And Nicias of Nicopolis, a physician, presently subjoined: It is no

wonder that Alcaeus, a poet, should be ignorant of that of which Plato

the philosopher was. Though Alcaeus may be defended; for it is probable

that the lungs, lying near the stomach, may participate of the steam

of the liquor, and be drenched with it. But the philosopher, expressly

delivering that most part of our drink passeth through the lungs, hath

precluded all ways of excuse to those that would be willing to defend

him. For it is a very great and complicated ignorance; for first, it

being necessary that our liquid and dry food should be mixed, it is very

probable that the stomach is the vessel for them both, which throws out

the dry food after it is grown soft and moist into the guts. Besides,

the lungs being a dense and compacted body, how is it possible that,

when we sup gruel or the like, the thicker parts should pass through

them? And this was the objection which Erasistratus rationally made

against Plato. Besides, when he considered for what end every part of

the body was made, and what use Nature designed in their contrivance, it

was easy to perceive that the epiglottis was framed on purpose that when

we drink the windpipe should be shut, and nothing be suffered to fall

upon the lungs. For if anything 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

windpipe, and so secures the passage for our breath. Besides, we know

that those who drink by little and little are looser than those who

drink greedily and large draughts; for in the latter the very force

drives it into their bladders, but in the former it stays, and by its

stay is mixed with and moistens the meat thoroughly. Now this could not

be, if in the very drinking the liquid was separated from the dry 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.

Nicias having done, Protogenes the grammarian subjoined, that Homer was

the first that observed the stomach was the vessel of the food, and the

windpipe (which the ancients called [Greek omitted] of the breath,

and upon the same account they called those who had loud voices [Greek

omitted]). And when he describes how Achilles killed Hector, he says,

He pierced his weasand, where death enters soon;

and adds,

But not his windpipe, so that he could speak,

("Iliad," xxii. 325-329.)

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

Upon this, all being silent, Florus began thus: What, shall we tamely

suffer Plato to be run down? By no means, said I, for if we desert him,

Homer must be in the same condition, for he is so far from denying the

windpipe to be the passage for our drink, that the dry food, in his

opinion, goes the same way. For these are his words:--

From his gullet [Greek omitted] flowed

The clotted wine and undigested flesh.

("Odyssey," ix. 373.)

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 [Greek

omitted] to signify weasand, not windpipe, as both all the ancients and

moderns use it. I produce this because it is really his meaning, not

because I want other testimonies, for Plato hath store of learned and

sufficient men to join with him. For not to mention Eupolis, who in his

play called the "Flatterers" says,

Protagoras bids us drink a lusty bowl,

That when the Dog appears our lungs may still be moist;

or elegant Eratosthenes, who says,

And having drenched his lungs with purest wine;

even Euripides, somewhere expressly saying,

The wine passed through the hollows of the lungs,

shows that he saw better and clearer than Erasistratus. For he saw that

the lungs have cavities and pores, through which the liquids pass. For

the breath in expiration hath no need of pores, but that the liquids and

those things which pass with them might go through, it is made like a

strainer and full of pores. Besides, sir, as to the example of gruel

which you proposed, the lungs can discharge themselves of the thicker

parts together with the thin, as well as the stomach. For our stomach

is not, as some fancy, smooth and slippery, but full of asperities, in

which it is probable that the thin and small particles are lodged,

and so not taken quite down. But neither this nor the other can

we positively affirm; for the curious contrivance of Nature in her

operation is too hard to be explained; nor can we be particularly exact

upon those instruments (I mean the spirit and the heat) which she makes

use of in her works. But besides those we have mentioned to confirm

Plato's opinion, let us produce Philistion of Locri, very ancient and

very famous physician, and Hippocrates too, with his disciple Dioxippus;

for they thought of no other passage but that which Plato mentions. Dio

says, that when we feed, the moist parts are about that separated from

the dry, and the first are carried down the windpipe, the other down the

weasand; and that the windpipe receives no parts of the food, but the

stomach, together with the dry parts, receives some portion of the

liquids. And this is probable, for the epiglottis lies over the

windpipe, as a fence and strainer, that the drink may get in by little

and little, lest descending in a large full stream, it stop the breath

and endanger the life. And therefore birds have no epiglottis, because

they do not sup or lap when they drink, but take up a little in their

beak, and let it run gently down their windpipe.

These testimonies I think are enough; and reason confirms Plato's

opinion by arguments drawn first from sense. For when the windpipe is

wounded, no drink will go down; but as if the pipe were broken it runs

out, though the weasand be whole and unhurt. And all know that in the

inflammation of the lungs the patient is troubled with extreme thirst;

the heat or dryness or some other cause, together with the inflammation,

making the appetite intense. But a stronger evidence than all these

follows. Those creatures that have very small lungs, or none at all,

neither want nor desire drink, because to some parts there belongs a

natural appetite to drink, and those that want those parts have no need

to drink, nor any appetite to be supplied by it. But more, the bladder

would seem unnecessary; for, if the weasand receives both meat and drink

and conveys it to the belly, the superfluous parts of the liquids would

not want a proper passage, one common one would suffice as a canal for

both that were conveyed to the same vessel by the same passage. But now

the bladder is distinct from the guts, because the drink goes from the

lungs, and the meat from the stomach; they being separated as we take

them down. And this is the reason that in our water nothing can be found

that either in smell or color resembles dry food. But if the drink were

mixed with the dry meat in the belly, it must be impregnant with its

qualities, and not come forth so simple and untinged. Besides, a stone

is never found in the stomach, though it is likely that the moisture

should be coagulated there as well as in the bladder, if all the

liquor were conveyed through the weasand then into the belly. But it is

probable at the weasand robs the windpipe of a sufficient quantity of

liquor as it is going down, and useth it to soften and concoct the

meat. And therefore its excrement is never purely liquid; and the lungs,

disposing of the moisture, as of the breath, to all of the parts that

want it, deposit the superfluous portion in the bladder. And I am sure

that this is a much more probable opinion than the other. But which is

the truth cannot perhaps be discovered, and therefore it is not fit

so peremptorily to find fault with the most acute and most famed

philosopher, especially when the matter is so obscure, and the

Platonists can produce such considerable reasons for their position.

QUESTION II. WHAT HUMORED MAN IS HE THAT PLATO CALLS [Greek omitted]?

AND WHY DO THOSE SEEDS THAT FALL ON THE OXEN'S HORNS BECOME [Greek

omitted]?

PLUTARCH, PATROCLES, EUTHYDEMUS, FLORUS.

We had always some difficulty started about [Greek omitted] and [Greek

omitted], 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 passage of Theophrastus, in

which he has collected many things whose causes we cannot discover. Such

are the hen's using a straw to purify herself with after she has laid,

the seal's consuming her rennet when she is caught, the deer's burying

his horns, and the goat's stopping the whole herd by holding a branch of

sea-holly in his mouth; and among the rest he reckoned this is a thing

of which we are certain, but whose cause it is very difficult to find.

But once at supper at Delphi, some of my companions--as if we were not

only better counsellors when our bellies are full (as one hath it),

but wine would make us brisker in our inquiries and bolder in our

resolutions desired me to speak somewhat to that problem.

I refused, though I had some excellent men on my side, namely,

Euthydemus my fellow-priest, and Patrocles my relative, who brought

several the like instances, which they had gathered both from husbandry

and hunting; for instance, that those officers that are appointed to

watch the coming of the hail avert the storm by offering a mole's blood

or a woman's cloths; that a wild fig being bound to a garden fig-tree

will keep the fruit from falling and promote their ripening; that deer

when they are taken shed salt tears, and boars sweet. But if you have a

mind to such questions, Euthydemus will presently desire you to give an

account of smallage and cummin; one of the which, if trodden down as

it springs, will grow the better, and the other men curse and blaspheme

whilst they sow it.

This last Florus thought to be an idle foolery; but he said, that we

should not forbear to search into the causes of the other things as if

they were incomprehensible. I have found, said I, your design to draw me

on to this discourse, that you yourself may afterward give us a solution

of the other proposed difficulties.

In my opinion it is cold that causes this hardness in corn and pulse,

by contracting and constipating their parts till the substance becomes

close and extremely rigid; while heat is a dissolving and softening

quality. And therefore those that cite this verse against Homer,

The season, not the field, bears fruit,

do not justly reprehend him. For fields that are warm by nature, the

air being likewise temperate, bear more mellow fruit than others. And

therefore those seeds that fall immediately on the earth out of the

sower's hand, and are covered presently, and cherished by being covered,

partake more of the moisture and heat that is in the earth. But those

that strike against the oxen's horns do not enjoy what Hesiod names the

best position, but seem to be scattered rather than sown; and therefore

the cold either destroys them quite, or else, lighting upon them as they

lie naked, condenseth their moisture, and makes them hard and woody.

Thus stones that lie under ground and, plant-animals have softer parts

than those that lie above; and therefore stone-cutters bury the stones

they would work, as if they designed to have them prepared and softened

by the heat; but those that lie above ground are by the cold made hard,

rigid, and very hurtful to the tools. And if corn lies long upon the

floor, the grains become much harder than that which is presently

carried away. And sometimes too a cold wind blowing whilst they winnow

spoils the corn, as it hath happened at Philippi in Macedonia; and the

chaff secures the grains whilst on the floor. For is it any wonder that

as husband-men affirm, one ridge will bear soft and fruitful, and the

very next to it hard and unfruitful corn or--which is stranger--that

in the same bean-cod some beans are of this sort, some of the other, as

more or less wind and moisture falls upon this or that?

QUESTION III. WHY THE MIDDLE OF WINE, THE TOP OF OIL, AND THE BOTTOM OF

HONEY IS BEST.

ALEXION, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

My father-in-law Alexion laughed at Hesiod, for advising us to drink

freely when the barrel is newly broached or almost out, but moderately

when it is about the middle, since there is the best wine. For who,

said he, doth not know, that the middle of wine, the top of oil, and the

bottom of honey is the best? Yet he bids us spare the middle, and stay

till worse wine runs, when the barrel is almost out. This said, the

company minded Hesiod no more, but began to inquire into the cause of

this difference.

We were not at all puzzled about the honey, everybody almost knowing

that that which is lightest is so because it is rare, and that the

heaviest parts are dense and compact, and by reason of their weight

settle below the others. So, if you turn the vessel, each in a little

time will recover its proper place, the heavier subsiding, and the

lighter rising above the rest. And as for the wine, probable solutions

presently appeared; for its strength consisting in heat, it is

reasonable that it should be contained chiefly in the middle, and there

best preserved; for the lower parts the lees spoil, and the upper are

impaired by the neighboring air. For that the air will impair wine no

man doubts, and therefore we usually bury or cover our barrels, that

as little air as can be might come near them. And 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

unemptied cask is preserved and defended by itself, not admitting much

of the external air, which is apt to injure and corrupt it.

But the oil gave us the most difficulty. One thought that the bottom of

the oil was affected, because it was foul and troubled with the lees;

and that the top was not really better than the rest, but only seemed

so, because it was farthest removed from those corrupting particles.

Others thought the thickness of the liquor to be the reason, which

thickness keeps it from mixing with other humids, unless blended

together and shaken violently; and therefore it will not mix with air,

but keeps it off by its smoothness and close contexture, so that it hath

no power to corrupt it. But Aristotle seems to be against this opinion,

who hath observed that oil grows sweeter by being kept in vessels not

exactly filled, and afterwards ascribes this melioration to the air; for

more air, and therefore more powerful to produce the effect, flows into

a vessel not well filled.

Well then! said I, the same quality in the air may spoil wine, and

better oil. For long keeping improves wine, but spoils oil. Now the air

keeps oil from growing old; for that which is cooled continues fresh

and new, but that which is kept close up, having no way to exhale its

corrupting parts, presently decays, and grows old. Therefore it is

probable that the air coming upon the superficies of the oil keepeth it

fresh and new. And this is the reason that the top of wine is worst, and

of oil best; because age betters the one, and spoils the other.

QUESTION IV. WHAT WAS, THE REASON OF THAT CUSTOM OF THE ANCIENT ROMANS

TO REMOVE THE TABLE BEFORE ALL THE MEAT WAS EATEN, AND NOT TO PUT OUT

THE LAMP?

FLORUS, EUSTROPHUS, CAESERNIUS, LUCIUS.

Florus, who observed the ancient manners, would not let the table

be removed quite empty, but always left some meat upon it; declaring

likewise that his father and grandfather were not only curious in this

matter, but would never suffer the lamp after supper to be put out,--a

thing about which the ancient Romans were very careful,--while those of

to-day put it out immediately after supper, that they may lose no oil.

