (from Tijnovv), because it watches and preserves Nature.
Now Nature is preserved in plants, which are destitute of

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 343

sense, by the favorable influence of the circumambient air
(as Empedocles says), moistening them in such a measure
as is most agreeable to their nature. But as for us men,
our appetites prompt us on to the chase and pursuance of
whatsoever is wanting to our natural temperament.

Now let us pass to the examination of the truth of the
arguments that seem to favor the contrary opinion. And
for the first, I suppose that those meats that are palatable
and of a quick and sharp taste do not beget in us an appe-
tite, but rather bite and fret those parts that receive the
nourishment, as we find that scratching the skin causes
itching. And supposing we should grant that this affection
or disposition is the very thing which we call the appetite,
it is probable that, by the operation of such kind of food
as this, the nourishment may be made small, and so much
of it as is convenient for Nature severed from the rest, so
that the indigency proceeds not from the transmutation,
but from the evacuation and purgation of the passages.
For sharp, tart, and salt things grate the inward matter,
and by dispersing of it cause digestion, so that by the con-
coctions of the old there may arise an appetite for new.
Nor does the cessation of thirst after a bath spring from
the different position of the passages, but from a new sup-
ply of moisture received into the flesh, and conveyed from
thence to them also. And vomiting, by throwing off what-
ever is disagreeable to Nature, puts her in a capacity of
enjoying what is most suitable for her. For thirst does
not call for a superfluity of moisture, but only for so much
as sufhceth Nature; and therefore, though a man liad
])lenty of disagreeable and unnatural moisture, yet he wants
still, for that stops the course of tlie natural, which Nature
is desirous of, and hinders a due mixture and temperament,
till it be cast out and the passages receive what is most
proper and convenient for them. Moreover, a fever forces
all the moisture downward ; and the middle parts being

344 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

in a flame, it all retires thither, and there is shut up
and forcibly detained. And therefore it is usual with a
great many to vomit, by reason of the density of the in-
ward parts squeezing out the moisture, and likewise to
thirst, by reason of the poor and dry state the rest of the
body is in. But after the violence of the distemper is once
abated, and the raging heat hath left the middle parts, the
moisture begins to disperse itself again ; and according to
its natural motion, by a speedy conveyance into all the
parts, it refreshes the entrails, softens and makes tender
the dry and parched flesh. Very often also it causes sw^at,
and then the defect which occasioned thirst ceases ; for the
moisture leaving that part of the body wherein it was
forcibly detained, and out of which it hardly made an
escape, retires to the place where it is wanted. For as it
fares with a garden wherein there is a large well, — if no-
body draw thereof and water it, the herbs must needs
wither and die, — so it fares with a body ; if all the moist-
ure be contracted into one part, it is no wonder if the rest
be in want and dry, till it is diffused again over the other
limbs. Just so it happens to persons in a fever, after the
heat of the disease is over, and likewise to those who go
to sleep thirsty. For in these, sleep draws the moisture
out of the middle parts, and equally distributes it amongst
the rest, satisfying them all. But, I pray, what kind of
transflguration of the passages is this which causes hunger
and thirst? For my part, I know no other distinction of
the passages but in respect of their number, or that some
of them are shut, others open. As for those that are shut,
they can neither receive meat nor drink ; and as for those
that are open, they make an empty space, which is notliing
but a want of that which Nature requires. Thus, sir,
when men dye cloth, the liquor in which they dip it hath
very sharp and abstersive particles ; which, consuming and
scouring off all the matter that filled the pores, make the

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 345

cloth more apt to receive the dye, because its pores are
empty and want something to fill them up.

QUESTION III

"What is the Reason that Hunger is Allayed by Drinking,
BUT Thirst Increased by Eating?

THE UOST, rLUTARCII, AND OTHERS.

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

2. or (his eflfect, said I, I do not in the least doubt, but
I do not approve of the reason they give for it. For if
any one should admit these pores (which some are so un-
reasonably fond of) to be in the liesh, he must needs make
it ;i \< ly soft, loose, flabby substimce ; and that the same
parts do not receive the meat and drink, but that they run

346 TLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

through diiFcrent canals and strainers in them, seems to
me to be a very strange and unaccountable opinion.

For the moisture mixes with the dry food, and by the
assistance of the natural heat and spirits cuts the nour-
ishment far smaller than any cleaver or chopping-knife, to
the end that every part of it may be exactly fitted to each
part of the body, not applied, as they would have it, to
little vessels and pores, but united and incorporated with
the whole substance. And unless the thing were ex-
plained after this manner, the hardest knot in the ques-
tion would still remain unsolved. For a man that has a
thirst upon him, supposing he eats and doth not drink, is
so far from quenching, that he does highly increase it.
This point is yet untouched. But mark, said I, whether
the j)ositions on my side be clear and evident or not. In
the first j)lace, we take it for granted that moisture is
wasted and destroyed by dryness, that the drier parts of the
nourishment, qualified and softened by moisture, are dif-
fused and fly away in vapors. Secondly, we must by no
means suppose that all hunger is a total privation of dry,
and thirst of humid nutriment, but only a moderate one,
and such as is sufficient to cause the one or the other ; for
whoever are wholly deprived of either of these, they
neither hunger nor thirst, but die instantly. These things
being laid down as a foundation, it will be no hard matter
to find out the cause. Thirst is increased by eating for
this reason, because that meat by its natural siccity con-
tracts and destroys all that small quantity of moisture
which remained scattered here and there through the
body ; just as it happens in things obvious to our senses ;
w^e see the earth, dust, and the like presently suck in the
moisture that is mixed with them. Now, on the contrary,
drink must of necessity assuage hunger ; for the moisture
watering and diffusing itself through the dry and parched
relics of the meat we ate last, by turning them into thin

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 347

juices, conveys them through the whole body, and succors the
indigent parts. And therefore with very good reason Era-
sistratus called moisture the vehicle of the meat ; for as soon
as this is mixed with things which by reason of their dryness,
or some other quality, are slow and heavy, it raises them
up and carries them aloft. Moreover, several men, when
they have drunk nothing at all, but only washed them-
selves, all on a sudden are freed from a violent hunger, be-
cause the extrinsic moisture entering the pores makes the
meat within more succulent and of a more nourishinsr
nature, so that the heat and fury of the hunger declines
and abates ; and therefore a great many of those who have
a mind to starve themselves to death live a long time only
by drinking water ; that is, as long as the siccity doe3 not
quite consume whatever may be united to and nourish the
body.

QUESTION IV,

What is the Reason that a Bucket of "Water drawn out of
A Well, if it stands all Night in the Air that is in the
"Well, is more cold in the Morning than the rest of the
Water?

a guest, plutarch, and others.

1. One of the strangers at the table, who took wonder-
ful great delight in drinking of cold water, had some
brought to him by the servants, cooled after this manner ;
they had hung in the well a bucket full of the same water,
so that it could not touch the sides of the well, and there
lot it remain all night : the next day, when it was brought
to table, it was colder than the water that was new-
chaw n. Now this gentleman was an indifferent good
scliolar, and therefore told the company he had learned
this from Aristotle, who gives the reason of it. The rea-
son which he assigned was this. All water, when it hath
been once hot, is afterwards more cold ; as that which is

348 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

prepared for kings, when it hath boiled a good while upon
the lire, is afterwards put into a vessel set round with snow,
and so made cooler ; just as we find our bodies more cool
after we have bathed, because the body, after a short relax-
ation from heat, is rarefied and more porous, and therefore
so much the more fitted to receive a larger quantity of air,
which causes the alteration. Therefore the water, when it
is drawn out of the well, being first warmed in the air,
grows presently cold.

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

QUESTION V.
What is the Reason that Pebble Stones and Leaden Bul-
lets TUROAVN INTO THE AVaTER 3IAKE IT MORE COLD ?

A GUEST, rLUTARCII, AND OTHERS.

I surrosE you may remember what Aristotle says in his
problems, of little stones and pieces of iron, how it hath
been observed by some that being thrown into the water

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 349

they temper and cool it. This is no more than barely as-
serted by him ; but we will go farther and enquire into
the reason of it, the discovery of which will be a matter
of difficulty. Yes, says I, it will so, and it is much if we
hit upon it ; for do but consider, first of all, do not you
suppose that the air which comes in from without cools
the water ? But now air has a great deal more power and
force, when it beats against stones and pieces of iron.
For they do not, like brazen and earthen vessels, suffer it
to pass through ; but, by reason of their solid bulk, beat
it back and reflect it into the water, so that upon all parts
the cold works very strongly. And hence it comes to pass
that rivers in the winter are colder than the sea, because
the cold air has a power over them, which by reason of its
depth it has not over the sea, where it is scattered without
any reflection. But it is probable that for another reason
thinner waters may be made colder by the air than thicker,
because they are not so strong to resist its force. Now
whetstones and pebbles make the water thinner by draw-
ing to them all the mud and other grosser substances that
be mixed with it, that so by taking the strength from it it
may the more easily be wrought upon by the cold. But
besides, lead is naturally cold, as that which, being dis-
solved in vinegar, makes the coldest of all poisons, called
white-lead ; and stones, by reason of their density, raise
cold in the bottom of the water. For every stone is noth-
ing else but a congealed lump of frozen earth, though
some more or less than others ; and therefore it is no ab-
surdity to say that stones and lead, by reflecting the air,
increase the coldness of the water.

350 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

QUESTION VI.

"What is the Reason that Men Preserve Snow by Covering
IT with Chaff and Cloths?

a guest, tlutarcii.

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

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

In garments thin doth Niobe's children fold,

And sometimes heats and sometimes cools the babes.

The Germans indeed make use of clothes only against the
cold, the Ethiopians only against the heat ; but they are
useful to us upon both accounts. Why therefore should
we rather say the clothes are hot, because they cause heat,
than cold, because they cause cold ? Nay, if we must be
tried by sense, it will be found that they are more cold than
hot. For at the first putting on of a coat it is cold, and
so is our bed when we lie down ; but afterwards thev m-ow
hot with the heat of our bodies, because they both keep
in the heat and keep out the cold. Indeed, feverish per-
sons and others that have a violent heat upon them often

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 351

change their clothes, because they perceive that fresh ones
at the first putting on are much colder ; but within a very
little time their bodies make them as hot as the others. In
like manner, as a garment heated makes us hot, so a cover-
mg cooled keeps snow cold. Now that which causes this
cold is the continual emanations of a subtile spirit the snow
has in it, which spirit, as long as it remains in the snow,
keeps it compact and close ; but, after once it is gone, the
snow melts and dissolves into water, and instantly loses its
whiteness, occasioned by a mixture of this spirit with a
frothy moisture. Therefore at the same time, by the help
of these clothes, the cold is kept in, and the external air
is shut out, lest it should thaw the concrete body of the
snow. The reason why they make use of cloth that has
not yet been at the fuller s is this, because that in such
cloth the hair and coarse flocks keep it off from pressing
too hard upon the snow, and bruising it. So chaff lying
lightly upon it does not dissolve the body of the snow, be-
sides the chaff lies close and shuts out the warm air, and
keeps in the natural cold of the snow. Now that snow
melts by the evaporating of this spiiit, we are ascertained
by sense ; for when snow melts it raises a vapor.

QUESTION Vn.
"WnExnER Wine ought to be Strained or not.

NIGER, ARLSTIO.

1. Niger, a citizen of ours, was lately come from school,
after he had spent some time under the discipline of a i*e-
nowned philosopher, but had learned nothing but those
faults by which his master was offensive and odious to
others, especially his habit of reproving and of carping at
whatever upon any occasion chanced to be spoke in com-
pany. And therefore, when we were at supper one time
at Aristio's, not content to assume to himself a liberty to

,S52 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

rail at all the rest of the preparations as too profuse and
extravagant, he had a pique at the wine too, and said that
it ought not to be brought to table strained, but that, ob-
serving Ilesiod's rule, we ought to drink it new out of the
vessel, while it has its natural strength and force. jNIore-
over, he added that this way of purging wine takes the
strength from it, and robs it of its natural heat, which,
when wine is poured out of one vessel into another, evap-
orates and dies. Besides he would needs persuade us that
it showed too much of a vain curiosity, effeminacy, and
luxury, to convert what is wholesome into that which is
palatable. For as the riotous, not the temperate, use to
cut cocks and geld pigs, to make their flesh tender and de-
licious, even against Nature ; just so (if we may use a
metaphor, says he) those that strain wine geld and emas-
culate it, whilst their squeamish stomachs will neither suf-
fer them to drink pure wine, nor their intemperance to
drink moderately. Therefore they make use of this ex-
pedient, to the end that it may render the desire they have
of drinking plentifully more excusable. So they take all
the strength from the wine, leaving the palatableness still ;
as we use to deal with those with whose constitution cold
water does not agree, to boil it for them. For they cer-
tainly take off all the strength from the wine, by straining
of it. And this is a great argument, that the wine deads,
grows flat, and loses its virtue, when it is separated from
the lees, as from its root and stock ; for the ancients for
very good reason called wine lees, as we use to signify a
man by his head or soul, as the principal part of him. So
in Greek, grape-gatherers are said xQvyavy the word being
derived from zQvi, which signifies lees ; and Homer in one
place calls the fruit of the wine diaxQvytov, and the Avine it-
self high-colored and red, — not pale and yellow, such as
Aristio gives us to supper, after all goodness is purged out
of it.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 353

2. Then Aristio smiling presently replied : Sir, the wine
I bring to table does not look so pale and lifeless as you
would have it ; but it appears at first sight to be mild
and well qualified. But for your part, you would glut
yourself with night wine, which raises melancholy vapors ;
and upon this account you cry out against purgation, which,
by carrying off whatever might cause melancholy or load
men s stomachs, and make them drunk or sick, makes it
mild and pleasant to those that drink it, such as heroes
(as Homer tells us) were formerly wont to drink. And it
was not dark-colored wine which he called aldoxp, but clear
and transparent ; for otherwise he would never have called
brass aJdoxpy after he had given it the epithets man-exalting
and resplendent. Therefore as the wise Anacharsis, dis-
commending some things that the Grecians enjoined, com-
mended their coals, because they leave the smoke without
doors, and bring the fire into the house ; so you judicious
men mifjht blame me for some other reason than this. But
what hurt, I pray, have I done to the wine, by taking from
it a turbulent and noisome quality, and giving it a better
taste, though a paler color ? Nor have I brought you wine
to the table which, like a sword, hath lost its edge and
vigorous relish, but such as is only purged of its dregs and
filth. But you will say that wine not strained hath a great
deal more strength. Why so, my friend? One that is
frantic and distracted has more strength than a man in his
wits ; but when, by the help of hellebore or some other
fit diet, he is come to himself, that rage and frenzy leave
him and quite vanish, and the true use of his reason and
health of body presently comes into its place. In like
manner, purging of wine takes from it all the strength that
inflames and enrages the mind, and gives it instead thereof
a mild and wholesome temper ; and I think there is a great
deal of difference between gaudiness and cleanliness. For
women, while they paint, perfume, and adorn themselves

VOL. IIU 2S

354 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS

with jewels and purple robes, are accounted gaudy and
profuse ; yet nobody will find fault with them for washing
their faces, anointing themselves, or platting their hair.
Homer very neatly expresses the difference of these two
habits, where he brings in Juno dressing herself : —

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

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

• n. XIV. 170.

PLUTAliCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 855

alike. What absurdity is it then by straining to separate
the lees, as it were the filth of the wine, especially since
the cleansing is no chargeable or painful operation ]

QUESTION VIIL
"WuAT IS THE Cause op Bulimy, or the Greedy Disease?

TLUTAKCir, SOCLARUS, CLEOMENES, AND OTHERS.

1. There is a certain sacrifice of very ancient institution,
which the chief magistrate or archon performs always in
the common-hall, and every private person in his own
house. 'Tis called the driving out of bulimy ; for they whip
out of doors some one of their sei-vants with a bunch of
willow rods, repeating these words, Get out of doors,
bulimy ; and enter riches and health. Therefore in my
year there was a great concourse of people present at the
sacrifice ; and, after all the rights and ceremonies of the
sacrifice were over, when we had seated ourselves again at
the table, there was an enquiry made first of all into the
signification of the word bulimy, then into the meaning of
the words which are repeated when the servant is turned
out of doors. But the principal dispute was concerning
the nature of it, and all its circumstances. First, as for
the word bulimy, it was agreed upon by all to denote a
great and public famine, especially among us who use the
Aeolic dialect, putting n for ^. For it was not called by
the ancients povhfWy- but novhfw^^ that is, nolv^ h^6^\ much
Imnr/er. We concluded that it was not the same with the
disease called Bubrostis, by an argument fetched out of
Mctrodorus's Ionics. For the said Metrodorus informs us
that the Smyraaeans, who were once Aeolians, sacrificed to
Bubrostis a black bull cut into pieces with the skin on, and
80 burnt it. Now, forasmuch as every species of hunger
resembles a disease, but more particularly bulimy, which

356 I^LUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

is occasioned by an unnatural disposition of the body, these
two differ as riches and poverty, health and sickness. But
as the word nauseate {yomtav) first took i^s name from men,
who were stomach-sick in a ship, and afterwards custom
prevailed so far that the word was applied to all persons
that were any way in like sort affected ; so the word
bulimy, rising at first from hence, was at last extended to
a more large and comprehensive signification. What has
been hitherto said was a general club of the opinions of
all those who were at table.

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

3. After all were silent, I (who had observed that dull
fellows and those of a less piercing judgment were satisfied
with and did acquiesce in the reasons the ancients gave for
bulimy, but to men of ingenuity and industry they only
pointed out the way to a more clear discovery of the truth
of the business) mentioned Aristotle's opinion, who says,
that extreme cold without causes extreme heat and con-

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 35t

sumption within ; which, if it fall into the legs, makes them
lazy and heavy, but if it come to the fountain of motion
and respiration, occasions fain tings and weakness. When
I had said that, some of the company opposed it, others
held with me, as was natural.

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

5. But Cleomenes the physician would have the word
L//oV (which signifies hunger) to be added to the making up
of the word ^ovhuo^ without any reason at all ; as Tt/mr, to
drinks has crept into xatamvsiv, to swallow; and -avtzt^iv, to
incline, into uvaxvniHP to raise the head. Nor is bulimy, as
it seems, a kind of hunger, but a fault in the stomach,
which concurring with heat causes a faintness. Tlierefore
as things that have a good smell recall the spirits of those
that are faint, so bread affects those that are almost over^
come with a bulimy ; not that they have any need of food
(for the least piece of it restores them their strength), but
the bread calls back their vigor and languishuig spirits.
Now that bulimy is not hunger but a faintness, is manifest
from all laboring beasts, which are seized with it very
often through the smell of dry figs and apples ; for a smell
docs not cause any want of food, but rather a paiu and
agitation in the stomach.

6. These things seemed to be reasonably well urged ;

358 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 359

beasts ; for different things have a natural tendency as well
to weaken as to refresh different creatures.

QUESTION IX.
"Why does Homee appropriate a certain peculiar Epithet to

EACH particular LiQUID, AND CALL OiL ALONE LiQUID ? *
PLUTARCH AND OTHERS.

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

2. First of all, its smoothness shows the evenness of its
parts ; for touch it where you please, it is all alike. Be-
sides, you may see your face in it as perfectly as in a
mirror ; for there is nothing rough in it to hinder the re-
flection, but by reason of its humidity it reflects to the eyes
the least particle of light from eveiy part of it. As, on
the contrary, milk, of all other liquids, does not return our
images, because it hath too many terrene and gross parts
mixed with it; again, oil of all liquids makes the least
noise when moved, for it is perfectly humid. When other
liquids are moved or poured out, their hard and grosser
parts fall and dash one against another, and so make a
noise by reason of their roughness. Moreover, oil only is
pure and unmixed ; for it is of all other liquids most com-
pact, nor has it any empty spaces and pores between the

•BeeOdjM. VI. 70and216.

360 PLUTARCH'3 SYMPOSIACS.

dry and earthy parts, to receive what chances to fall upon
it. Besides, because of the similitude of parts, it is closely
joined together, and unfit to be joined to any thing else.
When oil froths, it does not let any wind in, by reason of
the contiguity and subtility of its parts ; and this is also
the cause why fire is nourished by it. For fire feeds upon
nothing but what is moist, for nothing is combustible but
what is so ; for when the fire is kindled, the air turns to
smoke, and the terrene and grosser parts remain in the
ashes. Fire preys only upon the moisture, which is its nat^
ural nourishment. Indeed water, wine, and other liquors,
having abundance of earthy and heavy parts in them, by
falling into fire part it, and by their roughness and weight
smother and extinguish it. But oil, because purely liquid,
by reason of its subtility, is overcome by the fire, and so
changed into flame.

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 361

QUESTION X

"What is the Reason that Flesh of Sacrificed Beasts, after
it has nung a while upon a fig-tuee, is more tender than

BEFORE ?

ARISTIO, PLUTARCH, OTHERS.

At supper we were commending Aristio's cook, wlio,
amongst other dishes that he had dressed very curiously,
brought a cock to table just killed as a sacrifice to Her-
cules, as tender as though it had been killed a day or two
before. When Aristio told us that this was no wonder,

— seeing such a thing might be very easily done, if the
cock, as soon as he was killed, was hung upon a fig-tree,

— we began to enquire into the reason of what he as-
serted. Indeed, I must confess, our eye assures us that a
fig-tree sends out a fierce and strong spirit ; which is yet
more evident, from what we have heard said of bulls.
That is, a bull, after he is tied to a fig-tree, though never
so mad before, grows presently tame, and will suffer you
to touch him, and on a sudden all his rage and fury cool
and die. But the chiefest cause that works this chansfe is
the sharp acrimonious quality of the tree. For of all
trees this is the fullest of sap, and so are its figs, wood,
and bark ; and hence it comes to pass, that the smoke of
fig-wood is most offensive to the eyes; and when it is
burned, its ashes make the best lye to scour withal. But
all these effects proceed from heat. Now there are some
that say, when the sap of this tree thrown into milk curds
it, that this effect does not arise from the irregular figures
of the paits of the milk, which the sap unites and (as it
were) glues into one body, the smooth and globose parts
being squeezed out, but that by its heat it loosens the un-
stiible and watciy parts of the liquid body. And we may
use as an argument the unprofitableness of the sap of this
tree, which, though it is veiy sweet, yet makes the worat

362 PLUTARCirS symposiacs.

liquor in the world. For it is not the inequality in the
parts that affects the smooth part, but what is cold and
raw is contracted by heat. And salt helps to produce
the same effect ; for it is hot, and works in opposition to
the uniting of the parts just mentioned, causing rather a
dissolution ; for to it, above all other things, Nature has
given a dissolving faculty. Therefore the fig-tree sends
forth a hot and sharp spirit, which cuts and boils the flesh
of the bird. The very same thing may be effected by
placing the flesh upon a heap of corn,^ or near nitre ; the
heat will produce the same that the fig-tree did. Now it
may be made manifest that wheat is naturally hot, in that
wine, put into a hogshead and placed among wheat, is
presently consumed.

