CRATO, THEON, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. Crato a relative of ours, and Theon my acquaintance, at a certain

banquet, where the glasses had gone round freely, and a little stir

arose but was suddenly appeased, began to discourse of the office of

the steward of a feast; declaring that it was my duty to wear the

chaplet, assert the decaying privilege, and restore that office which

should take care for the decency and good order of the banquet. This

proposal pleased every one, and they were all an end begging me to do

it. Well then, said I, since you will have it so, I make myself steward

and director of you all, and command the rest of you to drink every

one what he will, but Crato and Theon, the first proposers and authors

of this decree, I enjoin to declare in short what qualifications fit a

man for this office, what he should principally aim at, and how behave

himself towards those under his command. This is the subject, and let

them agree amongst themselves which head each shall manage.

2. They made some slight excuse at first; but the whole company urging

them to obey, Crato began thus. A captain of a watch (as Plato says)

ought to be most watchful and diligent himself, and the director of

merry companions ought to be the best. And such a one he is, that will

not be easily overtaken or apt to refuse a glass; but as Cyrus in his

epistle to the Spartans says, that in many other things he was more

fit than his brother to be a king, and chiefly because he could bear

abundance of wine. For one that is drunk must have an ill carriage and

be apt to affront; and he that is perfectly sober, must be unpleasant,

and fitter to be a governor of a school than of a feast. Pericles,

as often as he was chosen general, when he first put on his cloak,

used to say to himself, as it were to refresh his memory, Take heed,

Pericles, thou dost govern free-men, thou dost govern Greeks, thou dost

govern Athenians. So let our director say privately to himself, Thou

art a governor over friends, that he may remember to neither suffer

them to be debauched nor stint their mirth. Besides, he ought to have

some skill in the serious studies of the guests, and not be altogether

ignorant of mirth and humor; yet I would have him (as pleasant wine

ought to be) a little severe and rough, for the liquor will soften and

smooth him, and make his temper pleasant and agreeable. For as Xenophon

says, that Clearchus’s rustic and morose humor in a battle, by reason

of his bravery and heat, seemed pleasant and surprising; thus one that

is not of a very sour nature, but grave and severe, being softened by

a chirping cup, becomes more pleasant and complaisant. But chiefly

he should be acquainted with every one of the guests’ humors, what

alteration the liquor makes in him, what passion he is most subject

to, and what quantity he can bear; for it is not to be supposed the

water bears various proportions to different sorts of wine (which

kings’ cup-bearers understanding sometimes pour in more, sometimes

less) and that man hath no such relation to them. This our director

ought to know, and knowing, punctually observe; so that like a good

musician, screwing up one and letting down another, he may make between

these different natures a pleasing harmony and agreement; so that he

shall not proportion his wine by measure, but give every one what was

proper and agreeable, according to the present circumstances of time

and strength of body. But if this is too difficult a task, yet it is

necessary that a steward should know the common accidents of age and

nature, such as these,—that an old man will be sooner overtaken than a

youth, one that leaps about or talks sooner than he that is silent or

sits still, the thoughtful and melancholy sooner than the cheerful and

the brisk. And he that understands these things is much more able to

preserve quietness and order, than one that is perfectly ignorant and

unskilful. Besides, I think none will doubt but that the steward ought

to be a friend, and have no pique at any of the guests; for otherwise

in his injunctions he will be intolerable, in his distributions

unequal, in his jests apt to scoff and give offence. Such a figure,

Theon, as out of wax, hath my discourse framed for the steward of a

feast; and now I deliver him to you.

3. And Theon replied: He is welcome,—a very well-shaped gentleman,

and fitted for the office; but whether I shall not spoil him in my

particular application, I cannot tell. In my opinion he seems such a

one as will keep an entertainment to its primitive institution, and

not suffer it to be changed, sometimes into a mooting hall, sometimes

a school of rhetoric, now and then a dicing-room, a play house, or a

stage. For do not you observe some making fine orations and putting

cases at a supper, others declaiming or reading some of their own

compositions, and others proposing prizes to dancers and mimics?

Alcibiades and Theodorus turned Polition’s banquet into a place of

initiation, representing there the sacred procession and mysteries

of Ceres; now such things as these, in my opinion, ought not to be

suffered by a steward, but he must permit such discourse only, such

shows, such merriment, as promote the particular end and design of

such entertainments; and that is, by pleasant conversation either to

beget or maintain friendship and good-will among the guests; for an

entertainment is only a pleasant recreation at the table with a glass

of wine, aiming to contract friendship through mutual good-will.

But now because things pure and unmixed are usually surfeiting and

odious, and the very mixture itself, unless the simples be well

proportioned and opportunely put together, spoils the sweetness and

goodness of the composition; it is evident that there ought to be a

director who shall take care that the mirth and jollity of the guests

be exactly and opportunely tempered. It is a common saying, that a

voyage near the land and a walk near the sea are the best recreation.

Thus our steward should place seriousness and gravity next jollity and

humor; that, when they are merry, they should be on the very borders of

gravity itself, and when grave and serious, they might be refreshed as

sea-sick persons, having an easy and short prospect to the mirth and

jollity on the shore. For mirth may be exceeding useful, and make our

grave discourses smooth and pleasant,—

As near the bramble oft the lily grows,

And neighboring rue commends the blushing rose.