Eustrophus the Athenian being present said: What could they get by that,

unless they knew the cunning trick of our Polycharmus, who, after long

deliberation how to find out a way to prevent the servants' stealing of

the oil, at last with a great deal of difficulty happened upon this: As

soon as you have put out the lamp, fill it up, and the next morning look

carefully whether it remains full. Then Florus with a smile replied:

Well, since we are agreed about that, let us inquire for what reason the

ancients were so careful about their tables and their lamps.

First, about the lamps. And his son-in-law Caesernius was of opinion

that the ancients abominated all extinction of fire, because of the

relation that it had to the sacred and eternal flame. Fire, like man,

may be destroyed two ways, either when it is violently quenched, or

when it naturally decays. The sacred fire was secured against both ways,

being always watched and continually supplied; but the common fire they

permitted to go out of itself, not forcing or violently extinguishing

it, but not supplying it with nourishment, like a useless beast, that

they might not feed it to no purpose.

Lucius, Florus's son, subjoined, that all the rest of the discourse was

very good, but that they did not reverence and take care of this holy

fire because they thought it better or more venerable than other fire;

but, as amongst the Egyptians some worship the whole species of dogs,

wolves, or crocodiles, yet keep but one wolf, dog, or crocodile (for all

could not be kept), so the particular care which the ancients took of

the sacred fire was only a sign of the respect they had for all fires.

For nothing bears such a resemblance to an animal as fire. It is moved

and nourished by itself, and by its brightness, like the soul, discovers

and makes everything 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?

I can find fault, replied I, with no part of the discourse, yet I would

subjoin, that this custom is an instruction for kindness and good-will.

For it is not lawful for any one that hath eaten sufficiently to

destroy the remainder of the food; nor for him that hath supplied his

necessities from the fountain to stop it up; nor for him that hath made

use of any marks, either by sea or land, to ruin or deface them; but

every one ought to leave those things that may be useful to those

persons that afterwards may have need of them. Therefore it is not fit,

out of a saving covetous humor, to put out a lamp as soon as we need it

not; but we ought to preserve and let it burn for the use of those that

perhaps want its light. Thus, it would be very generous to lend our ears

and eyes, nay, if possible, our reason and understanding, to others,

whilst we are idle or asleep. Besides, consider whether to stir up men

to gratitude these minute observances were practised. The ancients

did not act absurdly when they highly reverenced an oak. The Athenians

called one fig-tree sacred, and forbade any one to cut down an

olive. For such observances do not (as some fancy) make men prone to

superstition, but persuade us to be communicative and grateful to one

another, by being accustomed to pay this respect to these senseless and

inanimate creatures. Upon the same reason Hesiod, methinks, adviseth

well, who would not have any meat or broth set on the table out of those

pots out of which there had been no portion offered, but ordered the

first-fruits to be given to the fire, as a reward for the service it did

in preparing it. And the Romans, dealing well with the lamps, did not

take away the nourishment they had once given, but permitted them to

live and shine by it.

When I had said thus, Eustrophus subjoined: This gives us some light

into that query about the table; for they thought that they ought to

leave some portion of the supper for the servants and waiters, for those

are not so well pleased with a supper provided for them apart, as with

the relics of their master's table. And upon this account, they say,

the Persian king did not only send portions from his own table to his

friends, captains, and gentlemen of his bed-chamber, but had always what

was provided for his servants and his dogs served up to his own table;

that as far as possible all those creatures whose service was useful

might seem to be his guests and companions. For, by such feeding in

common and participation, the wildest of beasts might be made tame and

gentle.

Then I with a smile said: But, sir, that fish there, that according to

the proverb is laid up, why do not we bring out into play together with

Pythagoras's choenix, which he forbids any man to sit upon, thereby

teaching us that we ought to leave something of what we have before us

for another time, and on the present day be mindful of the morrow?

We Boeotians use to have that saying frequently in our mouths, "Leave

something for the Medes," ever since the Medes overran and spoiled

Phocis and the marches of Boeotia; but still, and upon all occasions,

we ought to have that ready, "Leave something for the guests that may

come." And therefore I must needs find fault with that always empty and

starving table of Achilles; for, when Ajax and Ulysses came ambassadors

to him, he had nothing ready, but was forced out of hand to dress

a fresh supper. And when he would entertain Priam, he again bestirs

himself, kills a white ewe, joints and dresses it, and in that work

spent a great part of the night. But Eumaeus (a wise scholar of a wise

master) had no trouble upon him when Telemachus came home, but presently

desired him to sit down, and feasted him, setting before him dishes of

boiled meat,

The cleanly reliques of the last night's feast.

But if this seems trifling, and a small matter, I am sure it is no small

matter to command and restrain appetite while there are dainties before

you to satisfy and please it. For those that are used to abstain from

what is present are not so eager for absent things as others are.

Lucius subjoining said, that he had heard his grandmother say, that the

table was sacred, and nothing that is sacred ought to be empty. Beside

[omitted]. Therefore as we desire that the earth should always have and

bear something that is useful for us, so we think that we should not let

the table be altogether empty and void of all provision.

QUESTION V. THAT WE OUGHT CAREFULLY TO PRESERVE OURSELVES FROM PLEASURES

ARISING FROM BAD MUSIC AND HOW IT MAY BE DONE.

CALLISTRATUS, LAMPRIAS.

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, according to the law. But afterward

very fine tune; but afterwards, having tickled and sounded the humor

of the whole company, and found that most were inclined to pleasure

and would suffer him to play what effeminate and lascivious tunes he

pleased, throwing aside all modesty, he showed that music was more

intoxicating than wine to those that wantonly and unskilfully use it.

For they were not content to sit still and applaud and clap, but many at

last leaped from their seats, danced lasciviously, and made such gentle

steps as became such effeminate and mollifying tunes. But after they

had done, and the company, as it were recovered of its madness, began

to come to itself again, Lamprias would have spoken to and severely chid

the young men; but as fearing he would be too harsh and give offence,

Callistratus gave him a hint, and drew him on by this discourse:--

For my part, I absolve all lovers of shows and music from intemperance;

yet I cannot altogether agree with Aristoxenus, who says that those

pleasures alone deserve the approbation "fine." For we call viands

and ointments fine; and we say we have finely dined, when we have been

splendidly entertained. Nor, in my opinion, doth Aristotle free those

complacencies we take in shows and songs upon good reason from the

charge of excess, saying, that those belong peculiarly to man, and of

other pleasures beasts have a share. For I am certain that a great many

irrational creatures are delighted with music, as deer with pipes;

and to mares, whilst they are horsing, they play a tune called [Greek

omitted]. And Pindar says, that his songs make him move,

As brisk as Dolphins, whom a charming tune

Hath raised from th' bottom of the quiet flood.

And certain fish are taken by means of dancing; for as the dance goes on

they lift up their heads above water, being much pleased and delighted

with the sight, and twisting their backs this way and that way, in

imitation of the dancers. Therefore I see nothing peculiar in those

pleasures, that they should be accounted proper to the mind, and all

others to belong to the body, so far as to end there. But music, rhythm,

dancing, song, passing through the sense, fix a pleasure and titilation

in the sportive part of the soul and therefore none of these pleasures

is enjoyed in secret, nor wants darkness nor walls about it, according

to the women's phrase; but circuses and theatres are built for them.

And to frequent shows and music-meetings with company is both more

delightful and more genteel; because we take a great many witnesses,

not of a luxurious and intemperate, but of a pleasant and respectable,

manner of passing away our time.

Upon this discourse of Callistratus, my father Lamprias, seeing the

musicians grow bolder, said: That is not the reason, sir, and, in my

opinion, the ancients were much out when they named Bacchus the son of

Forgetfulness. They ought to have called him his father; for it seems

he hath made you forget that of those faults which are committed about

pleasures some proceed from a loose intemperate inclination, and others

from heedlessness or ignorance. Where the ill effect is very plain,

there intemperate inclination captivates reason, and forces men to sin;

but where the just reward of intemperance is not directly and presently

inflicted, there ignorance of the danger and heedlessness make men

easily wrought oil and secure. Therefore those that are vicious, either

in eating, drinking, or venery, which diseases, wasting of estates,

and evil reports usually attend, we call intemperate. For instance,

Theodectes, who having sore eyes, when his mistress came to see him,

said,

All hail, delightful light;

or Anaxarchus the Abderite,

A wretch who knew what evils wait on sin,

Yet love of pleasure drove him back again.

Once almost free, he sank again to vice,

That terror and disturber of the wise.

Now those that take all care possible to secure themselves from all

those pleasures that assault them either at the smelling, touch,

or taste, are often surprised by those that make their treacherous

approaches either at the eye or ear. But such, though as much led

away as the others, we do not in like manner call incontinent and

intemperate, since they are ruined through ignorance and want of

experience. For they imagine they are far from being slaves to

pleasures, if they can stay all day in the theatre without meat or

drink; as if a pot forsooth should be mighty proud that a man cannot

take it up by the bottom or the belly and carry it away, though he can

easily do it by the ears. And therefore Agesilaus said, it was all one

whether a man were a CINOEDUS before or behind. We ought principally to

dread those softening delights that please and tickle through the eyes

and ears, and not think that city not taken which hath all its other

gates secured by bars, portcullises, and chains, if the enemies

are already entered through one and have taken possession; or fancy

ourselves invincible against the assaults of pleasure, because stews

will not provoke us, when the music-meeting or theatre prevails. For

we in one case as much as the other resign up our souls to the

impetuousness of pleasures, which pouring in those potions of songs,

cadences, and tunes, more powerful and bewitching than the best mixtures

of the most skilful cook or perfumer, conquer and corrupt us; and in the

meantime, by our own confession as it were, the fault is chiefly ours.

Now, as Pindar saith, nothing that the earth and sea hath provided for

our tables can be justly blamed; but neither our meat nor broth, nor

this excellent wine which we drink, hath raised such a noisy tumultous

pleasure as those songs and tunes did, which not only filled the house

with clapping and shouting, but perhaps the whole town. Therefore we

ought principally to secure ourselves against such delights, because

they are more powerful than others; as not being terminated in the body,

like those which allure the touch, taste, or smelling, but affecting

the very intellectual and judging faculties. Besides, from most other

delights, though reason doth not free us, yet other passions very

commonly divert us. Sparing niggardliness will keep a glutton from

dainty fish, and covetousness will confine a lecher from a costly whore.

As in one of Menander's plays, where every one of the company was to

be enticed by the bawd who brought out a surprising whore, but each of

them, though all boon companions,

Sat sullenly, and fed upon his cates.

For to pay interest for money is a severe punishment that follows

intemperance, and to open our purses is no easy matter. But these

pleasures that are called genteel, and solicit the ears or eyes of those

that are frantic after shows and music, may be had without any charge at

all, in every place almost, and upon every occasion; they may be enjoyed

at the prizes, in the theatre, or at entertainments, at others cost. And

therefore those that have not their reason to assist and guide them may

be easily spoiled.

Silence following upon this, What application, said I, shall reason

make, or how shall it assist? For I do not think it will apply those

ear-covers of Xenocrates, or force us to rise from the table as soon as

we hear a harp struck or a pipe blown. No indeed, replied Lamprias, but

as soon as we meet with the foresaid intoxications, we ought to make our

application to the Muses, and fly to the Helicon of the ancients. To him

that loves a costly strumpet, we cannot bring a Panthea or Penelope

for cure; but one that delights in mimics and buffoons, loose odes, or

debauched songs, we can bring to Euripides, Pindar, and Menander, that

he might wash (as Plato phraseth it) his salt hearing with fresh reason.

As the exorcists command the possessed to read over and pronounce

Ephesian letters, so we in those possessions, during the madness of

music and the dance, when

We toss our hands with noise, and madly shout,

remembering those venerable and sacred writings, and comparing with them

those odes, poems, and vain empty compositions, shall not be altogether

cheated by them, or permit ourselves to be carried away sidelong, as by

a smooth and undisturbed stream.

QUESTION VI. CONCERNING THOSE GUESTS THAT ARE CALLED SHADOWS, AND

WHETHER BEING INVITED BY SOME TO GO TO ANOTHER'S HOUSE, THEY OUGHT TO

GO; AND WHEN, AND TO WHOM.

PLUTARCH, FLORUS, CAESERNIUS.

Homer makes Menelaus come uninvited to his brother Agamemnon's treat,

when he feasted the commanders;

For well he knew great cares his brother vexed.

("Iliad," ii. 409.)

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; yet they had

rather be overlooked than particularly invited, that they may have some

color for their pettish anger. But about the introduced guests (which we

call shadows) who are not invited by the entertainer, but by some others

of the guests, a question was started, from whom that custom began. Some

thought from Socrates, who persuaded Aristodemus, who was not invited,

to go along with him to Agatho's, where there happened a pretty jest.