BOOK VII.

The Romans, Sossius Senecio, remember a pretty saying
of a pleasant man and good companion, who supping alone
said that he had eaten to-day, but not supped ; as if a
supper always wanted company and agreement to make it
palatable and pleasing. Evenus said that fire was the
sweetest of all sauces in the world. And Homer calls salt
<>eiov, divine; and most call it yanirag. graces, because, mixed
with most part of our food, it makes it palatable and
agreeable to the taste. Now indeed the best and most
divine sauce that can be at an entertainment or a supper
is a familiar and pleasant friend ; not because he eats and
drinks with a man, but because he participates of and
communicates discourse, especially if the talk be profitable,
pertinent, and instructive. For commonly loose talk over

PLUTARCH'S eYMPOSIACS. 363

a glass of wine raiseth passions and spoils company, and
therefore it is fit that we should be as critical in examining
what discourses as what friends are fit to be admitted to a
supper ; not following either the saying or opinion of the
Spartans, who, when they entertained any young man or a
stranger in their public halls, showed him the door, with
these words, " No discourse goes out this way." What
we use to talk of may be freely disclosed to everybody,
because we have nothing in our discourses that tends to
looseness, debauchery, debasing of ourselves, or back-bit-
ing others. Judge by the examples, of which this seventh
book contains ten.

QUESTION L

AOAIKST THOSE WHO FIND FAULT WITH PlA.TO FOR SAYINO

THAT Drink passetii through the Lungs. *

KICIAS, PLUTARCH, PROTOGEXES, FLORUS.

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

Now drench thy lungs with wine, the Dog appears.

And Nicias of Nicopolis, a physician, presently sub-
joined : It is no wonder tliat Alcaeus, a poet, should
be ignorant of that of which Plato the philosopher was.
Though Alcaeus may be defended ; for it is probable tliat
the lungs, lying near the stomach, may participate of the
steam of the liquor, and be drenched with it. But the
l)hilosophcr, expressly delivering that most part of our
drink passeth through the lungs, hath precluded all ways
of excuse to those that would be willing to defend him.
For it is a very great and complicated ignorance ; for fii*st,
it being necessary that our liquid and dry food should be
mixed, it is very probable that the stomach is the vessel
for them both, which throws out the dry food after it is

364 PLUTARCH'S SYMP(:)SIACS.

grown soft and moist into the guts. Besides, the lungs
being a dense and compacted body, how is it possible that,
when we sup gruel or the like, the thicker parts should
pass through them 1 And this was the objection which
Erasistratus rationally made against Plato. Besides, when
he considered for what end every part of the body was
made, and what use Nature designed in their contrivance,
it was easy to perceive that the epiglottis was framed on
purpose that when we drink the wind-pipe should be shut,
and nothing be suffered to fall upon the lungs. For if
any thing by chance gets down that way, we are troubled
with retching and coughing till it is thrown up again.
And this epiglottis being framed so that it may fall on
either side, whilst we speak it shuts the weasand, but when
we eat or drink it falls upon the wind-pipe, and so secures
the passage for our breath. Besides, we know that those
who drink by little and little are looser than those who
drink greedily and large draughts ; for in the latter the
very force drives it into their bladders, but in the former it
stays, and by its stay is mixed with and moistens the meat
thoroughly. Now this could not be, if in the very drink-
ing the liquid was separated from the food ; but the effect
follows, because we mix and convey them both together,
using (as Erasistratus phraseth it) the liquid as a vehicle
for the dry.

2. Nicias having done, Protogenes the grammarian sub-
joined, that Homer was the first that observed the stomach
was the vessel of the food, and the windpipe (which the
anriients called dacpdnayov) of the breath, and upon the same
a ('count they called those who had loud voices Iniaopandyovg
And when he describes how Achilles killed Hector, he
says,

He pierced his weasand, where death enters soon ;

and adds,

But not his windpipe, so that ho could speak *
♦ n. XXII. 325-329.

PLUTARCirS SYMPOSIACS. 365

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

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

From his gullet (^ipuyof) flowed

Tlie clotted wine and undigested flesli.*

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

Protagoras bids us drink a lusty bowl,

That when the Dog appears our lungs may still be moist ;

or elegant Eratosthenes, who says.

And having drenched his lungs with purest wine ;

even Euripides, somewhere expressly saying.

The wine passed tlirough the hoilows of the lungs,

shows that he saw better and clearer than Erasisti-atus.
For he saw that the lungs have cavities and pores, through
which the liquids pass. For the breath in expiration hath
no need of pores, but that the liquids and those things
which pass with them might go through, it is made like a
strainer and full of pores. Besides, sir, as to the influence
of gruel which you proposed, the lungs can discharge them-
selves of the thicker parts together with the thin, as well
as the stomach. For our stomach is not, as some fancy,

• Odyss. IX. 878.

366 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

smooth and slippery, but full of asperities, in which it is
probable that the thin and small particles are lodged, and
so not taken quite down. But neither this nor the other
can we positively affirm ; for the curious contrivance of
Nature in her operations is too hard to be explained ; nor
can we be particularly exact upon those instruments (I
mean the spirit and the heat) which she makes use of in
her Avorks. But besides those we have mentioned to con-
firm Plato's opinion, let us produce Philistion of Locri, a
very ancient and famous physician, and Hippocrates too,
with his pupil Dioxippus ; for they thought of no other
passage but that which Plato mentions. Dioxippus knew
very well that precious talk of the epiglottis, but says,
that wlien we feed, the moist parts are about that separ-
ated from the dry, and the first are carried down the wind-
pipe, the other down the weasand ; and that the windpipe
receives no parts of the food, but the stomach, together
with the dry parts, receives some portion of the liquids.
And this is probable, for the epiglottis lies over the wind-
pipe, as a fence and strainer, that the drink may get in by
little and little, lest descending in a large full stream, it
stop the breath and endanger the life. And therefore
birds have no epiglottis, because they do not sup or lap
when they drink, but take up a little in their beak, and let
it run gently down their windpipe.

These testimonies I think are enough ; and reason con-
firms Plato's opinion by arguments drawn first from sense.
For when the windpipe is wounded, no drink will go down ;
but as if the pipe were broken it runs out, though the
weasand be whole and unhurt. And all know that in the
inflammation of the lungs the patient is troubled with ex-
treme thirst ; the heat or dryness or some other cause,
together with the inflammation, making the appetite in-
tense. But a stronger evidence than all these follows.
Those creatures that have very small lungs, or none at all,

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 367

neither want nor desire drink, because to some parts there
belongs a natural appetite to diink, and those that want
those parts have no need to drink, nor any appetite to be
supplied by it. But more, the bladder would seem unne-
cessary ; for, if the weasand receives both meat and drink
and conveys it to the belly, the supei-fluous parts of tlie
liquids would not want a proper passage, one common one
would suffice as a canal for both that were conveyed to the
same vessel by the same passage. But now the bladder is
distinct from the guts, because the drink goes from the
lungs, and the meat from the stomach ; they being separ-
ated as we take them down. And this is the reason that
in our water nothing can be found that either in smell or
color resembles dry food. But if the drink were mixed
with the dry meat in the belly, it must be impregnant with
its qualities, and not come forth so simple and untinged.
Besides, a stone is never found in the stomach, though it
is likely that the moisture should be coagulated there as
well as in the bladder, if all the liquor were conveyed
through the weasand into the belly. But it is probable that
the weasand robs the windpipe of a sufficient quantity of
liquor as it is going down, and useth it to soften and con-
coct the meat. And therefore its excrement is never purely
liquid ; and the lungs, disposing of the moisture, as of the
breath, to all the parts that want it, deposit the superflu-
ous poition in the bladder. And I am sure that this is a
much more probable opinion than the other. But which
is the truth cannot perhaps be discovered, and therefore it
is not fit 80 peremptorily to find fault with the most acute
and most famed philosopher, especially when the matter is
so obscure, and the Platonists can produce such consider-
able reasons for their opinion.

368 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

QUESTION n,

"What humored Ma.n is he that Plato calls KZQaa^oXog'^ And
WHY DO THOSE Seeds that fall on the oxen's horns become

PLUTARCH, PATROCLES, EUTHYDEMUS, FLORUS.

1. We had always some difficulty started about y,tQaa{^6log
and drendficav, not what humor those words signified (for it is
certain that some, thinking that those seeds which fall on
the oxen's horns bear fruit which is very hard, did by a
metaphor call a stiff untractable fellow by these names),
but what was the cause that seeds falling on the oxen's
horns should bear hard fruit. I had often desired my
friends to search no farther, most of all fearing the dis-
course of Theophrastus, in which he has collected many
of those particulars whose causes we cannot discover.
Such are the hen's purifying herself with straw after she
has laid, the seal's swallowing her rennet when she is
caught, the deer's burying his cast horns, and the goat's
stopping the whole herd by holding a branch of sea-holly
in his mouth ; and among the rest he reckoned this is a
thing of which we are certain, but whose cause it is very
difficult to find. But once at supper at Delphi, some of
my companions — as if we were not only better counsel-
lors when our belhes are full (as one hath it), but wine
would make us brisker in our enquiries and bolder in our
resolutions — desired me to speak somewhat to that prob-
lem.

2. I refused, though I had some excellent men on my
side, namely, Euthydemus my fellow-priest, and Patrocles
my relation, who brought several the like instances, which
they had gathered both from husbandry and hunting ; for
instance, that those officers that are appointed to watch the
coming of the hail avert the storm by offering a mole's

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 369

blood or a woman's rags ; that a wild fig being bound
to a garden fig-tree will keep the fruit from falling, and
promote their ripening ; that deer when they are taken
shed salt tears, and boars sweet. But if you have a mind
to such questions, Euthydemus will presently desire you to
give an account of smallage and cummin ; one of the
which, if trodden down as it springs, will grow the bet-
ter, and the other men curse and blaspheme whilst they
sow it.

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

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

The season, not the field, bears friiit,

do not justly reprehend him. For fields that are warm by
nature, the air being likewise temperate, bear more mellow
fruit than others. And therefore those seeds that fall im-
mediately on the earth out of the sower's hand, and are
covered presently, and cherished by being covered, partake
more of the moisture and heat that is in the earth. But
those that strike against the oxen's horns do not enjoy
what Hesiod calls the best position, but seem to be scat-
tered rather than sown ; and therefore the cold either de-
stroys them quite, or else, lighting upon them as they lie
naked, condense th their moisture, and makes them hard
and woody. Thus stones that lie under ground and plant-
animals have softer parts than those that lie above ; and

voT.. III. 24

370 PLUTARCH'S SrMPOSIACS.

therefore stone-cutters bury the stones they would work, as
if they designed to have them prepared and softened by the
heat ; but those that lie above ground are by the cold made
hard, rigrid, and verv hurtful to the tools. And if corn
lies long upon the floor, the grains become much harder
than that which is presently carried away. And some-
times too a cold wind blowing whilst they winnow spoils
the corn, as it hath happened at Philippi in Macedonia ;
and the chafl" secures the grains whilst on the floor. For
is it any wonder that husbandmen afllrm, one ridge will
bear soft and fruitful, and the very next to it hard and un-
fruitful corn ? Or — which is stranger — that in the same
bean-cod some beans are of this sort, some of the other, as
more or less wind and moisture falls upon this or that ?

QUESTION III

Why the Middle op Wine, the Top op Oil, and the Bottom
OP Honey is Best.

ALEXION, PLUTARCH, OTHERS.

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

2. We were not at all puzzled about the honey, every-
body almost knowing that that which is lightest is so be-
cause it is rare, and that the heaviest parts are dense and
compact, and by reason of their weight settle below the

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 371

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

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

4. Well then ! said I, the same quality in the air may
spoil wine, and better oil. For long keeping improves

372 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

wine, but spoils oil. Now the air keeps oil from growing
old ; for that which is cooled continues fresh and new, but
that which is kept close up, having no way to exhale its
corrupting parts, presently decays, and grows old. There-
fore it is probable that the air coming upon the superficies
of the oil keepeth it fresh and ncAV. And this is the rea-
son that the top of wine is worst, and of oil best ; because
age betters the one, and spoils the other.

QUESTION IV.

What was the Reason of that Custom op the Ancient Ro-
mans TO Remove the Table before all the Meat was eaten,

AND not to put out THE LaMP ?

FLORUS, EUSTROPHUS, CAESERNIUS, LUCIUS.

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

2. First, about the lamps. And his son-in-law Caesernius
was of opinion that the ancients abominated all extinction

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 373

of fire, because of the relation it had to the sacred and
eternal flame. Fire, like man, may be destroyed two ways,
either when it is violently quenched, or when it naturally
decays. The sacred fire was secured against both w^ays,
being always watched and continually supplied ; but the
common fire they permitted to go out of itself, not forcing
or violently extinguishing it, but not supplying it with
nourishment, like a useless beast, that they might not feed
it to no purpose.

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

4. I can find fault, replied I, with no j)art of the dis-
course, yet I would subjoin, that this custom is an instruc-
tion for kindness and good-will. For it is not lawful for
any one that hath eaten sufficiently to destroy the remainder
of the food; nor for him that hath supplird his necessities
from the fountain to stop it up ; nor for him that hath
made use of any marks, either by sea or land, to ruin or
deface them ; but every one ought to leave those things
that may be useful to those persons that afterwards may
have iifcd of them. Therefore it is not fit, out of a saving

874 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIA€S;

covetous humor, to put out a lamp as soon as we need it
not ; but we ought to preserve and let it burn for the use
of those that perhaps want its light. Thus, it would be
very generous to lend our ears and eyes, nay, if possible,
our reason and fortitude, to others, whilst we are idle
or asleep. Besides, consider whether to stir up men to
gratitude these minute observances were practised. The
ancients did not act absurdly when they highly reverenced
an oak. The Athenians called one fig-tree sacred, and for-
bade any one to cut down an olive. For such observances
do not (as some fancy) make men prone to superstition,
but persuade us to be communicative and grateful to one
another, by being accustomed to pay this respect to these
senseless and inanimate creatures. Upon the same reason
Hesiod, methinks, adviseth well, who would not have any
meat or broth set on the table out of those pots out of which
there had been no portion offered, but ordered the first-
fruits to be given to the fire, as a reward for the service it
did in preparing it. And the Romans, dealing well with
the lamps, did not take away the nourishment they had
once given, but permitted them to live and shine by it.

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 3*5

6. Then I with a smile said : But, sir, that fish there,
that according to the proverb is hxid up, why do not we
bring out into play together with Pythagoras^s choenix,
which he forbids any man to sit upon, thereby teaching us
that we ought to leave something of what we have before
us for another time, and on the present day be mindful of
the morrow 1 We Boeotians use to have that saying fre-
quently in our mouths, " Leave something for the Modes,"
ever since the Modes overran and spoiled Phocis and the
marches of Boeotia ; but still, and upon all occasions, we
ought to have that ready, " Leave something for the guests
that may come." And therefore I must needs find fault
with that always empty and starving table of Achilles ; for,
>vhen Ajax and Ulysses came ambassadors to him, he had
nothing ready, but was forced out of hand to dress a fresh
supper. And when he would entertain Priam, he again
bestirs himself, kills a white ewe, joints and dresses it, and
in that work spent a great part of the night. But Eumaeus
(a wise scholar of a wise master) had no trouble upon him
when Telemachus came home, but presently desired him
to sit down, and feasted him, setting before him dishes of
boiled meat,

The cleanly reliques of the hut night's feast

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

7. Lucius subjoining said, that he had heard his grand-
mother say, that the table was sacred, and nothing that is
sacred ought to be empty. Besides, continued he, in my
opinion, the table hath some resemblance of the earth ; for,
besides nourishing us, it is round and stable, and is fitly
called by some Vesta (Eatia, from tartifu). Therefore as we

376 TLUT ARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

desire that the earth should always have and bear some-
thing that is useful for us, so we think that we should not
let the table be altogether empty and void of all provision.

QUESTION V.

That we ought carefully to Preserve Ourselves from Pleas-
ures ARISING from Bad Music. And how it may be done.

CALLISTRATUS, LAMPRIAS.

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

2. For my part, I absolve all lovers of shows and music
from intemperance ; yet I cannot altogether agree with
Aristoxenus, who says that those pleasures alone deserve

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 377

the approbation " fine." For we call viands and ointments
fine ; and we say we have finely dined, when we have been
splendidly entertained. Nor, in my opinion, doth Aristotle
npon good reason free those complacencies we take in
shows and songs from the charge of intemperance, saying,
that those belong peculiarly to man, and of other pleas-
ures beasts have a share. For 1 am certain that a great
many irrational creatures are delighted with music, as
deer with pipes ; and to mares, whilst they arc horsing,
they play a tune called iTtnoOoQog. And Pindar says, that his
songs make him move,

As brisk AS Dolphins, whom a cliarming tnno
Ilath raised from th' bottom of the quiet flood.

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

3. Upon this discourse of Callistratus, my father Lam-
prias, seeing the musicians grow bolder, said : That is not
the reason, sir, and, in my opinion, the ancients were much
out when they named Bacchus the son of Forgetfulness.
They ought to have called him his father ; for it seems he

378 TLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

hath made you forget that some of those faults Avhich are
committed about pleasures proceed from a loose intemper-
ate inclination, and others from heedlessness or ignorance.
Where the ill effect is very plain, there intemperate in-
clination captivates reason, and forces men to sin ; but
where the just reward of intemperance is not directly and
presently inflicted, there ignorance of the danger and heed-
lessness make men easily wrought on and secure. There-
fore those that are vicious, either in eating, drinking, or
yenery, which diseases, wasting of estates, and evil reports
usually attend, we call intemperate. For instance, Theo-
dectes, who having sore eyes, when his mistress came to
see him, said,

All hail, delightful light;

or Anaxarchus the Abderite,

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

Now those that take all care possible to secure themselves
from all those pleasures that assault them either at the
smelling, touch, or taste, are often surprised by those that
make their treacherous approaches either at the eye or
ear. But such, though as much led away as tlie others,
we do not in like manner call loose and intemperate, since
they are debauched through ignorance and want of expe-
rience. For they imagine they are far from being slaves to
pleasures, if they can stay all day in the theatre Avithout
meat or drink ; as if a pot forsooth should be mighty
proud that a man cannot take it up by the bottom or the
belly and carry it away, though he can easily do it by the
ears. Therefore Agesilaus said, it was all one whether a
man were a chiaedus before or behind. We ought prin-
cipally to dread those softening delights that please and
tickle through the eyes and ears, and not think that city

r

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 379

not taken which hath all its other gates secured by bars,
portcullises, and chains, if the enemies are already en-
tered through one and have taken possession ; or^ fancy
ourselves invincible against the assaults of pleasure, be-
cause stews will not provoke us, when the music-meeting
or theatre prevails. For in one case as much as the other
we resign up our souls to the impctuousness of pleasures,
which pouring in those potions of songs, cadences, and
tunes, more powerful and bewitcliing than the best mix-
tures of the skilful cook or perfumer, conquer and corru])t
us ; and in the mean time, by our own confession, as it
were, the fault is chiefly ours. Now, as Pindar saith, noth-
ing that the earth and sea hath provided for our tables can
be justly blamed, nor doth it change ; but neither our
meat nor broth, nor this excellent wine which we drink,
hath raised such a noisy tumultuous pleasure as those
songs and tunes did, which not only filled the house with
clapping and shouting, but perhaps the whole town. There-
fore we ought principally to secure ourselves against such
delights, because they are more powerful than others ; as
not being terminated in the body, like those which allure
the touch, taste, or smelling, but affecting the very intel-
lectual and judging faculties. Besides, from most other
delights, though reason doth not free us, yet other passions
very commonly divert us. Sparing niggardliness will keep
a glutton from dainty fish, and covetousness will confine a
lecher from a costly whore. As in one of Menander*s
plays, where every one of the company was to be enticed
by the bawd who brought out a surprising whore, each of
them, though all boon companions,

8at tullenl/, and fcU upon hit catet.

1 ur to pay interest for money is a severe punishment that
follows intemperance, and to open our purses is no easy
matter. But these pleasures that are called genteel, and

380 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSLVCS.

solicit the ears or eyes of those that are frantic after shows
and music, may be had without any charge at all, in every
place almost, and upon every occasion ; they may be en-
joyed at the prizes, in the theatre, or at entertainments, at
others' cost. And therefore those that have not their
reason to assist and guide them may be easily spoiled.

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

We toss our hands with noise, and madly shout,

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 381

QUESTION VL

CONCEnNINO THOSE GOE3T3 THAT ARE CALLED SHADOWS, AND
WHETHER BEING INVITED BY SOME TO GO TO ANOTHER'S IIOUSE,
THEY OUGHT TO GO; AND WHEN, AND TO WHOM.

PLUTARCH, FLOnUS, CAESERNIUS.

1. IIoMER makes Menclaus come uninvited to his brother
Agamemnon's treat, when he feasted the commanders ;

For well he knew great cares his brother rexed.*

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

• n.n.409.

382 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

they should keep one corner of their bellies for a great
cake that was to come. And they, expecting this, fed
sparingly on the meat that was set before them, so that the
provision seemed sufficient for them all.