But against vain and empty humors, that wantonly break in upon our

feasts, like henbane mixed with the wine, he must caution the guests,

lest scoffing and affronts creep in under these, lest in their

questions or commands they grow scurrilous and abuse, as for instance

by enjoining stutterers to sing, bald-pates to comb their heads, or

a cripple to rise and dance. So the company once abused Agapestor

the Academic, one of whose legs was lame and withered, when in a

ridiculing frolic they ordained that every man should stand upon his

right leg and take off his glass, or pay a forfeit; and he, when it

was his turn to command, enjoined the company to follow his example

and drink as he did, and having a narrow earthen pitcher brought in,

he put his withered leg into it, and drank his glass, and every one in

the company, after a fruitless endeavor to imitate, paid his forfeit.

It was a good humor of Agapestor’s, and thus every little merry abuse

must be as merrily revenged. Besides, he must give such commands as

will both please and profit, putting such as are familiar and easy to

the person, and when performed will be for his credit and reputation. A

songster must be enjoined to sing, an orator to speak, a philosopher to

solve a problem, and a poet to make a song; for every one very readily

and willingly undertakes that

In which he may outdo himself.

An Assyrian king by public proclamation promised a reward to him

that would find out any new sort of luxury and pleasure. And let

the governor, the king of an entertainment, propose some pleasant

reward for any one that introduceth inoffensive merriment, profitable

delight and laughter, such as attends not scoffs and abusive jests,

but kindness, pleasant humor, and good-will; for these matters not

being well looked after and observed spoil and ruin most of our

entertainments. It is the office of a prudent man to hinder all sort

of anger and contention; in the exchange, that which springs from

covetousness; in the fencing and wrestling schools, from emulation;

in offices and state affairs, from ambition; and in a feast or

entertainment, from pleasantness and joke.

_QUESTION V._

WHY IT IS COMMONLY SAID THAT LOVE MAKES A MAN A POET.

SOSSIUS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. One day when Sossius entertained us, after singing some Sapphic

verses, this question was started, how it could be true

That love in all doth vigorous thoughts inspire,

And teaches ignorants to tune the lyre?[56]

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

With sweet-tongued Muses cured his love.

Some said that love was bold and daring, venturing at new contrivances,

and eager to accomplish, upon which account Plato calls it the

enterpriser of every thing; for it makes the reserved man talkative,

the modest complimental, the negligent and sluggish industrious and

observant; and, what is the greatest wonder, a close, hard, and

covetous fellow, if he happens to be in love, as iron in fire, becomes

pliable and soft, easy, good-natured, and very pleasant; as if there

were something in that common jest, A lover’s purse is tied with

the blade of a leek. Others said that love was like drunkenness; it

makes men warm, merry, and dilated; and, when in that condition, they

naturally slide down to songs and words in measure; and it is reported

of Aeschylus, that he wrote tragedies after he was heated with a glass

of wine; and my grandfather Lamprias in his cups seemed to outdo

himself in starting questions and smart disputing, and usually said

that, like frankincense, he exhaled more freely after he was warmed.

And as lovers are extremely pleased with the sight of their beloved,

so they praise with as much satisfaction as they behold; and as love

is talkative in every thing, so more especially in commendation; for

lovers themselves believe, and would have all others think, that the

object of their passion is pleasing and excellent; and this made

Candaules the Lydian force Gyges into his chamber to behold the beauty

of his naked wife. For they delight in the testimony of others, and

therefore in all composures upon the lovely they adorn them with

songs and verses, as we dress images with gold, that more may hear of

them, and that they may be remembered the more. For if they present a

cock, horse, or any other thing to the beloved, it is neatly trimmed

and set off with all the ornaments of art; and therefore, when they

would present a compliment, they would have it curious, pleasing, and

majestic, as verse usually appears.

2. Sossius applauding these discourses added: Perhaps we may make a

probable conjecture from Theophrastus’s discourse of Music, for I

have lately read the book. Theophrastus lays down three causes of

music,—grief, pleasure, and enthusiasm; for each of these changes

the usual tone, and makes the voice slide into a cadence; for deep

sorrow has something tunable in its groans, and therefore we perceive

our orators in their conclusions, and actors in their complaints, are

somewhat melodious, and insensibly fall into a tune. Excess of joy

provokes the more airy men to frisk and dance and keep their steps,

though unskilful in the art; and, as Pindar hath it,

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

But the graver sort are excited only to sing, raise their voice, and

tune their words into a sonnet. But enthusiasm quite changes the body

and the voice, and makes it far different from its usual constitution.

Hence the very Bacchae use measure, and the inspired give their oracles

in measure. And we shall see very few madmen but are frantic in rhyme

and rave in verse. This being certain, if you will but anatomize love

a little, and look narrowly into it, it will appear that no passion in

the world is attended with more violent grief, more excessive joy, or

greater ecstasies and fury; a lover’s soul looks like Sophocles’s city:

At once ’tis full of sacrifice,

Of joyful songs, of groans and cries.[57]

And therefore it is no wonder, that since love contains all the causes

of music,—grief, pleasure, and enthusiasm,—and is besides industrious

and talkative, it should incline us more than any other passion to

poetry and songs.