For Socrates by chance staying somewhat behind, Aristodemus went in

first; and this seemed very appropriate, for, the sun shining on their

backs, the shadow ought to go before the body. Afterwards it was thought

necessary at all entertainments, especially of great men, when the

inviter did not know their favorites and acquaintance, to desire the

invited to bring his company, appointing such a set number, lest they

should be put to the same shifts which he was put to who invited King

Philip to his country-house. The king came with a numerous attendance,

but the provision was not equal to the company. Therefore, seeing his

entertainer much cast down, he sent some about to tell his friends

privately, that they should keep one corner of their bellies for a large

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.

When I had talked thus waggishly to the company Florus had a mind to

talk gravely concerning these shadows, and have it discussed whether

it was fit for those that were so invited to go, or no. His son-in-law

Caesernius was positively against it. We should, says he, following

Hesiod's advice,

Invite a friend to feast,

("Works and Days," 342.)

or at least we should have our acquaintance and familiars to participate

of our entertainments, mirth, and discourse over a glass of wine; but

now, as ferry-men permit their passengers to bring in what fardel they

please, so we permit others to fill our entertainments with any persons,

let them be good companions or not. And I should wonder that any man of

breeding being so (that is, not at all) invited, should go; since, for

the most part, he must be unacquainted with the entertainer, or if he

was acquainted, was not thought worthy to be bidden. Nay, he should be

more ashamed to go to such a one, if he considers that it will look

like an upbraiding of his unkindness, and yet a rude intruding into his

company against his will. Besides, to go before or after the guest that

invites him must look unhandsomely, nor is it creditable to go and stand

in need of witnesses to assure the guests that he doth not come as a

principally invited person, but such a one's shadow. Besides, to attend

others bathing or anointing, to observe his hour, whether he goes

early or late, is servile and gnathonical (for there never was such an

excellent fellow as Gnatho to feed at another man's table). Besides, if

there is no more proper time and place to say,

Speak, tongue, if thou wilt utter jovial things,

than at a feast, and freedom and raillery is mixed with everything

that is either done or said over a glass of wine, how should he behave

himself, who is not a true principally invited guest, but as it were a

bastard and supposititious intruder? For whether he is free or not, he

lies open to the exception of the company. Besides, the very meanness

and vileness of the name is no small evil to those who do not resent it

but can quietly endure to be called and answer to the name of shadows.

For, by enduring such base names, men are insensibly accustomed and

drawn on to base actions. Therefore, when I make an invitation, for it

is hard to break the custom of a place, I give my guests leave to bring

shadows; but when I myself am invited as a shadow, I assure you I refuse

to go.

A short silence followed this discourse; then Florus began thus: This

last thing you mentioned, sir, is a greater difficulty than the other.

For it is necessary when we invite our friends to give them liberty to

choose their own shadows, as was before hinted; for to entertain them

without their friends is not very obliging, nor is it very easy to know

whom the person we invite would be most pleased with. Then said I to

him: Consider therefore whether those that give their friends this

license to invite do not at the same time give the invited license to

accept the invitation and come to the entertainment. For it is not fit

either to allow or to desire another to do that which is not decent

to be done, or to urge and persuade to that which no one ought to

be persuaded or to consent to do. When we entertain a great man or

stranger, there we cannot invite or choose his company, but must receive

those that come along with him. But when we feast a friend, it will be

more acceptable if we ourselves invite all, as knowing his acquaintance

and familiars; for it tickles him extremely to see that others take

notice that he hath chiefly a respect for such and such, loves their

company most, and is well pleased when they are honored and invited as

well as he. Yet sometimes we must deal with our friend as petitioners do

when they make addresses to a god; they offer vows to all that belong

to the same altar and the same shrine, though they make no particular

mention of their names. For no dainties, wine, or ointment can incline

a man to merriment, as much as a pleasant agreeable companion. For as

it is rude and ungenteel to inquire and ask what sort of meat, wine,

or ointment the person whom we are to entertain loves best; so it is

neither disobliging nor 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

fully as 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 and the invited that invites another. We

have spoken already concerning the inviter, and it will not be improper,

in my opinion, to deliver my sentiments about the other two. He that

is invited and invites others, should, in my opinion, be sparing in

the number that he brings. He should not, as if he were to forage in

an enemy's country, carry all he can with him; or, like those who go to

possess a new-found land, by the excessive number of his own friends,

incommode or exclude the friends of the inviter, so that the inviter

must be in the same case with those that set forth suppers to Hecate

and the gods who turn away 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 acquaintances, who with a great many shadows, as it were harpies,

tear and devour his provision. Besides, he should not take anybody that

he may come upon along with him to another's entertainment, but chiefly

the entertainer's acquaintance, as it were contending with him and

preceding 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,

ingenuous 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 likeness at all with the feast-maker, but who are entire aliens

and strangers to him,--as hard drinkers to a sober man,--gluttons and

sumptuous persons to a temperate thrifty entertainer,--or to a young,

merry, boon companion, grave old philosophers solemnly speaking in their

beards,--will be very disobliging, and turn all the intended mirth into

an unpleasant sourness. The entertained should be as obliging to the

entertainer as the entertainer to the entertained; and then he will be

most obliging, when not only he himself, but all those that come by his

means, are pleasant and agreeable.

The last of the three which remains to be spoken of is he that is

invited by one man to another's feast. Now he that disdains and is so

much offended at the name of a shadow will appear to be afraid of a mere

shadow. But in this matter there is need of a great deal of caution,

for it is not creditable readily to go along with every one and to

everybody. But first you must consider who it is that invites; for if he

is not a very familiar friend, but a rich or great man, such who, as if

upon a stage, wants a large or splendid retinue, or such who thinks that

he puts a great obligation upon you and does you a great deal of honor

by this invitation, you must presently deny. But if he is your friend

and particular acquaintance, you must not yield upon the first motion:

but if there seems a necessity for some conversation which cannot be put

off till another time, or if he is lately come from a journey or designs

to go on one, and out of mere good-will and affection seems desirous of

your company, and doth not desire to carry a great many, or strangers,

but only some few friends along with him; or, besides all this, if he

designs to bring you thus invited acquainted with the principal inviter,

who is very worthy of your acquaintance, then consent and go. For as

to ill-humored persons, the more they seize and take hold of us like

thorns, we should endeavor to free ourselves from them or leap over them

the more. If he that invites is a civil and well-bred person, yet doth

not design to carry you to one of the same temper, you must refuse, lest

you should take poison in honey, that is, get the acquaintance of a bad

man by an honest friend. It is absurd to go to one you do not know, and

with whom you never had any familiarity, unless, as I said before, the

person be an extraordinary man, and, by a civil waiting, upon him at

another man's invitation, you design to begin an acquaintance with him.

And those friends you should chiefly go to as shadows, who would come to

you again in the same quality. To Philip the jester, indeed, he seemed

more ridiculous that came to a feast of his own accord than he that was

invited; but to well-bred and civil friends it is more obliging for men

of the same temper to come at the nick of time with other friends, when

uninvited and unexpected; at once pleasing both to those that invite and

those that entertain. But chiefly you must avoid going to rulers, rich

or great men, lest you incur the deserved censure of being impudent,

saucy, rude, and unseasonably ambitious.

QUESTION VII. WHETHER FLUTE-GIRLS ARE TO BE ALLOWED AT A FEAST?

DIOGENIANUS, A SOPHIST, PHILIP.

At Chaeronea, Diogenianus the Pertamenian being present, we had a long

discourse once at an entertainment about music; and we had a great deal

of trouble to hold out against a great bearded sophister of the Stoic

sect, who quoted Plato as blaming a company that admitted flute-girls

and were not able to entertain one another with discourse. And Philip

the Prusian, of the same sect, said: Those guests of Agatho, whose

discourse was more sweet than the sound of any pipe in the world, were

no good authority in this case; for it was no wonder that in their

company the flute-girl was not regarded; but it is strange that, in the

midst of the entertainment, the extreme pleasantness of the discourse

had not made them forget their meat and drink. Yet Xenophon thought

it not indecent to bring in to Socrates, Antisthenes, and the like the

jester Philip; as Homer doth an onion to make the wine relish. And

Plato brought in Aristophanes's discourse of love, as a comedy, into his

entertainment; and at the last, as it were drawing all the curtains,

he shows a scene of the greatest variety imaginable,--Alcibiades drunk,

frolicking, and crowned. Then follows that pleasant raillery between him

and Socrates concerning Agatho, and the encomium of Socrates; and when

such discourse was going on, good gods! Had it not been allowable, if

Apollo himself had come in with his harp ready to desire the god to

forbear till the argument was out? These men, having such a pleasant

way of discoursing, used these arts and insinuating methods, and graced

their entertainment's by such facetious raillery. But shall we, being

mixed with tradesmen and merchants, and some (as it now and then

happens) ignorants and rustics, banish out of our entertainments this

ravishing delight, or fly the musicians, as if they were Sirens, as soon

as we see them coming? Clitomachus the wrestler, rising and getting

away when any one talked of love, was much wondered at; and should not

a philosopher that banisheth music from a feast, and is afraid of a

musician, and bids his link boy presently light his link and be gone, be

laughed at, since he seems to abominate the most innocent pleasures,

as beetles do ointment? For, if at any time, certainly over a glass of

wine, music should be permitted, and then chiefly the harmonious god

should have the direction of our souls; so that Euripides, though I like

him very well in other things, shall never persuade me that music, as

he would have it, should be applied to melancholy and grief. For there

sober and serious reason, like a physician, should take care of the

diseased men; but those pleasures should be mixed with Bacchus, and

serve to increase our mirth and frolic. Therefore it was a pleasant

saying of that Spartan at Athens, who, when some new tragedians were

to contend for the prize, seeing the preparations of the masters of the

dances, the hurry and busy diligence of the instructors, said, the city

was certainly mad which sported with so much pains. He that designs

to sport should sport, and not buy his case and pleasure with great

expense, or the loss of that time which might be useful to other things;

but whilst he is feasting and free from business, those should be

enjoyed. And it is advisable to try amidst our mirth, whether any profit

is to be gotten from our delights.

QUESTION VIII. WHAT SORT OF MUSIC IS FITTEST FOR AN ENTERTAINMENT?

DIOGENIANUS, A SOPHIST, PHILIP.

When Philip had ended, I hindered the sophister from returning an answer

to the discourse, and said: Let us rather inquire, 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 biased by any sort, there

is no danger that he should prefer that which is pleasantest before that

which is best. Diogenianus joining with me in this request, he presently

began. All other sorts I banish to the theatre and playhouse, and can

only allow that which hath been lately admitted into the entertainments

at Rome, and with which everybody is not yet acquainted. You know,

continued he, that some of Plato's dialogues are purely narrative, and

some dramatic. The easiest of this latter sort they teach their children

to speak by heart; making 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 admire;

but soft and effeminate fellows, whose ears ignorance and ill-breeding

hath corrupted, and who, as Aristoxenus phraseth it, are ready to

vomit when they hear excellent harmony, reject it; and no wonder, when

effeminacy prevails.

Philip, perceiving some of the company uneasy at this discourse, said:

Pray spare us, sir, and be not so severe upon us; for we were the first

that found fault with that custom when it first began to be countenanced

in Rome, and reprehended those who thought Plato fit to entertain us

whilst we were making merry, and who would hear his dialogues whilst

they were eating cates and scattering perfumes. When Sappho's songs or

Anaereon's verses are recited, I protest I 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.

Then Diogenianus, taking the cup, said: Methinks this is very sober

discourse, which makes me believe that the wine doth not please you,

since I see no effect of it; so that I fear I ought to be corrected.

Indeed, many sorts of music are not to be rejected; first, tragedy,

as having nothing familiar enough for an entertainment, and being a

representation of actions attended with grief and extremity of passion.

I reject the sort of dancing which is called Pyladean from Pylades,

because it is full of pomp, very pathetical, and requires a great many

persons; but if we would admit any of those sorts that deserve those

encomiums which Socrates mentions in his discourse about dancing, I like

that sort called Bathyllean, which requires not so high a motion, but

hath something of the character of the Cordax, and resembles the motion

of an Echo, a Pan, or a Satyr frolicking with love. Old comedy is not

fit for men that are making merry, by reason of the excuses that appear

in it; for that vehemency which they use in the parabasis is loud

and indecent, and the liberty they take to scoff and abuse is very

surfeiting, too open, and full of filthy words and lewd expressions.