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

Invite a friend to feast, *

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

* Works and Days, 342.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 383

Speak, tongue, if thou wilt utter jovial things,

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

3. A short silence followed this discourse ; then Florus
began thus: This last thing you mentioned, sir, is a greater
difficulty than the other. For it is necessary when we
invite our friends to give them liberty to choose their own
shadows, as was before hinted ; for to entertain them with-
out their friends is not very obliging, nor is it very easy to
know whom the person we invite would be most pleased
Avith. Then said I to him: Consider therefore whether
those that give then* friends this license to invite do not at
the same time give the invited license to accept the invita-
tion and come to the entertainment. For it is not fit either
to permit or to desire another to do that which is not
decent to be done, or to urge and persuade to that which
no man ought to be persuaded or to consent to do. When
we entcrtiiin a great man or stranger, there wc cannot
invite or choose his company, but must receive those that
come along with him. But when we treat a friend, it will
be more acceptable if we ourselves invite all, as knowing
his acquaintance and familiars ; for it tickles him extremely
to see that others take notice that he hath chiefly a respect

.384 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

for such and such, loves their company most, and is well
pleased when they are honored and invited as well as he.
Yet sometimes we must deal with our friend as petitioners
do when they make addresses to a God ; they offer vows to
all that belong to the same altar and the same shrine,
though they make no particular mention of their names.
For no dainties, wine, or ointment can inclme a man to
merriment, as much as a pleasant agreeable companion.
For as it is rude and ungenteel to enquire and ask what
sort of meat, wine, or ointment the person whom we are
to entertain loves best ; so it is never disobliging or absurd
to desire him who hath a great many acquaintance to bring
those along with him whose company he likes most, and
in whose conversation he can take the greatest pleasure.
For it is not so irksome and tedious to sail in the same
ship, to dwell in the same house, or be a judge upon the
same bench, with a person whom we do not like, as to be
at the same table with him ; and the contrary is equally
pleasant. An entertainment is a communion of serious or
merry discourse or actions ; and therefore, to make a merry
company, we should not pick up any person at a venture,
but take only such as are known to one another and
sociable. Cooks, it is true, mix sour and sweet juices,
rough and oily, to make their sauces ; but there never was
an agreeable table or pleasant entertainment where the
guests were not all of a piece, and all of the same humor.
Now, as the Peripatetics say, the first mover in nature
moves only and is not moved, and the last moved is moved
only but does not move, and between these there is that
which moves and is moved by others ; so there is the same
analogy between those three sorts of persons that make
up a company, — there is the simple inviter, the simple
invited, the invited that invites another. We have spoken
already concerning the inviter, and it will not be improper,
in my opinion, to deliver my sentiments about the other

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 385

two. lie that is invited and invites others, should, in my
opinion, be sparing in the number that he brings. He
should not, as if he were to forage in an enemy's country,
carry all he can with him ; or, like those who go to possess
a new-found land, by the excessive number of his own
friends, incommode or exclude the friends of the inviter,
so that the inviter must be in the same case with those that
set forth suppers to Hecate and the Gods who avert evil,
of which neither they nor any of their family partake,
except of the smoke and trouble. It is true they only
speak in waggery that say.

He that at Delphi offers sacrifice

Must after meat for his own dinner buy.

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

Toi. ifT 26

386 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

tained should be as obliging to the entertainer as the enter-
tainer to the entertained ; and then he will be most oblig-
ing, when not only he himself, but all those that come by
his means, are pleasant and agreeable.

The last of the three which remains to be spoken of is
he that is invited by one man to another's feast. Now he
that disdains and is much offended at the name of a shadow
will appear to be afraid of a mere shadow. Bat in this
matter there is need of a great deal of caution, for it is not
creditable readily to go along with every one and to every-
body. But first you must consider who it is that invites ;
for if he is not a very familiar friend, but a rich or great
man, such who, as if upon a stage, wants a large or splen-
did retinue, or such who thinks that he puts a great obUga-
tion upon you and does you a great deal of honor by this
invitation, you must presently deny. But if he is your
friend and particular acquaintance, you must not yield upon
the first motion : but if there seems a necessity for some
conversation which cannot be put off till another time, or
if he is lately come from a journey or designs to go on
one, and out of mere good-will and affection seems desirous
of your company, and doth not desire to carry a great
many strangers but only some few friends along with
him ; or, besides all this, if he designs to bring you thus
invited acquainted with the principal inviter, who is very
worthy of your acquaintance, then consent and go. For
as to ill-humored persons, the more they seize and take
hold of us like thorns, we should endeavor to free our-
selves from them or leap over them the more. If he that
invites is a civil and well-bred person, yet doth not design
to carry you to one of the same temper, you must refuse,
lest you should take poison in honey, that is, get the ac-
quaintance of a bad man by an honest friend. It is absurd
to go to one you do not know, and with whom you never
had any familiarity, unless, as I said before, the person be

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 387

an extraordinary man, and, by a civil waiting upon him at
another man's invitation, you design to begin an acquaint-
ance with him. And those friends you should chiefly go
to as shadows, who would come to you again in the same
quality. To Philip the jester, indeed, he seemed more
ridiculous that came to a feast of his own accord than he
that was invited ; but to well-bred and civil friends it is
more obliging for men of the same temper to come at the
nick of time with other friends, when uninvited and un-
expected ; at once pleasing both to those that invite and
those that entertain. But chiefly you must avoid going to
rulers, rich or great men, lest you incur the deserved
censure of being impudent, saucy, rude, and unseasonably
ambitious.

QUESTION VIL

Whether Flute-girls are to be Admitted to a Feast?
diogexiaxus, a sophist, philip.

At Chaeronea, Diogenianus the Pergamenian being
present, we had a long discourse at an entertainment about
music ; and we had a great deal of trouble to hold out
against a great bearded sophister of the Stoic sect, who
quoted Plato as blaming a company that admitted flute-girls
and were not able to entertain one another ^vith discourse.
And Philip the Pmsian, of the same sect, said: Those
guests of Agatho, whose discourse was more sweet thiin
the sound of any pipe in the world, were no good authority
in tliis case ; for it was no wonder that in their company
the flute-girl was not regarded ; but it is strange that, in
the midst of the entertiiinment, the extreme pleasantness
of tlic discourse had not made them forget their meat and
drink. Yet Xenophon thought it not indecent to bring in
to Socrates, Antisthcncs, and the like the jester Philip ; as
Homer doth an onion to make the wine relish. And Plato

388 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

brought in Aristophanes's discourse of love, as a comedy,
into his entertainment ; and at the last, as it were draAving
all the curtains, he shows a scene of the greatest variety
imaginable, — Alcibiades drunk, frolicking, and crowned.
Then follows that pleasant raillery between him and So-
crates concerning Agatho, and the encomium of Socrates ;
and when such discourse was going on, good Gods ! had it
not been allowable, if Apollo himself had come in with his
harp ready, to desire the God to forbear till the argument
was out] These men, having such a pleasant way of dis-
coursing, used these arts and insinuating methods, and
graced their entertainments by facetious raillery. But shall
we, being mixed with tradesmen and merchants, and some
(as it now and then happens) ignorants and rustics, banish
out of our entertainments this ravishing delight, or fly the
musicians, as if they w^ere Sirens, as soon as we see them
coming] Clitomachus the wrestler, rising and getting
away when any one talked of love, was much wondered
at; and should not a philosopher that banisheth music
from a feast, and is afraid of a musician, and bids his link-
boy presently light his link and be gone, be laughed at,
since he seems to abominate the most innocent pleasures,
as beetles do ointment ? For, if at any time, certainly over
a glass of wine, music should be allowed, and then chiefly
the harmonious God should have the direction of our
souls ; so that Euripides, though I like him very well in
other things, shall never persuade me that music, as he
would have it, should be applied to melancholy and grief.
For there sober and serious reason, like a physician, should
take care of the diseased men ; but those pleasures should
be mixed with Bacchus, and serve to increase our mirth
and frolic. Therefore it was a pleasant saying of that
Spartan at Athens, who, when some new tragedians were
to contend for the prize, seeing the preparations of the
masters of the dances, the hurry and busy diligence of the

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 389

instructors, said, the city was certainly mad which sported
with so much pains. He that designs to sport should
sport, and not buy his ease and pleasure with great ex-
pense, or the loss of that time which might be useful to
other things ; but whilst he is feasting and free from busi-
ness, those should be enjoyed. And it is advisable to try
amidst our mirth, whether any profit is to be gotten from
our delights.

QUESTION vm.

What sort op Music is fittest for an Entertainment?
diogenianus, a sophist, philip.

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

390 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

ready to vomit when they hear excellent harmony, reject
it ; and no wonder, when effeminacy prevails.

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

3. Then Diogenianus, taking the cup, said : Methinks
this is very sober discourse, which makes me believe that
the wine doth not please you, since I see no effect of it ;
60 that I fear I ought to be corrected. Indeed many sorts
of music are to be rejected ; first, tragedy, as having noth-
ing familiar enough for an entertainment, and being a rep-
resentation of actions attended with grief and extremity
of passion. I reject the sort of dancing which is called
Pyladean from Pylades, because it is full of pomp, very
pathetical, and requii-es a great many persons ; but if we
would admit any of those sorts that deserve those encomi-
ums which Socrates mentions in his discourse about dan-
cing, I like that sort called Bathyllean, which requires not
so high a motion, but hath something of the nature of the
Cordax, and resembles the motion of an Echo, a Pan, or a
Satyr frolicking Avith love. Old comedy is not fit for men
that are making merry, by reason of the irregularities that
appear in it ; for that vehemency which they use in the
parabasis is loud and indecent, and the liberty they take to

(

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 391

scoff and abuse is very surfeiting, too open, and full of
filthy words and lewd expressions. Besides, as at great
men's tables every man hath a servant waiting at his elbow,
so each of his guests would need a grammarian to sit by
him, and explain who is Laespodias in Eupolis, Cinesias
in Plato, and Lampo in Cratinus, and who is each person
that is jeered in the play. Concerning new comedy there
is no need of any long discourse. It is so fitted, so inter-
woven with entertainments, that it is easier to have a regu-
lar feast without wine, than without Menander. Its phrase
is sweet and familiar, the humor innocent and easy, so that
there is nothing for men whilst sober to despise, or when
merry to be troubled at. The sentiments are so natural
and unstudied, that midst wine, as it were in fire, they
soften and bend the rigidest temper to be pliable and easy.
And the mixture of gravity and jests seems to be con-
trived for nothing so aptly as for the pleasure and profit of
those that are frolicking and making merry. The love-
scenes in Menander are convenient for those who have
already taken their cups, and who in a short time must
retire home to their wives ; for in all his plays there is no
love of boys mentioned, and all rapes committed on virgins
end decently in marriages at last. As for misses, if they
are impudent and jilting, they are bobbed, the young gal-
lants turning sober, and repenting of their lewd courses.
But if they are kind and constant, either their true parents
are discovered, or a time is determined for the intiigue,
which brings them at last to obliging modesty and civil
kindness. These things to men busied about other matters
may seem scarce worth taking notice of; but whilst they
are making meriy, it is no wonder that the pleasantness
and smoothness of the parts should work a neat conformi-
ty and elegance in the hearers, and make their manners
like the pattern they have from those genteel characters.
4. Diogenianus, cither designedly or for want of breath,

392 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

ended thus. And when the sophister came upon him again,
and contended that some of Aristophanes's verses should
be recited, Philip speaking to me said : Diogenianus hath
had his wish in praising his beloved Menander, and seems
not to care for any of the rest. There are a great many-
sorts which we have not at all considered, concerning
which I should be very glad to have your opinion ; and
the prize for carvers we will set up to-morrow, when Ave
are sober, if Diogenianus and this stranger think fit. Of
representations, said I, some are mythical, and some are
farces ; neither of these are fit for an entertainment ; the
first by reason of their length and cost, and the latter
being so full of filthy discourse and lewd actions, that they
are not fit to be seen by the foot-boys that wait on civil
masters. Yet the rabble, even with their wives and young
sons, sit quietly to be spectators of such representations as
are apt to disturb the soul more than the greatest debauch
in drink. The harp ever since Homer's time was well ac-
quainted with feasts and entertainments, and therefore it
is not fitting to dissolve such an ancient friendship and ac-
quaintance ; but we should only desire the harpers to for-
bear their sad notes and melancholy tunes, and play only
those that are delighting, and fit for such as are making
merry. The pipe, if we would, we cannot reject, for the
libation in the beginning of the entertainment requires that
as well as the garland. Then it insinuates and passeth
through the ears, spreading even to the very soul a pleas-
ant sound, which produceth serenity and calmness ; so
that, if the wine hath not quite dissolved or driven away
all vexing solicitous anxiety, this, by the softness and de-
lightful agreeableness of its sound, smooths and calms the
spirits, if so be that it keeps within due bounds, and doth
not elevate too much, and, by its numerous surprising di-
visions, raise an ecstasy in the soul which wine hath weak-
ened and made easy to be perverted. For as brutes do

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 39«5

not understand a rational discourse, yet lie down or rise up
at the sound of a shell or whistle, or of a chirp or clap ; so
the brutish part of the soul, which is incapable either of
understanding or obeying reason, men conquer by songs
and tunes, and by music reduce it to tolerable order. But
to speak freely what I think, no pipe nor harp simply
played upon, and without a song with it, can be very fit for
an entertainment. For we should still accustom ourselves
to take our chiefest pleasure from discourse, and spend our
leisure time in profitable talk, and use tunes and airs as a
sauce for the discourse, and not singly by themselves, to
please the unreasonable delicacy of our palate. For as
nobody is against pleasure that ariseth froQi sauce or wine
going in wdth our necessary food, but Socrates flouts and
refuseth to admit that superfluous and vain pleasure Avhich
we take in perfumes and odors at a feast ; thus the sound
of a pipe or harp, when singly applied to our ears, we ut-
terly reject, but if it accompanies words, and together
with an ode feasts and delights our reason, we gladly in-
troduce it. And we believe the famed Marsyas was pun-
ished by Apollo for pretending, when he had nothing but
his single pipe, and his muzzle to secure his lips, to con-
tend with the harp and song of the God. Let us only take
care that, when we have such guests as are able to cheer
one another with philosophy and good discourse, we do
not introduce any thing that may rather prove an uneasy
hindrance to the conversation than promote it. For not
only are those fools, who, as Euripides says, having safety
at home and in their own power, yet would hire some from
abroad ; but those too who, having pleasantness enough
within, are eager after some external pastimes to comfort
and delight them. That extraordinary piece of honor
which the Persian king showed Antalcidas the Spartan
seemed rude and uncivil, when he dipped a garland com-
posed of crocus and roses in ointment, and sent it him to

394 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

wear, by that dipping putting a slight upon and spoiling
the natural sweetness and beauty of the flowers. He
doth as bad, who having a Muse in his own breast, and all
the pleasantness that would fit an entertainment, will have
pipes and harps play, and by that external adventitious
noise destroy all the sweetness that was proper and his
own. But in short, all ear-delights are fittest then, when
the company begins to be disturbed, fall out, and quar-
rel, for then they may prevent raillery and reproach, and
stop the dispute that is running on to sophistical and un-
pleasant wrangling, and bridle all babbling declamatory
altercations, so that the company maybe freed of noise and
quietly composed.

QUESTION IX.

That it was the Custom of the Greeks as well as Persians
TO Debate of State Affairs at their Entertainments.

NICOSTRATUS, GLAUCIAS.

At Nicostratus's table we discoursed of those matters
which the Athenians were to debate of in their next assem-
bly. And one of the company saying, It is the Persian
fashion, sir, to debate midst your cups ; And why, said
Glaucias rejoining, not the Grecian fashion 1 For it was
a Greek that said,

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

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

Old Nestor first began a grave debate j *

and he himself advised the king before to call the com-
manders together for the same purpose :

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

• n. VII. 324. t II. IX. 70 and 74.

PLUTARCH'S STMPOSIACS. 395

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

Who, when they do design to seek tlieir rest,
To Mercury their just libations pour,*

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

QUESTION X.

Whetheb thet did well who Deliberated midst their Ccps.
glaucias, nicostratus.

1. WmLsf Glaucias was discoursing thus, the former
tumultuous talk seemed to be pretty Avell lulled ; and that
it might be quite forgotten, Nicostratus started another
questitm, saying, he never valued the matter before, whilst
he thought it a Persian custom, but since it was discovered
to be the Greek fashion too, it wanted (he thought) some
reason to excuse or defend its seeming absurdity. For our
reason (said he), like our eye, whilst it floats in too much
moisture, b hard to be moved, and unable to perform its
operations. And all sorts of troubles and discontents
creeping forth, like insects to the sun, and being agitated

• Odyw. VII. 138.

39b PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

by a glass of wine, make the mind irresolute and incon-
stant. Therefore as a bed is more convenient for a man
whilst making merry than a chair, because it contains the
whole body and keeps it from all disturbing motion, so it
is best to have the soul perfectly at quiet ; or, if that can-
not be, we must give it, as to children that will be doing,
not a sword or spear, but a rattle or ball, — in this follow-
ing the example of the God himself, who puts into the
hands of those that are making merry a ferula, the lightest
and softest of all w^eapons, that, when they are most apt to
strike, they may hurt least. Over a glass of wine men
should make only ridiculous slips, and not such as may
prove tragical, lamentable, or of any considerable concern.
Besides, in serious debates, it is chiefly to be considered,
that persons of mean understanding and unacquainted Avith
business should be guided by the wise and experienced;
but wine destroys this order. Insomuch that Plato says,
wine is called olvog, because it makes those that drink it
think that they have wit {oi'saOai vovv e'xsiv) ; for none over a
glass of wine thinks himself so noble, beauteous, or rich
(though he fimcies himself all these), as wise; and there-
fore wine is babbling, full of talk, and of a dictating humor ;
so that we are rather for being heard than hearing, for
leading than being led. But a thousand such objections
may be raised, for they are very obvious. But let us hear
which of the company, either old or young, can allege any
thing for the contrary opinion.

2. Then said my brother cunningly: And do you im-
agine that any, upon a sudden, can produce any probable
reasons ? And Nicostratus replying. Yes, no doubt, there
being so many learned men and good drinkers in company ;
he with a smile continued : Uo you think, sir, you are fit
to treat of these matters, when wine hath disabled you to
discourse politics and state affairs ? Or is not this all the
same as to think that a man in his liquor doth not see

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 397

very well nor understand those that talk and discourse with
him, yet hears the music and the pipers very well ? For
as it is likely that useful and profitable things draw and
affect the s(?tise more than fine and gaudy ; so likewise they
do the mind. And I shall not wonder that the nice philo-
sophical speculation should escape a man who hath drunk
freely ; but yet, I think, if he were called to political de-
bates, his wisdom would become more strong and vigorous.
Thus Philip at Chaeronea, being well heated, talked very
foolishly, and was the sport of the whole company ; but as
soon as they began to discourse of a truce and peace, he
composed his countenance, contracted his brows, and dis-
missing all vain, empty, and dissolute thoughts, gave an
excellent, wise, and sober answer to the Athenians. To
di'ink freely is different from being drunk, and those that
drink till they grow foolish ougJit to retire to bed. But as
for those that drink freely and are otherwise men of sense,
why should we fear that they will fail in their understand-
ing or lose their skill, when we see that musicians play
as well at a feast as in a theatre ? For when skill and art
are in the soul, they make the body correct and proper in
its operations, and obedient to the motions of the mind.
Besides, wine inspirits some men, and raises a confidence
and assurance in them, but not such as is haughty and
odious, but pleasing and agreeable. Thus they say that
Aeschylus wrote his tragedies over a bottle ; and that all
his plays (though Gorgias thought that one of them, the
Seven against Thebes, was full of Mars) were Bacchus*s.
For wine (according to Plato), heating the soul together
with the body, makes the body pliable, quick, and active,
and opens the passages ; while the fancies draw in discourse
with boldness and daring.

For some have a good natural invention, yet whilst they
are sober are too diffident and too close, but midst their
wine, like frankincense, exhale and open at the heat. Be-

398 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 399

BOOK VIII.

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

400 rLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

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

QUESTION 1.

Concerning those Days in wiiion some Famous Men were

Born; and also concerning the Generation of the Gods.

diogenianus, plutarch, florus, tyndares.

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

PLUTARCH'S SY^fPOSIACS. 401

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

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

He seemed not sprung from mortal man, but God.t

But, for my part, I am afraid to beget, as well as to be
begotten, is repugnant to the incorruptibility of the Deity.
For that implies a change and passion ; as Alexander im-
agined, when he said that he knew himself to be mortal
as often as he lay with a woman or slept. For sleep is a
relaxation of the body, occasioned by the weakness of our
nature ; and all generation is a corruptive parting with
some of our own substance. But yet I take heart again,
when I hear Plato call the eternal and unbegotten Deity the
father and maker of the world and all other begotten
things ; not as if he parted with any seed, but as if by his
power he implanted a generative principle in matter, which
acts upon, forms, and fashions it Winds passing through

• For an aooount of the belief that Plato was the son of Apollo, not of Aristo,
and the visioa of Apollo said to hare appeared to Aristo, see Diogenes Laertio^,
111. 1. 1. (O.)

t 11. XXIV. 268.

Tou Ilk S6

402 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

a hen will sometimes impregnate her; and it seems no
incredible thing, that the Deity, though not after the fashion
of a man, but by some other certain communication, fills a
mortal creature with some divine conception. Nor is this
my sense ; but the Egyptians say Apis was conceived by
the influence of the moon, and make no question but that
an immortal God may have communication with a mortal
woman. But on the contrary, they think that no mortal
can beget any thing on a goddess, because they believe the
goddesses are made of thin air, and subtle heat and
moisture.

QUESTION IL

What is Plato's Meaning, when he says that God always
PLAYS the Geometer?

DIOGENIANTJS, TYNDARES, FLORU8, AUTOBULUS.

1. Silence following this discourse, Diogenianus began
and said : Since our discourse is about the Gods, shall we,
especially on his own birthday, admit Plato to the confer-
ence, and enquire upon what account he says (supposing it
to be his sentence) that God always plays the geometer ?
I said that this sentence was not plainly set down in any of
his books ; yet there are good arguments that it is his, and
it is very much like his expression. Tyndares presently
subjoining said : Perhaps, Diogenianus, you imagine that
this sentence intimates some curious and difficult specula-
tion, and not that which he hath so often mentioned, when
he praiseth geometry as a science that takes off men from
sensible objects, and makes them apply themselves to the
intelligible and eternal Nature, the contemplation of which
is the end of philosophy, as a view of the mysteries of
initiation into holy rites. For the nail of pain and
pleasure, that fastens the soul to the body, seems to do
us the greatest mischief, by making sensible things more
powerful over us than intelligible, and by forcing the un-

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 403

derstanding to determine rather according to passion than
reason. For the understanding, being accustomed by the
vehemency of pain or pleasure to be intent on the mutable
and uncertain body, as if it really and truly were, grows
blind as to that which really is, and loses that instrument
and light of the soul, which is worth a thousand bodies,
and by which alone the Deity can be discovered. Now in
all sciences, as in plain and smooth mirrors, some marks
and images of the truth of intelligible objects appear, but
in geometry chiefly ; which, according to Philo, is the chief
and principal of all, and doth bring back and turn the
understanding, as it were, purged and gently loosened from
sense. And therefore Plato himself dislikes Eudoxus,
Archytas, and Menaechmus for endeavoring to bring down
the doubling the cube to mechanical operations ; for by
this means all that was good in geometry would be lost
and corrupted, it falling back again to sensible things, and
not rising upward and considering immaterial and immortal
images, in which God being versed is always God.