_QUESTION VI._

WHETHER ALEXANDER WAS A GREAT DRINKER.

PHILINUS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. Some said that Alexander did not drink much, but sat long in

company, discoursing with his friends; but Philinus showed this to be

an error from the king’s diary, where it was very often registered that

such a day, and sometimes two days together, the king slept after a

debauch; and this course of life made him cold in love, but passionate

and angry, which argues a hot constitution. And some report his sweat

was fragrant and perfumed his clothes; which is another argument of

heat, as we see the hottest and driest climates bear frankincense and

cassia; for a fragrant smell, as Theophrastus thinks, proceeds from a

due concoction of the humors, when the noxious moisture is conquered

by the heat. And it is thought probable, that he took a pique at

Calisthenes for avoiding his table because of the hard drinking, and

refusing the great bowl called Alexander’s in his turn, adding, I will

not drink of Alexander’s cup, to stand in need of Aesculapius’s. And

thus much of Alexander’s drinking.

2. Story tells us, that Mithridates, the famous enemy of the Romans,

among other trials of skill that he instituted, proposed rewards to

the greatest eater and to the stoutest drinker in his kingdom. He

won both the prizes himself; he out-drank every man living, and for

his excellency that way he was called Bacchus. But this reason for

his surname is a vain fancy and an idle story; for whilst he was an

infant a flash of lightning burnt his cradle, but did his body no harm,

and only left a little mark on his forehead, which his hair covered

when he was grown a boy; and after he came to be a man, another flash

broke into his bed-chamber, and burnt the arrows in a quiver that was

hanging under him; from whence his diviners presaged, that archers and

light-armed men should win him considerable victories in his wars;

and the vulgar gave him this name, because in those many dangers by

lightning he bore some resemblance to the Theban Bacchus.

3. From hence great drinkers were the subject of our discourse; and

the wrestler Heraclides (or, as the Alexandrians mince it, Heraclus),

who lived but in the last age, was accounted one. He, when he could

get none to hold out with him, invited some to take their morning’s

draught, others to dinner, to supper others, and others after, to take

a merry glass of wine; so that as the first went off, the second came,

and the third and fourth company, and he all the while without any

intermission took his glass round, and outsat all the four companies.

4. Amongst the retainers to Drusus, the Emperor Tiberius’s son, there

was a physician that drank down all the court; he, before he sat down,

would usually take five or six bitter almonds to prevent the operation

of the wine; but whenever he was forbidden that, he knocked under

presently, and a single glass dozed him. Some think these almonds have

a penetrating, abstersive quality, are able to cleanse the face, and

clear it from the common freckles; and therefore, when they are eaten,

by their bitterness vellicate and fret the pores, and by that means

draw down the ascending vapors from the head. But, in my opinion,

a bitter quality is a drier, and consumes moisture; and therefore a

bitter taste is the most unpleasant. For, as Plato says, dryness, being

an enemy to moisture, unnaturally contracts the spongy and tender

nerves of the tongue. And green ulcers are usually drained by bitter

injections. Thus Homer:

He squeezed his herbs, and bitter juice applied;

And straight the blood was stanched, the sore was dried.[58]

And he guesses well, that what is bitter to the taste is a drier.

Besides, the powders women use to dry up their sweat are bitter, and by

reason of that quality astringent. This then being certain, it is no

wonder that the bitterness of the almonds hinders the operation of the

wine, since it dries the inside of the body and keeps the veins from

being overcharged; for from their distention and disturbance they say

drunkenness proceeds. And this conjecture is much confirmed from that

which usually happens to a fox; for if he eats bitter almonds without

drinking, his moisture suddenly fails, and it is present death.

_QUESTION VII._

WHY OLD MEN LOVE PURE WINE.

PLUTARCH AND OTHERS.

It was debated why old men loved the strongest liquors. Some, fancying

that their natural heat decayed and their constitution grew cold, said,

such liquors were most necessary and agreeable to their age; but this

was mean and obvious, and besides, neither a sufficient nor a true

reason; for the like happens to all their other senses. They are not

easily moved or wrought on by any qualities, unless they are in intense

degrees and make a vigorous impression; but the reason is the laxity

of the habit of their body, for that, being grown lax and weak, loves

a smart stroke. Thus their taste is pleased most with strong sapors,

their smelling with brisk odors; for strong and unalloyed qualities

make a more pleasing impression on the sense. Their touch is almost

senseless to a sore, and a wound generally raises no sharp pain. The

like also in their hearing may be observed; for old musicians play

louder and sharper than others, that they may move their own dull

tympanum with the sound. For what steel is to the edge in a knife, that

spirit is to the sense in the body; and therefore, when the spirits

fail, the sense grows dull and stupid, and cannot be raised, unless by

something, such as strong wine, that makes a vigorous impression.

_QUESTION VIII._

WHY OLD MEN READ BEST AT A DISTANCE.

PLUTARCH, LAMPRIAS, AND OTHERS.

1. To my discourse in the former problem some objection may be drawn

from the sense of seeing in old men; for, if they hold a book at a

distance, they will read pretty well, nearer they cannot see a letter.

