_The King of Ethiopia is engaged in matching his wits against mine.
Hitherto he has had the worst of it, but has finally concocted a
terrible poser in the shape of a command that I should ‘drink up the
sea’. If I meet it with a solution, I am to have a number of his
villages and towns. If not, I am to surrender the cities in the
neighbourhood of Elephantine. Do you, therefore, take the matter
[Sidenote: C] in hand and send Niloxenus back to me at once. Any
return which friends or countrymen of yours require from me will be
made without hesitation on my part._
This part of the letter having been read, Bias was not long in
answering. After a few moments of meditation and a brief conversation
with Cleobulus, who was close to him at table, he said: ‘Do you mean to
say, my friend from Naucratis, that Amasis, though reigning over so many
subjects and possessed of so large and excellent a country, will be
ready to drink up the sea in order to win a few miserable insignificant
villages?’ ‘Take it that he will, Bias,’ replied Niloxenus, ‘and
consider how it can be done.’ ‘Very well then,’ said he: ‘let him tell
[Sidenote: D] the Ethiopian _to stop the rivers that run into the ocean,
while he is himself drinking up the sea at present existing_. The
command applies to the sea as it is, not as it is to be later on.’ Bias
no sooner made this speech than Niloxenus was so delighted that he
rushed to embrace and kiss him. After the rest of the company had
cheered and applauded, Chilon said with a laugh, ‘Sir Visitor from
Naucratis, before the sea is all drunk up and lost, set sail and tell
Amasis not to be asking how to make away with all that brine, but rather
how to render his kingship sweet and drinkable for his subjects. Bias is
a past master at teaching [Sidenote: E] such a lesson, and, if Amasis
learns it, he will have no further occasion for his golden footpan[28]
in dealing with the Egyptians. They will all be courting and making much
of him for his goodness, even if he is declared to be of a thousand
times lower birth than he actually is.’ ‘Yes, and by the way,’ said
Periander, ‘it would be a good thing if all—“man after man”, as Homer
has it—were to contribute a similar offering to His Majesty. A bonus of
the kind thrown in would not only make the returns on his venture more
valuable to him, but would also be the best thing in the world for us.’
Chilon thereupon asserted that Solon was the right man to [Sidenote: F]
make a beginning on the subject, not only because he was senior to all
the rest and was in the place of honour at the table, but because,
having legislated for the Athenians, he held the greatest and completest
position as a ruler. At this Niloxenus remarked quietly to me, ‘People
believe a good deal that is false, Diocles; and they mostly take a
delight in inventing for themselves, and in accepting with avidity from
others, mischievous stories about wise men. For instance, it was
reported [Sidenote: 152] to us in Egypt that Chilon had cancelled his
friendship and his relations of hospitality with Solon, because Solon
declared that laws were alterable.’ At this I answered, ‘The story is
ridiculous; for in that case Chilon ought to begin by disclaiming
Lycurgus and all his laws, as having altered the whole Lacedaemonian
constitution.’
After a brief delay Solon said: ‘In my opinion a king or despot would
win most renown _by furnishing his fellow-citizens with a popular, in
place of a monarchical, government_.’ The second to speak was Bias, who
said: ‘_By identifying his behaviour with the laws of his country._’
Thales came next with the statement that he considered a ruler happy
‘_if he died naturally of old age_‘. Fourth Anacharsis: ‘_If good sense
never failed him._’ [Sidenote: *] Fifth Cleobulus: ‘_If he trusted none
of those about him._’ Sixth Pittacus: ‘_If the ruler could get his
subjects to fear, not him, but [Sidenote: B] for him._’ Next Chilon said
that ‘_the ruler’s conceptions should never be mortal, but always
immortal_‘.
After hearing these dicta, we claimed that Periander himself should
express an opinion. With anything but cheerfulness, and pulling a
serious face, he replied: ‘Well, the opinion I have to add is that every
one of the views stated practically disqualifies a man of sense from
being a ruler.’ Whereupon Aesop, as if in a spirit of reproof, said,
‘You ought, of course, to have discussed this subject by yourselves, and
not to have delivered an attack upon rulers under pretence of being
their advisers and friends.’ [Sidenote: C] ‘Don’t you think,’ said
Solon, taking him by the head and smiling, ‘that one can make a ruler
more moderate and a despot more reasonable by persuading him that it is
better to decline such a position than to hold it?’ ‘And pray who,’ he
replied, ‘is likely to follow you in the matter rather than the God,
whose opinion is given in the oracle delivered to yourself:
_Blessèd the city that hearkens to one commander’s proclaiming._’
‘True,’ said Solon, ‘but, as a matter of fact, the Athenians, though
with a popular government, do listen to one proclaimer [Sidenote: D] and
ruler in the shape of the law. You have a wonderful gift at
understanding ravens and jackdaws, but your hearing of the [Sidenote: *]
voice of modesty is indistinct. While you think that a state is best off
when it listens, as the God says, to “one”, you believe that the best
convivial party is that in which everybody talks on every subject.’