2. After Tyndares, Florus, a companion of his, who al-
ways jocosely pretended to be his admirer, said thus : Sir,
we are obliged to you for making your discourse not proper
to yourself, but common to us all ; for you have made
it possible to refute it by demonstrating that geometry is
not necessary to the Gods, but to us. Now" the Deity doth
not stand in need of science, as an instrument to withdraw
his intellect from things engendered and to turn it to the
real things ; for these are all in him, with him, and about
him. But pray consider whether Plato, though you do
not apprehend it, doth not intimate something that is
proper and peculiar to you, mixing I.ycurgus with Soc-
rates, as much as Dicacarchus thought he did Pythagoras.
For Lycurgus, I suppose you know, banished out of Sparta
all arithmetical proportion, as being democratical and
favoring the crowd; but introduced the geometrical, as

404 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

agreeable to an oligarchy and kingly government that rules
by law ; for the former gives an equal share to CYevy one
according to number, but the other gives according to the
proportion of the deserts. It doth not huddle all things
together, but in it there is a fair discretion of good and
bad, every one having what is fit for him, not by lot or
weight, but according as he is virtuous or vicious. The
same proportion, my dear Tyndares, God introduceth,
which is called d^rj and vt'^saig, and which teacheth us to
account that which is just equal, and not that which is
equal just. For that equality which many affect, being
often the greatest injustice, God, as much as possible, takes
away ; and useth that proportion which respects every man's
deserts, geometrically defining it according to law and
reason.

3. This exposition we applauded ; and Tyndares, saying
he envied him, desired Autobulus to engage Florus and
confute his discourse. That he refused to do, but pro-
duced another opinion of his own. Geometry, said he,
considers nothing else but the accidents and properties of
the extremities or limits of bodies ; neither did God make
the world any other way than by terminating matter, which
was infinite before. Not that matter was really infinite
as to either magnitude or multitude ; but the ancients used
to call that infinite which by reason of its confusion and
disorder is undetermined and unconfined. Now the terms
of every thing that is formed or figured are the form and
figure of that thing, without which the thing would be
formless and unfigured. Now numbers and proportions
being applied to matter, it is circumscribed and as it were
bound up by lines, and through lines by surfaces and pro-
fundities ; and so were settled the first species and differ-
ences of bodies, as foundations from which to raise the
four elements, fire, air, water, and earth. For it was im-
possible that, out of an unsteady and confused matter, the

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 405

equality of the sides, the likeness of the angles, and the
exact proportion of octahedrons, icosahedrons, pyramids,
and cubes should be deduced, unless by some power that
terminated and shaped every particle of matter. There-
fore, terms being fixed to that which was undetermined or
infinite before, the whole became and still continues agree-
able in all parts, and excellently terminated and mixed ;
the matter indeed always affecting an indeterminate state,
and fiying all geometrical confinement, but proportion ter-
minating and circumscribing it, and dividing it into several
diff^crences and forms, out of which all things that arise
are generated and subsist.

4. When he had said this, he desired me to contribute
something to the discourse; and I applauded their con-
ceits as their own devices, and very probable. But lest
you despise yourselves (I continued) and altogether look
for some extcraal explication, attend to an exposition upon
this sentence, which your masters very much approve.
Amongst the most geometrical theorems, or rather prob-
lems, this is one : Two figures being given, to construct a
thh'd, which shall be equal to one and similar to the other.
And it is reported that Pythagoras, upon the discovery of
this problem, offered a sacrifice to the Gods ; for this is a
much more exquisite theorem than that which lays down,
that the square of the hypothenuse in a right-angled tri-
angle is equal to the squares of the two sides. Right,
said Diogenianus, but what is this to the present question ?
You will easily understand, I replied, if you call to mind
how Tiraaeus divides that which gave the world its begin-
ning into three parts. One of which is justly called God,
the other matter, and the third form. That which is called
matter is the most confused subject, the form the most
beautiful pattern, and God the best of causes. Now this
cause, as far as possible, would leave nothing infinite and
indeterminate, but adom Nature with number, measure,

406 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

and proportion, making one thing of all the subjects
together, equal to the matter, and similar to the form.
Therefore proposing to himself this problem, he made
and still makes a third, and always preserves it equal to
the matter, and like the form ; and that is the world.
And this world, being in continual changes and alterations
because of the natural necessity of body, is helped and
preserved by the father and maker of all things, who by
proportion terminates the substance according to the pat-
tern. Wherefore in its measure and circuit this universal
world is more beautiful than that which is merely similar
to it. . . .

QUESTION 111
Why Noises are better Heard in the Night than the Day.
ammonius, boetiius, plutarch, thrasyllus, aristodemus.
1. When we supped with Ammonius at Athens, who
was then the third time captain of the city-bands, there
was a great noise about the house, some without doors
calling. Captain ! Captain ! After he had sent his officers
to quiet the tumult, and had dispersed the crowd, we began
to enquire what was the reason that those that are within
doors hear those that are without, but those that are with-
out cannot hear those that are within as well. And Am-
monius said, that Aristotle had given a reason for that
already ; for the sound of those within, being carried
without into a large tract of air, grows weaker presently
and is lost ; but that which comes in from without is not
subject to the like casualty, but is kept close, and is there-
fore more easy to be heard. But that seemed a more diffi-
cult question, Why sounds seem greater in the night than
in the day, and yet altogether as clear. For my own part
(continued he) I think Providence hath very wisely con-
trived that our hearing should be quickest when our sight
can do us very little or no service ; for the air of the " bUnd

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 407

and solitary Night," as Empedocles calls it, being dark, sup-
plies in the ears that defect of sense which it makes in
the eyes. But since of natural effects we should endeavor
to find the causes, and to discover whajfc are the material
and mechanical principles of things is the proper task
of a natural philosopher, who shall first assist us with a
rational account hereof?

2. Boethus began, and said: When I was a novice in
letters, I then made use of geometrical postulates, and
assumed as undoubted truths some undemonstrated sup-
positions ; and now I shall make use of some propositions
which Epicurus hath demonstrated already. Bodies move
in a vacuum, and there are a great many spaces inter-
spersed among the atoms of the air. Now when the air
being rarefied is more extended, so as to fill the empty
space, there are but few vacuities scattered and inter-
spersed among the particles of matter ; but when the atoms
of air are condensed and laid close together, they leave a
vast empty space, convenient and sufficient for other bodies
to pass through. Now the coldness of the night makes
such a constipation. Heat opens and separates the parts
of condensed bodies. Therefore bodies that boil, grow
soft, or melt, require a greater space than before ; but on
the contrary, the parts of the body that are condensed or
freeze are contracted closer to one another, and leave those
vessels and places from which they retired partly empty.
Now the voice, meeting and striking against a great many
bodies in its way, is either altogether lost or scattered, and
very much and very frequently hindered in its passage ;
but when it hath a plain and smooth way through an
empty space, and comes to the ear uninterrupted, the pas-
sage is 80 sudden, that it preserves its articulate distinct-
ness, as well as the words it carries. You may observe
that empty vessels, when knocked, answer presently, send
out a noise to a great distance, and oftentimes the sound

408 PLUTARCH'S SYMP0SIAC8.

whirled round in the hollow breaks out with a considerable
force ; whilst a vessel that is filled either with a liquid or a
solid body will not answer to a stroke, because the sound
hath no room or passage to come through. And among
solid bodies themselves, gold and stone, because they want
pores, can hardly be made to sound ; and when a noise is
made by a stroke upon them, it is very flat, and presently
lost. But brass is sounding, it being a porous, rare, and
light metal, not consisting of parts closely compacted, but
being mixed with a yielding and uncompacted substance,
which gives free passage to other motions, and kindly re-
ceiving the sound sends it forward ; till some touching the
instrument do, as it were, seize on it in the way, and stop
the hollow ; for then, by reason of the hindering force, it
stops and goes no farther. And this, in my opinion, is the
reason why the night is more sonorous, and the day less ;
since in the day, the heat rarefying the air makes the empty
spaces between the particles to be very little. But, pray,
let none argue against the suppositions I first assumed.

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

PLUTARCH'S SYaiPOSIACS. 409

honey-comb, yet it is the dullest, and sounds worse than
any other metal.

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

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

No teJirinjf tempests rattled tlirough the skies,
WUidi lUoder sweet UUcoursc from mortal eara.

410 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

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

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

He sends forth lucky sijjns,

And stirs up nations to their proper work,

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

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 411

and urgent necessity for it ; and thence our voices become
more vehement and loud.

QUESTION IV.

WnT, WHEN IN THE SaCRKD GaME3 ONE SORT OP GaRLAND WAS
GIVEN IN ONE, AND ANOTHER IN ANOTIIKR, THE PaLM WAS COM-
MON TO ALL. And wiir they call the great Dates NwoXaou

SOSriS, IIERODES, PROTOGEXES, PRAXITELES, CAPHISUS.

1. The Isthmian games being celebrated, when Sospis
was the second time du*ector of the solemnity, we avoided
other entertainments, — he treating a great many strangers,
and often all his fellow-citizens, — but once, Avhen he en-
tertained his nearest and most learned friends at his own
house, I was one of the company. After the first course,
one coming to Hcrodes the rhetorician brought a palm and
a wreathed crown, which one of liis acquaintance, who
had won the prize for an encomiastic exercise, sent him.
This Herodes received very kindly, and sent it back again,
but added that he could not tell the reason why, since each
of the games gave a particular garland, yet all of them
bestowed the palm. For those do not satisfy me (said he)
who say that the equality of the leaves is the reason, which
growing out one against another seem to resemble some
striving for the prize, and that victory is called vUri from
fi^ i'-Aziv, not to yield. For a great many other trees, which
almost by measure and weight divide the nourishment to
their leaves growing opposite to one another, show a decent
order and wonderful equality. Tliey seem to speak more
probably who say the ancients were pleased with the beau-
ty and figure of the tree. Thus Homer compares Nausicaa
to a palm-branch. For you all know very well, that some
threw roses at the victors, and some pomegranates and
apples, to honor and reward them. But now the palm
hath nothing evidently more taking than many other things,

412 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

since here in Greece it bears no fruit that is good to eat, it
not ripening and growing mature enough. But if, as in
Syria and Egypt, it bore a fruit that is the most pleasant to
the eyes of any thing in the world, and the sweetest to the
taste, then I must confess nothing could compare wdth it.
And tlie Persian monarch (as the story goes), being ex-
tremely taken with Nicolaus the Peripatetic philosopher,
who was a very sweet-humored man, tall and slender, and
of a ruddy complexion, called the greatest and fairest dates
Nicolai.

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

They lived like branches of a leafy palm.

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

3. When Sospis had done, Protogenes the grammarian,
calling Praxiteles the commentator by his name, said :
What then, shall we sufi'er those rhetoricians to be thought
to have hit the mark, when they bring arguments only
from probabilities and conjectures ] And can we produce
nothing from history to club to this discourse ] Lately, I

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIxVCS. 413

remember, reading in the Attic annals, I found that The
sens first instituted games in Delos, and tore off a branch
from the sacred pahn-tree, which was called spadix (from
(jTtuo), to tear.)

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

Let two come forth in cuffing stout, and try
To wliicli Apollo gives the victory.*

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

• n. xxm. 669.

414 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

to Apollo Pythias show that he is of great power to give
victory in war.

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 415

QUESTION V,
"Wht those that sail upon the Nile take up the Water thet

ARE TO USE before DaT.

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

To these seemingly probable reasons another was added,
which confirmed the ingenuity of the sailors by a very
natural proof. For some said that they took up their
water by night because then it was clear and undisturbed ;
but at daytime, when a great many fetched water together,
and many boats were sailing and many beasts swimming
upon the Nile, it grew thick and muddy, and in that
condition it was more subject to corruption. For mixed
bodies are more easily corrupted than simple and un-
mixed; for from mixture proceeds disagreement of the

416 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

parts, from that disagreement a change, and corruption is
nothing else but a certain change ; and therefore painters
call the mixing of their colors cpdoQag, corrupting ; and Ho-
mer expresseth dyeing by p/7mt [to stain or contaminate).
Commonly we call any thing that is simple and unmixed
incorruptible and immortal. Now earth being mixed with
water soonest corrupts its proper qualities, and makes it
unfit for drinking ; and therefore standing water stinks
soonest, being continually filled with particles of eai*th,
whilst running waters preserve themselves by either leav-
ing behind or throwing off the earth that falls into them.
And Hesiod justly commends

The water of a pure and constant spring.*

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

* Wcwks and Days, 595.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 417

QUESTION VL

CONCERNIXO THOSE WHO COME La.TE TO AN ENTERTAINMENT; ANIi
FROM WHENCE THESE WORDS, dxQOJUJfXaf OQUnOV, AND dthZPOV, ARE

Derived.

PLUTARCn^S SONS, THEON'S SONS, THEON, PLUTARCH, SOCLARUS.

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

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

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

4. Then Theon interrupting him said : By no means, if
we must trust those who have delivered down to us the

TOL. III. 27

418 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

ancients' way of living. For they say that those being
used to work, and very temperate in a morning, ate a bit
of bread dipped in wine, and nothing else, and that they
called that meal d'AQdriofxa, from the dxaarov {wine). Their
supper they called oxpov, because returning from their busi-
ness they took it 6\pi (late). Upon this we began to enquire
whence those meals Mnvov and aQiatov took their names. In
Homer doiatov and axQcinafia seem to be the same meal. For
he says that Eumaeus provided aQiarov by the break of day ;
and it is probable that aQiarov was so called from aiQiop, be-
cause provided in the morning ; and Mnvov was so named
from diavaTTaveiv rcor mvcov, easing men from theii^ labor.
For men used to take their 8ei7tvov after they had finished
their business, or whilst they were about it. And this may
be gathered from Homer, when he says,

Then when the woodman doth his supper dress.*

But some perhaps will derive oQiawv from ()[i6Toi>, easiest
provided, because that meal is usually made upon what is
ready and at hand ; and dsiTivov from ^lamnovriiitvov, labored,
oecause of the pains used in dressing it.

5. My brother Lamprias, being of a scoffing, jeering
nature, said : Since we are in a trifling humor, I can show
that the Latin names of these meals are a thousand times
more proper than the Greek ; deTTtvov, supj^er, they call
coena (xolva did ttjv >ioivcoviav), from community ; because they
took their aQiarov by themselves, but their coena with their
friends. "'AQiarov, dinner, they call prandium, from the time
of the day ; for h^iov signifies noon-tide, and to rest after
dinner is expressed by Ivdid^eiv; or else by prandium they
denote a bit taken in the morning, Ttnlv trdsBT^ yerhdai, before
they have need of any. And not to mention stragula from
arQWfiara, vinum from ohog, oleum from elaiov, mel from ft An
gustare from yevaaadai, propinare from TiQomvHv, and a great

* II. XI. 86.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 419

many more words which they have plainly borrowed from
the Greeks, — who can deny but that they have taken their
comessatio, banqueting^ from our xaj//o,*, and miscere, to
mingle^ from the Greeks too ? Thus in Homer,

She in a bowl herself mixt {Ifwjye) generous wine.*

They call a table mensam, from x7ii h ufaa Otaewg, placing it
in the middle ; bread, panem, from satisfying mlmv, hunger ;
a garland, coronam, from xunrimv, the head ; — and Homer
somewhat likens x/koo,-, a head-piece, to a garland; — cae-
dere to heat, from dtnetv; and denies, teeth, from oSonu.;;
lips they call labra, from hcfi^uveiv ri^v ^dnav di' avtcavf taking our
victuals with them. Therefore we must either hear such
fooleries as these without laughing, or not give them so
ready access by means of words. . . .

QUESTION VI I.

CONCERXINO PyTIIAGORAS's Sf.MBOLS, IN WHICn HE FORBIDS DS TO

RECEIVE A Swallow into our House, and bids us as soon as

WE ARE RISEN TO RUFFLE THE BedCLOTUES.

8YLLA, LUCIUS, PLUTARCH, PUILINU8.

1. SvLLA the Carthaginian, upon my return to Rome
after a long absence, gave me a welcoming supper, as the
Romans call it, and invited some few other friends, and
among the rest, one Lucius an Etrurian, the scholar of
^loderatus the Pythagorean. He seeing my friend Philinus
ate no flesh, began (tis the opportunity was fair) to talk of
Phythagoras ; and affirmed that he was a Tuscan, not be-
cause his father, as others have said, was one, but because
he himself Avas born, bred, and taught in Tuscany. To
confirm this, he brought considerable arguments from such
symbols as these: — As soon as you are risen, ruffle the
bedclothes ; Iravo not the print of the pot in the ashes ;

• Odyw. X. 850.

420 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

receive not a swallow into your house ; never step over a
besom ; nor keep in your house creatures that have hooked
claws. For these precepts of the Pythagoreans the Tus-
cans only, as he said, carefully observe.

2. Lucius having thus said, that precept about the swal-
low seemed to be most unaccountable, it being a harmless
and kind animal ; and therefore it seemed strange that that
should be forbid the house, as well as the hooked-clawed
animals, which are ravenous, wild, and bloody. Nor did
Lucius himself approve that only interpretation of the
ancients, who say, this symbol aims directly at backbiters
and tale-bearing whisperers. For the swallow whispers
not at all ; it chatters indeed, and is noisy, but not more
than a pie, a partridge, or a hen. What then, said Sylla,
is it upon the old fabulous account of killing her son, that
they deny the sw^allow entertainment, by that means show-
ing their dislike to those passions which (as the story goes)
made Tereus and Procne and Philomel act and sutler such
wicked and abominable things 1 And even to this day they
call the birds Daulides. And Gorgias the sophister, when
a swallow muted upon him, looked upon her and said,
Philomel, this was not well done. Or perhaps this is all
groundless ; for the nightingale, thougli concerned in the
same tragedy, we willingly receive.

3. Perhaps, sir, said I, what you have alleged may be
some reason ; but pray consider whether first they do not
hate the swallow upon the same account that they abhor
hook-clawed animals. For the swallow feeds on flesh ; and
grasshoppers, which are sacred and musical, they chiefly
devour and prey upon. And, as Aristotle observes, they
fly near the surface of the earth to pick up the little ani-
mals. Besides, that alone of all house-animals makes no
return for her entertainment. The stork, though she is
neither covered, fed, nor defended by us, yet pays for the
place where she builds, going about and killing the efts,

PLUTARCH'S SrMPOSIACS. 421

snakes, and other venomous creatures. But the swallow,
though she receives all those several kindnesses from us,
yet, as soon as her young are fledged, flics away faithless
and ungrateful ; and (which is the worst of all) of all
house-animals, the fly and the swallow only never grow
tame, suffer a man to touch them, keep company with or
leani of him. And the fly is so shy because often hurted
and driven away ; but the swallow naturally hates man,
suspects, and dares not trust any that would tame her.
And therefore, — if we must not look on the outside of
these things, but opening them view the representations
of some things in others, — Pythagoras, setting the swallow
for an example of a wandering, unthankful man, adviseth
us not to take those who come to us for their own need
and upon occasion into our familiarity, and let them par-
take of the most sacred things, our house and fire.

4. This discourse of mine gave the company encourage-
ment to proceed, so they attempted other symbols, and
gave moral interpretations of them. Philmus said, that
the precept of blotting out the print of the pot instructed
us not to leave any plain mark of anger, but, as soon as
ever the passion hath done boiling, to lay aside all thoughts
of malice and revenge. That symbol which adviseth us to
ruffle the bedclothes seemed to some to have no secret
meaning, but to be in itself very evident ; for it is not
decent that the impression and (as it were) stamped image
should be left to be seen by others, in the place where a
man hath lain with his wife. But Sylla thought the sym-
bol was rather intended to prevent men's sleeping in the
daytime, all the conveniences for sleeping being taken
away in the morning as soon as wc are up. For night is
the time for sleep, and in the day wc should rise and fol-
low our affairs, and not suffers© much as the print of our
body in the bed, since a man asleep is of no more use
than one dead \'ul thi*^ iiitorprt^tation seems to be con-

422 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

firmed by that other precept, in which the Pythagoreans
advise their followers not to take off any man's burthen
from him, but to lay on more, as not countenancing sloth
and laziness in any.

QUESTION VIIL
Why the Pythagokeans comimand Fish not to be eaten, more

STRICTLY THAN OTHER AnIMALS.
EMPEDOCLES, SYLLA, LUCIUS, TYNDARES, NESTOR.

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

2. Then Lucius gravely and composedly saying, that per-
haps the true reason was obscure and not to be divulged,
yet they had liberty to venture upon probable conjectures,
Theon the grammarian began thus : To demonstrate that
Pythagoras was a Tuscan is a great and no easy task.
But it is confessed that he conversed a long time with the
wise men of Egypt, and imitated a great many of the rites

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 423

and institutions of the priests, for instance, that about
beans. For Herodotus delivers, that the Egyptians neither
set nor eat beans, nay, cannot endure to see them ; and we
all know, that even now the priests eat no fish ; and the
stricter sort eat no salt, and refuse all meat that is seasoned
with it. Various reasons are given for this ; but the
only true reason is hatred to the sea, as being a disagree-
able, or rather naturally a destructive element to man.
For they do not imagine that the Gods, as the Stoics did
that the stars, were nourished by it. But, on the contrary,
they think that the fiither and preserver of their country,
whom they call the deflux of Osiris, is lost in it ; and when
they bewail him as born on the left hand, and destroyed
in the right-hand parts, they intimate to us the ending and
corruption of their Nile by the sea. Therefore they do
not believe that its water is wholesome, or that any crea-
ture produced or nourished in it can be clean or whole-
some food for man, since it breathes not the common air,
and feeds not on the same food with him. And the air
that nourisheth and preserves all other things is destructive
to them, as if their production and life were unnecessary
and against Nature ; nor should we wonder that they think
animals bred in the sea to be disagreeable to their bodies,
and not fit to mix with their blood and spirits, since when
they meet a pilot they will not speak to him, because he
gets his living by the sea.