This Aeschylus means by these verses:

Behold from far; for near thou canst not see;

A good old scribe thou mayst much sooner be.

And Sophocles more plainly:

Old men are slow in talk, they hardly hear;

Far off they see; but all are blind when near

And therefore, if old men’s organs are more obedient to strong and

intense qualities, why, when they read, do they not take the reflection

near at hand, but, holding the book a good way off, mix and weaken it

by the intervening air, as wine by water?

2. Some answered, that they did not remove the book to lessen the

light, but to receive more rays, and let all the space between the

letters and their eyes be filled with lightsome air. Others agreed

with those that imagine the rays of vision mix with one another; for

since there is a cone stretched between each eye and the object, whose

point is in the eye and whose basis is the object, it is probable

that for some way each cone extends apart and by itself; but, when

the distance increases, they mix and make but one common light; and

therefore every object appears single and not two, though it is seen

by both eyes at once; for the conjunction of the cones makes these

two appearances but one. These things supposed, when old men hold the

letters near to their eyes, the cones not being joined, but each apart

and by itself, their sight is weak; but when they remove it farther,

the two lights being mingled and increased, they see better, as a man

with both hands can hold that for which either singly is too weak.

3. But my brother Lamprias, though unacquainted with Hieronymus’s

notions, gave us the same reason. We see, said he, some species that

come from the object to the eye, which at their first rise are thick

and great, and therefore when near disturb old men, whose eyes are

stiff and not easily penetrated; but when they are separated and

diffused into the air, the thick obstructing parts are easily removed,

and the subtile remainders coming to the eye slide gently and easily

into the pores; and so the disturbance being less, the sight is more

vigorous and clear. Thus a rose smells most fragrant at a distance; but

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

the reason is this,—many earthy disturbing particles are carried with

the smell, and spoil the fragrancy when near, but in a longer passage

those are lost, and the pure brisk odor, by reason of its subtility,

reaches and acts upon the sense.

4. But we, according to Plato’s opinion, assert that a bright spirit

darted from the eye mixes with the light about the object, and those

two are perfectly blended into one similar body; now these must be

joined in due proportion one to another; for one part ought not wholly

to prevail on the other, but both, being proportionally and amicably

joined, should agree in one third common power. Now this (whether flux,

illuminated spirit, or ray) in old men being very weak, there can be no

combination, no mixture with the light about the object; but it must

be wholly consumed, unless, by removing the letters from their eyes,

they lessen the brightness of the light, so that it comes to the sight

not too strong or unmixed, but well proportioned and blended with the

other. And this explains that common affection of creatures seeing in

the dark; for their eye-sight being weak is overcome and darkened by

the splendor of the day; because the little light that flows from their

eyes cannot be proportionably mixed with the stronger and more numerous

beams; but it is proportionable and sufficient for the feeble splendor

of the stars, and so can join with it, and co-operate to move the sense.

_QUESTION IX._

WHY FRESH WATER WASHES CLOTHES BETTER THAN SALT.

THEON, THEMISTOCLES, METRIUS FLORUS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. Theon the grammarian, when Metrius Florus gave us an entertainment,

asked Themistocles the Stoic, why Chrysippus, though he frequently

mentioned some strange phenomena in nature (as that salt fish soaked in

salt water grows fresher than before, fleeces of wool are more easily

separated by a gentle than a quick and violent force, and men that are

fasting eat slower than those who took a breakfast), yet never gave any

reason for the appearance. And Themistocles replied, that Chrysippus

only proposed such things by the by, as instances to correct us,

who easily and without any reason assent to what seems likely, and

disbelieve every thing that seems unlikely at the first sight. But why,

sir, are you concerned at this? For if you are speculative and would

enquire into the causes of things, you need not want subjects in your

own profession; but pray tell me why Homer makes Nausicaa wash in the

river rather than the sea, though it was near, and in all likelihood

hotter, clearer, and fitter to wash with than that?

2. And Theon replied: Aristotle hath already given an account for

this from the grossness of the sea water; for in this an abundance of

rough earthy particles is mixed, and those make it salt; and upon this

account swimmers or any other weights sink not so much in sea water as

in fresh, for the latter, being thin and weak, yields to every pressure

and is easily divided, because it is pure and unmixed; and by reason of

this subtility of parts it penetrates better than salt water, and so

looseneth from the clothes the sticking particles of the spot. And is

not this discourse of Aristotle very probable?

3. Probable indeed, I replied, but not true; for I have observed that

with ashes, gravel, or, if these are not to be gotten, with dust itself

they usually thicken the water, as if the earthy particles being rough

would scour better than fair water, whose thinness makes it weak and

ineffectual. Therefore he is mistaken when he says the thickness of

the sea water hinders the effect, since the sharpness of the mixed

particles very much conduces to make it cleansing; for that opens the

pores, and draws out the stain. But since all oily matter is most

difficult to be washed out and spots a cloth, and the sea is oily,

that is the reason why it doth not scour as well as fresh; and that it

is oily, even Aristotle himself asserts, for salt in his opinion hath

some oil in it, and therefore makes candles, when sprinkled on them,

burn the better and clearer than before. And sea water sprinkled on a

flame increaseth it, and is more easily kindled than any other; and

this, in my opinion, makes it hotter than the fresh. Besides, I may

urge another cause; for the end of washing is drying, and that seems

cleanest which is driest; and the moisture that scours (as hellebore,

with the humors that it purges) ought to fly away quickly together

with the stain. The sun quickly draws out the fresh water, because it

is so light; but the salt water being rough lodges in the pores, and

therefore is not easily dried.