‘Yes,’ said Aesop, ‘for you have not yet legislated to the effect that
“_a slave shall not get tipsy_” is to stand on the same footing with
those Athenian ordinances of yours which say “_a slave shall not indulge
in love or in dry-rubbing with oil_”.’[29] At this Solon broke into a
laugh, and Cleodorus the physician remarked: ‘But, in one respect,
talking when the wine is taking effect does stand on the same footing
with dry-rubbing—it is very pleasant.’ ‘Consequently,’ [Sidenote: E]
broke in Chilon, ‘it is the more to be avoided.’ ‘Yes,’ said Aesop
again,[30] ‘Thales did appear to recommend getting old as quickly as
possible.’ Periander laughed, and said: ‘Aesop, we have been properly
punished for dropping into other questions before bringing forward the
whole of those from Amasis, as we proposed. Pray look at the rest of the
letter, Niloxenus, and take advantage of the gentlemen being all here
together.’ ‘As for that,’ replied Niloxenus, ‘whereas the command sent
by the Ethiopian can only be called a “doleful [Sidenote: F]
dispatch”—as Archilochus would say—your friend Amasis has shown a fine
and more civilized taste in setting such problems. He bade him name the
oldest thing, the most beautiful, the greatest, the wisest, the most
universal, and—not stopping there—the most beneficent, the most harmful,
the most powerful, and the easiest.’ ‘Well, and did his answers give the
solution in each case?’ ‘His replies were these,’ said Niloxenus. ‘It is
[Sidenote: 153] for you to listen and judge; for the king is very
anxious neither to be guilty of pettifogging with the answers, nor to
let any slip on the part of the answerer escape without refutation. I
will read you the replies as given. _What is the oldest thing?_—_Time._
_What the greatest?_—_The universe._ _What the wisest?_—_Truth._ _What
the most beautiful?_—_Light._ _What the most universal?_—_Death._ _What
the most beneficent?_—_God._ _What the most harmful?_—_Evil genius._
_What the strongest?_—_Fortune._ _What the easiest?_—_That which is
pleasant._’
Well, Nicarchus, after the reading of this second passage there was a
silence. Then Thales asked Niloxenus if Amasis was satisfied with the
solutions. Upon his replying that he had [Sidenote: B] accepted some,
but was dissatisfied with others, Thales said, ‘And yet not one of them
is unassailable. There are great blunders and signs of ignorance all
through. For instance, how can Time be the oldest thing, seeing that,
while some of it is past and some present, some of it is future? Time
which is to come after us must be regarded as younger than the events
and persons of the present. Again, to call Truth wisdom appears to me as
bad as making out that the light is the eye. Next, if he considered
Light beautiful—as indeed it is—how came he to ignore the sun? As for
the rest, the answer concerning gods and evil spirits is bold and
dangerous, while in that [Sidenote: C] concerning Fortune the logic is
exceedingly bad. Fortune would not be so readily upset if it was the
strongest and most powerful thing in existence. Nor yet again is Death
the most universal thing, for in the case of the living it has no
existence. However, to avoid seeming merely to criticize the work of
others, let us express views of our own and compare them with his. I am
ready to be the first to be questioned point by point, if Niloxenus so
desires.’
In relating the questions and answers I will put them exactly as they
occurred. _What is the oldest thing?_ ‘_God_,’ said Thales: ‘for He is
without birth.’ _What is greatest?_ ‘_Space_: for [Sidenote: D] while
the universe contains everything else, it is space that contains the
universe.’ _What is most beautiful?_ ‘_The cosmos_: for everything duly
ordered is part of it.’ _What is wisest?_ ‘_Time_: for it is Time that
has either discovered things or will discover them.’ _What most
universal?_ ‘_Expectation_: for those who have nothing else have that.’
_What most beneficent?_ ‘_Virtue_: for it makes other things beneficent
by using them rightly.’ _What most harmful?_ ‘_Vice_: for most things
suffer from its presence.’ _What most powerful?_ ‘_Necessity_: for it is
invincible.’ _What most easy?_ ‘_The natural_; not pleasure, for people
often fail to cope with that.’
The whole company being satisfied with Thales and his [Sidenote: E]
acumen, Cleodorus observed: ‘It is questions and answers of this kind,
Niloxenus, that are proper for kings. On the other hand, the barbarian
who gave Amasis the sea to drink, required the short answer made by
Pittacus to Alyattes, when he wrote the Lesbians a letter containing an
arrogant command. The reply was merely a recommendation to eat onions
and hot bread.’[31]
Here Periander joined in; ‘I may remind you, Cleodorus, that even in old
times the Greeks had a habit of posing each [Sidenote: F] other with
similar difficulties. We are told, for instance, that there was a
gathering at Chalcis of the most distinguished poets among the wise men
of the day, in order to celebrate the funeral of Amphidamas—a great
warrior who had given much trouble to the Eretrians and had fallen in
the fighting for Lelantum. The verses composed by the poets were so well
matched, that it became a difficult and troublesome matter to judge
between them, and the reputation of the competitors—Homer and
Hesiod—caused the jury much diffidence and [Sidenote: 154]
embarrassment. Thereupon they had recourse to questions of the present
kind, and Homer—as Lesches tells us—propounded the following:
_Tell me, Muse, of such things as neither before have befallen,
Nor shall hereafter befall?_
To which Hesiod instantly replied:
_When in eager pursuit of the prize the chariots, one ’gainst the
other
Are dashed by the ringing-hoof’d steeds round the tomb where Zeus
lieth buried._
This answer, it is said, won particular admiration and secured him the
tripod.’
‘But pray what is the difference,’ asked Cleodorus, ‘between such
questions and Eumetis’s riddles? It is no doubt right [Sidenote: B]
enough for her to set women such puzzles by way of amusement,
constructing them as other women plait their bits of girdles or
hair-nets. But for sensible men to treat them with any seriousness is
absurd.’ Eumetis would apparently have liked to make some retort, but
she was too shy, and checked herself, her face mantled with blushes.
‘Nay,’ said Aesop, by way of championing her, ‘it is surely more absurd
to be unable to solve them. Take for example the one she set us just
before dinner:
_I saw a man glue bronze on a man; with fire did he glue it._
Can you tell me what that means?’ ‘No, and I don’t want [Sidenote: C] to
be told either,’ answered Cleodorus. ‘And yet,’ said Aesop, ‘no one is
so familiar with the thing, or does it so well, as you. If you deny it,
cupping-glasses[32] will bear me out.’ At this Cleodorus laughed, for he
made more use of cupping-glasses than any medical man of the day, and
the estimation in which that remedy is held is especially due to him. ‘I
beg to ask, Periander,’ said Mnesiphilus the Athenian, a close friend
and admirer of Solon, ‘that the conversation, like the wine, shall not
be limited to wealth or rank, but shall be put on a democratic footing
and made to concern all alike. In what has just been [Sidenote: D] said
about wealth and kingship there is nothing for us commoners. We think,
therefore, that you should take a government with equal rights, and each
of you again contribute some opinion, beginning once more with Solon.’