3. Sylla commended this discourse, and added concern-
ing the Pythagoreans, that they then chiefiy tasted flesh
when they sacrificed to the Gods. Now no fish is ever
ofiered in sacrifice. I, after they had done, said that many,
both philosophers and unlearned, considering with how
many good things it furnisheth and makes our life more
comfortable, take the sea's part against the Egyptians.
But that the Pythagoreans should abstain from fish because
they are not of the same kind, is ridiculous and absurd ;

424 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

nay, to butcher and feed on other animals, because they
bear a nearer relation to us, would be a most inhuman and
Cyclopean return. And they say that Pythagoras bought
a draught of fishes, and presently commanded the fishers
to let them all out of the net ; and this shows that he did
not hate or not mind fishes, as things of another kind and
destructive to man, but that they were his dearly beloved
creatures, since he paid a ransom for their freedom.

Therefore the tenderness and humanity of those philos-
ophers suggest a quite contrary reason, and I am apt to
believe that they spare fishes to instruct men, or to accus-
tom themselves to acts of justice ; for other creatures gen-
erally give men cause to afflict them, but fishes neither do
nor are capable of doing us harm. And it is easy to show,
both from the writings and religion of the ancients, that
they thought it a great sin not only to eat but to kill an
animal that did them no harm. But afterwards, being
necessitated by the spreading multitude of men, and com-
manded (as they say) by the Delphic oracle to prevent the
total decay of corn and fruit, they began to sacrifice, yet
they were so disturbed and concerned at the action, that
they called it sQdeiv and QtXsiv (to do), as if they did some
strange thing in killing an animal ; and they are very care-
ful not to kill the beast before the wine has been thrown
upon his head and he nods in token of consent. So very
cautious are they of injustice. And not to mention other
considerations, were no chickens (for instance) or hares
killed, in a short time they would so increase that there
could be no living. And now it would be a very hard
matter to put down the eating of flesh, which necessity
first introduced, since pleasure and luxury hath espoused
it. But the water- animals neither consuming any part of
our air or water, or devouring the fruit, but as it were en-
compassed by another world, and having their own proper
bounds, which it is death for them to pass, they aff'ord our

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSUCS. 425

belly no pretence at all for their destruction ; and therefore
to catch or be greedy after fisli is plain dcliciousness and
luxury, Avhicli upon no just reason disturb the sea and dive
into the deep. For we cannot call the mullet corn-destroy-
ing, the trout grape-eating, nor the barbel or sea-pike
seed-gatheriug, as we do some land-animals, signifying
their hurtfulness by these epithets. Nay, those little mis-
chiefs which we complain of in these house-creatures, a
weasel or fly, none can justly lay upon the greatest fish.
Therefore the Pythagoreans, confining themselves not only
by the law which forbids them to injure men, but also by
Nature, which commands them to do violence to nothing,
fed on fish very little, or ratiier not at all. But suppose
there were no injustice in this case, yet to delight in fish
would argue daintiness and luxury ; because they are such
costly and unnecessary diet. Therefore Homer doth not
only make the Greeks eat no fish whilst encamped near
the Hellespont, but he mentions not any sea-provision that
the dissolute Piiaeacians or luxurious wooers had, though
both islanders. And Ulysses's mates, though they sailed
over so much sea, as long as they had any provision left,
never let down a hook or net.

Bat when the victuoU of their ship was spent, *

a little before they fell upon the oxen of the Sun, they
caught fish, npt to please their wanton appetite, but to
satisfy their hunger, —

With crookeil hooks, for cruel hon^^r gnawed.

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

• Od;-M. XIL 820-832.

426 PLUTARCH'S SrMPOSIACS.

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

QUESTION IX,
Whether there can be New Diseases, and how Caused.

rniLO, DIOGEXIAXUS, TLUTARCn.

1. Philo the physician stoutly affirmed that the ele-
phantiasis was a disease but lately knowA ; since none of
the ancient physicians speak one word of it, though
they oftentimes enlarge upon little, frivolous, and obscure
trifles. And I, to confirm it, cited Athenodorus the phi-
losopher, who in his first book of Epidemical Diseases says,
that not only that disease, but also the hydrophobia or
water-dread (occasioned by the biting of a mad dog), were
first discovered in the time of Asclepiades. At this the
whole company were amazed, thinking it very strange that
such diseases should begin then, and yet as strange that

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 427

they should not be taken notice of in so long a time ; yet
most of them leaned to this last opinion, as being most
agreeable to man, not in the least daring to imagine that
Nature affected novelties, or would in the body of man, as
in a city, create new disturbances and tumults.

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

Yet are not tliey of late or now produced,

And none uin tell from whence they first arose. *

How then should the body be subject to new diseases, since
it hath not, like the soul, the principle of its own altera-
tion in itself, but by common causes is joined to Nature, and
receives a temperature whose infinite variety of altera-
tions is confined to certain bounds, like a ship rolling and
tossing in a circle about its anchor. Now there can be no
disease without some cause, it being against the laws of
Nature that any thing should be without a cause. Now it
will be very hard to find a new cause, tmless we fancy some
strange air, water, or food never tasted by the ancients,
should descend to us out of other worlds or intcrmundanc
spaces. For we contract diseases from those very things
which preserve our life ; since there are no peculiar seeds
of diseases, but the disagreement of their juices to our
bodies, or our excess in using them, disturbs nature.
These disturbances have still the very same differences,

• Soph. Ant!gon«, 456.

428 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

though now and then called by new names. For names
depend on custom, but the passions on Nature ; and these
being constant and those variable, this mistake has arisen.
As, in the parts of a speech and the syntax of the words,
it is possible for some new sort of barbarism or solecism
suddenly to arise ; so the temperature of the body hath
certain deviations and corruptions into which it may fall,
those things which are against and hurtful to Nature being
in some sort contained in Nature herself. The m)tho-
graphers are in this particular very ingenious, for they say
that monstrous uncouth animals were produced in the time
of the Giants' war, the moon being out of its course, and
not rising where it used to do. And those who think
Nature produces new diseases like monsters, and yet give
neither likely nor unlikely reasons of the change, err, as I
imagine, my dear Philo, in taking a less or a greater degree
of the same disease to be a different disease. The inten-
sion or increase of a thing makes it more or greater, but
does not make the subject of another kind. Thus the
elephantiasis, being an intense scabbiness, is not a new
kind; nor is the water-dread distinguished from other
melancholic and stomachical affections but by the degree.
And I wonder we did not observe that Homer was ac-
quainted with this disease, for it is evident that he calls a
dog rabid from the very same rage with which when men
are possessed they are said to be mad.

3. Against this discourse of Diogenianus Philo himself
made some objections, and desired me to be the old phy-
sicians' patron ; who must be branded with inadvertency
and ignorance, unless it appears that those diseases began
since their time. First then Diogenianus, methinks, very
precariously desires us to think that the intenseness or re-
missness of degrees is not a real difference, and does not
alter the kind. For, were this true, then we should hold
that downright vinegar is not different from pricked wine,

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 429

nor a bitter from a rough taste, darnel from wheat, nor
garden-mint from wild mint. For it is evident that these
differences are only the degrees of the same qualities, in
some being more intense, in some more remiss. So we
should not venture to affirm that flame is different from a
white spirit, daylight from flame, hoar-frost from dew, or
hail from rain ; but that the former have only more intense
qualities than the latter. Besides, we should say that
blindness is of the same kind with short-sightedness, vio-
lent vomiting (or cholera) with weakness of the stomach,
and that they differ only in degree. Though what they
say is nothing to the purpose ; for if they admit the in-
crease in intensity and vehemency, but declare that this
came but now of late, — the novelty appearing in the
quantity rather than the quality, — the same difficulties
which they urged against the other opinion oppress them.
Sophocles says very well concerning those things which
are not believed to be now, because they were not hereto-
fore,—

Once at the first all tilings their being had.

And it is probable that not all diseases, as in a race, the
barrier being let down, started together; but that one
rising after another, at some certain time, had its beginning
and showed itself. It is rational to conclude (continued I)
that all diseases that rise from want, heat, or cold bear the
same date with our bodies ; but afterwards over-eating,
luxury, and surfeiting, encouraged by ease and plenty,
raised bad and superfluous juices, and those brought va-
rious new diseases, and their perpetual complications and
mixtures still create more new. Whatever ia n«tan! Is
determined and in order ; for Nature is order, or the work
of order. Disorder, like Pindar's sand, cannot be com-
prised by number, and that which is beside Nature is
straight called indeterminate and infinite. Thus tmth is
simple, and but one ; but falsities innumerable. The ex-

430 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

actness of motions and harmony are definite, but the errors
either in playing upon the harp, singing, or dancing, who
can comprehend? Indeed Phrynichus the tragedian says
of himself,

As many figures dancing doth propose

As waves roll on the sea when tempests toss.

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 431

observe and hunt after mice and rats, which we see now
nowhere practised.

Therefore let us not wonder if something happens which
never was before, or if something doth not appear among
us with which the ancients were acquainted ; for the cause
of those accidents is the nature of our body, whose tem-
perature is subject to be changed. Therefore, if Diogeni-
anus will not introduce a new kind of water or air, we,
having no need of it, are very well content. Yet we know
some of Democritus's scholars nffirm that, other worlds
being dissolved, some strange effluvia fidl into ours, and
are the principle of new plagues and uncommon diseases.
But let us not now take notice of the corruption of some
parts of this world by eartliquake, droughts, and floods,
by which both the vapors and fountains rising out of the
earth must be necessarily corrupted. Yet we must not
pass by that change which must be wrought in the body
by our meat, drink, and other exercises in our course of
life. For many things which the ancients did not feed on
are now accounted dainties ; for instance mead and swine's
paunch. Heretofore too, as I have heard, they hated the
brain of animals so much, that they abominated the very
name of it ; as when Homer says, " I value him at a brain's*
worth." And even now we know some old men, that will
not taste cucumber, melon, orange, or pepper. Now by
these meats and drinks it is probable that the juices of our
bodies are much altered, and their temperature changed,
new qualities arising from this new sort of diet. And the
change of order in our feeding having a great influence on
the alteration of our bodies, the cold courses, as they were
called formerly, consisting of oysters, sea-urchins, salads, and
the like, being (in Plato's phrase) transferred " from tail to
mouth," now make the first course, whereas they were

* PIutArch seems to give this meaning to the Ilomcnc phrn!«eh' Kopbc aloij (II.
IX. .17H) iimmlly interpreted nt a hair's imrlh, or like unto detilh (ns Arislartthud un<ler^
•tood it, taking xafx>f lor KTipo^). See the Scholia on tlie passage of the Iliad. (G.)

432 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

formerly the last. Besides, the glass which we usually take
before supper is very considerable in this case ; for the
ancients never drank so much as water before they ate,
but now we drink freely before we sit down, and fall to
our meat with a full and heated body, using sharp sauces
and pickles to provoke appetite, and then we fall greedily
on the other meat. But nothing conduceth more to altera-
tions and new diseases in the body than our various baths ;
for here the flesh, like iron in the fire, grows soft and loose,
and is presently constipated and hardened by the cold.
For, in my opinion, if any of the last age had looked into
our baths, he might have justly said,

There burning Phlegethon meets Acheron.

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

QUESTION X
Why we give least Credit to Dreams in Autumn.

FLORUS, PLUTARCH, PLUTARCIl'S SONS, FAVORINUS.

1. Florus reading Aristotle's physical problems, which
were brought to him to Thermopylae, was himself (as
philosophical w^its used to be) filled with a great many
doubts, and communicated them to others ; thereby con-
fii'ming Aristotle's saying, that much learning raises many

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 433

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

2. But Favorinus himself, though in all other things he
admires Aristotle exceedingly and thinks the Peripatetic
philosophy to be most probable, yet in this case resolved
to scour up an old musty opinion of Democritus. He first
laid down that known principle of his, that images pass
through the pores into the inmost parts of the body, and
being carried upward cause dreams ; and that these images
fly from every thing, vessels, garments, plants, but espe-
cially from animals, because of their heat and the motion
of their spirits ; and that these images not only carry the
outward shape and likeness of the bodies (as Epicurus
thinks, following Democritus so far and no farther), but
the very designs, motions, and passions of the soul ; and
with those entering into the bodies, as if they were living
things, discover to those that receive them the thoughts
and inclinations of the persons from whom they come, if
so be that they preserve their frame and oi*dor entire. And
that is especially preserved when the air is calm and clear,

VOL. III. 28

434 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

their passage then being quick and undisturbed. Now the
autumnal air, when trees shed their leaves, being very un-
even and disturbed, ruffles and disorders the images, and,
hindering them in their passage, makes them weak and
ineffectual ; when, on the contrary, if they rise from warm
and vigorous subjects, and are presently applied, the
notices which they give and the impressions they make
are clear and evident.

3. Then with a smile looking upon Autobulus, he con-
tinued: But, sir, I perceive you design to have an airy
skirmish with these images, and try the goodness of this
old opinion, as you would a picture, by your touch. And
Autobulus replied : Pray, sir, do not endeavor to cheat us
any longer ; for we know very well that you, designing to
make Aristotle's opinion appear the better, have used this
of Democritus only as its shade. Therefore I shall pass
by that, and impugn Aristotle's opinion, which unjustly
lays the blame on the new fruit. For both the summer
and the early autumn bear testimony in its favor, when, as
Antimachus says, the fruit is most fresh and juicy ; for
then, though we eat the new fruit, yet our dreams are less
vain than at other times. And the months when the
leaves fall, being next to winter, so concoct the corn and
remaining fruit, that they grow shrivelled and less, and
lose all their brisk agitating spirit. As for new wine, those
that drink it soonest forbear till February, which is after
winter ; and the day on which we begin we call the day of
the Good Genius, and the Athenians the day of cask-open-
ing. For whilst wine is working, we see that even common
laborers will not venture on it. Therefore no more accus-
ing the gifts of the Gods, let us seek after another cause
of vain dreams, to which the name of the season will
direct us. For it is called leaf'shedding, because the
leaves then fall on account of their dryness and coldness ;
except the leaves of hot and oily trees, as of the olive, the

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 435

laurel, or the palm ; or of the moist, as of the myrtle and
the ivy. But the temperature of these preserves them,
though not others ; because in others the vicious humor
that holds the leaves is constipated by the cold, or being
weak and little is dried up. Now moisture and heat are
necessary for the growth and preservation of plants, but
especially of animals ; and on the contrary, coldness and
dryness are very noxious to both. And therefore Homer
elegantly calls men moist and juicy; to rejoice he calls
to be warmed ; and any thing that is grievous and fright-
ful he calls cold and icy. Besides, the words uh]^ag and
cxelnoi are applied to the dead, those names intimating
their extreme dryness. But more, our blood, the principal
thing in our whole body, is moist and hot. And old age
hath neither of those two qualities. Now the autumn
seems to be as it were the old age of the decaying year ;
for tlie moisture doth not yet fall, and the heat decays.
And its inclining the body to diseases is an evident sign of
its cold and dryness. Now it is necessary that the souls
should be indisposed with the bodies and that, the subtile
spirit being condensed, the divining faculty of the soul,
like a mirror that is breathed upon, should be sullied ;
and therefore it cannot represent any thing plain, dis-
tinct, and clear, as long as it remains thick, dark, and
condensed.

BOOK IX.

This ninth book, Sossius Scnecio, contains the discourses
we held at Athens at the Muses' feast, for this number nine
is agreeable to the number of the Muses. Nor must you

436 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

wonder when yon find more than ten questions (which
number I have observed in my other books) in it ; for we
ought to give the Muses all that belongs to them, and be
as careful of robbing them as of a temple, since we owe
them much more and much better things than these.

QUESTION L
Concerning Verses Seasonably and Unseasonably applied.

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

AMMONIUS.

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

2. Therefore Ammonius commanded Erato to sing to
his harp, and he sang some part of Hesiod's Works begin-
ning thus,

Contention to one sort is not confined ; *

and I commended him for choosing so apposite a song.
Then he began to discourse about the seasonable use of
verse, that it was not only pleasant but profitable. And
straight every one's mouth was full of that poet who began

* Works and Days, 11.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 437

Ptolemy's epithalamium (when he married his sister, a
wicked and abominable match) thus,

Jove Jiino called his sister and his wife ; *

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

Breed tliou the boy as doth become
Both Hcrcules's race and us ;

and Anaxarchus who, being pelted with apples by Alexan-
der at supper, rose up and said.

Some God shall wounded be hy mortal hand, t

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

Thrice, four times blest, tlie happy Greeks that fell. J

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

Now, Agamemnon's son, you freely may. §

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

Beturncd from war ; hut hndst thou there l)oen shiin,
My wish had been complete ; U

• II. XVIII 856. t Eurip. Orost. 271. % Odysi. V. 806.

S Soph. Klcctrn, 2. U H- IH. 428.

438 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

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

For no report is wholly false ' *

And he that at Hhodes, to a grammarian demanding a line
upon which he might show his skill in the theatre, pro-
posed this.

Fly from the island, worst of all mankind, t

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

QUESTIONS II Sf III

What is the Reason that Alpha is placed First in the Al-
phabkt, and what is the proportion between the number
OF Vowels and Semi-vowels ?

AMMONIUS, HERMEAS, rROTOGEXES, PLUTARCH, ZOPYRION.

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

2. First therefore, Hermeas the geometrician demanded
of Protogenes the grammarian a reason why Alpha was
the first letter of the alphabet. And he returned the com-
mon answer of the schools, that it w^as fit the vowels
should be set before the mutes and semi vowels. And of
the vowels, some being long, some short, some both long

* Hesiod, Works and Days, 763. t Odyss. X. 72.

PLUTARCH'S STMPOSIACS. 439

and short, it is just that the latter should be most esteemed.
And of these that are long and short, that is to be set first
Avhich is usually placed before the other two, but never
after either ; and that is Alpha. For that put either after
Iota or Upsilon will not be pronounced, will not make one
syllable with them, but as it were resenting the affront
and angry at the position, seeks the first as its proper
place. But if you place Alpha before either of those,
they are obedient, and quietly join in one syllable, as in
these words, avniop, avXeTv, ^itavrog, aideiadca, and a thousand
others. In these three respects therefore, as the conquer-
ors in all the five exercises, it claims the precedence, — that
of most other letters by being a vowel, that of other vow-
els by being double-timed, and lastly, that of these double-
timed vowels themselves because it is its natural place to
be set before and never after them.

3. Protogenes making a pause, Ammonius, speaking to
me, said : What ! have you, being a Boeotian, nothing to say
for Cadmus, who (as the story goes) placed Alpha the first
in order, because a cow is called Alpha by the Phoenicians,
and they account it not the second or third (as Hesiod
doth) but the first of their necessary things? Nothing at
all, I replied, for it is just that, to the best of my power,
I should rather assist my own than Bacchus's grandfather.
For Lamprias my grandfather said, that the first articulate
sound that is made is Alpha ; for the air in the mouth is
formed and fashioned by the motion of the lips ; now as
soon as those are opened, that sound breaks forth, being
very plain and simple, not requiring or depending upon
the motion of the tongue, but gently breathed forth whilst
that lies still. Therefore that is the first sound that chil-
dren make. Thus weiv, to hear, ndnv, to suig, avhh, to jiipe^
u).uht^eiry to hoUow, begin with the letter Alpha; and I
think that wQnvy to lift up, and «Wy«i', to open, were fitly
taken from that opening and lifting up of the lips when

440 PLUTARCH'S SrMPOSIACS

his voice is uttered. Thus all the names of the mutes be-
sides one have an Alpha, as it were a light to assist their
blindness ; for Pi alone wants it, and Phi and Chi are only-
Pi and Kappa with an aspirate.

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

2. And Hermeas replied : It is said that Mercury was
the first God that discovered letters in Egypt ; and there-
fore the Egyptians make the figure of an Ibis, a bird dedi-
cated to Mercury, for the first letter. But it is not fit, in
my opinion, to place an animal that makes no noise at the
head of the letters. Amongst all the numbers, the fourth*
is peculiarly dedicated to Mercury, because, as some say,
the God was born on the fourth day of the month. The
first letters called Phoenician from Cadmus are four times
four, or sixteen ; and of those that were afterward added,
Palamedes found four, and Simonides four more. Now
amongst numbers, three is the first perfect, as consisting of
a first, a middle, and a last ; and after that six, as being

PLUTARCH'S StMPOSIACS. 44l

equal the sum of its own divisors (1+2+3). Of these, six
multiplied by four makes twenty-four ; and also the first
perfect number, three, multipHed by the first cube, eight.

3. Whilst he was discoursing thus, Zopyrion the gram-
marian sneered and muttered something between his teeth ;
and, as soon as he had done, cried out tliat he most egre-
giously trifled ; for it was mere chance, and not design, that
gave such a number and order to the letters, as it was
mere chance that the first and last verses of Homer's lUads
have just as mi\ny syllables as the first and last of his
Odysseys.

QUESTION IV,
Wmcn OF Venus's Hands Diomedes wounded.

IIER.MEAS, ZOPYRION, IkLVXIilUS.

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

2. And he began : The verses running thus,

Then Diomedes raised his miphty spcnr,

And leaping towards her just did graze her hand ;♦

it is evident that, if he designed to wound her left hand,
there had been no need of leaping, since her left hand was
opposite to his right. Besides, it is probable that he would

• II. V. 835. It is evident from what follows tliat Plutarch interprets foruk^uvoi
in this passage having leaped to one side. (Q.)

442 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

endeavor to wound the strongest hand, and that with which
she drew away Aeneas ; which being wounded, it was
likely she would let him go. But more, after she returned
to Heaven, Minerva jeeringly said,

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

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

QUESTION V.

"Why Plato says that Ajax's Soul came to draw uer lot
IN tiik twentieth place in Hell.

IIYLAS, SOSnS, AMMONIUS, LAMPIUAS.

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

But Ajax's soul stood far apart ;

and raising his voice repeated the rest to him.