4. And Theon replied: You say just nothing, sir; for Aristotle in the

same book affirms that those that wash in the sea, if they stand in the

fresh sun, are sooner dried than those that wash in the fresh streams.

It is true, I answered, he says so; but I hope that Homer asserting the

contrary will, by you especially, be more easily believed; for Ulysses

(as he writes) after his shipwreck meeting Nausicaa,

A frightful sight, and with the salt besmeared,

said to her maidens,

Retire a while, till I have washed my skin.

And when he had leaped into the river,

He from his head did scour the foaming sea.[59]

The poet knew very well what happens in such a case; for when those

that come wet out of the sea stand in the sun, the subtilest and

lightest parts suddenly exhale, but the salt and rough particles stick

upon the body in a crust, till they are washed away by the fresh water

of a spring.

_QUESTION X._

WHY AT ATHENS THE CHORUS OF THE TRIBE AEANTIS WAS NEVER DETERMINED

TO BE THE LAST.

PHILOPAPPUS, MARCUS, MILO, GLAUCIAS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. When we were feasting at Serapion’s, who gave an entertainment after

the chorus of the tribe Leontis under his order and direction had

won the prize (for we were citizens and free of that tribe), a very

pertinent discourse, and proper to the then occasion, happened. It had

been a very notable trial of skill, the king Philopappus being very

generous and magnificent in his rewards, and defraying the expenses

of all the tribes. He was at the same feast with us, and being a very

good-humored man and eager for instruction, he would now and then

freely discourse of ancient customs, and as freely hear.

2. Marcus the grammarian began thus: Neanthes the Cyzicenian, in his

book called the Fabulous Narrations of the City, affirms that it was

a privilege of the tribe Aeantis that their chorus should never be

determined to be the last. It is true, he brings some stories for

confirmation of what he says; but if he falsifies, the matter is open,

and let us all enquire after the reason of the thing. But, says Milo,

suppose it be a mere tale. It is no strange thing, replied Philopappus,

if in our disquisitions after truth we meet now and then with such

a thing as Democritus the philosopher did; for he one day eating a

cucumber, and finding it of a honey taste, asked his maid where she

bought it; and she telling him such a garden, he rose from table and

bade her direct him to the place. The maid surprised asked him what he

meant; and he replied, I must search after the cause of the sweetness

of the fruit, and shall find it the sooner if I see the place. The maid

with a smile replied, Sit still, pray sir, for I unwittingly put it

into a honey barrel. And he, as it were discontented, cried out, Shame

take thee, yet I will pursue my purpose, and seek after the cause,

as if this sweetness were a taste natural and proper to the fruit.

Therefore neither will we admit Neanthes’s credulity and inadvertency

in some stories as an excuse and a good reason for avoiding this

disquisition; for we shall exercise our thoughts by it, though no other

advantage rises from that enquiry.

3. Presently every one poured out something in commendation of that

tribe, mentioning every matter that made for its credit and reputation.

Marathon was brought in as belonging to it, and Harmodius with his

associates, by birth Aphidneans, were also produced as glorious

members of that tribe. The orator Glaucias proved that that tribe

made up the right wing in the battle at Marathon, from the elegies of

Aeschylus, who had himself fought valiantly in the same encounter;

and farther evinced that Callimachus the field marshal was of that

tribe, who behaved himself very bravely, and was the principal cause

next to Miltiades, with whose opinion he concurred, that that battle

was fought. To this discourse of Glaucias I added, that the edict

which impowered Miltiades to lead forth the Athenians, was made when

the tribe Aeantis was chief of the assembly, and that in the battle

of Plataea the same tribe acquired the greatest glory; and upon that

account, as the oracle directed, that tribe offered a sacrifice for

this victory to the nymphs Sphragitides, the city providing a victim

and all other necessaries belonging to it. But you may observe (I

continued) that other tribes likewise have their peculiar glories; and

you know that mine, the tribe Leontids, yields to none in any point

of reputation. Besides, consider whether it is not more probable that

this was granted out of a particular respect, and to please Ajax, from

whom this tribe received its name; for we know he could not endure to

be outdone, but was easily hurried on to the greatest enormities by his

contentious and passionate humor; and therefore to comply with him and

afford him some comfort in his disasters, they secured him from the

most vexing grievance that follows the misfortune of the conquered, by

ordering that his tribe should never be determined to be last.

BOOK II.