Besides, as at great men's tables every man hath a servant waiting at

his elbow, so each of his guests would need a grammarian to sit by him,

and explain who is Laespodias in Eupolis, Cinesias in Plato, and

Lampo in Cratinus, and who is each person that is jeered in the play.

Concerning new comedy there is no need of any long discourse. It is so

fitted, so interwoven with entertainments, that it is easier to have a

regular feast without wine, than without Menander. Its phrase is sweet

and familiar, the Humor innocent and easy, so that there is nothing

for men whilst sober to despise, or when merry to be troubled at. The

sentiments are so natural and unstudied, that midst wine, as it were in

fire, they soften and bend the rigidest temper to be pliable and easy.

And the mixture of gravity and jests seems to be contrived for nothing

so aptly as for the pleasure and profit of those that are frolicking and

making merry. The love-scenes in Menander are convenient for those who

have already drunk 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 and decently in marriages at last. As

for misses, if they are impudent and jilting, they are bobbed, the young

gallants turning sober, and repenting of their lewd courses. But if they

are kind and constant, either their true parents are discovered, or a

time is determined for intrigue, which brings them at last to obliging

modesty and civil kindness. These things to men busied about other

matters may seem scarce worth taking notice of; but whilst they are

making merry, it is no wonder that the pleasantness and smoothness of

the parts should work a neat conformity and distinction in the hearers

and make their manners like the pattern they have from those genteel

characters.

Diogenianus, either designedly or for want of breath ended thus. And

when the sophister attacked him again, and contended that some of

Aristophanes's verses should be read, 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 the carvers we will set

up to-morrow, when we are sober, if Diogenianus and this stranger think

fit. Of representations, said I, some are allegorical, and some are

farces; neither of these are fit for an entertainment; the first by

reason of their length and cost, and the latter being so full of filthy

discourse and lewd actions, that they are not fit to be seen by the

foot-boys that wait on civil masters. Yet the rabble, even with

their wives and young sons, sit quietly to be spectators of such

representations as are apt to disturb the soul more than the greatest

debauch in drink. The harp ever since Homer's time was well acquainted

with feasts and entertainments, and therefore it is not fitting to

dissolve such an ancient friendship and acquaintance; but we should only

desire the harpers to forbear their sad notes and melancholy tunes,

and play only those that are delighting, and fit for such as are making

merry. The pipe, if we would, we cannot reject, for the libation in the

beginning of the entertainment requires that as well as the garland.

Then it insinuates and passeth through the ears, spreading even to the

very soul a pleasant sound, which produceth serenity and calmness; so

that, if the wine hath not quite dissolved or driven away all vexing

solicitous anxiety this, by the softness and delightful agreeableness of

its sound, smooths and calms the spirits, if so be that it keeps

within due bounds, and doth not elevate too much, and, by its numerous

surprising divisions, raise an ecstasy in the soul which wine hath

weakened and made easy to be perverted. For as brutes do not understand

a rational discourse, yet lie down or rise up at the sound of a shell or

whistle, or of a chirp or clap; so the brutish part of the soul, which

is either incapable of understanding or obeying reason, men conquer by

songs and tunes, and by music reduce it to tolerable order. But to speak

freely what I think, no pipe nor harp simply played upon, and without a

song with it, can be very fit for an entertainment. For we should still

accustom ourselves to take our chiefest pleasure from discourse, and

spend our leisure time in profitable talk, and use tunes and airs as

a sauce for the discourse, and not singly by themselves, to please the

unreasonable delicacy of our palate. For as nobody is against pleasure

that ariseth from sauce or wine going in with our necessary food, but

Socrates flouts and refuseth to admit that superfluous and vain pleasure

which we take in perfumes and odors at a feast; thus the sound of a pipe

or harp, when singly applied to our ears, we utterly reject, but if

it accompanies words, and together with an ode feasts and delights our

reason, we gladly introduce it. And we believe the famed Marsyas was

punished by Apollo for pretending, when he had nothing but his single

pipe, and his muzzle to apply to his lips, to contend with the harp and

song of the god. Let us only take care that, when we have such guests as

are able to cheer one another with philosophy and good discourse we do

not introduce anything that may rather prove an uneasy hindrance to

the conversation than promote it. For not only those are fools, who, as

Euripides says, having safety at home and in their own power, yet would

hire some from abroad; but those too who, having pleasantness enough

within, are eager after some external pastimes to comfort and delight

them. That extraordinary piece of honor which the Persian king showed

Antalcidas the Spartan seemed rude and uncivil, when he dipped a garland

composed of crocus and roses in ointment, and sent it him to wear, by

that dipping putting a slight upon and spoiling the natural sweetness

and beauty of the flowers. He doth as bad, who having a Muse in his own

breast, and all the pleasantness that would fit an entertainment, will

have pipes and harps play, and by that external adventitious noise

destroy all the sweetness that was proper and his own. But in short, all

ear-delights are fittest then, when the company begins to be disturbed,

to fall out, and quarrel, for then they may prevent raillery and

reproach, and stop the dispute that is running on to sophistical and

unpleasant wrangling, and bridle all babbling declamatory altercations,

so that the company may be freed of noise and quietly composed.

QUESTION IX. THAT IT WAS THE CUSTOM OF THE GREEKS AS WELL AS PERSIANS TO

DEBATE OF STATE AFFAIRS AT THEIR ENTERTAINMENTS.

NICOSTRATUS, GLAUCIAS.

At Nicostratus's table we discoursed of those matters which the

Athenians were to debate of in their next assembly. And one of the

company saying, It is the Persian fashion, sir, to debate midst your

cups; And why, said Glaucias rejoining, not the Grecian fashion? For it

was a Greek that said,

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

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

they were eating and drinking,

Old Nestor first began a grave debate;

("Iliad," vii. 324.)

and he himself advised the king before to call the commanders together

for the same purpose:--

For the commanders, sir, a feast prepare,

And see who counsels best, and follow him.

(Ibid, ix. 70 and 74.)

Therefore Greece, having a great many excellent institutions, and

zealously following the customs of the ancients, hath laid the

foundations of her polities in wine. For the assemblies in Crete called

Andria, those in Sparta called Phiditia, were secret consultations

and aristocratical assemblies; such, I suppose, as the Prytaneum and

Thesmothesium here at Athens. And not different from these is that

night-meeting, which Plato mentions, of the best and most polite men,

to which the greatest, the most considerable and puzzling matters are

assigned. And those

Who, when they do design to seek their rest,

To Mercury their just libations pour,

("Odyssey," vii. 138.)

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 [Greek omitted] as it were, GOOD ADVISER.

QUESTION X. WHETHER THEY DID WELL WHO DELIBERATED MIDST THEIR CUPS.

GLAUCIAS, NICOSTRATUS.

Whilst Glaucias was discoursing thus, the former tumultuous talk

seemed to be pretty well lulled; and that it might be quite forgotten,

Nicostratus started another question, saying, he never valued the

matter before, whilst he thought it a Persian custom, but since it was

discovered to be the Greek fashion too, it wanted (he thought) some

reason to excuse or defend its seeming absurdity. For our reason ( much

moisture, is hard to be moved, and unable to perform its operations. And

all sorts of troubles and discontents, like insects to the sun, creeping

forth, and being agitated by a glass of wine, make the mind irresolute

and inconstant. Therefore as a bed is more convenient for a man whilst

making merry than a chair, because it contains the whole body and keeps

it from all disturbing motion, so it is best to have the soul perfectly

at quiet; or, if that cannot be, we must give it, as to children that

will be doing, not a sword or spear, but a rattle or a ball,--in this

following the example of the god himself, who puts into the hands of

those that are making merry a ferula, the lightest and softest of all

weapons, that, when they are most apt to strike, they may hurt least.

Over a glass of wine men should make only ridiculous slips, and not

such as may prove tragical, lamentable, or of any considerable concern.

Besides, in serious debates, it is chiefly to be considered, that

persons of mean understanding and unacquainted with business should

be guided by the wise and experienced; but wine destroys this order.

Insomuch that Plato says, wine is called [Greek omitted] because it

makes those that drink it [Greek omitted] think that they have wit; for

none over a glass of wine thinks himself so noble, beauteous, or rich

(though he fancies himself all these), as wise; and therefore wine is

babbling, full of talk, and of a dictating humor; so that we are rather

for being heard than hearing, for leading than being led. But a thousand

such objections may be raised, for they are very obvious. But let us

hear which of the company, either old or young, can allege anything for

the contrary opinion.

Then said my brother cunningly: And do you imagine that any, upon a

sudden, can produce any probable reasons? And Nicostratus replying, Yes,

no doubt, there being so many learned men and good drinkers in company;

he with a smile continued: Do you think, sir, you are fit to treat of

these matters, when wine hath disabled you to discourse of politics and

state affairs? Or is not this all the same as to think that a man in

his liquor doth not see very well nor understand those that talk and

discourse with him, yet hears the music and the pipers very well? For as

it is likely that useful and profitable things draw and affect the sense

more than fine and gaudy; so likewise they do the mind too. And I shall

not wonder that the nice philosophical speculation should escape a man

who hath drunk freely; but yet, I think, if he were called to political

debates, his wisdom would become more strong and vigorous. Thus Philip

at Chaeronea, being well heated, talked very foolishly, and was the

sport of the whole company; but as soon as they began to discourse of a

truce and peace, he composed his countenance, contracted his brows, and

dismissing all vain, empty and dissolute thoughts, he gave an excellent,

wise, and sober answer to the Athenians. To drink freely is different

from being drunk, and those that drink till they grow foolish ought to

retire to bed. But as for those that drink freely and are otherwise men

of sense, why should we fear that they will fail in their understanding

or lose their skill, when we see that musicians play as well at a feast

as in a theatre? For when skill and art are found in the soul, they

make the body correct and proper in its operations, and obedient to the

motions of the spirit. 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 composed his

tragedies over a bottle, and that all his plays (though Gorgias thought

that one of them, the "Seven against Thebes," was full of Mars) were

Bacchus's. For wine (according to Plato), heating the soul together

with the body, makes the body pliable, quick, and active, and opens the

passages; while the fancies draw in discourse with boldness, and daring.

For some have a good natural invention, yet whilst they are sober are

too diffident and too close, but midst their wine, like frankincense,

exhale and open at the heat. Besides, wine expels all fear, which is

the greatest hindrance to all consultations, and quencheth many other

degenerate and lazy passions; it opens the rancor and malice, as

it were, the two-leaved doors of the soul, and displays the whole

disposition and qualities of any person in his discourse. Freedom of

speech, and, through that, truth it principally produceth; which it once

wanting, neither quickness of wit nor experience availeth anything; 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 wineless

entertainments; so there is a kind of an uncouth wineless 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 ingenuous; not negligent of what is profitable, but desirous of what

is good and honest. Now those that think craft to be cunning, and vanity

or closeness to be wisdom, have reason to think those that over a glass

of wine plainly and ingenuously deliver their opinions to be fools. But,

on the contrary, the ancients called the god the Freer and Loosener, and

thought him considerable in divination; not, as Euripides says, because

he makes men raging mad, but because he looseth and frees the soul from

all base distrustful fear, and puts them in a condition to speak truth

freely to one another.

BOOK VIII.

Those, my Sossius Senecio, who throw philosophy out of entertainments do

worse than those who take away a light. For the candle being removed,

the temperate and sober guests will not become worse than they were

before, being more concerned to reverence than to see one another. But

if dulness and disregard to good learning wait upon the wine, Minerva's

golden lamp itself could not make the entertainment pleasing and

agreeable. For a company to sit silent and only cram themselves is, in

good truth, swinish and almost impossible. But he that permits men to

talk, yet doth not allow set and profitable discourses, is much more

ridiculous than he who thinks that his guests should eat and drink, yet

gives them foul wine, unsavory and nastily prepared meat. For no meat

nor drink which is not prepared as it ought to be is so hurtful and

unpleasant as discourse which is carried round in company

insignificantly and out of season. The philosophers, when they would

give drunkenness a vile name, call it doting by wine. Now doting is to

use vain and trifling discourse; and when such babbling is accompanied

by wine, it usually ends in most disagreeable and rude contumely and

reproach. It is a good custom therefore of our women, who in their

feasts called Agrionia seek after Bacchus as if he were run away, but in

a little time give over the search, and cry that he is fled to the Muses

and lurks with them; and some time after, when supper is done, put

riddles and hard questions to one another. For this mystery teaches us,

that midst our entertainments we should use learned and philosophical

discourse, and such as hath a Muse in it; and that such discourse being

applied to drunkenness, everything that is brutish and outrageous in it

is concealed, being pleasingly restrained by the Muses.

This book, being the eighth of my Symposiacs, begins with that discourse

in which about a year ago, on Plato's birthday, I was concerned.