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

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

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

At this Sospis, laughing heartily, said : But in the mean
time, before we have the pack-saddles on, if you have any

* II. V. 422.

PLUTAKCn'S SYMPOSIACS. 443

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

2. This startled Lamprias a little, but, after a short
pause, he continued thus : Plato often tells merry stories
under borrowed names, but when he puts any fable into a
discourse concerning the soul, he hath some considerable
meaning in it. The intelligent nature of the heavens he
calls a flying chariot, intimating the harmonious whirl of
the world. And here he introduceth one Er, the son of
llarmonius, a Pamphylian, to tell what he had seen in
hell ; intimating that our souls are begotten according to
harmony, and are agreeably united to our bodies, and that,
when they are separated, they are from all parts carried
together into the air, and from thence return to second
generations. And what hinders but that twentieth (fuoarov)
should intimate that this was not a true stoiy, but only
probable and fictitious («uo,«), and that the lot fell casu-
ally (fU7,). For Plato always touchoth upon three causes,
he being the first and chiefest philosopher that knew how
fate agrees with fortune, and how our free-will is mixed
and complicated with both. And now he hath admirably
discovered what influence each hath upon our affnirs. Tlie
choice of our life he hath left to our free-will, for virtue
and vice are free. But that those who have made a good
choice should live religiously, and those who have made

444 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

an ill choice should lead a contrary lite, he leaves to the
necessity of fate. But the chances of lots thrown at a
venture introduce fortune into the several conditions of life
in which we are hrought up, which pre-occupates and per-
verts our own choice. Now consider whether it is not
irrational to enquire after a cause of those things that are
done by chance. For if the lot seems to be disposed of
by design, it ccaseth to be chance and fortune, and becomes
fate and providence.

3. Whilst Lamprias was speaking, Marcus the gram-
marian seemed to be counting to liimself, and wlicn he had
done, he began thus : Amongst the souls which Homer
mentions in his N'e'/v/a, Elpenor s is not to be reckoned as
mixed with those in hell, but, his body being not buried,
as wandering about the banks of the river Styx. Nor is
it fit that we should reckon Tircsias's soul amongst the
rest, —

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

to discourse and converse with the living even before he
drank the sacrifice's blood. Therefore, Lamprias, if you
subtract these two, you will find that Ajax was the twen-
tieth that Ulysses saw, and Plato merrily alludes to that
place in Homer's Ne-Avla,*

QUESTION' VL

What is meant by the Fable about the Defeat of Neptune ?
and also, avliy do the athenians take out the second day

or THE MONTH BOEDROMION ?

MENEniYLUS, IIYLAS, LAMPRIAS.

Now ^vhen the whole company w^ere grown to a certain
uproar, Menephylus, a Peripatetic philosopher, called to

* What follows, to the beginning of Question XIII., is omitted in the old edi-
tions of this translation. (G.)

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 445

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

( The rest of this hook to Question XIII is lust ; with the exception of the titles that fol-
low, and the fragment of Question XII.)

QUESTION VII.
Why tue Accords lx Music are DI^^DED into three.

QUESTION VIIL
Wdercin the dttervals or spaces melodious differ from Tnoss

THAT ARE accordant.

QUESTION IX,

What cause rnonucKTn Accord? and also, Why, when two Accordant
Stkinus are touched tooethku, is THE Melody ascuiued to the Base?

QUESTION X.
Why, when the Ecliptic Periods op the Sun and tmk Mn<»\ auk equal

IN NUMIIER, THERE ARE MORE EcLlPSES OF THE MoON THAN OF THE SUN.

44b PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

QUESTION XL

That we continue not always one and the same, in regard of tbb
daily dkflux of our substance.

QUESTION XII.

WuETIIER OF THE TWAIN IS MORE PROBABLE, THAT THE NiDIBER OF THE

Stars is even or odd ?

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

QUESTION XIII,
A Moot-point out of the Third Book of Homer's Iliads.

TLUTARCH, PROTOGENES, GLAUCIAS, SOSl'IS.

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 447

Let me and valiant Menelaus fight
For Helen, and for all tlie goods she brought;
Ami he that shall o'erccme, let him enjoy
The goods and woman ; let liiein be his own.

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

lie bids the Trojans and the valiant Greeks
To fix their arms upon the fruitful ground ;
I>et Menelaus and stout Paris fight
For all the goods ; and lie that beats have all.

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

If Paris valiant Menelaus kills,

Let him have Helen, and the goods possess ;

If youthful Menelaus Paris kills,

The woman and the goods shall all be his.*

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

2. Then Sospis said : The challenger s word is decisive ;
for the challenger proposed the conditions, and when
they were accepted, the other party had no power to make
additions. Now the condition proposed in this challenge
was not killing, but overcoming ; and there was reason that
it should be so, for* Helen ought to be the wife of the
l)ravest. Now the bravest is he that overcomes ; for it
often happens that an excellent soldier might be killed by
a coward, as is evident in wMiat happened afterward, when
Achilles was shot by Paris. For I do not believe that you
will affirm, that Achilles was not so \)VA\r a man as Paris
because he was killed by him, and that it should be called

• See II. III. 08, 88. 255, and 2R1.

448 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

the victory, and not rather the unjust good fortune, of
him that shot him. But Hector was overcome before he
was killed by Achilles, because he would not stand, but
trembled and fled at his approach. For he that refuseth
the combat or flies cannot palliate his defeat, and plainly
grants that his adversary is the better man. And there-
fore Iris tells Helen beforehand,

In sin<;:le combat tliey shall fight for you,
And you shall be the glorious victor's wife.*

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

The conciuost leans to Menelaus's side.f

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

3. Glaucias subjoined : In all laws, decrees, contracts,
and promises, those latest made are always accounted more
valid than the former. Now the later contract was Aga-
memnon's, the condition of which was killing, and not
only overcoming. Besides the former was mere words,
the latter confirmed by oath ; and, 1^ the consent of all,
those were cursed that broke them ; so that this latter was
properly the contract, and the other a bare challenge.
And this Priam at his going away, after he had sworn to
the conditions, confirms by these words :

But Jove and other Gods alone do know.
Which is designed to see the shades below ; J

* II. III. 137. t II. IV. 13. J II. III. 308.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 449

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

But Jove hath undetermined left our oaths,*

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

To find neat Paria in the busy throng,!

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

And which of us black fkte and death design,
Let him be lost ; the others cease fh>m war.|

Therefore it was necessary for him to seek after Paris,
that he might kill him and complete the combat ; but since
he neither killed nor took him, he had no right to the
prize. For he did not conquer him, if we may guess by

♦ n. VII. 69. t n. III. 460. 1 11. in. loi.

450 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

what he said when he expostulated with Jove and be-
wailed his unsuccessful attempt:

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

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

QUESTION XIV.

Some Observations about the Number of the Muses, not com-
monly KNOWN.

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

1. This discourse ended, we poured out our offerings to
the Muses, and together with a hymn in honor of Apollo,
the patron of the Muses, we sung with Erato, who played
upon the harp, the generation of the Muses out of Hesiod.
After the song was done, Herod the rhetorician said :
Pray, sirs, hearken. Those that will not admit Calliope
to be ours say that she keeps company with kings, not
such, I suppose, as are busied in resolving syllogisms or
disputing, but such who do those things that belong to
rhetoricians and statesmen. But of the rest of the IVJuses,
Clio abets encomiums, for praises are called -/Ma; and
Polymnia history, for her name signifies the remembrance
of many things ; and it is said that all the ' Muses were
somewhere called Remembrances. And for my part, I think
Euterpe hath some relation to us too, if (as Chrysippus
says) her lot be agreeableness in discourse and pleasant-
ness in conversation. For it belongs to an orator to con-
verse, as well as plead or give advice ; since it is his part.

* II. III. 365.

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 451

to gain the favor of his auditors, and to defend or excuse
his client. To praise or dispraise is the commonest theme ;
and if we manage this artfully, it will turn to considerable
account ; if unskilfully, we are lost. For that saying,

Gods ! how he is honored and beloved by all,*

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

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

Eats the fruits of the spacious earth.t

And therefore Jove made but one Minerva, one Diana, one
Vulcan, but many Muses. But why there should be nine,
and no more nor less, pray acquaint us ; for you, so great
a lover of, and so well acquainted with, the Muses, must
certainly have considered this matter. What difficulty is
there in that 1 replied llerod. The number nine is in every
body's mouth, as being the first square of the first odd num-
ber ; and as doubly odd, since it may be divided into three
equal odd numbers. Ammonius with a smile subjoined:
Boldly said ; and pray add, that this number is com-
posed of the first two cubes, one and eight, and according
to another composition of two triangles, three and six, each
of which is itself perfect But why should this belong to
the Muses more than any other of the Gods ? For we
have nine Muses, but not nine Cereses, nine Minervas or
Dianas. For I do not believe you take it for a good argu-
ment, that the Pluses must be so many, because their
mother's name (Mnemosyne) consists of just so many let-

• Odyff. X. 88. t From Simonide*.

452 PLUTAKCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

ters. Herod smiling, and every body being silent, Ammo-
nius desired our opinions.

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

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 453

know, as well as we, that astrology is comprehended in
geometry, and poetry in music.

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

5. Then Menephylus the Peripatetic subjoined : The
Delphians' opinion hath indeed somewhat of probability in
it ; but Plato is absurd in committing the eternal and divine
revolutions not to thr Mtises but to the Sirens, Daemons

454 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

that neither love nor are benevolent to mankind, wholly
passing by the Muses, or caUing them by the names of the
Fates, the daughters of Necessity. For Necessity is averse
to the Muses ; but Persuasion being more agreeable and
better acquainted with them, in my opinion, than the grace
of Empedocles,

Intolerable Necessity abhors.

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

It is true, I do not approve what he says ; but Plato
seems to me, as he hath strangely and unaccountably called
the axes spindles and distaff's, and the stars whirls, so to
have named the Muses Sirens, as delivering divine things

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 455

to the ghosts below, as Ulysses in Sophocles says of the
Su*ens,

I next to Phorcus's (laughters came,
Wlio fix the sullen laws below.

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

Whom Jove abhors, he starts to hear
The Muses sounding in his ear.*

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

This fine discourse seems near allied to truth,

and desired every one to deliver his opinion. And I, after
a short silence, said : As Plato thinks by the name, as it
were by tracks, to discover the powers of the Gods, so let
us place in heaven and over heavenly things one of the
Muses, Urania. And it is likely that those require no dis-
tracting variety of cares to govern them, since they have
the same single nature for the cause of all their motions.
But where are a great many irregularities and disorders,
there we must place the eight Muses, that we may have
one to coiTCct each particular irregularity and miscarriage.
There are two parts in a man's life, the serious and the
merry ; and each must be regulated and methodized. Tiie
serious part, which instructs us in the knowledge and

• Pindar, Pyth. I. 25.

456 PLUTARCH'S SYMrOSIACS.

contemplation of the Gods, Calliope, Clio, and Thalia seem
chiefly to look after and direct. The other Muses govern
our weak part, which changes presently into wantonness
and folly ; they do not neglect our brutish and violent pas-
sions and let them run their own course, but by apposite
dancing, music, song, and orderly motion mixed with
reason, bring them down to a moderate temper and condi-
tion. For my ^ part, since Plato admits two principles of
every action, the natural desire after pleasure, and acquired
opinion which covets and wishes for the best, and calls one
reason and the other passion, and since each of these
is manifold, I think that each requires a considera-
ble and, to speak the truth, a divine direction. For in-
stance, one faculty of our reason is said to be political
or imperial, over which Hesiod says Calliope presides ;
Clio's province is the noble and aspiring ; and Polymnia's
that faculty of the soul which inclines to attain and keep
knowledge (and therefore the Sicyonians call one of their
three Muses Polymathia) ; to Euterpe everybody allows
the searches into nature and physical speculations, there
being no greater, no sincerer pleasure belonging to any
other sort of speculation in the world. The natural desire
to meat and drink Thalia reduceth from brutish and uncivil
to be sociable and friendly ; and therefore we say {^ahat^iv
of those that are friendly, merry, and sociable over their
cups, and not of those that are quarrelsome and mad.
Erato, together with Persuasion, that brings along with it
reason and opportunity, presides over marriages ; she
takes away and extinguisheth all the violent fury of pleas-
ure, and makes it tend to friendship, mutual confidence,
and endearment, and not to effeminacy, lust, or discon-
tent. The delight which the eye or ear receives is a
sort of pleasure, either appropriate to reason or to pas-
sion, or common to them both. This the two other Muses,
Terpsichore and Melpomene, so moderate, that the one

PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 457

may only cheer and not charm, the other only please and
not bewitch.

QUESTION XV.

That There are three Parts in Dancing; g)o^«, Motion, cx^inn
Gesture, and ^zlhg. Representation. "What each of those is
AND what is Common to both Poetry and Dancing.

A^EMONIUS and TIIRASYBULUS.

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

2. lie said they were three, — (]poo«, <T;f/'^«, and 5^^J^•. For
dancing is made up of motion and manner (<T/t'(j/v), as a
song of sounds and stops ; stops are the ends of motion.
Now the motions they call qpooa/', and the gestures and like-
ness to which the motions tend, and in which they end,
they call axi'tf^^ra: as, for instance, when by their own
motions they represent the figure of Apollo, Pan, or any
of the raging Bacchae. The third, deih^% is not an imitation,
but a plain downright indication of the things represent-
ed. For the poets, when they would speak of Achilles,
TTlysses, the earth, or heaven, use their proper names, and
such as the vulgar usually undcrsti\nd. But for the more
lively representation, they use words which by their very
sound express some eminent quality in the tiling, or meta-

458 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

phors ; as when they say that streams do " babble and flash ; "
that arrows fly " desirous the flesh to wound ; " or when they
describe an equal battle by saying " the fight had equal
heads." They have likewise a great many significative
compositions in their verses. Thus Euripides of Perseus,

He that Medusa slew, and flies in air ;

and Pindar of a horse,

When by the smooth Alpheus* banks
lie ran the race, and never felt the spur ;

and Homer of a race,

The cliariota, overlaid with tin and brass.
By fiery horses drawn ran swiftly on. *

So in dancing, the (t//>« represents the shape and figure,
the (poQa shows some action, passion, or power ; but by the
dsl^ig are properly and significatively shown the things
themselves, for instance, the heaven, earth, or the com-
pany. Which, being done in a certain order and method,
resembles the proper names used in poetry, decently
clothed and attended with suitable epithets. As in these
lines,

Tliemis the venerable and admired,

And Venus beauteous with her bending brows,

Dione fair, and Juno crowned with gold.t

And in these.

From Tiellen kings renowned for giving laws.
Great Dorus and the mighty Xuthus, sprang,
And Aeolus, whose chief delight was horse. J

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

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

* Euripides, Frag. 975 ; Pindar, Olymp. I. 31 ; II. XXIII. 503.

t Hesiod, Theog. 16.

X These verses are quoted by Tzetzes with three others as belonging to Hesiod's
Heroic Genealogy. If tliey are genuine, they contain the earliest reference to Ilellen
and his three sons. See Fragment XXXII. in Gottling's Hesiod. (G.)

TLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS. 459

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

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

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

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

For having associated to itself a mean paltry sort of music,
and falling from that divine sort of poetry with wliich it
was formerly acquainted, it rules now and domineei*s

• Tlie fragments of Simonides may be found in Bergk, Poet. Lyr. Gr. pp. 879,
880(Nus. 2U, 80, 31). They are too mutilated to be translated (G )

460 PLUTARCH'S SYMPOSIACS.

amongst foolish and inconsiderate spectators, like a tyrant,
it hath subjected nearly the whole of music, but hath lost
all its honor with excellent and wise men.

These, my Sossius Senecio, were almost the last dis-
courses which we had at Ammonius's house during the
festival of the Muses.

OF MORAL VIETUE.

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

*i. To begin then with Menedemus of Eretria, he took
away both the number and the difl'erences of virtue, by
asserting it to be but one, ahhough distinguished by several
names ; holding that, in the same manner as a mortal and
a man are all one, so what we call temperance, fortitude,

462 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

and justice are but one and the same thing. As for Aris-
ton of Chios, he likewise made virtue to be but one in
substance, and called it sanity, which, as it had respect to
this or that, was to be variously multiplied and distin-
guished ; just after the same manner as if any one should
call our sight, when applied to any white object, by the
name of white-look ; when to one that is black, by the
name of black-look ; and so in other matters. • For accord-
ing to him, virtue, when it considers such things as we
ought to do or not to do, is called prudence ; when it mod-
erates our desires, and prescribes the measure and season
for our pleasures, temperance ; and w^hen it governs the
commerce and mutual contracts of mankind, justice; — in
the same manner, for instance, as a knife is one and the
same knife still, notwithstanding sometimes it cuts one
thing, sometimes another, and just as fire does operate
upon different matter, and yet retain the very same nature.
Unto which opinion it seems also as if Zeno the Citian did
in some measure incline ; he defining prudence, while it
distributes to every man his own, to be justice ; when it
teaches what we are to choose and w^hat to reject or avoid,
temperance ; and with respect to what is to be borne or
sufi'ered, fortitude. But it is to be observed, that they who
take upon them the defence of Zeno's notions do suppose
him to mean science by what he calls prudence. But then
Chrysippus, whilst he imagined from every distinct quality
a several and peculiar virtue to be formed, before he was
aware, raised (as Plato hath it) a whole swarm of virtues
never before known or used among the philosophers. For
as from brave he derived bravery; from mild, mildness;
and from just, justice ; so from pleasant he fetched
pleasantness; from good, goodness; from grand, grandeur;
and from honest, honesty ; placing these and all kind of
dexterous application of discourse, all kind of facetiousness
of conversation, and all witty turns of expression in the

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 463

number of virtues, thereby over-running philosophy, which
requires nothing less, with a multitude of uncouth, absurd,
and barbarous terms.

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

Now, it seems to me, all these philosophers were perfect
strangers to the clearness and truth of this point, that we
every one of us are in reality twofold and compound.
For, discerning only that composition in us which of the
two is most evident, namely that of the soul and body, of
the other they knew nothing at all. And yet that in the
soul itself also there is a certain composition of two dis-
similar and distinct natures, the brutal part whereof, as
another body, is necessarily and physically compounded
with and conjoined to reason, was, it should seem, no secret
to Pythagoras himself, — as some have guessed from his

464: OF MORAL VIRTUE.

having introduced the study of music amongst his scholars,
for the more easy calming and assuaging the mind, as well
knowing that it is not in every part of it obedient and
subject to precepts and discipline, nor indeed by reason
only to be recovered and retrieved from vice, but re-
quires some other kind of persuasives to co-operate with
it, to dispose it to such a temper and gentleness as that it
may not be utterly intractable and obstinate to the precepts
of philosophy. And Plato very strongly and plainly, with-
out the least hesitation, maintained that the soul of the
universe is neither simple, uniform, nor uncompounded ;
but that being mixed, as it were, and made up of that
which is always the same and of that which is otherwise,
in some places it is continually governed and carried about
after a uniform manner in one and the same powerful and
predominant order, and in other places is divided into mo-
tions and circles, one contrary to the other, unsettled and
fortuitous, — whence are derived the beginnings and gen-
eration of differences in things. And so, in like manner,
the soul of man, being a part or portion of that of the
universe, and framed upon reasons and proportions answer-
able to it, cannot be simple and all of the same nature ; but
must have one part that is intelligent and rational, which
naturally ought to have dominion over a man, and another
which, being subject to passion, irrational, extravagant,
and unbounded, stands in need of direction and restraint.
And this last is again subdivided into two other parts ;
one whereof, being called corporeal, is called concupisci-
ble, and the other, which sometimes takes part with this
and sometimes with reason, and gives respectively to either
of them strength and vigor, is called irascible. And that
which chiefly discovers the difference between the one and
the other is the frequent conflict of the intellect and rea-
son with concupiscence and anger, it being the nature
of things that are different amongst themselves to be

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 4.65

oftentimes repugnant and disobedient to what is best
of all.

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

4. As for those who wonder how it should come to pass,
that that which is irrational in itself should yet become ob-
sequious to the dictates of right reason, they seem to me
not to have duly considered the force and power of reason,
how great and extensive it is, and how far it is able to
carry and extend its authority and command, not so much
by harsh and arbitrary methods, as by soft and gentle
means, which persuade more and gain obedience sooner
than all the severities and violences in the world. For
even the spirits, the nerves, bones, and other parts of the

vol.. Ill 90

iG^ OF MORAL VIRTUE.

body are destitute of reason ; but yet no sooner do they
feel the least motion of the will, reason shaking (as it
were), though never so gently, the reins, but all of them
observe their proper order, agree together, and pay a ready
obedience. As, for instance, the feet, if the impulse of
the mind be to run, immediately betake themselves to their
office ; or if the motion of the will be for the throwing or
lifting up of any thing, the hands in a moment fall to
their business. And this sympathy or consent of the bru-
tal faculties to right reason, and the ready conformity
of them thereto, Homer has most admirably expressed in
these verses :

In tears dissolved she mourns her consort's fate,

So great her sorrows, scarce her charms more great.

Her tears compassion in Ulysses move,

And fill his breast with pity and with love ;

Yet artful he his passion secret keeps,

It rages in his heart ; and there he inward weeps.

Like steel or ivory, his fixed eyeballs stand,

Placed by some statuary's skilful hand ;

And when a gentle tear would force its way.

He hides it falling, or commands its stay.*

Under such perfect subjection to his reason and judgment
had he even his spirits, his blood, and his tears. A most
evident proof of this matter we have also from hence, that
our natural desires and motions are as soon repressed and
quieted as we know we are either by reason or law for-
bidden to approach the fair ones we at the first view had
so great a passion for ; a thing which most commonly hap-
pens to those who are apt to fall in love at sight with
beautiful women, without knowing or examining who they
are ; for no sooner do they afterwards find their error, by
discovering the person with whose charms they were be-
fore captivated to be a sister or a daughter, but their flame
is presently extinguished by the interposition of reason.
And flesh and blood are immediately brought into order,

* Odyss. XIX. 208.