Of the several things that are provided for an entertainment, some, my

Sossius Senecio, are absolutely necessary; such are wine, bread, meat,

couches, and tables. Others are brought in, not for necessity, but

pleasure; such are songs, shows, mimics, and buffoons (like Philip who

came from the house of Callias); which, when present, delight indeed,

but when absent, are not eagerly desired; nor is the entertainment

looked upon as mean because such are wanting. Just so of discourses;

some the sober men admit as necessary to a banquet, and others for

their pretty speculations, as more profitable and agreeable than a

fiddle and a pipe. My former book gives you examples of both sorts. Of

the first are these, Whether we should philosophize at table?—Whether

the entertainer should appoint proper seats, or leave the guests to

agree upon their own? Of the second, Why lovers are inclined to poetry?

and the question about the tribe Aeantis. The former I call properly

συμποτικά, _table-talk_, but both together I comprehend

under the general name of Symposiacs. They are promiscuously set down,

not in any exact method, but as each singly occurred to memory. And let

not my readers wonder that I dedicate these collections to you, which I

have received from others or your own mouth; for if all learning is not

bare remembrance, yet to learn and to remember are very commonly one

and the same thing.

_QUESTION I._

WHAT, AS XENOPHON INTIMATES, ARE THE MOST AGREEABLE QUESTIONS AND

MOST PLEASANT RAILLERY AT AN ENTERTAINMENT?

SOSSIUS SENECIO AND PLUTARCH.

1. Now each book being divided into ten questions, that shall make the

first in this, which Socratical Xenophon hath as it were proposed;

for he tells us that, Gobryas banqueting with Cyrus, amongst other

things that he found admirable in the Persians, he was surprised to

hear them ask one another such questions that it was more delightful

to be interrogated than to be let alone, and pass such jests on one

another that it was more pleasant to be jested on than not. For if

some, even whilst they praise, offend, why should not their polite

and neat facetiousness be admired, whose very raillery is delightful

and pleasant to him that is the subject of it? Once when you were

entertaining us at Patrae, you said: I wish I could learn what kind

of questions those are; for to be skilled in and make right use of

apposite questions and pleasant raillery, I think is no small part of

conversation.

2. A considerable one, I replied; but pray observe whether Xenophon

himself, in his descriptions of Socrates’s and the Persian

entertainments, hath not sufficiently explained them. But if you would

have my thoughts,—first, men are pleased to be asked those questions

to which they have an answer ready; such are those in which the persons

asked have some skill and competent knowledge; for when the enquiry

is above their reach, those that can return nothing are troubled, as

if requested to give something beyond their power; and those that do

answer, producing some crude and insufficient demonstration, must

needs be very much concerned, and apt to blunder on the wrong. Now, if

the answer not only is easy but hath something not common, it is more

pleasing to them that make it; and this happens, when their knowledge

is greater than that of the vulgar, as suppose they are well skilled

in points of astrology or logic. For not only in action and serious

matters, but also in discourse, every one hath a natural disposition to

be pleased (as Euripides hath it)

To seem far to outdo himself.[60]

And all are delighted when men put such questions as they understand,

and would have others know that they are acquainted with; and therefore

travellers and merchants are most satisfied when their company is

inquisitive about other countries, the unknown ocean, and the laws and

manners of the barbarians; they are ready to inform them, and describe

the countries and the creeks, imagining this to be some recompense

for their toil, some comfort for the dangers they have passed. In

short, whatever we are wont to discourse of though unrequested, we

are desirous to be asked; because then we seem to gratify those whom

otherwise our prattle would disturb and force from our conversation.

And this is the common disease of navigators. But more genteel and

modest men love to be asked about those things which they have bravely

and successfully performed, and which modesty will not permit to be

spoken by themselves before company; and therefore Nestor did well

when, being acquainted with Ulysses’s desire of reputation, he said,

Tell, brave Ulysses, glory of the Greeks,

How you the horses seized.[61]

For man cannot endure the insolence of those who praise themselves

and repeat their own exploits, unless the company desires it and they

are forced to a relation; therefore it tickles them to be asked about

their embassies and administrations of the commonwealth, if they have

done any thing notable in either. And upon this account the envious

and ill-natured start very few questions of that sort; they thwart

and hinder all such kind of motions, being very unwilling to give any

occasion or opportunity for that discourse which shall tend to the

advantage of the relator. In short, we please those to whom we put

them, when we start questions about those matters which their enemies

hate to hear.

3. Ulysses says to Alcinous,

You bid me tell what various ills I bore,[62]

That the sad tale might make me grieve the more.

And Oedipus says to the chorus,

’Tis pain to raise again a buried grief.[63]

But Euripides on the contrary,

How sweet it is, when we are lulled in ease,

To think of toils!—when well, of a disease![64]

True indeed, but not to those that are still tossed, still under

a misfortune. Therefore be sure never to ask a man about his own

calamities; it is irksome to relate his losses of children or estate,

or any unprosperous adventure by sea or land; but ask a man how he

carried the cause, how he was caressed by the King, how he escaped such

a storm, such an assault, thieves, and the like; this pleaseth him, he

seems to enjoy it over again in his relation, and is never weary of

the topic. Besides, men love to be asked about their happy friends,

or children that have made good progress in philosophy or the law, or

are great at court; as also about the disgrace and open conviction of

their enemies; for of such matters they are most eager to discourse,

yet are cautious of beginning it themselves, lest they should seem to

insult over and rejoice at the misery of others. You please a hunter

if you ask him about dogs, a wrestler about exercise, and an amorous

man about beauties; the ceremonious and superstitious man discourses

about dreams, and what success he hath had by following the directions

of omens or sacrifices, and by the kindness of the Gods; and questions

concerning those things will extremely please him. He that enquires any

thing of an old man, though the story doth not at all concern him, wins

his heart, and urges one that is very willing to discourse:

Nelides Nestor, faithfully relate

How great Atrides died, what sort of fate;

And where was Menelaus largely tell?