It was decided that this should be done. First came Solon. ‘Well,
Mnesiphilus, you, like every other Athenian, have heard what opinion I
hold about such a government. But if you desire to hear it again now, it
seems to me that a community is in the soundest condition, and its
popular government most securely maintained, _when the wrongdoer is
accused and punished quite as much by those who [Sidenote: E] have not
been wronged as by the man that has_.’ The second to speak was Bias, who
said that the best popular government is ‘_that in which every one fears
the law as he would a despot_.’ Next came Thales with ‘_that in which
there are no citizens either too rich or too poor_.’ Anacharsis followed
with ‘_that in which, while everything else is treated as equal,
superiority is determined by virtue and inferiority by vice_.’ In the
fifth place Cleobulus affirmed that a democracy is most soundly
conducted ‘_when its public men are more afraid of blame than of the
law_‘. Sixth, Pittacus: ‘_Where the bad are not permitted to hold office
and the [Sidenote: F] good are not permitted to decline it._’ Last of
all Chilon expressed the view that the best free government is ‘_that
which pays least attention to the orators and most to the laws_.’
Periander once more summed up at the end by saying that they all
appeared to him to be praising ‘that democratic government which most
resembled an aristocratic.’
Upon the conclusion of this second discussion I begged that they would
also tell us the proper way to deal with a household; ‘for while there
are few who are at the helm of a kingdom or a commonwealth, we all play
our parts in the hearth and home.’ [Sidenote: 155] At this Aesop said
with a laugh: ‘No! not if in “all” you include Anacharsis. He has no
home, but actually prides himself on being homeless, and on using a
wagon—in the same way as they tell us the sun roams about in a chariot,
occupying first one and then another region of the sky.’ ‘Yes,’ retorted
Anacharsis, ‘and that is why, unlike any other—or more than any
other—god, he is free and independent, ruling all and ruled by none, but
always playing the king and holding the reins. You, however, fail to
realize the surpassing beauty and marvellous [Sidenote: B] size of his
car, otherwise you would not have tried to raise a laugh by jocosely
comparing it with ours. It seems to me, Aesop, that to you a home means
those coverings of yours made by clay and wood and tiles. You might as
well regard a “snail” as meaning the shell instead of the animal. It is
therefore natural that you should find cause to laugh at Solon, when he
beheld all the costly splendour in the house of Croesus and yet refused
to declare off-hand that its possessor was happy and blessed in his
home; “for”—he argued—“I am more desirous of looking at the fine things
in the man than at those in his house.” It appears, moreover, that you
have forgotten your own fox. That animal, when she and the leopard were
engaged in a dispute as to which was the more “cunningly marked”, begged
the judge to examine her on the inside, inasmuch as she would be found
to possess more “marks of cunning” from that point of view. But you go
inspecting the productions of carpenters [Sidenote: C] and stone-masons,
and regarding those as the “home”, instead of the inward and domestic
constituents in the case—the children, wife, friends, and servants. If
these have good sense and good morals, a man who shares his best means
with them possesses a good and happy home, even if it be but an ant-hill
or a bird’s-nest.’ ‘That,’ he continued, ‘is my answer to Aesop and my
contribution to Diocles. But it is only fair that each of the others
should express his own views.’
Thereupon Solon said that in his opinion the best household was ‘_that
in which the resources are acquired without dishonesty, [Sidenote: D]
watched over without distrust, and expended without repentance_‘.
According to Bias it was ‘_that inside which the master behaves for his
own sake as well as he does outside for the law’s sake_‘. According to
Thales, ‘_that in which the master can find most time to himself_‘.
According to Cleobulus, ‘_where the master has more who love than fear
him_.’ Pittacus would have it that the best house is ‘_that which wants
no luxury and lacks no necessity_‘. Chilon’s view was that the house
should be ‘_as like as possible to a state ruled by a king_‘, and he
went on to observe that when some one urged Lycurgus to establish a
republic at Sparta, he [Sidenote: E] answered: ‘You begin by creating a
republic at home.’
This topic also having been dealt with, Eumetis left the room in company
with Melissa. Periander then pledged Chilon in a capacious goblet, and
Chilon in turn pledged Bias. At this Ardalus got up, and, addressing
Aesop, said: ‘Perhaps you will be good enough to pass yonder cup on to
us, seeing that these gentlemen are passing theirs to each other, as if
it were a Bathycles’s goblet,[33] and are giving no one else a turn.’
‘Nay,’ [Sidenote: F] replied Aesop, ‘there is to be nothing democratic
about this cup either, for Solon has been keeping it all to himself for
quite an age.’ Thereupon Pittacus, addressing Mnesiphilus, asked why
Solon, by not drinking, was testifying against the verses in which he
had written
_Now do I welcome the tasks of the Cyprus-born goddess and Bacchus,
And tasks of the Muses that bring cheer to the heart of mankind._
‘Because,’ said Anacharsis, before Mnesiphilus could speak, ‘he is
frightened at that cruel law of your own, Pittacus, where the words run,
_If any one commit any offence when drunk, the penalty to be double that
paid by a man who was sober._’ ‘And you,’ retorted Pittacus, ‘showed
such wanton contempt of the law that last year, when you had got
intoxicated at that [Sidenote: 156] party at Delphi, you asked for a
prize and a victor’s wreath.’ ‘And why not?’ asked Anacharsis. ‘A prize
was offered to him who drank most, and, since I was the first to get
tipsy, I, of course, claimed the reward of victory. Otherwise will you
gentlemen tell me what is the end and aim of drinking a large quantity
of unmixed wine, if it is not to get intoxicated?’ Pittacus laughed,
while Aesop told the following story. ‘A wolf, having seen some
shepherds eating a sheep in a tent, came close up to them, and said:
“What a to-do you would have made if _I_ had been doing that!”’ At this
Chilon remarked, ‘Aesop has properly taken his revenge. A moment ago we
put the muzzle on him, and now he sees that others have taken the words
out of Mnesiphilus’ mouth. It was Mnesiphilus who was requested to
answer on behalf of Solon.’ ‘Well, in doing so,’ said Mnesiphilus, ‘I
speak with knowledge. In Solon’s opinion [Sidenote: B] the concern of
every art and faculty of man or God is with results rather than with
agencies, the end rather than the means. A weaver, I take it, would
consider his object to be a cloak or mantle rather than the arrangement
of his shuttle-rods or the picking-up of his straightening-stones. To a
blacksmith it is rather the welding of iron and putting an edge on an
axe than any of the processes necessary thereto, such as the kindling of
his charcoal or the preparation of lime. Still more would a
master-builder object if, instead of a ship or a house, we declared his
object to be the boring of wood or the mixing of mortar. The Muses would
utterly scout the notion that their [Sidenote: C] concern is with a harp
or flute, instead of with the cultivation of character and the soothing
of the emotions of their votaries by means of melodies properly attuned.