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 467

and become obedient to the judgment. It often falls out
likewise that, after we have eaten some kinds of meat or
fish finely dressed, and by that means artificially disguised,
with great pleasure and a very good stomach, at the first
moment we understand they were either unclean, or im-
lawful and forbidden, our judgment being thereby shocked,
we feel not only remorse and trouble in our mind, but the
conceit reaches farther, and our whole frame is disordered
by the nauseous qualms and vomitings thereby occasioned.
I fear I should be thought on purpose to hunt after too
far-fetched and youthful instances to insert in this dis-
course, if I should take notice of the lute, the harp, the
pipe and flute, and such like musical instruments invented
by art, and adapted to the raising or allaying of human
passions ; which, though they are void of life and sense,
do yet most readily accommodate themselves to the judg-
ment, to our passions and our manners, either indulging
our melancholy, increasing our mirth, or feeding our wan-
tonness, as we happen at that time to be disposed. And
therefore it is reported of Zeno himself, that, going one
day to the theatre to hear Amoebeus sing to the lute, he
called to his scholars. Come, says he, let us go and learn
w^hat harmony and music the guts and sinews of beasts,
nay even wood and bones are capable of, by the help of
numbers, proportion, and order.

But to let these things pass, I would gladly know of
them, whether, when they see domestic animals (as dogs,
horses, or birds) by use, feeding, and teaching brought to
so high a degree of perfection as that they shall utter ar-
ticulately some senseful words, and by their motions, ges-
tures, and all their actions, shall approve themselves
governable, and become useful to us ; and when also they
find Achilles in Homer encouraging horses, as well as men,
to battle; — whether, I say, after all this, they can yet
make any wonder or doubt, whether those faculties of the

4G8 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

mind to which we owe our anger, our desires, our joys,
and our sorrows, be of such a nature that they are capable
of being obedient to reason, and so affected by it as to
consent and become entirely subject to it ; considering es-
pecially that these faculties are not seated without us, or
separated from us, or formed by any thing which is not in
us, or hammered out by force and violence, but, as they
have by nature their entire dependence upon the soul, so
they are ever conversant and bred up with it, and also re-
ceive their final complement and perfection from use, cus-
tom, and practice. Eor this reason the Greeks very
properly call manners ifiog, custom ; for they are nothing
else, in short, but certain qualities of the irrational and
brutal part of the mind, and hence by them are so named,
in that this brutal and irrational part of the mind being
formed and moulded by right reason, by long custom and
use (which they call sOog), has these qualities or differences
stamped upon it. Not that reason so much as attempts to
eradicate our passions and affections, which is neither pos-
sible nor expedient, but only to keep them within due
bounds, reduce them into good order, and so direct them
to a good end ; and thus to generate moral virtue, consisting
not in a kind of insensibility, or total freedom from pas-
sions, but in the well-ordering our passions and keeping
them within measure, which she effects by wisdom and
prudence, bringing the faculties of that part of the soul
where our affections and appetite are seated to a good
habit. For these three things are commonly held to be in
the soul, namely, a faculty or aptitude, passion, and habit.
This aptitude or faculty then is the principle or very mat-
ter of passions ; as for example, the power or aptitude to
be angry, to be ashamed, to be confident and bold, or the
like ; passion is the actual exercise of that aptitude or
faculty, as anger, shame, confidence, or boldness ; and
habit is the strength, firmness, and establishment of the

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 469

disposition or faculty in the irrational part of the soul,
gotten by continual use and custom, and which, according
as the passions are well or ill governed by reason, becomes
either virtue or vice.

5. But, forasmuch as philosophers do not make all virtue
to consist in a mediocrity nor call it moral, to show the
difference more clearly, it will be necessary to take our
rise a little farther off. For of all things then in the uni-
verse, some do exist absolutely, simply, and for them-
selves only ; others again relatively, for and with regard to
us. Among those things which have an absolute and
simple existence are the earth, the heavens, the stars, and
the sea ; and of such things as have their being relatively,
with respect to us, are good and evil, things desirable and
to be avoided, and things pleasant and hurtful. And see-
ing that both are the proper objects of reason, — while it
considers the former, which are absolutely and for them-
selves, it is scientifical and contemplative ; and when the
other, which have reference to us, it is deliberative and
practical. And as the proper virtue in the latter case is
prudence, in the former it is science. And between the one
and the other, namely, between prudence and science, there
is this difference. Prudence consists in a certain applica-
tion and relation of the contemplative faculties of the soul to
those wh'ch are practical, for the government of the sen-
sual and irrational part, according to reason. To which
purpose prudence has often need of Fortune ; whereas
neither of that nor of deliberation has science any occa-
sion or want to attain its ends, forasmuch as it has nothing
to consider biit such things as remain always the same.
For as a geometrician never deliberates about a triangle,
whether all its three angles be equal to two right angles,
because of that he has a clear and distinct knowledge
(and men use to deliberate about such things only as are
sometimes in one state or condition and sometimes in

470 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

another, and not of those which are always firm and im-
mutable), so the mind, when merely contemplative, exer-
cising itself about first prmciples and things permanent,
such as retaining the same nature are incapable of muta-
tion, has no room or occasion for deliberation. Whereas
prudence, descending to actions full of error and confusion,
is very often under the necessity of encountering with for-
tuitous accidents, and, in doubtful cases, of making use
of deliberation, and, to reduce those deliberations into prac-
tice, of calling also to its assistance even the irrational
faculties, which are (as it were) forcibly dragged to go
along with it, and by that means to give a certain vigor or
impetus to its determinations. For its determinations do
indeed want something which may enliven and give them
such an impetus. And moral virtue it is which gives an
impetus or vigor to the passions ; but at the same time
reason, which accompanies that impetus, and of which it
stands in great need, does so set bounds thereunto, that
nothing but what is moderate appears, and that it neither
outruns the proper seasons of action, nor yet falls short of
them.

For the sensual faculties, where passions are seated, are
subject to motions, some over-vehement, sudden, and quick,
and others again too remiss, and more slow and heavy
than is convenient. So that, though every thing we do can
be good but in one manner, yet it may be evil i-n several ;
as there is but one single way of hitting the mark, but to
miss it a great many, either by shooting over, or under, or
on one side. The business therefore of practical reason,
governing our actions according to the order of Nature, is
to correct the excesses as well as the defects of the pas-
sions, by reducing them to a true mediocrity. For as,
when through infirmity of the mind, efi'eminacy, fear, or
laziness, the vehemence and keen'ness of the appetites are
so abated that they are ready to sink and fall short of the

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 471

good at which they are aimed and directed, there is then
this practical reason at hand, exciting and rousing and
pushing them onward ; so, on the other hand, when it
lashes out too far and is hurried beyond all measure, there
also is the same reason ready to briug it again within com-
pass and put a stop to its career. And thus, prescribing
bounds and giving law to the motions of the passions, it
produces in the irrational part of the soul these moral
virtues (of which we now treat), which are nothing else
but the mean between excess and defect. For it cannot
be said that all virtue consists in mediocrity ; since wisdom
or prudence (one of the intellectual virtues), standing in
no need of the irrational faculties, — as being seated in
that part of the soul which is pure and unmixed and free
from all passions, — is of itself absolutely perfect, the
utmost extremity and power of reason, whereby we attain
to that perfection of knowledge which is itself most divine
and renders us most happy. Whereas moral virtue, which
because of the body is so necessary to us, and, to put
things in practice, stands in need of the instrumental min-
istry of the passions (as being so fixr from promoting the
destruction and abolition of irrational powers, as to be
altogether employed in the due regulation thereof), is, with
respect to its power or quality, the very top and extremity
of perfection ; but, in respect of the proportion and quan-
tity which it determines, it is mediocrity, in that it takes
away all excess on the one hand, and cures all defects on
the other.

6. Now mean and mediocrity may be differently under-
stood. For there is one mean which is compounded and
made up of the two simple extremes, as in colors, gray,
of white and black ; and another, where that which con-
tains and is contained is the medium between the contiiin-
ing and the contiiined, as, for instance, the number eight,
between twrlvo and four. And a third sort there is also,

472 or MORAL VIRTUE.

which participates of neither extreme, as for example, all
those things which, as being neither good nor evil in them-
selves, we call adiaphorous, or indifferent. But in none of
these ways can virtue be said to be a mean, or mediocrity.
For neither is it a mixture of vices, nor, comprehending
that which is defective and short, is it comprehended by
that which runs out into excess ; nor yet is it exempt from
the impetuosity and sudden efforts of the passions, in which
excess and defect do properly take place. But moral vir-
tue properly doth consist in a mean or mediocrity (and so
it is commonly taken), most like to that which there is in
our Greek music and harmony. For, whereas there are the
highest and lowest musical notes in the extremities of
the scale called nete and hypate ; so likewise is there in
the middle thereof, between these two, another musical
note, and that the sweetest of all, called mese (or mean),
which does as perfectly avoid the extreme sharpness of the
one as it doth the over-flatness of the other. And so also
virtue, being a motion and power which is exercised about
the brutal and irrational part of the soul, takes away the
remission and intention — in a word, the excess and de-
fect— of the appetites, reducing thereby every one of the
passions to a due mediocrity and perfect state of rectitude.
For example, fortitude is said to be the mean between
cowardice and rashness, whereof the one is a defect, as
the other is an excess of the irascible faculty ; liberality,
between sordid parsimony on the one hand, and extrava-
gant prodigality on the other; clemency between insen-
sibility of injuries and its opposite, revengeful cruelty ;
and so of justice and temperance ; the former being the
mean between giving and distributing more or less than is
due in all contracts, affairs, and business between man and
man, and the latter a just mediocrity between a stupid
apathy, touched with no sense or relish of pleasure, and
dissolute softness, abandoned to all manner of sensualities.

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 473

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

Lest from hii hands the purple reins should slip,

as Simonides speaks.

And from hence we may see why continence is not

474 OF MOHAL VIRTUE.

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

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

And upon the same grounds it is, that incontinence is held
to be something less than vice also, but intemperance to
be a complete and perfect vice, for therein not the appe-
tite only but reason likewise is debauched and corrupted ;
and as the former incites and pushes forward the desires
and affections to that which is evil, so this, by making an
ill judgment, is easily led to consent and agree to the soft
whispers and tempting allurements of corrupt lusts and
passions, and soon loseth all sense of sin and evil.
Whereas incontinence preserves the judgment, by the
help of reason, right and sound ; but yet, by irresistible
force and violence of the passions, is even against judg-
ment drawn away. Moreover, in these respects following
it differeth also from intemperance : — inasmuch as reason
in that is overpowered by passion, but in this it never so
much as struggleth ; the incontinent person, after a noble
resistance, is at last forced to submit to the tyranny of his

* Soph. Oed. Tyr. 4.

or MORAL VIRTUE. 475^

lusts, and follow their guidance, while the intemperate ap-
proves them, and gladly goes along with and submits to
them ; one feels remorse for the evil he commits, while the
other prides in lewdness and vice. Again, the one wilfully
and of his own accord runs into sin ; while the other, even
against his will, is forced to abandon that which is good.

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

What mirth in Ufe, what pleasure, what deliglit.
Without content in sports of Venus briglit 1
Were those joys past, and I for them unmeet,
Ring out my knell, bring forth ray winding-sheet.*

And thus says another :

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

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

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

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

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

says one of them. And again.
And another.

Ah ! 'tis decreed by Fate. Wo know, 'tis true.
We know those virtues, which we ne'er pursue.t

What will my swelling passions' force ftMoage t

No more can I sustain this tempest's rage,

Than anchor's fluke, dropt on loose ground, a storm ;

♦ From Mimnermus.

t From the Chrysippus of Euripides, Frag. 887 and 888.

476 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

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

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

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

When first the dogged Anaxarchus strove

The power of virtue o'er his mind to prove.

Firm though he seemed, and obstinately good,

In vain tli' impulse of temper he withstood.

Nature recoiled, whatever he could do ;

He saw tliose ills, which yet he did pursue;

In this not single, other sophists too

Felt the same force, which they could ne'er subdue.

And neither is a wise man continent, but temperate ; nor
a fool incontinent, but intemperate ; the one taking true
pleasure and delight in good, the other having no dis-
pleasure against evil. And therefore incontinence is said
to be found only in a mind which is sophistical (or which
barely makes a show of being governed and directed by
prudence), and which has indeed the use of reason, but in

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 477

80 weak and faint a manner, that it is not able to persevere
in that whinh it knows to be right.

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

Swift the command ran through the raging deep ;
Th' obedient waves compose themselves to sleep ; ♦

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

As sucking foal runs by his mother mare.

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

It is manifest then from wliat has been discoursed, that
the soul does perceive within itself something that is firm

• Odyu. XII. 108.

478 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

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

But these opinions are against common sense and expe-
rience ; for no man ever felt such a sudden change in
himself, as that whenever he chose any thing he imme-
diately judged it fit to be chosen, or that, on the other
hand, whenever he judged any thing fit to be chosen he
immediately made choice of it. Neither does the lover
who is convinced by reason that his amour is fit to be

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 479

broken off, and that he ought to strive against his passion,
therefore immediately cease to love ; nor on the other side
doth he desist reasoning, and cease from being able to give
a right judgment of things, even then, when, being soft-
ened and overcome by luxury^ he delivers himself up a
captive to his lusts. But as, while by the assistance of
reason he makes opposition to the efforts of his passions,
they yet continue to solicit, and at last overcome him ; so
likewise, when he is overcome 'and forced to submit to
them, by the light of reason does he plainly discern and
know that he has done amiss ; so that neither by the pas-
sions is reason effaced and destroyed, nor yet by reason is
he rescued and delivered from them ; but, being tossed to
and fro between the one and the other, he is a kind of
neuter, and participates in common of them both. And
those, methinks, who imagine that one w^hile the directive
and rational part of the soul is changed into concupiscence
and lust, and that by and by reason opposes itself against
them, and they are changed into that, are not much unlike
them who make the sportsman and his game not to be
two, but one body, which, by a nimble and dexterous
mutation of itself, one while appears in the shape of the
huntsman^ and at another turn puts on the form of a wild
beast. For as these in a plain evident matter seem to
be stark blind, so they in the other case belie even their
own senses, seeing they must needs feel in themselves not
merely a change or mutation of one and the same thing,
but a downright struggle and quarrel between two several
and distinct faculties.

But is not, say they, the deliberative power or f\iciUty
of a man often divided in itself, and distracted among sev-
eral opinions contrary to one another, about that which is
expedient ; and yet is but one, simple, uniform thing ? All
this we grant to be true ; but it does not reach the case we
are speaking of. For that part of the soul where reason

480 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

and judgment are seated is not at variance with itself, but
by one and the same faculty is conversant about different
reasonings ; or rather, there is but one simple power of
reasoning, which employs itself on several arguments, as
so many different subject-matters. And therefore it is, that
no disturbance or uneasiness accompanies those reasonings
or deliberations, where the passions do not at all interpose.
Nor are we at any time forced, as it were, to choose any
thing contrary to the dictates of our own reason, but when,
as in a balance, some lurking hidden passions lay some-
thing in the scale against reason to weigh it down. And
this often falls out to be the case, where it is not reasoning
that is opposed to reasoning, but either ambition, or emu-
lation, or favor, or jealousy, or fear, making a show as if
there were a variance or contest between two differing rea-
sons, according to that of Homer,

Shame in denial, in acceptance fear ; *

and of another poet,

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

And in determining of controversies about contracts be-
tween man and man, it is by the interposition of the pas-
sions that so many disputes and delays are created. So
likewise in the consultations and counsels of kings, they
who design to make their court incline not to one side of
the question or debate rather than the other, but only ac-,
commodate themselves to their own passions, without any
regard to the interest of the public. Which is the reason
that in aristocratical governments the magistrates will not
suffer orators in their pleadings, by declaiming and ha-
ranguing, to raise the passions and move the affections. For
reason, not being disturbed or diverted by passion, tends
directly to that which is honorable and just ; but if the
passions are once raised, there immediately follows a mighty

* II. VII. 93.

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 481

controversy and struggle between pleasure and grief on the
one hand, and reason and judgment on the other. For other-
wise how comes it to pass, that in philosophical disputes
and disquisitions we so often and with so little trouble are by
others drawn off from our owm opinions and wrought upon
to change them? — and that Aristotle himself, Democritus,
and Chrysippus have without any concern or regret of mind,
nay even with great satisfaction to themselves, retracted
some of those points which they formerly so much approved
of, and were wont so stiffly to maintain ? For no passions
residing in the contemplative and scientifical part of the
soul make any tumult or disturbance therein, and the irra-
tional and brutal faculties remain quiet and calm, without
busying themselves to intermeddle in matters of that kind.
By which means it falls out, that reason no sooner comes
within view of truth, but rejecting that which is false it
readily embraces it ; forasmuch as there is in the former
what is not to be found in the other, namely, a willingness
to assent and disagree as there is occasion ; whereas in all
deliberations had, judgments made, and resolutions taken
about such things as are to be reduced into practice, and
are mixed and interwoven with the passions and affections,
reason meets with much opposition, and is put under great
difficulties, by being stopped and interrupted in its course
by the brutal faculties of the mind, throwing in its way
either pleasure or fear or grief or lust, or some such like
temptation or discouragement. And then the decision of
these disputes belongs to sense, which is equally affected
with both the one and the other; and whichsoever of
them gets the mastery, the other is not thereby destroyed,
but (though struggling and resisting all the while) is forced
only to comply and go along with the conqueror. As an
amorous person, for example, finding himself engaged in
an amour he cannot approve of, has immediately recourse
to his reason, to oppose the force of that against his pa«-

TOL. III. tl

482 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

sion, as having them both together actually subsisting in
his soul, plainly discerning them to be several and distinct,
and feeling a sensible conflict between the two, while he
endeavors (as it were) with his hand to repress and keep
down the part which is inflamed and rages so violently
within him. But, on the contrary, in those deliberations
and disquisitions where the passions have nothing to do,
such I mean as belong properly to the contemplative part
of the soul, if the reasons are equally balanced, not in-
clining more to one side than another, then is there no
determinate judgment formed, but there remains a doubt-
ing, as if there were a rest or suspense of the understand-
ing between two contrary opinions. But if there happen
to be any inclination or determination towards one side,
that prevailing must needs get the better of the other, but
without any regret or obstinate opposition from it against
the ophiion which is received. In short, whenever the
contest seems to be of reason against reason, in that case
we have no manner of sense of two distinct powers, but
of one simple, uniform faculty only, under different appre-
hensions or imaginations ; but when the dispute is between
the irrational part and reason, where nature has so ordered
it that neither the victory nor the defeat can be had with-
out anxiety and regret, there immediately the two contend-
ing powers divide the soul in the quarrel, and thereby
make the difference and distinction between them to be
most plain and evident.

8. And not only from their contests, but no less also
from the consequences that follow thereupon, may one
clearly enough discern the source and original of the pas-
sions to be different from that of reason. For since a man
may set his affection upon an ingenuous and virtuously dis-
posed child, and no less also upon one that is naughty and
dissolute, and since also one may have unreasonable and
indecent transports of anger against his children or his

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 483

parents, and on the contrary, may justly and unblamably
be angry in their defence against their enemies and tyrants ;
as in the one case there is perceived a struggle and dispute
of the passions against reason, so in the other may be seen
a ready submission and agreement of them, running to its
assistance, and lending as it were their helping hand. To
illustrate this with a familiar example, — after a good man
has in obedience to the laws married a convenient wife, he
then in the first place comes to a resolution of conversing
and cohabiting with her wisely and honestly, and of making
at least a civil husband ; but in process of time, custom
and constant familiarity having bred within him a true
passion for her, he sensibly finds that upon principles of
reason his affection and love for her are every day more
and more improved and grow upon him. So in like man-
ner, young men having met with kind and gentle masters,
to guide and inform their minds in the study of philosophy
and sciences, make use of them at first for instruction only
and information, but afterwards come to have such an affec-
tion for them, that from familiar companions and scholars
they become their lovers and admirers, and are so accounted.
And the same happens also to most men, with respect to
good magistrates in the commonwealth, to their neighbors,
and to their kindred ; for, beginning an acquaintance upon
necessity and interest, for the exchange of the common
offices of intercourse and commerce with one another, they
do afterwards by degrees, ere they are aware, grow to have
a love and friendship for them ; reason in such and the
like cases having over-persuaded and even compelled tlic
passions to take delight in and pursue what it before had
approved of and consented to. As for the poet who said,

Of modesty two kinds there be ;
The one we cnnnot blame,
The otlicr troubletli many a house.
And doth decay the tame ; *

• Eurip. Hippol. 881

484 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

doth he not plainly hereby intimate, that he had often-
times found by experience that this affection of the mind,
by a sheepish, shamefaced backwardness, and by foolishly
bashful delays against all reason, had lost him the oppor-
tunities and seasons of making his fortune, and hinderea
and disappointed many brave actions and noble entei-
prises ?

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

And yet even these men themselves sometimes make use
of very proper terms to express these matters ; as, for in-
stance, when they call those joys, volitions, and cautions
of theirs, not by the name of apathies, as if they were de-
void of all manner of passions, but of eupathies. For
then is there said to be an eupathy, or good disposition of

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 485

the affections, when reason hath not utterly destroyed, but
composed and adjusted them in the minds of discreet and
temperate persons. But what then becomes of vicious
and dissolute persons^ Why, if they should judge it rea-
sonable to love their parents, instead of a mistress or a
gallant, are they unable to perform this ; but should they
judge it fitting to set their hearts upon a sti'umpet or a
parasite, the judgment is no sooner made, but they are
most desperately in love'? Now were the passions and
judgment one, it could not be but that the passions of love
and hatred would immediately follow upon judgments made
what to love and hate. But we see the contrary often hap-
pen ; for the passions, as they submit to some resolutions and
judgments, so others again they oppose themselves to, and
refuse to comply with. Whence it is that, compelled there-
to by truth and the evidence of things, they do not affirm
every judgment and determination of reason to be passion,
but that only which excites too violent and inordinate an
appetite ; acknowledging thereby that the fiiculty we have
in us of judging is quite another thing than that which is
susceptible of the passions, as is that also which moveth
from that which is moved. Nay, even Chrysippus himself,
in many ])laces defining patience and continence to be
habits of submitting to and pursuing the choice and direc-
tion of right reason, doth thereby make it apparent that
by the force of truth he was driven to confess tliar it is
one thing in us which is obedient and submissive, but
another and quite a different thing which it obeys when
it submits, but resists when it does not submit.