Did Argos hold him when the hero fell?[65]

Here is a multitude of questions and variety of subjects; which is much

better than to confine and cramp his answers, and so deprive the old

man of the most pleasant enjoyment he can have. In short, they that

had rather please than distaste will still propose such questions, the

answers to which shall rather get the praise and good-will than the

contempt and hatred of the hearers. And so much of questions.

4. As for raillery, those that cannot use it cautiously with art, and

time it well, should never venture at it. For as in a slippery place,

if you but just touch a man as you pass by, you throw him down; so when

we are in drink, we are in danger of tripping at every little word that

is not spoken with due address. And we are sometimes more offended with

a joke than a plain and scurrilous abuse; for we see the latter often

slip from a man unwittingly in passion, but consider the former as a

thing voluntary, proceeding from malice and ill-nature; and therefore

we are generally more offended at a sharp jeerer than a whistling

snarler. Such a jeer has indeed something artfully malicious about it,

and often seems to be an insult devised and thought of beforehand.

For instance, he that calls thee salt-fish monger plainly and openly

abuseth; but he that says, I remember when you wiped your nose upon

your sleeve, maliciously jeers. Such was Cicero’s to Octavius, who

was thought to be descended from an African; for when Cicero spoke

something, and Octavius said he did not hear him, Cicero rejoined,

Strange, for you have a hole through your ear. And Melanthius, when

he was ridiculed by a comedian, said, You pay me now something that

you do not owe me. And upon this account jeers vex more; for like

bearded arrows they stick a long while, and gall the wounded sufferer.

Their smartness is pleasant, and delights the company; and those that

are pleased with the saying seem to believe the detracting speaker.

For, according to Theophrastus, a jeer is a figurative reproach for

some fault or misdemeanor; and therefore he that hears it supplies the

concealed part, as if he knew and gave credit to the thing. For he that

laughs and is tickled at what Theocritus said to one whom he suspected

of a design upon his purse, and who asked him if he went to supper at

such a place,—Yes, he replied, I go, but shall likewise lodge there

all night,—doth, as it were confirm the accusation, and believe the

fellow was a thief. Therefore an impertinent jeerer makes the whole

company seem ill-natured and abusive, as being pleased with and

consenting to the scurrility of the jeer. It was one of the excellent

rules in Sparta, that none should be bitter in their jests, and the

jeered should patiently endure; but if he took offence, the other

was to forbear, and pursue the frolic no farther. How is it possible

therefore to determine such raillery as shall delight and please the

person that is jested on, when to be smart without offence is no mean

piece of cunning and address?

5. First then, such as will vex and gall the conscious must please

those that are clean, innocent, and not suspected of the matter.

Such a joke is Xenophon’s, when he pleasantly brings in a very ugly

ill-looking fellow, and is smart upon him for being Sambaulas’s minion.

Such was that of Aufidius Modestus, who, when our friend Quintius in

an ague complained his hands were cold, replied, Sir, you brought them

warm from your province; for this made Quintius laugh, and extremely

pleased him; yet it had been a reproach and abuse to a covetous and

oppressing governor. Thus Socrates, pretending to compare faces with

the beauteous Critobulus, rallied only, and not abused. And Alcibiades

again was smart on Socrates, as his rival in Agatho’s affection. Kings

are pleased when jests are put upon them as if they were private and

poor men. Such was the flatterer’s to Philip, who chided him: Sir,

don’t I keep you? For those that mention faults of which the persons

are not really guilty intimate those virtues with which they are

really adorned. But then it is requisite that those virtues should be

evident and certainly belong to them; otherwise the discourse will

breed disturbance and suspicion. He that tells a very rich man that

he will procure him a sum of money,—a temperate sober man, and one

that drinks water only, that he is foxed, or hath taken a cup too

much,—a hospitable, generous, good-humored man, that he is a niggard

and pinch-penny,—or threatens an excellent lawyer to meet him at the

bar,—must make the persons smile and please the company. Thus Cyrus

was very obliging and complaisant, when he challenged his play-fellows

at those sports in which he was sure to be overcome. And Ismenias

piping at a sacrifice, when no good omens appeared, the man that hired

him snatched the pipe, and played very ridiculously himself; and when

all found fault, he said: To play satisfactorily is the gift of Heaven.

And Ismenias with a smile replied: Whilst I played, the Gods were so

well pleased that they were careless of the sacrifice; but to be rid of

thy noise they presently received it.

6. But more, those that jocosely put scandalous names upon things

commendable, if it be opportunely done, please more than he that

plainly and openly commends; for those that cover a reproach under

fair and respectful words (as he that calls an unjust man Aristides, a

coward Achilles) gall more than those that openly abuse. Such is that

of Oedipus, in Sophocles,

The faithful Creon, my most constant friend.[66]

The familiar irony in commendations answers to this on the other side.