So—to come to the point—the object of Aphrodite is not sexual
intercourse, nor that of Dionysus wine and tipsiness, but the friendly
feeling, the longing, the companionship, and the close mutual
understanding which they produce in us by those agencies. These are what
Solon calls divine “tasks”, and he means that these are the objects
which he appreciates and cultivates in his old age. Of reciprocal
affection between men and women Aphrodite is the creator, using pleasure
as the means of melting and commingling their souls at the same time
with their bodies; while in ordinary cases, where persons are not very
intimate or particularly acquainted, Dionysus uses wine as a kind of
fire to soften and supple their dispositions, and so provides a
starting-point towards a blending in mutual friendship.
‘But when such men meet together as Periander has invited in your
persons, there is no need, I take it, of the goblet and the wine-ladle.
The Muses set before you all, in the form of conversation, a mixing-bowl
containing no intoxicant and yet abundance of pleasure, grave or gay. In
this they stir friendly feeling, blend it, and pour it forth, while for
the most part the [Sidenote: E] ladle is allowed to lie undisturbed
“above the bowl”—a thing which Hesiod forbids where the company is
better qualified for drinking than for conversation.’
‘As for pledging one another,’ he continued, ‘I gather that with the
ancients the ceremony consisted of one large goblet going the round,
each man drinking a measured “allowance” (as Homer tells us), and then
letting his neighbour take his share, as he would do with a sacrificial
portion.’
When Mnesiphilus had finished, the poet Chersias—who had ceased to be
under censure and had lately been reconciled to [Sidenote: F] Periander
through Chilon’s intercession—remarked, ‘Are we also to understand that,
when the gods were the guests of Zeus and were pledging each other, he
poured in their drink by measure, as Agamemnon did for his chieftains?’
‘And pray, Chersias,’ said Cleodorus, ‘if Zeus has his ambrosia
brought—as you poets say he does—by doves which find the greatest
difficulty in flying over the Clashing Rocks, don’t you think [Sidenote:
157] that his nectar is also scarce and hard to get, and that
consequently he is sparing of it and doles it out economically?’
‘Perhaps so,’ replied Chersias. ‘Since, however, the question of
household economy has again been mooted, perhaps some one will deal with
the remainder of the question. And that, I take it, is to discover what
amount of property will be sufficient to meet all needs.’ ‘To the wise
man,’ said Cleobulus, ‘the law has supplied the standard; but in
reference to weak characters I will repeat a story which my daughter
told her brother. The Moon, she said, asked her mother to weave a tunic
to fit her; whereat the mother answered, “How can I possibly [Sidenote:
B] weave one to fit? At one time I see you as a full moon, at another as
a crescent, and at another gibbous.” Similarly, my dear Chersias, there
is no way of determining the amount of means requisite for a weak and
foolish person. His wants vary with his appetites and experiences, his
case being that of Aesop’s dog, of whom our friend says that in winter
he huddled and curled himself up with the cold, and contemplated making
a house; but in summer it was different; he stretched himself out when
he slept, thought himself a big fellow, and decided that it was both a
laborious and an unnecessary task to build so large a house to cover
him. Don’t you observe, Chersias’—he went on—‘that even insignificant
people, though they will at one moment draw themselves into a very
modest compass, with the idea of living a close and simple Spartan life,
at another [Sidenote: C] time will fancy they are going to die of want
unless they have all the money in the world—all the king’s and all the
private people’s?’
Chersias having nothing to say, Cleodorus joined in. ‘Well, but,’ he
said, ‘I perceive that there is no equal distribution in the properties
which even you sages respectively possess.’ ‘Yes, my dear sir,’ said
Cleobulus, ‘because the law, like a weaver, allots us the amount which
properly and reasonably fits each case. In your own profession,
substituting reason for law, you feed [Sidenote: D] and diet and physic
the sick by prescribing, not the same quantity for everybody, but the
proper quantity for each case.’ Here Ardalus interposed. ‘I suppose,
then,’ he asked, ‘it is at the bidding of some law that Epimenides—the
friend of you gentlemen and the guest of Solon—abstains from other kinds
of food and passes the day without breakfast or dinner by merely putting
in his mouth a little of that “anti-hunger essence” which he makes up
for himself?’ This remark having arrested the attention of the party,
Thales mockingly observed that Epimenides was a sensible man for
refusing to be troubled—as [Sidenote: E] Pittacus was—with grinding and
cooking his own food. ‘You must know,’ he said, ‘that when I was at
Eresus, I heard my hostess singing to the mill:
_Grind, mill, grind;
For Pittacus is grinding,
As he kings it over great Mytilene._’
Then Solon expressed his surprise that Ardalus had not read the law
ordaining the diet in question, seeing that it was written in the verses
of Hesiod. ‘For it is he who first supplied Epimenides with hints for
that form of nourishment, by teaching him to make trial [Sidenote: F]
_How great and sustaining the food that in mallow and asphodel
lieth._
‘Nay,’ said Periander, ‘do you imagine Hesiod conceived of anything of
the kind? Don’t you suppose that, with his habitual praise of economy,
he is merely urging us to try the most frugal dishes as being the most
agreeable? The mallow makes good eating, and asphodel-stalk is sweet;
but I am told that anti-hunger and anti-thirst drugs—for they are drugs
rather than foods—include among their ingredients some sort of foreign
honey and cheese, and a large number of seeds which are difficult to
procure. Most certainly, therefore, Hesiod would find that the
“_rudder_” hung “_above the smoke_” and
_The works of the drudging mules and the oxen’s labour would
perish_,
[Sidenote: 158] if all that provision is to be made. I am surprised,
Solon, if your guest, on recently making his great purification of
Delos, failed to note how they present to the temple—as commemorative
samples of the earliest form of food—mallow and asphodel-stalk along
with other cheap and self-grown produce. The natural reason for which
Hesiod also recommends them to us is that they are simple and frugal.’