QUESTION I. CONCERNING THOSE DAYS IN WHICH SOME FAMOUS MEN WERE BORN;

AND ALSO CONCERNING THE GENERATION OF THE GODS.

DIOGENIANUS, PLUTARCH, FLORUS, TYNDARES.

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

the birthday of the most famous of the two first, who was also the

master of the other. I had a great deal to say to the company concerning

some notable things that fell out on the same day, as concerning the

time of Euripides's birth and death; for he was born the same day that

the Greeks beat Xerxes by sea at Salamis, and died the same day that

Dionysius the elder, the Sicilian tyrant, was born,--Fortune (as Timaeus

hath it) at the same time taking out of the world a representer, and

bringing into it a real actor, of tragedies. Besides, we remembered that

Alexander the king and Diogenes the Cynic died upon the same day. And

all agreed that Attalus the king died on his own birthday. And some

said, that Pompey the great was killed in Egypt on his birthday, or, as

others will have it, a day before. We remember Pindar also, who, being

born at the time of the Pythian games, made afterwards a great many

excellent hymns in honor of Apollo.

To this Florus subjoined: Now we are celebrating Plato's nativity, why

should we not mention Carneades, the most famous of the whole Academy,

since both of them were born on Apollo's feast; Plato, whilst they were

celebrating the Thargelia at Athens, Carneades, whilst the Cyrenians

kept their Carnea; and both these feasts are, upon the same day. Nay,

the god himself you (he continued), 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, dishonor the god;

since by Socrates's as by another Chiron's instructions he is become

a physician for the diseases of the mind. And together with this, he

mentioned that vision and voice which forbade Aristo, Plato's father, to

come near or lie with his wife for ten months.

To this Tyndares the Spartan subjoined: It is very fit we should apply

that to Plato,

He seemed not sprung from mortal man, but God.

("Iliad," xxiv. 258.)

But, for my part, I am afraid to beget, as well as to be begotten,

is repugnant to the incorruptibility of the deity. For that implies a

change and passion; as Alexander imagined, when he said that he knew

himself to be mortal as often as he lay with a woman or slept. For sleep

is a relaxation of the body, occasioned by the weakness of our nature;

and all generation is a corruptive parting with some of our own

substance. But yet I take heart again, when I hear Plato call the

eternal and unbegotten deity the father and maker of the world and all

other begotten things; not as if he parted with any seed, but as if

by his power he implanted a generative principle in matter, which

acts upon, forms, and fashions it. Winds passing through a hen will on

occasions 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 who 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 anything on a goddess, because they believe the

goddesses are made of thin air, and subtle heat and moisture.

QUESTION II. WHAT IS PLATO'S MEANING, WHEN HE SAYS THAT GOD ALWAYS PLAYS

THE GEOMETER?

DIOGENIANUS, TYNDARES, FLORUS, AUTOBULUS.

Silence following this discourse, Diogenianus began again and said:

Since our discourse is about the gods, shall we, especially on his own

birthday, admit Plato to the conference, and inquire upon what account

he says (supposing it to be his sentence) that God always plays the

geometer? I said that this sentence was not plainly set down in any of

his books; yet there are good arguments that it is his, and it is very

much like his expression. Tyndares presently subjoining said: Perhaps,

Diogenianus, you imagine that this sentence intimates some curious and

difficult speculation, and not that which he hath so often mentioned,

when he praiseth geometry as a science that takes off men from sensible

objects, and makes them apply themselves to the intelligible and eternal

Nature, the contemplation of which is the end of philosophy, as the view

of the initiatory mysteries into holy rites. For the nail of pain and

pleasure, that fastens the soul to the body, seems to do us the

greatest mischief, by making sensible things more powerful over us than

intelligible, and by forcing the understanding to determine the rather

according to passion than reason. For this faculty, 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.

After Tyndares, Florus, a companion of his, and who always jocosely

pretended to be his admirer, said thus: Sir, we are obliged to you for

making your discourse not proper to yourself, but common to us all; for

you have made it possible to disprove 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

created and to turn it to the real things; for these are all in him,

with him, and about him. But pray consider whether Plato, though you

do not apprehend it, doth not intimate something that is proper and

peculiar to you, mixing Lycurgus with Socrates, as much as Dicaearchus

thought he did Pythagoras. For Lycurgus, I suppose you know, banished

out of Sparta all arithmetical proportion, as being democratical and

favoring the crowd; but introduced the geometrical, as agreeable to an

oligarchy and kingly government that rules by law; for the former gives

an equal share to every one according to number, but the other gives

according to the proportion of the deserts. It doth not huddle all

things together, but in it there is a fair discretion of good and

bad, every one having what is fit for him, not by lot or weight, but

according as he is virtuous or vicious. The same proportion, my dear

Tyndares, God introduceth, which is called [Greek omitted] and [Greek

omitted], 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.

This exposition we applauded; and Tyndares, saying he envied him,

desired Autobulus to engage Florus and confute his discourse. That he

refused to do, but produced another opinion of his own. Geometry, said

he, considers nothing else but the accidents and properties of the

extremities of bodies; neither did God make the world any other way than

by terminating matter, which was infinite before. Not that matter was

actually without limits 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 everything

that is formed or figured are the form and figure of that thing, and

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 solids; and so were

settled the first types and differences of bodies, as foundations from

which to create the four elements, fire, air, water, and earth. For

it was impossible that, out of an unsteady and confused matter, the

equality of the sides, the likeness of the angles, and the exact

proportion of octahedrons, icosahedrons, pyramids, and cubes should be

deduced, unless by some power that terminated and shaped every particle

of matter. Therefore, terms being fixed to that which was undetermined

or infinite before, the whole became and still continues agreeable

in all parts, and excellently terminated and mixed; the matter indeed

always affecting an indeterminate state, and flying all geometrical

confinement, but proportion terminating and circumscribing it, and

dividing it into several differences and forms, out of which all things

that arise are generated and subsist.

When he had said this, he desired me to contribute something to the

discourse; and I applauded their conceits as their own devices, and very

probable. But lest you despise yourselves (I continued) and altogether

look for some external explication, attend to an exposition upon

this sentence, which your masters very much approve. Amongst the most

geometrical theorems, or rather problems, this is one: Two figures being

given, to describe a third, which shall be equal to one and similar to

the other. And it is reported that Pythagoras, upon the discovery of

this problem, offered a sacrifice to the gods; for this is a much more

exquisite theorem than that which lays down, that the square of the

hypothenuse in a right-angled triangle is equal to the squares of the

two sides. Right, said Diogenianus, but what is this to the present

question? You will easily understand, I replied, if you call to mind

how Timaeus divides that which gave the world its beginning into three

parts. One of which is justly called God, the other matter, and the

third form. That which is called matter is the most confused subject,

the form the most beautiful pattern, and God the best of causes.

Now this cause, as far as possible, would leave nothing infinite and

indeterminate, but adorn Nature with number, measure, and proportion

making one thing of all the subjects together, equal to the matter, and

similar to the form. Therefore proposing to himself this problem, he

made and still makes a third, and always preserves it equal to the

matter, and like the form; and that is the world. And this world, being

in constant changes and alterations because of the natural necessity of

body, is helped and preserved by the father and maker of all things, who

by proportion terminates the substance according to the pattern.

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

AMMONIUS, BOETHUS, PLUTARCH, THRASYLLUS, ARISTODEMUS.

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 inquire

what was the reason that those that are within doors hear those that are

without, but those that are without cannot hear those that are within

as well. And Ammonius said, that Aristotle had given a reason for that

already; for the sound of those within, being carried without into a

large tract of air, grows weaker presently and is lost; but that which

comes in from without is not subject to the like casualty, but is kept

close, and is therefore more easy to be heard. But that seemed a more

difficult question, Why sounds seem greater in the night than in the

day, and yet altogether as clear. For my own part (continued he) I

think Providence hath very wisely contrived that our hearing should be

quickest when our sight can do us very little or no service; for the air

of the "blind and solitary Night," as Empedocles calls it, being dark,

supplies in the ears that defect of sense which it makes in the eyes.

But since of natural effects we should endeavor to find the causes, and

to discover what are the material and mechanical principles of things

is the proper task of a natural philosopher, who shall first give us a

rational account hereof?

Boethus began, and said: When I was a novice in letters, I then made

use of geometrical postulates, and assumed as undoubted truths

some undemonstrated suppositions; and now I shall make use of some

propositions which Epicurus hath demonstrated already. Bodies move in a

vacuum, and there are a great many spaces interspersed among the atoms

of the air. Now when the air being rarefied is more extended, so as

to fill the vacant space, there are only a few vacuities scattered and

interspersed among the particles of matter; but when the atoms of air

are condensed and laid close together, they leave a vast empty space,

convenient and sufficient for other bodies to pass through. Now

the coldness of the night makes such a constipation. Heat opens and

separates parts of condensed bodies, and 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 sound, meeting and

striking against a great many bodies in its way, is either altogether

lost or scattered, and very much and very frequently hindered in its

passage; but when it hath a plain and smooth way through an empty space,

and comes to the ear uninterrupted, the passage is so sudden, that it

preserves its articulate distinctness, as well as the words it carries.

You may observe that empty vessels, when knocked, answer presently, send

out a noise to a great distance, and oftentimes the sound whirled round

in the hollow breaks out with a considerable force; whilst a vessel

that is filled either with a liquid or a solid body will not answer to

a stroke, because the sound hath no room or passage to come through. And

among solid bodies themselves, gold and stone, because they want pores,

can hardly be made to sound; and when a noise is made by a stroke upon

them, it is very flat, and presently lost. But brass is sounding, it

being a porous, rare, and light metal, not consisting of parts tightly

compacted, but being mixed with a yielding and uncompacted substance,

which gives free passage to other motions, and kindly receiving the

sound sends it forward; till some touching the instrument do, as it

were, seize on it in the way, and stop the hollow; for then, by reason

of the hindering force, it stops and goes no further. 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 assumed.

And I (Ammonius bidding me oppose him) said: Sir, your suppositions

which demand a vacuum to be granted I shall admit; but you err in

supposing that a vacuum is conducive either to the preservation or

conveyance of sound. For that which cannot be touched, acted upon, or

struck is peculiarly favorable to silence. But sound is a stroke of a

sounding body; and a sounding body is that which has homogeneousness and

uniformity, and is easy to be moved, light, smooth, and, by reason of

its tenseness and continuity, it is 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

no vacuum; but being mixed with a smooth and gentle air it answers to a

stroke, and is sounding. If the eye may be judge, iron must be reckoned

to have a great many vacuities, and to be porous like a honey-comb, yet

it is the dullest, and sounds worse than any other metal.

Therefore there is no need to trouble the night to contract and condense

its air, that in other parts we may leave vacuities and wide spaces; as

if the air would hinder and corrupt the substance of the sounds, whose

very substance, form, and power itself is. Besides, if your reason held,

misty and extreme cold nights would be more sonorous than those which

are temperate and clear, because then the atoms in our atmosphere are

constipated, and the spaces which they left remain empty; and, what is

more obvious, a cold day should be more sonorous than a warm summer's

night; neither of which is true. Therefore, laying aside that

explication, I produce Anaxagoras, who teacheth that the sun makes a

tremulous motion in the air, as is evident from those little motes which

are seen tossed up and down and flying in the sunbeams. These (says he),

being in the day-time whisked about by the heat, and making a humming

noise, lessen or drown other sounds; but at night their motion, and

consequently their noise, ceaseth.

When I had thus said, Ammonius began: Perhaps it will look like a

ridiculous attempt in us, to endeavor to confute Democritus and correct

Anaxagoras. Yet we must not allow that humming noise to Anaxagoras's

little motes, for it is neither probable nor necessary. But their

tremulous and whirling motion in the sunbeams is oftentimes sufficient

to disturb and break a sound. For the air (as hath been already said),

being itself the body and substance of sound, if it be quiet and

undisturbed, makes a straight, easy, and continuous way to the particles

or the motions which make the sound. Thus sounds are best heard in calm

still weather; and the contrary is seen in stormy weather, as Simonides

hath it:--

No tearing tempests rattled through the skies,

Which hinder sweet discourse from mortal ears.

For often the disturbed air hinders the articulateness of a discourse

from coming to the ears, though it may convey something of the loudness

and length of it. Now the night, simply considered in itself, hath

nothing that may disturb the air; though the day hath,--namely the sun,

according to the opinion of Anaxagoras.

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 neglect the tossing and

divulsion thereof, which are 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 everything.