10. Now, as for those who make all sins and faults to
be equal, to examine whether in other matters they have
not also departed from the truth is not at this time and in
this place seasonable ; since they seem not herein only,
but in most things else, to advance unreasonable paradoxes
against common sense and cxperiencr. lor according to

486 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

them, all our passions and affections are so many faults,
and whosoever grieves, fears, or desires, commits sin. But,
with their leave, nothing is more visible and apparent than
the mighty difference in those and all other passions, ac-
cording as we are more or less affected with them. For
will any man say that the fear of Dolon was no more than
that of Ajax, who, being forced to give w^ay before the
enemy,

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

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

*I1. XL 547.

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 487

nature, so may it be slackened and remitted by gentleness
and good-nature.

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

Which make men equal to the Gods above.

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

Thus much may, however, fairly be assumed from what
has already been said on this head, that even they them-
selves do allow a plain difference between the judgment

48b OF MORAL VIRTUE.

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

What have I done ? Where has my soul been strayed ?
Would she not stay to see herself obeyed,
But let me act what I abhorred but now 1

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

11. For how could it possibly be, that a man should be
better and worse than himself, and at once both his own

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 489

master and slave, if every one were not in some sort
naturallj doable or twofold, having in himself at the same
time a better part and a worse ? For so may he be reckoned
to have a power over himself and to be better than liim-
self, who has his worse and inferior faculties in obedience
and subjection to the superior and more excellent ; wliereas
he who suffers his nobler powers to fall under the ^ )\ern-
ment and direction of the intemperate and irrational part
of the soul is less and worse than himself, and has wholly
lost the command over himself, and is in a state which is
contraiy to Nature. For by the order of Nature, reason,
which is divine, ought to have the sovereignty and dominion
over the irrational and brutal faculties, which, deriving
their original from the body, and being incorporated, as it
were, and thoroughly mixed therewith, bear a very near
resemblance to it, are replenished with, and do participate
in common of the qualities, properties, and passions there'
of ; as is plain from our more vehement motions and efforts
towards corporeal objects, which always increase or dimin-
ish in vigor according to the several changes and alter-
ations which happen in the body. From whence it is that
young men are in their lusts and appetites, because of the
abundance and warmth of their blood, so quick, forward,
hot, and furious ; whereas in old men all natural fire being
almost extinguished, and the first principles and source of
the affections and passions, seated about the liver, being
much lessened and debilitated, reason becomes more vigor-
ous and predominant, while the appetites languish and
decay together with the body. And after this manner it is
that the iiitnK of beasts is framed and disposed to divers
passions. For it is not from any strength or weakness of
thought, or from any opinions right or wrong which they
form to themselves, that some of them are so bold and
venturous, nnl dare encounter any thing, and others of
them arc feaiful and cowardly, shrinking at eveiy danger ;

490 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

but from the force and power of the blood, the spirits, and
the body does this diversity of passions in them arise ; for
that part where the passions are seated, being derived from
the body, as from its root, retains all the qualities and pro-
pensions of that from whence it is extracted.

Now that in man there is a sympathy and an agreeable
and correspondent motion of the body with the passions
and appetites, is proved by the paleness and blushmgs of
the face, by the tremblings of the joints, and by tlie |)alpi-
tation of the heart ; and, on the contrary, by the diffusion
or dilatation which we feel upon the hope and expectation
of pleasures. But when the mind or intellect doth move
of itself alone, without any passion to disorder and ruffle
it, then is the body at repose and rests quiet, having noth-
ing at all to do with those acts and operations of the mind ;
as, when it takes into consideration a proposition in
mathematics or some such scientifical thing, it calls not for
the aid or assistance of the irrational or brutal faculties.
From whence also it is very apparent that there are in us
two distinct parts, differing in their powers and faculties
from one another.

12. In fine, throughout the whole world, all things (as
they themselves are forced to confess, and is evident in
itself) are governed and directed, some by a certain habit,
some by Nature, others by a brutal or irrational soul, and
some again by that which has reason and understanding.
Of all which things man does in some measure participate,
and is concerned in all the above-mentioned differences.
For he is contained by habit, and nourished by Nature ; he
makes use of reason and understanding ; he wants not his
share of the irrational soul ; he has also in him a native
source and inbred principle of the passions, not as ad-
ventitious, but necessary to him, which ought not therefore
to be utterly rooted out, but only pruned and cultivated.
For it is not the method and custom of reason — in imita-

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 491

tion either of the manner of the Thracians or of what
Lycurgus ordered to be done to the vines — to destroy and
tear up all the passions and affections indifferently, good
and bad, useful and hurtful together; but rather — like
some kind and careful Deity who has a tender regard to
the growth and improvement of fruit-trees and plants — to
cut away and clip off that which growls wild and rank, and
to dress and manage the rest that it may serve for use and
profit. For as they who are afraid of being diunk pour
not their wine upon the ground, but dilute it with water ;
so neither do they who fear any violent commotion of their
passions go about utterly to destroy and eradicate, but
rather wisely to temper and moderate them. And as they
w^ho use to break horses and oxen do not go about to take
away their goings, or to render them unfit for labor and
service, but only strive to cure them of their unluckiness
and flinging up their heels, and to bring them to be patient
of the bit and yoke, so as to become useful ; after the
same manner reason makes very good use of the passions,
after they are well subdued and made gentle, without
either tearing in pieces or over-much weakening that part
of the soul which was made to be obedient to her. In
Pindar we find it said :

As 'tis the liorse's pride to win the race.

And to plough up the fruitful soil

Is the laborious ox'jj toil,
So the fierce dog we take the foaming boar to chase.

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

Thus, moderate anger is of admirable use to courage or
fortitude ; hatred and aversion for ill men promotes the
execution of justice ; and a just indignation against those
wlio are prosperous beyond what they deserve is then both

492 OF MORAL VIRTUE.

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

A valiant man doth never color change ;
Excessive fear to liira is very strange, *

does not take away all fear (but that only which is ex-
treme and unmanly), that bravery and courage may not be

♦ 11. XIII. 284.

OF MORAL VIRTUE. 493

thought to be fool-hardiness, nor boldness and resolution
pass for temerity and rashness. And therefore he that in
pleasures and delights can prescribe bounds to liis lusts and
desires, and in punishing offences can moderate his rage
and hatred to the offenders, shall in one case get the repu-
tation not of an insensible, but temperate person, and in
the other be accounted a man of justice without cruelty or
bitterness. Whereas, if all the passions, if that were pos-
sible, were clean rooted out, reason in most men would
grow sensibly more dull and inactive than the pilot of a
ship in a calm.

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

He spoke, and ever}' word now strength inspired ;

and again :

This more than human ra;:e is tVoin the Gods;*

as if to reason the Gods had joined some or other of pas-
sions, as ;iu incitement or, if I may so si}, a vehicle to
push and carry it foruanl.

Nay we often sec these \cry luvn a;4;aiiist whom I now
dispute exciting and encouraging young j>ersons with

• a XV. 262: V. 18&

494 . OF MORAL VIRTUE.

praises, and as often checking and rebuking them with
severe reprimands ; whereupon in the one case there must
follow pleasure and satisfaction as necessarily as grief and
trouble are produced in the other. For reprehension and
admonition certainly strike us with repentance and shame,
whereof this is comprehended under fear, as the other is
under grief. And these are the things they chiefly make
use of for correction and amendment. Which seems to
be the reason why Diogenes, to some who had magnified
Plato, made this reply : What can there be in him, said
he, so much to be valued, who, having been so long a
philosopher, has never yet been known so much as to
excite the single passion of grief in the mind of any one 1
And certainly the mathematics cannot so properly be called
(to use the words of Xenocrates) the handles of philosophy,
as these passions are of young men, namely, bashfulness,
desire, repentance, pleasure, pain, ambition ; whereon right
reason and the law discreetly laying their salutary hands
do thereby effectually and speedily reduce a young man
into the right way. Agreeably hereunto the Lacedaemo-
nian instructor of youth was in the right, when he pro-
fessed that he would bring it to pass that youths under
his care should take a pleasure and satisfaction in good
and have an abhorrence for evil, than which there cannot
be a greater or nobler end of the liberal education of
youth proposed or assigned.

PLUTARCH'S NATUR-\L QUESTIONS.

I.

What is the Reason that Sea-water nourishes not Trees ?

Is it not for the same reason that it nourishes not earthly
animals] For Plato, Anaxagoras, and Democritus think
plants are earthly animals. Nor, though sea- water be ali-
ment to marine plants, as it is to fishes, will it therefore
nourish earthly plants, since it can neither penetrate the
roots, because of its grossness, nor ascend, by reason of
its Aveight ; for this, among many other things, shows sea-
water to be heavy and terrene, because it more easily
bears up ships and swimmers. Or is it because drought
is a great enemy to trees ] For sea-water is of a drying
faculty ; upon which account salt resists putrefaction, and
the bodies of such as wash in the sei an> ])r(>^ontly dry
and rough. Or is it because oil is destructive to earthly
plants, and kills things anointed witli it? But sea-water
])articipates of much fatness ; for it hums togc ther with it.
Wherefore, when men would quench fu'e, we forbid them
to throw on sea- water. Or is it because sea-water is not
fit to drink and bitter (as Aristotle says) through a mixture
of burnt eartli ? For a lye is made by the falling of ashes
into sweet wat( i . and the dissolution ejects and corrupts
what was good and potable, as in us men i'(\.i- ( niivert
tlie humors into bile. As for what woods and plants men
talk of growing in the lied Sea, tliey bear no fruit, but
are nourished by rivers casting up much mud ; therefore

496 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

they grow not at any great distance from land, but very
near to it.

II.

Why do Trees and Seeds thrive better with Rmn than with

Watering ?

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

PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS. 497

or river-water. For concoction seems to be putrefaction,
as Empedocles says, —

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

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

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

III.

Why do Herdsmen set Salt before Cattle?

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

498 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

mixed with them. Moreover, consider this, whether the
cattle grow more fruitful and more inclined to coition ; for
bitches do sooner conceive when they are fed with salt
victuals, and ships which carry salt are more pestered with
mice, by reason of their frequent coition.

IV.

Why is the Water of Showers which falls in Thunder and
Lightning fitter to Water Seeds? And they are therefore
CAL1.ED Thunder-showers.

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

How COMES it to pass, that since there be Eight Kinds op
Tastes, we find the Salt in no Fruit whatever?

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

PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS. 499

simple acid taste. The pungent taste is frequent in roots
and seeds.

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

Out of his mouth the bitter brine did flow.
And down his body from his head did go.*

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

• Odyst. V. 822.

500 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

VI.

What is the Reason that, if a Man frequently pass along
Dewy Trees, those Limbs that touch the Wood are seized
with a Leprosy?

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

VII.

Why in Winter do Ships sail slower in Rivers, but do not

so IN the Sea?

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

PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS. 501

VIII.
Why, since all other Liquors upow moving and stirrinci

ABOUT GROW COLD, DOES THE SeA BY BEING TOSSED IN WaVES
GROW UOT?

Whether that motion expels and dissipates the heat of
other liquors as a thing adscititious, and the winds do rather
excite and increase the innate heat of the sea 1 Its trans-
parentness is an argument of heat ; and so is its not being
frozen, though it is terrene and heavy.

^ DC

"Why IN Winter is the Sea least salt and bitter to the
Taste? Fob they say that Dionysius the Hydragogub
reported this.

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

502 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

X.

Why do Men tour Sea-water upon Wine, and sat the Fisher-
men HAD AN Oracle given them, whereby they were bid to
DIP Bacchus into the Sea ? And why do they that live far
FROM the Sea cast in some Zacynthian Earth toasted?

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

XI.

Why are they Sicker that Sail on the Sea than they that
Sail in fresh Rivers, even in Calm Weather?

Of all the senses, smelling causes nauseousness the
most, and of all the passions of the mind, fear. For men
tremble and shake and bewray themselves upon appre-
hension of great danger. They that sail in a river are
troubled with neither of these. And the smell of sweet
and potable water is familiar to all, and the voyage is with-
out danger. On the sea an unusual smell is troublesome ;
and men are afraid, not. knowing what the issue may be.
Therefore tranquillity abroad avails not, while an estuating
and disturbed mind disorders the body.

PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS. 503

XII.

Why does pouring Oil on the Sea make it Clear and Calm?

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

XIII.

Wnr do Fishermen's Nets rot more in Winter than in Sum-
mer, SINCE other things ROT MORE IN SUMMER ?

Is not that the cause which Theophrastus assigns, — that
heat (to wit) shuns the cold, and is constrained by it on
every side ? Hence the waters are hottest in the bottom
of the sea. And so it is on land ; for springs are hotter
in winter, and then lakes and rivers send up most vapors,
because the heat is compelled to the bottom by the pre-
vailing cold. Or it may be, nets do not rot at that time
more than at another ; but being frozen and dried in the
cold, since they are therefore the more easily broken by
the waves, they are liable to something like putrefaction

504 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

and rottenness. And they suffer most in the cold (as
strained cords are aptest to break in such a season), be-
cause then there be most frequent storms at sea. There-
fore fishermen guard their nets with certain tinctures, for
fear they should break. Otherwise a net, neither tinged
nor daubed with any thing, might more easily deceive the
fish ; since line is of an air color, and is not easily dis-
cerned in the sea.

XIV.

Why do the Dorians pray for bad making of their hay?

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

XV.

Why is a fat and deep Soil fruitful of Wheat, and a lean
Soil of Barley?

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

PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS. 005

XVI.

"Wnr DO Men sat, Sow wheat in Clay and Barley in Dust?

Is the reason (as we said) because wheat takes up more
nourishment; and barley cannot bear so much, but is
choked with it ] Or does wheat, because it is hard and
ligneous, thrive better when it is softened and loosened in
a moist soil ; and barley at the fh'st in a dry soil, because
of its rarity ? Or is the one temperament congruous and
harmless to wheat, because it is hot ; and the other to bar-
ley, because it is cold ] Or are men afraid to sow wheat
in a dry soil, because of the ants, which presently lie in
wait for it ; but they cannot so easily deal with barley nor
carry it away, because it is a larger grain 1

XVII.

Why do Men use the Hair of Horses rather than op Mares

FOR FiSHING-LlNES?

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

xvra.

Why is the Sight op a Cuttle-fish a Siok of a great Storm?

Is it because all fishes of the soft kind cannot endure
cold, by reason of their nakedness and tenderness? For
they are covered neither with shell, skin, or scale, thougli
within they have hard and bony paits. Hence the Greeks
call them soft fish. Therefore they easily perceive a storm

506 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

coming, since they are so soon affected by the cold. When
the polypus gets to shore and embraces the rocks, it is a
sign the wind is rising ; but the cuttle-fish jumps up, to
shun the cold and the trouble of the bottom of the sea ;
for, of all soft fishes, she is the tenderest and soonest hurt.

XIX.

Why does the Polypus change Color?

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

Put on a mind like th* polyp fish, —

And learn so to dissemble, —
Which of the rock whereto it sticks

The color doth resemble.*

And they say, that such as are excellent at craftiness and
juggling have this in their eye, — that they may the better
cheat them they have to deal withal, — ever to imitate the
polypus. Some think the polypus can use her skin as a
garment, and can put it on or ofi* at pleasure. But if
fear occasions this change in the polypus, is not something
else more properly the cause ? Let us consider what Em-
pedocles says, that effluvia proceed from all things what-
ever. For not only animals, plants, the earth and sea, but
stones, and even brass and iron, do contmually send out

* Theognis, vs. 215.

PLUTARCH'S NATURAL c^UESTIONS. 507

many efflima. For all things corrupt and smell, because
there runneth always something from them, and they wear
continually ; insomuch that it is thought that by these
effluvia come all attractions and insultations, some suppos-
ing embraces, others blows, some impulses, others circui-
tions. But especially about the sea rocks, when they are
wet and cool by the waves (as is most likely), constantly
some small particles are washed off, which do not incor-
porate with other bodies, but either pass by the smaller
passages, or pass through the larger. Now the flesh of
the polypus, as one may judge by the eye, is hollow, full
of pores, and capable of effluvia. When therefore she
is afraid, as her spirit changes she changes herself, and by
straitening and contracting her body, she encloses the
neighboring effluvia. And, as a good token of this argu-
ment, the polypus cannot imitate the color of every thing
he comes near, nor the chameleon of any thing that is
white ; but each of these creatures is assimilated only to
those things to whose effluvia it has pores proportionable.

XX.

What is the Reason, that the Tears op wild Boars are sweet,
AND THE Tears of the Hart salt and hurtful?

The reason seems to be the heat and cold of these ani-
mals. For the hart is cold, and the boar is very hot and
fiery ; therefore the one flies from, the other defends himself
against, his pursuers. Now when great store of heat comes
to the eyes (as Homer says, with horrid bristles, and eyes
darting fire), tears arc sweet. Some are of Empcdocles's
opinion, who thought that tears proceed from the disturb-
ance of the blood, as whey docs from the chuniing of
milk ; since therefore boar's blood is harsh and black, and

508 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

hart's blood thin and watery, it is consentaneous that
the tears, which the one sheds when excited to anger, and
the other when dejected with fear, should be of the same
nature.

XXL

Why do tame Sows farrow often, some at one time and others

AT another ; AND THE WILD BUT ONCE A YeAR, AND ALL OF THEM
ABOUT THE SAME TIME AT THE BEGINNING OP SUMMER, WHENCE
IT IS SAID, ^

The wild sow farrowing, that night falls no rain ?

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

PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS. 509

XXII.

Why are the Paws op Bears the sweetest and tleasaxtest

Food?

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

XXIII.

Why are the Steps of wild Beasts most difficultly Traced

IN Spring-time?

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

XXIV.

^yuY are the Tracks or Wild Beasts worse ScrxTrn about the

Full Moon?

Whether for the foresaid cause? For the full moons
bring down the dews ; and therefore Alcman calls dew the
daughter of Jo\< an 1 Luna in a verse of his,

510 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

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

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

XXV.

"Why does Frost make Hunting difficult ?

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

XXVI.

What is the Reason that Brutes, when they ail any thing,

SEEK AND pursue REMEDIES, AND ARE OFTEN CURED BY THE USE
OF THEM ?

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

PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS. 511

•

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

XXVII.
Why does Must, if the Vessel stand in the Cold, continue lono

SWEET?

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

512 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

XXVIII.
Why, of all Wild Beasts, does not the Boar bite the Toil,

ALTHOUGH both WoLVES AND FoXES DO THIS?

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

XXIX.

What is the Reason that we admire Hot Waters (i. e. Baths)
AND NOT Cold ; since it is plain that Cold is as much the

CAUSE OF one sort AS HeAT IS OF THE OTHER?

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

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

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

PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS. 513

XXX.

Wnr ARE Vines which are rank of leaves, but otherwise fruit-
less, SAID rnayuv ?

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

XXXI.

Wht does the Vine irrigated with Wine die, especially thb
VERY Wine made from its own Grapes ?

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

TOL. III.

514 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

XXXII*

"Why doth the Palm alone of all trees bend Upward when a
weight is laid thereupon?

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

XXXIII.
What is the Reason that Pit-water is less nutritive than

EITHER that which ARISETH OUT OP SPRINGS OR THAT WHICH
FALLETH DOWN FROM HeAVEN ?

Is it because it is more cold, and withal hath less air in
it] Or because it containeth much salt from the earth
mingled therewith 1 — now it is well known that salt above
all other things causeth leanness. Or because standing
still, and not exercised with running and stirring, it getteth
a certain malignant quality, which is hurtful to both plants
and animals, and is the cause that it is neither well con-
cocted nor able to feed and nourish any thing ? Hence it

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

PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS. 515

is that all dead waters of pools are unwholesome, for that
they cannot digest and despatch those harmful qualities
which they borrow of the evil property of the air or of
the earth.

XXXIV.

"Why is the West "Wind held commonly to be the Swiftest,

ACCORDING TO THIS VeRSE OP HOMER :

Let us likewise bestir our feet,
As fast as Western winds do fleet*

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

XXXV.

Why cannot Bees abide Smoke?

Whether is it because the passages of their vital spirits
are exceeding strait, and, if it chance that smoke be gotten
into them and there kept in and intercepted, it is enough
to stop the poor bees' breath, — yea, and to strangle them
([uite? Or is not the acrimony and bitterness (think you)
of the smoke in caused — for bees are delighted with
sweet things, and in very truth they have no other nourish-
ment ; and therefore no marvel if they detest and abhor

• IL XUL 416.

516 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

smoke, as a thing for the bitterness most adverse and con-
trary unto them. Therefore honey-masters, when they
make a smoke for to drive away bees, are wont to burn
bitter herbs, as hemlock, centaury, &c.

XXXYI.

Why will Bees sooner Sting those wno newly before have

COMMITTED WlIOREDOM ?

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

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

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

XXXVIT.

"Wiir DO Dogs follow after a Stone that is thrown at them

AND BITE IT, LETTING THE MaN ALONE WHO FLUNG IT ?

Is it because he can comprehend nothing by imagination
nor call a thing to mind, which are gifts and virtues proper

* Theoc. L 105.

PLUTARCU'S NATURAL QUESTIONS. 517

to man alone; and therefore, seeing he cannot discern the
party that offered him injury, he supposeth that to be his
enemy which seemeth in his eye to threaten him, and of
it he goes about to be revenged? Or is it that he thinks
the stone, while it runs along the ground, to be some wild
beast, and according to his nature he intendeth to catch it
first ; but afterwards, when he seeth himself deceived and
put besides his reckoning, he setteth upon the man ? Or
rather, doth he not hate the man and the stone both alike,
but pursueth that only which is next unto him]

XXX vin.

Why at a certain thie op the tear do all She-wolves Whelp

WITHIN the compass OF TWELVE DATS?

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

518 PLUTARCH'S NATURAL QUESTIONS.

XXXIX.

How COMETH IT THAT WaTER, SEEMING WhITE ALOFT, SHOWETH TO

BE Black in the bottom ?

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

A river in the bottom seems

By shade of color black ;
The like is seen in caves and holes,

By depth, where light they lack.

Or, since the bottom of the sea and of great rivers is
often full of mud, doth it by reflection of the sunbeams
represent the like color that the said mud hath ? Or is it
more probable that the water toward the bottom is not
pure and sincere, but corrupted with an earthy quahty, —
as continually carrying with it somewhat of that by which
it runneth and wherewith it is stirred, — and the same
settKng once to the bottom causeth it to be more troubled
and less transparent 1

END OP VOL. m.

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