‘Not only so,’ remarked Anacharsis, ‘but both vegetables bear the
highest possible character for wholesomeness.’ ‘You are quite right,’
said Cleodorus. ‘That Hesiod possessed medical knowledge is manifest
from the careful and well-informed manner in which he speaks about diet,
the mixing of wine, good quality in water, [Sidenote: B] bathing, women,
and the way to seat infants. But it seems to me that there is more
reason for Aesop to declare himself a pupil of Hesiod than there is for
Epimenides. It is to the speech of the hawk to the nightingale that our
friend owes the first promptings to his admirably subtle wisdom in many
tongues. But for my part I should be glad to hear what Solon has to say.
We may assume that, in his long association with Epimenides at Athens,
he asked him what motive or subtle purpose he had in adopting such a
diet.’
‘What need was there to ask him that question?’ replied Solon. ‘It was
self-evident that the next best thing to the [Sidenote: C] supreme and
greatest good is to require the least possible food. You allow, I
suppose, that the greatest good is to require no food at all?’ ‘Not I,
by any means,’ answered Cleodorus, ‘if I am to say what I think,
especially with a table in front of us. Take away food, and you take
away the table—that is to say, the altar of the Gods of Friendship and
Hospitality. As Thales tells us that, if you do away with the earth, the
whole cosmos will fall into confusion, so the abolition of food means
the dissolution of house and home. For with it you do away with the
hearth-fire, the hearth, the wine-bowl, all entertainment and
hospitality—the most humanizing and essential elements in our mutual
relations. Or rather you do away with the whole of life, if life is “_a
passing of the time on the part [Sidenote: D] of a human being involving
a series of actions_”, most of those actions being evoked by the need,
and in the acquirement, of food. Of immense importance, my good friend,
is the question [Sidenote: *] of mere agriculture. Let agriculture
perish, and the earth that it leaves us becomes unsightly and foul, a
corrupt wilderness of barren forest and vagabond streams. The ruin of
agriculture means the ruin of all arts and crafts as well; for she takes
the lead of them, and provides them with their basis and their
[Sidenote: E] material. Do away with her, and they count for nothing.
There is an end also to our honouring the gods. Men will thank the Sun
but little, and the Moon still less, for mere light and warmth. Where
will you find altar or sacrifice to Zeus of the Rain, Demeter of the
Plough, or Poseidon the Fosterer of Plants? How can Dionysus be
Boon-Giver, if we need nothing that he gives? What sacrifice or libation
shall we make? What offering of firstfruits? All this means the
overthrow and confounding of our most important interests. Though to
cling to every pleasure in every case is to be a madman, to avoid every
pleasure in every case is to be a block. By all means let the soul have
[Sidenote: F] other pleasures of a superior kind to enjoy; the body can
find no pleasure more right and proper than that derived from taking
food. All the world recognizes the fact, for this pleasure people take
openly, sharing with each other in the table and the banquet, whereas
their amorous pleasure is screened by night and all the darkness
possible. To share that pleasure with others is considered as shameless
and brutelike as it is not to share in the case of the table.’
Here, as Cleodorus paused for a moment, I joined in: ‘And is there not
another point—that in discarding food we also [Sidenote: 159] discard
sleep? If there is no sleep, there is no dreaming either, and we lose
our most important means of divination. Moreover, life will be all
alike, and there will be practically no purpose in wearing a body round
our soul. Most of its parts, and the most important, are provided as
instruments to feeding—the tongue, teeth, stomach, and liver. None of
them is without its work, and none has other business to attend to.
Consequently any one who has no need of food has no need of a body
either. Which means that a person has no need of himself; for it is
thanks to the body that each of us is a “self”.’ ‘Such,’ I added, ‘are
our contributions on behalf of the belly. If Solon or any one else has
objections to bring, we will listen.’
‘Of course I have objections,’ replied Solon. ‘I have no [Sidenote: B]
wish to be thought a poorer judge than the Egyptians. After cutting open
a dead body, they take out the entrails and expose them to the sunlight.
They then throw those parts into the river and proceed to attend to the
rest of the body, which is now regarded as purified. Yes, therein in
truth lies the pollution of our flesh. It is its Tartarus—like that in
Hades—full of “dreadful streams”, a confused medley of wind and fire and
of dead things. For while itself lives, nothing that feeds it can be
alive. We commit the wrong of murdering animate things and of destroying
plants, which can claim to have life through the fact that they feed and
grow. I say destroying, because [Sidenote: C] anything that changes from
what nature has made it into something else, is destroyed; it must
perish utterly in order to become the other’s sustenance. To abstain
from eating flesh, as we are told Orpheus did in ancient times, is more
a quibble than an avoidance of crime in the matter of food. The only way
of avoiding it, and the only way of attaining to justice by a complete
purification, is to become self-sufficing and free of external needs. If
God has made it impossible for a thing to secure its own preservation
without injury to another, He has also endowed it with the principle of
injustice in the shape of its own nature. Would it not, therefore, be a
good thing, my dear friend, if, when cutting out injustice, we could cut
out the belly, the gullet, and the liver, which impart to us no
perception [Sidenote: D] of anything noble and no appetite for it, but
partly resemble the utensils for cooking butcher’s meat—such as choppers
and stew-pans—and partly the apparatus for a bakery—ovens, water-tanks,
and kneading-troughs? Indeed, in the case of most [Sidenote: *] people
you can see their soul shut up in their body as if in a baker’s mill,
and perpetually going round and round at the business of getting food.