He sends forth lucky signs,

And stirs up nations to their proper work,

And they obey; and (as Democritus saith) with fresh 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

oppositely calls the dawning [Greek omitted] (from [Greek omitted], TO

HEAR), because then men first begin to hear and speak. Now at night, all

things being at rest, the air being quiet and undisturbed must therefore

probably transmit the voice better, and convey it whole and unbroken to

our ears.

Aristodemus the Cyprian, being then in the company, said: But consider,

sir, whether battles or the marches of great armies by night do not

confute your reason; for the noise they make seems as loud as otherwise,

though then the air is broken and very much disturbed. But the reason

is partly in ourselves; for our voice at night is usually vehement, we

either commanding others to do something or asking short questions with

heat and concern. For that, at the same time when Nature requires rest,

we should stir to do or speak anything, there must be some great and

urgent necessity for it; and thence our voices become more vehement and

loud.

QUESTION IV. WHY, WHEN IN THE SACRED GAMES ONE SORT OF GARLAND WAS GIVEN

IN ONE, AND ANOTHER IN ANOTHER, THE PALM WAS COMMON TO ALL. AND WHY THEY

CALL THE GREAT DATES [Greek omitted].

SOSPIS, HERODES, PROTOGENES, PRAXITELES, CAPHISUS.

The Isthmian games being celebrated, when Sospis was the second time

director of the solemnity, we avoided other entertainments,--he treating

a great many strangers and often all his fellow-citizens,--but once,

when he entertained his nearest and most learned friends at his own

house, I was one of the company. After the first course, one coming to

Herodes the rhetorician brought a palm and a wreathed crown, which one

of his acquaintance, who had won the prize for an encomiastic exercise,

sent him. This Herodes received very kindly, and sent it back again,

but added that he could not tell the reason why, since each of the games

gave a particular garland, yet all of them bestowed the palm. For those

do not satisfy me (said he) who say that the equality of the leaves is

the reason, which growing out one against another seem to resemble some

striving for the prize, and that victory is called [Greek omitted] from

[Greek omitted], not to yield. For a great many other trees, almost

by measure and weight dividing the nourishment to their leaves growing

opposite to one another, show a decent order and wonderful equality.

They seem to speak more probably who say the ancients were pleased with

the beauty and figure of the tree. Thus Homer compares Nausicaa to a

palm-branch. For you all know very well, that some threw roses at the

victors, and others pomegranates and apples, to honor and reward them.

But now the palm hath nothing evidently more taking than many other

things, since here in Greece it bears no fruit that is good to eat, it

not ripening and growing mature enough. But if, as in Syria and Egypt,

it bore a fruit that is the most pleasant to the eyes of anything in the

world, and the sweetest to the taste, then I must confess nothing could

compare with it. And the Persian monarch (as the story goes), being

extremely taken with Nicolaus the Peripatetic philosopher, who was a

very sweet-humored man, tall and slender, and of a ruddy complexion,

called the greatest and fairest dates Nicolai.

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 before

us. I begin, and think that, as far as possible, the honor of the victor

should remain fresh and immortal. Now a palm-tree is the longest lived

of any, as this line of Orpheus testifies:--

They lived like branches of a leafy palm.

And this almost alone has the privilege (though it is said to belong to

many besides) of having always fresh and the same leaves. For neither

the laurel nor the olive nor the myrtle, nor any other of those trees

named evergreen, is always to be 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.

When Sospis had done, Protogenes the grammarian, calling Praxiteles

the commentator by his name, said. What then, shall we suffer those

rhetoricians to be thought to have hit the mark when they bring

arguments only from probabilities and conjectures? And can we produce

nothing from history to club to this discourse? Lately, I remember,

reading in the Attic annals, I found that Theseus first instituted games

in Delos, and tore off a branch from the sacred palm-tree, which was

called spadix (from [Greek omitted] TO TEAR).

And Praxiteles said: This is not certain; but perhaps some will demand

of Theseus himself, upon what account when he instituted the game,

he broke off a branch of palm rather than of laurel or of olive. But

consider whether this be not a prize proper to the Pythian games, as

appropriate to Amphictyon. For there they first, in honor of the god,

crowned the victors with laurel and palm, as consecrating to the god,

not the laurel or olive, but the palm. So Nicias did, who defrayed

the charges of the solemnity in the name of the Athenians at Delos

the Athenians themselves at Delphi; and before these, Cypselus the

Corinthian. For this god is a lover of games, and delights in contending

for the prize at harping, singing, and throwing the bar, and, as some

say, at cuffing; and assists men when contending, as Homer witnesseth,

by making Achilles speak thus,

Let two come forth in cuffing stout, and try

To which Apollo gives the victory.

("Iliad," xxiii. 659.)

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

besides, it is not likely that the Athenians would rashly, and upon no

grounds, dedicate their place of exercise to Apollo. But they

thought that the god which bestows health gives likewise a vigorous

constitution, and strength for the encounter. And since some of the

encounters are light and easy, others laborious and difficult, the

Delphians offered sacrifices to Apollo the cuffer; the Cretans and

Spartans to Apollo the racer; and the dedication of spoils taken in the

wars and trophies to Apollo Pythias show that he is of great power to

give victory in war.

Whilst he was speaking, Caphisus, Theon's son, interrupted him, and

said: This discourse smells neither of history nor comment, but is taken

out of the common topics of the Peripatetics, and endeavors to persuade;

besides, you should, like the tragedians, raise your machine, and fright

all that contradict you with the god. But the god, as indeed it is

requisite he should be, is equally benevolent to all. Now let us,

following Sospis (for he fairly leads the way), keep close to our

subject, the palm-tree, which affords us sufficient scope for our

discourse. The Babylonians celebrate this tree, as being useful to them

three hundred and sixty several ways. But to us Greeks it is of very

little use, but its lack of fruit makes it appropriate 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 nature it exhausts all its nourishment (like an athlete) upon its

body, and so has very little, and that very bad, left for seed. Besides

all this, it hath something peculiar, which cannot be attributed to any

other tree. The branch of a palm, if you put a weight upon it, doth not

yield and bend downwards, but turns the contrary way as if it resisted

the pressing force. The like is to be observed in these exercises.

For those who, through weakness or cowardice, yield to them, their

adversaries oppress; but those who stoutly endure the encounter have not

only their bodies, but their minds too, strengthened and increased.

QUESTION V. WHY THOSE THAT SAIL UPON THE NILE TAKE UP THE WATER THEY ARE

TO USE BEFORE DAY.

One demanded a reason why the sailors take up the water for their

occasions out of the river Nile by night, and not by day. Some thought

they feared the sun, which heating the liquid would make it more liable

to putrefaction. For everything that is warmed becomes more easy to be

changed, having already suffered when its natural quality was remitted.

And cold constipating the parts seems to preserve everything in its

natural state, and water especially. For that the cold of water is

naturally constringent is evident from snow, which keeps flesh from

corrupting a long time. And heat, as it destroys the proper quality

of other things, so of honey, for it being boiled is itself corrupted,

though when raw it preserves other bodies from corruption. And that this

is the cause, I have a very considerable evidence from standing pools;

for in winter they are as wholesome as other water, but in summer they

grow bad and noxious. Therefore the night seeming in some measure to

resemble the winter, and the day the summer, they think the water that

is taken up at night is less subject to be vitiated and changed.

To these seemingly probable reasons another was added, which confirmed

the ingenuity of the sailors by a very strong proof. For some said

that they took up their water by night because then it was clear and

undisturbed; but at day-time, when a great many fetched water together,

and many boats were sailing and many beasts swimming upon the Nile,

it grew thick and muddy, and in that condition it was more subject to

corruption. For mixed bodies are more easily corrupted than simple and

unmixed; for from mixture proceeds disagreement of the parts, from that

disagreement a change, and corruption is nothing else but a certain

change; and therefore painters call the mixing of their colors [Greek

omitted], corrupting; and Homer expresseth dyeing by [Greek omitted]

(TO STAIN OR CONTAMINATE). Commonly we call anything that is simple and

unmixed incorruptible and immortal. Now earth being mixed with water

soonest corrupts its proper qualities, and makes it unfit for drinking;

and therefore standing water stinks soonest, being continually filled

with particles of earth, whilst running waters preserve themselves by

either leaving behind or throwing off the earth that falls into them.

And Hesiod justly commends

The water of a pure and constant spring.

For that water is wholesome which is not corrupted, and that is not

corrupted which is pure and unmixed. And this opinion is very much

confirmed from the difference of earths; for those springs that run

through a mountainous, rocky ground are stronger than those which are

cut through plains or marshes, because they do not take off much earth.

Now the Nile running through a soft country, like the blood mingled

with the flesh, is filled with sweet juices that are strong and very

nourishing; yet it is thick and muddy, and becomes more so if disturbed.

For motion mixeth the earthly particles with the liquid, which, because

they are heavier, fall to the bottom as soon as the water is still and

undisturbed. Therefore the sailors take up the water they are to use at

night, by that means likewise preventing the sun, which always exhales

and consumes the subtler and lighter particles of the liquid.

QUESTION VI. CONCERNING THOSE WHO COME LATE TO AN ENTERTAINMENT; AND

FROM WHENCE THESE WORDS, [Greek omitted] AND, [Greek omitted] ARE

DERIVED.

PLUTARCH'S SONS, THEON'S SONS, THEON, PLUTARCH, SOCLARUS.

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 their

runners-to-supper. And one of the old men in the company said [Greek

omitted] 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.

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.

But Soclarus, in defence of my sons, said: Alcaeus (as the story

goes) did not call Pittacus a night-supper for supping late, but for

delighting in base and scandalous company. Heretofore to eat early was

accounted scandalous, and such a meal was called [Greek omitted], from

[Greek omitted] INTEMPERANCE.

Then Theon interrupting him said: Not at all, if we must trust those who

have delivered down to us the ancients way of living. For they say that

those being used to work, and very temperate in a morning, ate a bit of

bread dipped in wine, and nothing else, and that they called that meal

[Greek omitted] from the [Greek omitted] (WINE). Their supper they

called [Greek omitted], because returning from their business they took

it [Greek omitted] (LATE). Upon this we began to inquire whence those

two meals [Greek omitted] and [Greek omitted] took their names. In Homer

[Greek omitted] and [Greek omitted] seem to be the same meal. For he

says that Eumaeus provided [Greek omitted] by the break of day; and it

is probable that [Greek omitted] was so called from [Greek omitted],

because provided in the morning; and [Greek omitted] was so named from

[Greek omitted], EASING FROM THEIR LABOR. For men used to take their

[Greek omitted] 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.

("Iliad," xi. 86.)

But some perhaps will derive [Greek omitted] from [Greek omitted],

EASIEST PROVIDED, because that meal is usually made upon what is ready

and at hand; and [Greek omitted] from [Greek omitted], LABORED, because

of the pains used in dressing it.

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; [Greek omitted] SUPPER,

they call coena ([Greek omitted]) from community; because they took

their [Greek omitted] by themselves, but their coena with their friends.

[Greek omitted] DINNER, they call prandium, from the time of the dry;

for [Greek omitted] signifies NOON-TIDE, and to rest after dinner is

expressed by [Greek omitted]; or else by prandium they denote a bit

taken in the morning, [Greek omitted], BEFORE THEY HAVE NEED OF ANY.

And not to mention stragula, from [Greek Omitted], vinum from [Greek

omitted], oleum from [Greek omitted], mel from [Greek omitted], gustare

from [Greek omitted], propinare from [Greek omitted], and a great many

more words which they have plainly borrowed from the Greeks,--who can

deny but that they have taken their comessatio, BANQUETING, from our

[Greek omitted] and miscere, TO MINGLE, from the Greeks too? Thus in

Homer,

She in a bowl herself mixt ([Greek omitted]) generous wine.

("Odyssey," x. 356.)

They call a table mensam, from [Greek omitted], PLACING IT IN THE

MIDDLE; bread, panem, from satisfying [Greek omitted], HUNGER; a

garland, coronam, from [Greek omitted], THE HEAD;--and Homer somewhat

likens [Greek omitted], a HEAD-PIECE, to a garland;--caedere, TO BEAT,

from [Greek omitted]; and dentes, TEETH, from [Greek omitted]; lips

they call labra, from [Greek omitted], TAKING OUR VICTUALS WITH THEM.

Therefore we must either listen to such fooleries as these without

laughing, or not give them so ready entrance by means of words....

QUESTION VII. CONCERNING PYTHAGORAS'S SYMBOLS, IN WHICH HE FORBIDS US TO

RECEIVE A SWALLOW INTO OUR HOUSE, AND BIDS US AS SOON AS WE ARE RISEN TO

RUFFLE THE BEDCLOTHES.

SYLLA, LUCIUS, PLUTARCH, PHILINUS.