Take ourselves, for example. Just now we were neither looking at nor
listening to one another, but we all had our heads down, slaving at the
business of feeding. But now that the tables have been removed, we
have—as you perceive—become free, and with garlands on our heads we are
[Sidenote: E] engaged in sociable and leisurely conversation together,
because we have arrived at the state of not requiring food. Well then,
if the state in which we now find ourselves remains as a permanence all
our lives, shall we not be at perpetual leisure to enjoy each other’s
society? We shall have no fear of poverty. Nor shall we know the meaning
of wealth, since the quest for luxuries is but the immediate consequence
and concomitant of the use of necessaries.
‘But, thinks Cleodorus, there must be food so that there may be tables
and wine-bowls and sacrifices to Demeter and the Maid. Then let some one
else demand that there shall be war and fighting, so that we may have
fortifications and arsenals and [Sidenote: F] armouries, and also
sacrifices in honour of slaying our hundreds, such as they say are the
law in Messenia. Another, I suppose, is aggrieved at the prospect of the
healthfulness which would follow. A terrible thing if, because there is
no illness, there is no more use in soft bedclothes, and no more
sacrificing to Asclepius or the Averting Powers, and if medical skill,
with all its drugs and implements, must be put away into inglorious
hiding! What is the difference between these arguments and the other?
Food is, in fact, “taken” as a “remedy” for hunger, and all who use food
are said to be “taking care” of [Sidenote: 160] themselves and using
some “diet”; and this implies that the act is not a pleasant and
agreeable performance, but one which Nature renders compulsory.
Certainly one can enumerate more pains than pleasures arising from
feeding. Further still; whereas the pleasure affects but a small region
of the body, and lasts but a short time, it needs no telling how full we
become of ugly and painful experiences through the worry and difficulty
of digesting.
Homer had these in view, I suppose, when he used as a proof that the
gods do not die the fact that they do not feed:
_For they eat not the bread of corn, nor drink they the wine that is
ruddy,
And therefore blood have they none in their veins, and are called
the Immortals._
Food, he gives us to understand, is the necessary means not only
[Sidenote: B] for living, but for dying. From it come our diseases,
feeding themselves with the feeding of our bodies, which suffer quite as
much from repletion as from want. Very often it is an easier business to
get together our supply of victuals than to make away with them and get
quit of them again when once they are in the body. Just suppose it were
a question with the Danaids what sort of life they would live and what
they would do if they could get rid of their menial labour at filling
the cask. When we raise the question, “Supposing it possible to cease
from heaping into this unconscionable flesh all these things from
[Sidenote: C] land and sea, what are we going to do?” it is because in
our ignorance of noble things we are content with the life which our
necessities impose. Well, as those who have been in slavery, when they
are emancipated, do for themselves and on their own account what they
used formerly to do in the service of their masters, so is it with the
soul. As things are, it feeds the body with continual toil and trouble;
but let it get quit of its menial service, and it will presumably feed
itself in the enjoyment of freedom, and will live with an eye to itself
and the truth, with nothing to distract and deter it.’
This, Nicarchus, concluded the discussion as to food.
While Solon was still speaking, Gorgos, Periander’s brother, entered the
room. It happened that, in consequence of certain [Sidenote: D] oracles,
he had been sent on a mission to Taenarum in charge of a sacrificial
embassy. After we had welcomed him, and Periander had taken him to his
arms and kissed him, he sat down by his brother on the couch and gave
him a private account of some occurrence which appeared to cause
Periander various emotions as he listened to it. At one part he was
manifestly vexed, at another indignant; often he showed incredulity, and
this was followed by amazement. Finally he laughed and said to us, ‘I
should like to tell the company the news; but I have [Sidenote: E]
scruples about it, because I heard Thales once say that when a thing is
probable we should speak of it, but when it is impossible we should say
nothing about it.’ At this Bias interposed, ‘Yes, but here is another
wise saying of Thales, that “while we should disbelieve our enemies even
in matters believable, we should believe our friends even when the thing
is unbelievable”. By enemies I presume he meant the wicked and foolish,
and by friends the good and wise.’ ‘Very well then,’ said Periander,
‘you must let every one hear it; or rather you must pit the story you
have brought us against those new-fangled dithyrambs and overcrow them.’
Gorgos then told us his story.
His sacrificial ceremony had occupied three days, and on the [Sidenote:
F] last there was an all-night festival with dancing and frolic by the
sea-shore. The sea was covered with the light of the moon, and, though
there was no wind, but a dead calm, there appeared in the distance a
ripple coming in past the promontory, accompanied by foam and a very
appreciable noise of surge. At this they all ran in astonishment down to
the place where it was [Sidenote: *] coming to land. This happened so
quickly that, before they could guess what was approaching, dolphins
were seen, some of them massed together and moving in a ring, some
leading the way to the levellest part of the shore, and others as it
were [Sidenote: 161] bringing up the rear. In the middle there stood out
above the sea, dim and indistinct, the shape of a body being carried. So
they came on, until, gathering together and coming to land at the same
moment, they put ashore a human being, alive and moving; after which
they themselves retired in the direction of the promontory, leaping out
of the water more than ever and for some reason, apparently, frolicking
and bounding for joy. ‘Many of our number,’ continued Gorgos, ‘fled from
the sea in a panic, but a few found the courage to approach along with
myself, and discovered that it was Arion, the harp-player. Not only did
he utter his own name, but his dress spoke for itself, [Sidenote: B] for
he was actually wearing the festal robes which he adopted when
performing at the competitions. Well, we brought him to a tent, and,
inasmuch as there was nothing the matter with him except that he was
evidently tired and overstrained from the rushing motion, we heard him
tell a story which no one would believe except us who actually saw the
end of it.