Sylla the Carthaginian, upon my return to Rome after a long absence,

gave me a welcoming supper, as the Romans call it, and invited some few

other friends, and among the rest, one Lucius an Etrurian, the scholar

of Moderatus the Pythagorean. He seeing my friend Philinus ate no flesh,

began (as the opportunity was fair) to talk of Pythagoras; and affirmed

that he was a Tuscan, not because his father, as others have said, was

one, but because he himself was born, bred, and taught in Tuscany. To

confirm this, he brought considerable arguments from such symbols as

these:--As soon as you are risen, ruffle the bedclothes; leave not the

print of the pot in the ashes; receive not a swallow into your house;

never step over a besom; nor keep in your house creatures that have

hooked claws. For these precepts of the Pythagoreans the Tuscans only,

as he said, carefully observe.

Lucius, having thus said, that precept about the swallow seemed to be

most unaccountable, it being a harmless and kind animal; and therefore

it seemed strange that that should be forbid the house, as well as the

hooked-clawed animals, which are ravenous, wild, and bloody. Nor did

Lucius himself approve that only interpretation of the ancients,

who say, this symbol aims directly at backbiters and tale-bearing

whisperers. For the swallow whispers not at all; it chatters indeed,

and is noisy, but not more than a pie, a partridge, or a hen. What then,

said Sylla, is it upon the old fabulous account of killing her son, that

they deny the swallow entertainment, by that means showing their dislike

to those passions which (as the story goes) made Tereus and Procne and

Philomel both act and suffer such wicked and abominable things? And even

to this day they call the birds Daulides. And Gorgias the sophister,

when a swallow muted upon him, looked upon her and said, Philomel, this

was not well done. Or perhaps this is all without foundation; for the

nightingale, though concerned in the same tragedy, we willingly receive.

Perhaps, sir, said I, what you have alleged may be some reason; but

pray consider whether first they do not hate the swallow upon the same

account that they abhor hook-clawed animals. For the swallow feeds on

flesh; and grasshoppers, which are sacred and musical, they chiefly

devour and prey upon. And, as Aristotle observes, they fly near the

surface of the earth to pick up the little animals. Besides, that alone

of all house-animals makes no return for her entertainment. The stork,

though she is neither covered, fed, nor defended by us, yet pays for the

place where she builds, going about and killing the efts, snakes, and

other venomous creatures. But the swallow, though she receives all those

several kindnesses from us, yet, as soon as her young are fledged, flies

away faithless and ungrateful; and (which is the worst of all) of all

house-animals, the fly and the swallow only never grow tame, suffer a

man to touch them, keep company with or learn of him. And the fly is so

shy because often hurt and driven away; but the swallow naturally

hates man, suspects, and dares not trust any that would tame her. And

therefore,--if we must not look on the outside of these things,

but opening them view the representations of some things in

others,--Pythagoras, setting the swallow for an example of a wandering,

unthankful man, adviseth us not to take those who come to us for their

own need and upon occasion into our familiarity, and let them partake of

the most sacred things, our house and fire.

This discourse of mine gave the company encouragement to proceed, so

they attempted other symbols, and gave moral interpretations of them.

For Philinus said, that the precept of blotting out the print of the pot

instructed us not to leave any plain mark of anger, but, as soon as ever

the passion hath done boiling, to lay aside all thoughts of malice and

revenge. That symbol which adviseth us to ruffle the bedclothes seemed

to some to have no secret meaning, but to be in itself very evident;

for it is not decent that the mark and (as it were) stamped image should

remain to be seen by others, in the place where a man hath lain with his

wife. But Sylla thought the symbol was rather intended to prevent men's

sleeping in the day-time, all the conveniences for sleeping being taken

away in the morning as soon as we are up. For night is the time for

sleep, and in the day we should rise and follow our affairs, and not

suffer so much as the print of our body in the bed, since a man asleep

is of no more use than one dead. And this interpretation seems to be

confirmed by that other precept, in which the Pythagoreans advise their

followers not to take off any man's burthen from him, but to lay on

more, as not countenancing sloth and laziness in any.

QUESTION VIII. WHY THE PYTHAGOREANS COMMAND FISH NOT TO BE EATEN, MORE

STRICTLY THAN OTHER ANIMALS.

EMPEDOCLES, SYLLA, LUCIUS, TYNDARES, NESTOR.

Our former discourse Lucius neither reprehended nor approved, but,

sitting silent and musing, gave us the hearing. Then Empedocles

addressing his discourse to Sylla, said: If our friend Lucius is

displeased with the discourse, it is time for us to leave off; but if

these are some of their mysteries which ought to be concealed, yet I

think this may be lawfully divulged, that they more cautiously abstain

from fish than from other animals. For this is said of the ancient

Pythagoreans; and even now I have met with Alexicrates's scholars, who

will eat and kill and even sacrifice some of the other animals, but will

never taste fish. Tyndares the Spartan said, they spared fish because

they had so great a regard for silence, and they called fish [Greek

omitted], because they had their voice SHUT UP ([Greek omitted]); and my

namesake Empedocles advised one who had been expelled from the school of

Pythagoras to shut up his mind like a fish, and they thought silence to

be divine, since the gods without any voice reveal their meaning to the

wise by their works.

Then Lucius gravely and composedly saying, that perhaps the true reason

was obscure and not to be divulged, yet they had liberty to venture upon

probable conjectures, Theon the grammarian began thus: To demonstrate

that Pythagoras was a Tuscan is a great and no easy task. But it is

confessed that he conversed a long time with the wise men of Egypt, and

imitated a great many of the rites and institutions of the priests, for

instance, that about beans. For Herodotus delivers, that the Egyptians

neither set nor eat beans, nay, cannot endure to see them; and we all

know, that even now the priests eat no fish; and the stricter sort eat

no salt, and refuse all meat that is seasoned with it. Various reasons

are offered for this; but the only true reason is hatred to the sea, as

being a disagreeable, or rather naturally a destructive element to man.

For they do not imagine that the gods, as the Stoics did that the stars,

were nourished by it. But, on the contrary, they think that the father

and preserver of their country, whom they call the deflux of Osiris,

is lost in it; and when they bewail him as born on the left hand, and

destroyed in the right-hand parts, they intimate to us the ending and

corruption of their Nile by the sea, and therefore they do not believe

that its water is wholesome, or that any creature produced or nourished

in it can be clean or wholesome food for man, since it breathes not the

common air, and feeds not on the same food with him. And the air that

nourisheth and preserves all other things is destructive to them, as

if their production and life were unnecessary and against Nature;

nor should we wonder that they think animals bred in the sea to be

disagreeable to their bodies, and not fit to mix with their blood

and spirits, since when they meet a pilot they will not speak to him,

because he gets his living by the sea.

Sylla commended this discourse, and added concerning the Pythagoreans,

that they then chiefly tasted flesh when they sacrificed to the gods.

Now no fish is ever offered in sacrifice. I, after they had done, said

that many, both philosophers and unlearned, considering with how many

good things it furnisheth and makes our life more comfortable, take

the sea's part against the Egyptians. But that the Pythagoreans should

abstain from fish because they are not of the same kind, is ridiculous

and absurd; nay, to butcher and feed on other animals, because they bear

a nearer relation to us, would be a most inhuman and Cyclopean return.

And they say that Pythagoras bought a draught of fishes, and presently

commanded the fishers to let them all out of the net; and this shows

that, he did not hate or not mind fishes, as things of another kind and

destructive to man, but that they were his dearly beloved creatures,

since he paid a ransom for their freedom.

Therefore the tenderness and humanity of those philosophers suggest a

quite contrary reason, and I am apt to believe that they spare fishes

to instruct men, or to accustom themselves to acts of justice; for other

creatures generally give men cause to afflict them, but fishes neither

do nor are capable of doing us any harm. And it is easy to show, both

from the writings and religion of the ancients, that they thought it a

great sin not only to eat but to kill an animal that did them no harm.

But afterwards, being necessitated by the spreading multitude of men,

and commanded (as they say) by the Delphic oracle to prevent the total

decay of corn and fruit, they began to sacrifice, yet they were so

disturbed and concerned at the action, that they called it [Greek

omitted] and [Greek omitted] (TO DO), as if they did some strange thing

in killing an animal; and they are very careful not to kill the beast

before the wine has been cast upon his head and he nods in token of

consent. So very cautious are they of injustice. And not to mention

other considerations, were no chickens (for instance) or hares killed,

in a short time they would so increase that there could be no living.

And now it would be a very hard matter to put down the eating of

flesh, which necessity first introduced, since pleasure and luxury hath

espoused it. But the water-animals neither consuming any part of our air

or water, or devouring the fruit, but as it were encompassed by another

world, and having their own proper bounds, which it is death for them

to pass, they afford our belly no pretence at all for their destruction;

and therefore to catch or be greedy after fish is plain deliciousness

and luxury, which upon no just reason unsettle the sea and dive into

the deep. For we cannot call the mullet corn-destroying, the trout

grape-eating, nor the barbel or seapike seed-gathering, as we do some

land-animals, signifying their hurtfulness by these epithets. Nay, those

little mischiefs which we complain of in these house-creatures, a

weasel or fly, none can justly lay upon the greatest fish. Therefore

the Pythagoreans, confining themselves not only by the law which forbids

them to injure men, but also by Nature, which commands them to do

violence to nothing, fed on fish very little, or rather not at all. But

suppose there were no injustice in this case, yet to delight in fish

would argue daintiness and luxury; because they are such costly and

unnecessary diet. Therefore Homer doth not only make the Greeks whilst

encamped near the Hellespont, eat no fish, but he mentions not any

sea-provision that the dissolute Phaeacians or luxurious wooers had,

though both islanders. And Ulysses's mates, though they sailed over so

much sea, as long as they had any provision left, never let down a hook

or net.

But when the victuals of their ship was spent,

("Odyssey," xii. 329-332.)

a little before they fell upon the oxen of the Sun, they caught fish,

not to please their wanton appetite, but to satisfy their hunger,--

With crooked hooks, for cruel hunger gnawed.

The same necessity therefore forced them to catch fish and devour the

oxen of the Sun. Therefore not only among the Egyptian and Syrians but

Greeks too, to abstain from fish was a piece of sanctity, they avoiding

(as I think), a superfluous curiosity in diet, as well as being just.

To this Nestor subjoining said: But sir, of my citizens as of the

Megarians in the proverb, you make no account; although you have heard

me often say that our priests of Neptune (whom we call Hieromnemons)

never eat fish. For Neptune himself is called the Breeder. And the

race of Hellen sacrificed to Neptune as the first father, imagining,

as likewise the Syrians did, that man rose from a liquid substance. And

therefore they worship a fish as of the same production and breeding

with themselves, in this matter being more happy in their philosophy

than Anaximander; for he says that fish and men were not produced in the

same substances, but that men were first produced in fishes, and, when

they were grown up and able to help themselves, were thrown out, and so

lived upon the land. Therefore, as the fire devours its parents, that

is, the matter out of which it was first kindled, so Anaximander,

asserting that fish were our common parents, condemneth our feeding on

them.

QUESTION IX. WHETHER THERE CAN BE NEW DISEASES, AND HOW CAUSED.

PHILO, DIOGENIANUS, PLUTARCH.

Philo the physician stoutly affirmed that the elephantiasis was a

disease but lately known; since none of the ancient physicians speak one

word of it, though they oftentimes enlarge upon little, frivolous

and obscure trifles. And I, to confirm it, cited Athenodorus the

philosopher, who in his first book of Epidemical Diseases says, that not

only that disease, but also the hydrophobia or water-dread (occasioned

by the biting of a mad dog), were first discovered in the time of

Asclepiades. At this the whole company were amazed, thinking it very

strange that such diseases should begin then, and yet as strange that

they should not be taken notice of in so long a time; yet most of them

leaned to this last opinion, as being most agreeable to man, not in the

least daring to imagine that Nature affected novelties, or would in the

body of man, as in a city, create new disturbances and tumults.

And Diogenianus added, that even the passions and diseases of the

mind go on in the same old road that formerly they did; and yet the

viciousness of our inclination is exceedingly prone to variety, and our

mind is mistress of itself, and can, if it please, easily change and

alter. Yet all her inordinate motions have some sort of order, and the

soul hath bounds to her passions, as the sea to her overflowings. And

there is no sort of vice now among us which was not practised by the

ancients. There are a thousand differences of appetites and various

motions of fear; the schemes of grief and pleasure are innumerable.

Yet are not they of late or now produced,

And none can tell from whence they first arose.

(Sophocles, "Antigone," 456.)

How then should the body be subject to new diseases, since it hath not,

like the soul, the principle of its own alteration in itself, but by

common causes is joined to Nature, and receives a temperature whose

infinite variety of alterations is confined to certain bounds, like a

ship moving 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

anything should be without a cause. Now it will be very hard to find a

new cause, unless we fancy some strange air, water, or food never tasted

by the ancients, should out of other worlds or intermundane spaces

descend to us. For we contract diseases from those very things which

preserve our life; since there are no peculiar seeds of diseases, but

the disagreement of their juices to our bodies, or our excess in using

them, disturbs Nature. These disturbances have still the very same

differences, though now and then called by new names. For names depend

on custom, but the passions on Nature; and these being constant and

those variable, this error has arisen. As, in the parts of a speech

and the syntax of the words, some new sort of barbarism or solecism can

suddenly 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 existent in Nature herself. The

mythographers are in this particular very ingenious, for they say that

monstrous uncouth animals were produced in the time of the Giants war,

the moon being out of its course, and not rising where it used to do.

And those who think Nature produces new diseases like monsters, and

yet give neither likely nor unlikely reasons of the change, err, as I

imagine, my dear Philo, in taking a less or a greater degree of the same

disease to be a different disease. The intension or increase of a thing

makes it more or greater, but does not make the subject of another kind.

Thus the elephantiasis, being an intense scabbiness, is not a new

kind; nor is the water-dread distinguished from other melancholic and

stomachical affections but only by the degree. And I wonder we did not

observe that Homer was acquainted with this disease, for it is evident

that he calls a dog rabid from the very same rage with which when men

are possessed they are said to be mad.

Against this discourse of Diogenianus Philo himself made some

objections, and desired me to be the old physicians' patron; who must

be branded with inadvertency and ignorance, unless it appears that those

diseases began since their time. First then Diogenianus, methinks, very

precariously desires us to think that the intenseness or remissness of

degrees is not a real difference, and does not alter the kind. For, were

this true, then we should hold that downright vinegar is not different

from pricked wine, nor a bitter from a rough taste, darnel from wheat,

nor garden-mint from wild mint. For it is evident that these differences

are only the several 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, sunshine from flame, hoarfrost

from dew, or hail from rain; but that the former have only more intense

qualities than the latter. Besides, we should say that blindness is of

the same kind with short-sightedness, violent vomiting (or cholera) with

weakness of the stomach, and that they differ only in degree. Though

what they say is nothing to the purpose; for if they allow the increase

in intensity and strength, but assert that this came but now of

late,--the novelty showing itself in the quantity rather than the

quality,--the same difficulties which they urged against the other

opinion oppress them. Sophocles says very well concerning those things

which are not believed to be now, because they were not heretofore,--

Once at the first all things their being had.

And it is probable that not all diseases, as in a race, the barrier

being let down, started together; but that one rising after another, at

some certain time, had its beginning and showed itself. It is rational

but afterwards overeating, luxury, and surfeiting, encouraged by ease

and plenty, raised bad and superfluous juices, and those brought various

new diseases, and their perpetual complications and mixtures still

create more new. Whatever is natural is determined and in order; for

Nature is order, or the work of order. Disorder, like Pindar's sand,

cannot be comprised by number, and that which is beside Nature is

straight called indeterminate and infinite. Thus truth is simple, and

but one; but falsities innumerable. The exactness of motions and harmony

are definite, but the errors either in playing upon the harp, singing,

or dancing, who can comprehend? Indeed Phrynichus the tragedian says of

himself,

As many figures dancing doth propose

As waves roll on the sea when tempests toss.

And Chrysippus says that the various complications of ten single axioms

amount to 1,000,000. But Hipparchus hath confuted that account, showing

that the affirmative contains 101,049 complicated propositions, and the

negative 310,952. And Xenocrates says, the number of syllables which the

letters will make is 100,200,000. How then is it strange that the body,

having so many different powers in itself, and getting new qualities

every day from its meat and drink, and using those motions and

alterations which are not always in the same time nor in the same order,

should upon the various complications of all these be affected with new

diseases? Such was the plague at Athens described by Thucydides, who

conjectures that it was new because that birds and beasts of prey would

not touch the dead carcasses. Those that fell sick about the Red Sea, if

we believe Agatharcides, besides other strange and unheard diseases, had

little serpents in their legs and arms, which did eat their way out, but

when touched shrunk in again, and raised intolerable inflammations in

the muscles; and yet this kind of plague, as likewise many others, never

afflicted any beside, either before or since. One, after a long stoppage

of urine, voided a knotty barley straw. And we know that Ephebus, with

whom we lodged at Athens, threw out, together with a great deal of seed,

a little hairy, many-footed, nimble animal. And Aristotle tells us,

that Timon's nurse in Cilicia every year for two months lay in a cave,

without any vital operation besides breathing. And in the Menonian books

it is delivered as a symptom of a diseased liver carefully to observe

and hunt after mice and rats, which we see now nowhere practised.

Therefore let us not wonder if something happens which never was before,

or if something doth not appear among us with which the ancients were

acquainted; for the cause of those accidents is the nature of our body,

whose temperature is subject to be changed. Therefore, if Diogenianus

will not introduce a new kind of water or air, we, having no need of it,

are very well content. Yet we know some of Democritus's scholars affirm

that, other worlds being dissolved, some strange effluvia fall into

ours, and are the principle of new plagues and uncommon diseases. But

let us not now take notice of the corruption of some parts of this

world by earthquake, droughts, and floods, by which both the vapors and

fountains rising out of the earth must be necessarily corrupted. Yet we

must not pass by that change which must be wrought in the body by our

meat, drink, and other exercises in our course of life. For many things

which the ancients did not feed on are now accounted dainties; for

instance, mead and swine's belly. Heretofore too, as I have heard, they

hated the brain of animals so much, that they detested the very name of

it; as when Homer says, "I esteem him at a brain's worth." And even now

we know some old men, not bearing to 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,

polyps, salads, and the like, being (in Plato's phrase) transferred

"from tail to mouth," now make the first course, whereas they were

formerly the last. Besides, the glass which we usually take before

supper is very considerable in this case; for the ancients never drank

so much as water before they ate, but now we drink freely before we

sit down, and fall to our meat with a full and heated body, using sharp

sauces and pickles to provoke appetite, and then we fall greedily on the

other meat. But nothing conduceth more to alterations and new diseases

in the body than our different baths; for here the flesh, like iron

in the fire, grows soft and loose, and is presently constipated and

hardened by the cold. For, in my opinion, if any of the last age had

looked into our baths, he might have justly said,

There burning Phlegethon meets Acheron.

For they used such mild gentle baths, that Alexander the Great being

feverish slept in one. And the Gauls' wives carry their pots of pulse to

eat with their children whilst they are in the bath. But our baths now

inflame, vellicate, and distress; and the air which we draw is a mixture

of air and water, disturbs the whole body, tosses and displaces

every atom, till we quench the fiery particles and allay their heat.

Therefore, Diogenianus, you see that this account requires no new

strange causes, no intermundane spaces; but the single alteration of our

diet is enough to raise new diseases and abolish old.

QUESTION X. WHY WE GIVE LEAST CREDIT TO DREAMS IN AUTUMN.

FLORUS, PLUTARCH, PLUTARCH'S SONS, FAVORINUS.

Florus reading Aristotle's physical problems, which were brought to him

to Thermopylae, was himself (as philosophical wits used to be) filled

with a great many doubts, and communicated them to others; thereby

confirming Aristotle's saying, that much learning raises many doubts.

Other topics made our walks every day very pleasant, but the common

saying concerning dreams,--that those in autumn are the vainest,--I

know not how, whilst Favorinus was engaged in other matters, was started

after supper. Your friends and my sons thought Aristotle had given

sufficient satisfaction in this point, and that no other cause was to be

sought after or allowed but that which he mentions, the fruit. For the

fruit, being new and flatulent, raises many disturbing vapors in the

body; for it is not likely that only wine ferments, or new oil only

makes a noise in the lamp, the heat agitating its vapor; but new corn

and all sorts of fruit are plump and distended, till the unconcocted

flatulent vapor is broke away. And that some sorts of food disturb

dreams they said, was evident from beans and the polypus's head, from

which those who would divine by their dreams are commanded to abstain.

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 everything,

vessels, garments, plants, but especially from animals, because of their

heat and the motion of their spirits; and that these images not only

carry the outward shape and likeness of the bodies (as Epicurus thinks,

following Democritus so far and no farther), but the very designs,

motions, and passions of the soul; and with those entering into the

bodies, as if they were living things, discover to those that receive

them the thoughts and inclinations of the persons from whom they come,

if so be that they preserve their frame and order entire. And that is

especially preserved when the air is calm and clear, their passage then

being quick and undisturbed. Now the autumnal air, when trees shed

their leaves, being very uneven and disturbed, ruffles and disorders

the images, and, hindering them in their passage, makes them weak and

ineffectual; when, on the contrary, if they rise from warm and vigorous

subjects, and are presently applied, the notices which they give and the

impressions they make are clear and evident.

Then with a smile looking upon Autobulus, he continued: But, sir, I

perceive you design to have an airy skirmish with these images, and

try the excellence of this old opinion, as you would a picture, by your

nail. 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 witness 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 not so vain as at other times. And the months when

the leaves fall, being next to winter, so concoct the corn and remaining

fruit, that they grow shrivelled and less, and lose all their brisk

agitating spirit. As for new wine, those that drink it soonest forbear

till February, which is after winter; and the day on which we begin

we call the day of the Good Genius, and the Athenians the day of

cask-opening. For whilst wine is working, we see that even common,

laborers will not venture on it. Therefore no more accusing the gifts of

the gods, let us seek after another cause of vain dreams, to which

the name of the season will direct us. For it is called LEAF-SHEDDING,

because the leaves then fall off by reason of their dryness and

coldness; except the leaves of hot and oily trees, as of the olive, the

laurel, or the palm; or of the moist, as of the myrtle and the ivy. But

the temperature of these preserves them, though not others; because in

others the vicious humor that holds the leaves is constipated by the

cold, or being weak and little is dried up. Now moisture and heat are

necessary for the growth and preservation of plants, but especially of

animals; and on the contrary, coldness and dryness are very noxious

to both. And therefore Homer elegantly calls men moist and juicy:

to rejoice he calls to be warmed; and anything that is grievous and

frightful he calls cold and icy. Besides, the words [Greek omitted] and

[Greek omitted] are applied to the dead, those names intimating their

extreme dryness. But more, our blood, the principal thing in our whole

body, is moist and hot. And old age hath neither of those two qualities.

Now the autumn seems to be as it were the old age of the decaying

year; for the moisture doth not yet fall, and the heat decays. And

its inclining the body to diseases is an evident sign of its cold and

dryness. Now it is necessary that the souls should be indisposed with

the bodies and that, the subtile spirit being condensed, the divining

faculty of the soul, like a glass that is breathed upon, should be

sullied; and therefore it cannot represent anything plain, distinct, and

clear, as long as it remains thick, dark, and condensed.

BOOK IX

This ninth book, Sossius Senecio, contains the discourses we held at

Athens at the Muses feast, for this number nine is agreeable to the

number of the Muses. Nor must you wonder when you find more than ten

questions (which number I have observed in my other books) in it; for we

ought to give the Muses all that belongs to them, and be as careful of

robbing them as of a temple, since we owe them much more and much better

things than these.

QUESTION I. CONCERNING VERSES SEASONABLY AND UNSEASONABLY APPLIED.

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

AMMONIUS.

Ammonius, captain of the militia at Athens, would show Diogenianus the

proficiency of those youths that learned grammar, geometry, rhetoric,

and music; and invited the chief masters of the town to supper.

There were a great many scholars at the feast, and almost all his

acquaintance. Achilles invited only the single combatants to his feast,

intending (as the story goes) that, if in the heat of the encounter they

had conceived any anger or ill-will against one another, they might then

lay it aside, being made partakers of one common entertainment. But

the contrary happened to Ammonius, for the contentions of the masters

increased and grew more sharp midst their cups and merriment; and all

was disorder and confused babbling.

Therefore Ammonius commanded Erato to sing to his harp, and he sang some

part of Hesiod's Works beginning thus,

Contention to one sort is not confined;

("Works and Days," 11.)

and I commended him for choosing so apposite a song. Then he began

to discourse about the seasonable use of verse, that it was not only

pleasant but profitable. And straight every one's mouth was full of that

poet who began Ptolemy's epithalamium (when he married his sister, a

wicked and abominable match) thus,

Jove Juno called his sister and his wife;

("Iliad," xviii. 356.)

and another, who refused to sing after supper to Demetrius the king, but

after he sent him his young son Philip to be educated sang thus,

Breed thou the boy as doth become

Both Hercules's race and us;

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

rose up and said,