‘What Arion told us was this. He had for some time made up his mind to
leave Italy, and had been made the more eager to do so by a letter from
Periander. Accordingly, when a Corinthian merchant-vessel appeared on
the scene, he at once went on board and put to sea. They had a moderate
wind for three days, when he perceived that the sailors were forming a
plot to make away with him, and was afterwards secretly informed
[Sidenote: C] by the pilot that they had resolved to do the deed that
night. At this, being helpless and at a loss what to do, he acted upon a
kind of heaven-sent impulse. He decided that he would adorn his person
and—while still alive—put on his own shroud in the shape of his festal
attire. Then, in meeting his death, he would sing a _finale_ to life,
and in that respect show no less spirit than the swan does. Accordingly,
having dressed himself and given notice that he felt moved to perform
the Pythian hymn on behalf of the safety of himself and the ship and
crew, [Sidenote: D] he took his stand on the poop by the bulwarks. After
some prelude invoking the gods of the sea, he began to sing the piece.
Just before he was half-way through, the sun began to set into the sea
and the Peloponnese to come into sight. Thereupon the sailors no longer
waited for night, but advanced to their murderous deed. Arion, seeing
their knives unsheathed and the pilot beginning to cover his face from
the sight, ran back and hurled himself as far as possible from the
vessel. Before, however, his body had all sunk into the water, a number
of dolphins ran under him and bore him up. At first he was filled with
bewilderment, distress, and alarm; but when he found himself riding
easily, and saw many of them gathering about [Sidenote: E] him in a
friendly way, and taking turns at the work as if it were a necessary
duty belonging to them all; and when the long distance at which the
vessel was left behind showed how great was their speed; he said that
what he felt was not so much fear of death or desire of life, as
eagerness to be rescued, so that he might become recognized as the
object of divine favour, and might have his reputation as a religious
man assured.
At the same time, observing that the sky was full of stars, and that the
moon was rising bright and clear, while the sea [Sidenote: F] on all
sides was waveless and a kind of path was being cut for his course, he
was led to reflect that Justice has more eyes than one, and that God
looks abroad with all those orbs upon whatever deeds are done by land or
sea. By these reflections (he told us) he found relief from the
weariness which was by this time beginning to weigh upon his body, and
when at last, dexterously avoiding and rounding the lofty and
precipitous headland which ran out to meet them, they swam close in by
the shore and [Sidenote: 162] brought him safely to land like a ship
into harbour, he realized beyond doubt that he had been steered on his
voyage by the hand of God. ‘When Arion had told us this story,’
continued Gorgos, ‘I asked him where he thought the ship would put in.
He answered that it would certainly be at Corinth, but that it was left
far behind; for, after throwing himself off it in the evening, he
believed he had been carried over sixty miles and a calm had fallen
immediately.’ Gorgos added, however, that after ascertaining the names
of the captain and pilot, and also the ship’s flag, he had sent out
vessels and soldiers to the various landing-places to keep a watch.
Moreover, he had Arion with [Sidenote: B] him in hiding, so that they
might not hear of his rescue beforehand and make their escape. ‘The
event,’ he said, ‘has proved truly miraculous; for no sooner did we
arrive here than we learned that the ship had been seized by the
soldiers, and the traders and sailors arrested.’
Thereupon Periander ordered Gorgos to get up and go out at once and
place the men in custody where no one would approach them or tell them
of Arion’s escape.
‘Well now,’ said Aesop, ‘you gentlemen make fun of my jackdaws and crows
for talking. Do dolphins behave in this outrageous way?’ To which I
replied, ‘A different matter, [Sidenote: C] Aesop! A story to the same
effect as this has been believed and written among us for more than a
thousand years, ever since the times of Ino and Athamas.’
Solon here interposed: ‘Well, Diodes; let us grant that these events are
in the sphere of the divine and beyond us. But what happened to Hesiod
is on our own human plane. You have probably heard the story.’ ‘For my
part, no,’ I answered. ‘Well, it is worth hearing. Hesiod and a
Milesian—I think it was—shared the same room as guests in a house at
[Sidenote: D] Locri. The Milesian having been found out in a secret
intrigue with the host’s daughter, Hesiod fell under suspicion of having
all along known of the offence and helped in concealing it. Though in no
way guilty, he fell a victim to cruel circumstance at a critical time of
anger and misrepresentation. For the girl’s brothers lay in wait for him
at the Nemeum in Locris and killed him, together with his servant, whose
name was Troilus. Their bodies having been pushed into the sea, that of
Troilus, which was carried out into the current of the river Daphnus,
was caught by a low wave-washed rock projecting a little above the
water. The rock still bears his name. Meanwhile the [Sidenote: E] dead
body of Hesiod was picked up immediately off the shore by a shoal of
dolphins, who proceeded to carry it to Rhium, close to Molycrea. It
happened that the Locrians were engaged in the Rhian festival and fair,
which is still a notable celebration in those parts. At sight of the
body being borne towards them they were naturally amazed, and when, on
running down to the shore, they recognized the corpse—for it was still
fresh—they could think of nothing but tracking out the murder, so high
was the renown of Hesiod. Their object was soon achieved. They
discovered the murderers, threw them into the sea, and razed their house
to the ground. Meanwhile Hesiod was buried near the Nemeum. Most
strangers, however, are ignorant of his tomb, which has been concealed
because the people of [Sidenote: F] Orchomenus are in quest of it, from
a desire, it is said, to recover the remains and bury them in their own
country in accordance with an oracle.
‘If, then, dolphins show such affectionate interest in the dead, it is
still more natural for them to render help to the living, especially if
they have been charmed by the flute or the singing of tunes. For, of
course, we are all aware that music is a thing which these animals enjoy
and court, swimming and gambolling beside a ship as its oarsmen row to
the tune of song and flute in calm weather. They take a delight also in
children when [Sidenote: 163] swimming, and they have diving matches
with them. Hence there is an unwritten law that they shall not be
harmed. No one hunts them or injures them; the only exception being
that, when they get into the nets and do mischief to the catch, they are
punished with a beating, like naughty children. I further remember
hearing some Lesbians tell of a girl having been rescued from the sea by
a dolphin. I am not, however, sure as to the exact details, and, since
Pittacus knows them, he is the right person to tell us about them.’
Pittacus thereupon assured us that the story had good warrant and was
mentioned by many authorities. ‘An oracle was given to the colonizers of
Lesbos that, when on the voyage they came across the reef known as
Mesogeum, they should then and [Sidenote: B] there throw a bull into the
water as an offering to Poseidon, and a live virgin to Amphitrite and
the Nereids. There were seven chiefs, all of whom were kings,
Echelaus—whom the Pythian oracle had assigned as leader of the
colony—making an eighth. Echelaus was still a bachelor. When as many of
the seven as had unmarried girls cast lots, the lot fell upon the
daughter of Smintheus. Upon getting near the place, they decked her in
fine clothes and gold ornaments, and, after offering prayer, were on the
point of lowering her into the water. Now it happened that one of the
party on the ship—assuredly a gallant young man—was in love with her.
His name has been preserved to us as Enalus. This youth, in the passion
of the [Sidenote: C] moment, seized by an eager but utterly hopeless
desire to succour the girl, darted forward at the right instant and,
throwing his arms about her, cast himself along with her into the sea.
Now from the first there was spread among the contingent a rumour,
lacking certainty, but nevertheless widely believed, that they were safe
and had been rescued; and at a later date, it is said, Enalus appeared
in Lesbos and told how they had been carried by dolphins through the sea
and cast ashore without harm upon the mainland. He had other still more
miraculous experiences to tell, which held the crowd spellbound with
amazement, but for all of which he gave actual evidence. For when an
enormous wave was rushing sheer round [Sidenote: D] the island and
people were terrified, he alone ventured to face it. [Sidenote: *] On
its retiring, a number of polypi followed him to the temple of Poseidon.
From the largest of these he took a stone which it was carrying, and
offered it as a dedication. That stone we call Enalus.
‘Speaking generally, the man who knows the difference between impossible
and unfamiliar, between unreasonable and unexpected, will be most a man
after your own heart, Chilon; he will neither believe nor disbelieve
without discrimination, but will carefully observe your own rule of
“_nothing in excess_”.’
Anacharsis next made the remark that, as Thales believed [Sidenote: E]
all the greatest and most important components of the universe to
contain soul, there was no reason to wonder if the most splendid actions
were brought to pass by the will of God. ‘For the body is the instrument
of the soul, and soul is the instrument of God. And as, though many of
the motions of the body proceed from itself, the most and the finest are
produced by the soul, so again is it with the soul. While it performs
many actions on its own motion, in other cases it is but lending itself,
as the aptest of all instruments, to the use of God, for Him to direct
and apply it as He chooses. It would,’ said he, ‘be [Sidenote: F] a very
strange thing if, while fire, wind, water, clouds, and rain are God’s
instruments, by which He often preserves and nourishes and often kills
and destroys, He has never on any occasion at all used animals as His
agents. On the contrary, it is natural that, in their dependence upon
the divine power, they should lend themselves more responsively to
motions from God than does the bow to the Scythian or the lyre and flute
to the Greek.’
After this the poet Chersias mentioned, among other cases of persons
rescued in hopeless situations, that of Cypselus, Periander’s father.
When he was a newborn babe, the men who had been sent to make away with
him were turned from their purpose because he smiled at them. When they
changed their minds and came back to look for him, he was not to be
found, his mother having hidden him in a chest. ‘It is for this reason
[Sidenote: 164] that Cypselus built the house at Delphi, believing that
the god had then stopped him from crying so that he might elude the
search.’
At this Pittacus, addressing Periander, observed, ‘I have to thank
Chersias, Periander, for mentioning that house; for I have often wanted
to ask you the meaning of those frogs which are carved in such large
size at the base of the palm-tree. What reference have they to the god
or to the dedication?’ Periander having bidden him ask Chersias, who
knew the reason and was present when Cypselus consecrated the house,
Chersias said with [Sidenote: B] a smile, ‘No: I will give no
information until these gentlemen have told me the meaning of their
_Nothing in excess_ and _Know thyself_, and of those words which have
kept many people from marrying, made many distrustful, and reduced some
to positive dumbness—the words _Give a pledge, and Mischief is nigh._’
‘Why do you need us to tell you that,’ said Pittacus, ‘seeing that you
have so long admired the stories in which Aesop practically deals with
each of those maxims?’ ‘Nay,’ replied Aesop, ‘he does need it, when he
is joking at me. But when he is in earnest, he proves that Homer was
their inventor. He says that Hector “knew himself”, inasmuch as, though
[Sidenote: C] he attacked the rest,
_Ajax, Telamon’s son, he would not fight, but he shunned him_,
and that Odysseus recommends “nothing in excess” since he urges Diomede
_Nay, prithee, Tydeus’ son; nor praise me much nor reprove me_.
As for a pledge, not only is it the general opinion that he is
reprobating it as a misguided and futile thing when he says
_Sorry, I trow, to take are the pledges that sorry folk offer_,
but our friend Chersias here tells us how “Mischief” was hurled from
heaven by Zeus because she was present when he was tripped [Sidenote: D]
up through pledging his word in connexion with the birth of Heracles.’
Here Solon interposed. ‘Well, Homer was a very wise man, and we should
do well to take his advice:
_Already the night is here; night bids, and ’tis good to obey her._
Let us therefore pour an offering to the Muses and to Poseidon and
Amphitrite, and then—with your permission—break up the party.’
This, Nicarchus, terminated the party on that occasion.
Footnote 24:
The home of Bias.
Footnote 25:
According to another account he waited till the shadow was equal in
length to the stick. The pyramid was then also equal in height to the
length of its shadow.
Footnote 26:
The divinities of spring-water.
Footnote 27:
The title _Lusios_ or _Luaios_ was popularly interpreted Deliverer
(from care or difficulty).
Footnote 28:
See note on _Amasis_.
Footnote 29:
i.e. anointing himself, not in connexion with bathing, but with
exercise in the wrestling-schools.
Footnote 30:
The precise remark is uncertain, the text here being corrupt.
Footnote 31:
Equivalent to a command to ‘go weep’.
Footnote 32:
In antiquity these vessels were of bronze.
Footnote 33:
Which was bequeathed ‘to the wisest’. It was given to Thales, who
passed it on to another, and the process was repeated till it came
back to Thales, whereupon he dedicated it to Apollo.