Such Socrates used, when he called the kind endeavor and industry of

Antisthenes to make men friends pimping, bawds-craft, and allurement;

and others that called Crates the philosopher, who wherever he went was

caressed and honored, the door-opener.

7. Again, a complaint that implies thankfulness for a received favor is

pleasant raillery. Thus Diogenes of his master Antisthenes:

That man that made me leave my precious ore,

Clothed me with rags, and forced me to be poor;

That man that made me wander, beg my bread,

And scorn to have a house to hide my head.

For it had not been half so pleasant to have said, that man that made

me wise, content, and happy. And thus a Spartan, making as if he would

find fault with the master of the exercises for giving him wood that

would not smoke, said, He will not permit us even to shed a tear. So he

that calls a hospitable man, and one that treats often, a kidnapper,

and a tyrant who for a long time would not permit him to see his own

table; and he whom the King hath raised and enriched, that says he had

a design upon him and robbed him of his sleep and quiet. So if he that

hath an excellent vintage should complain of Aeschylus’s Cabeiri for

making him want vinegar, as they had jocosely threatened. For such as

these have a pungent pleasantness, so that the praised are not offended

nor take it ill.

8. Besides, he that would be civilly facetious must know the difference

between a vice and a commendable study or recreation; for instance,

between the love of money or contention and of music or hunting; for

men are grieved if twitted with the former, but take it very well if

they are laughed at for the latter. Thus Demosthenes the Mitylenæan was

pleasant enough when, knocking at a man’s door that was much given

to singing and playing on the harp, and being bid come in, he said, I

will, if you will tie up your harp. But the flatterer of Lysimachus was

offensive; for being frighted at a wooden scorpion that the king threw

into his lap, and leaping out of his seat, he said after he knew the

humor, And I’ll fright your majesty too; give me a talent.

9. In several things about the body too the like caution is to be

observed. Thus he that is jested on for a flat or hooked nose usually

laughs at the jest. Thus Cassander’s friend was not at all displeased

when Theophrastus said to him, ’Tis strange, sir, that your eyes don’t

sing, since your nose is so near to give them the tune; and Cyrus

commanded a long hawk-nosed fellow to marry a flat-nosed girl, for

then they would very well agree. But a jest on any for his stinking

breath or filthy nose is irksome; for baldness it may be borne, but

for blindness or infirmity in the eyes it is intolerable. It is true,

Antigonus would joke upon himself, and once, receiving a petition

written in great letters, he said, This a man may read if he were

stark blind. But he killed Theocritus the Chian for saying,—when one

told him that as soon as he appeared before the King’s eyes he would

be pardoned,—Sir, then it is impossible for me to be saved. And

the Byzantine to Pasiades saying, Sir, your eyes are weak, replied,

You upbraid me with this infirmity, not considering that thy son

carries the vengeance of Heaven on his back: now Pasiades’s son was

hunch-backed. And Archippus the popular Athenian was much displeased

with Melanthius for being smart on his crooked back; for Melanthius

had said that he did not stand at the head of the state (προεστάναι)

but bowed down before it (προκεκυφέναι). It is true, some are not much

concerned at such jeers. Thus Antigonus’s friend, when he had begged

a talent and was denied, desired a guard, lest somebody should rob

him of that talent he was now to carry home. Different tempers make

men differently affected, and that which troubles one is not regarded

by another. Epaminondas feasting with his fellow-magistrates drank

vinegar; and some asking if it was good for his health, he replied,

I cannot tell that, but I know it makes me remember what I drink at

home. Therefore it becomes every man that would rally, to look into the

humors of his company, and take heed to converse without offence.

10. Love, as in most things else, so in this matter causes different

effects; for some lovers are pleased and some displeased at a merry

jest. Therefore in this case a fit time must be accurately observed;

for as a blast of wind puffs out a fire whilst it is weak and little,

but when thoroughly kindled strengthens and increaseth it; so love,

before it is evident and confessed, is displeased at a discoverer,

but when it breaks forth and blazes in everybody’s eyes, then it is

delighted and gathers strength by the frequent blasts of joke and

raillery. When their beloved is present it will gratify them most

to pass a jest upon their passion, but to fall on any other subject

will be counted an abuse. If they are remarkably loving to their

own wives, or entertain a generous affection for a hopeful youth,

then are they proud, then tickled when jeered for such a love. And

therefore Arcesilaus, when an amorous man in his school laid down this

proposition, In my opinion one thing cannot touch another, replied,

Sir, you touch this person, pointing to a lovely boy that sat near him.

11. Besides, the company must be considered; for what a man will only

laugh at when mentioned amongst his friends and familiar acquaintance,

he will not endure to be told of before his wife, father, or tutor,

unless perhaps it be something that will please those too; as for

instance, if before a philosopher one should jeer a man for going

barefoot or studying all night; or before his father, for carefulness

and thrift; or in the presence of his wife, for being cold to his

companions and doating upon her. Thus Tigranes, when Cyrus asked him,

What will your wife say when she hears that you are put to servile

offices? replied, Sir, she will not hear it, but be present herself and

see it.

12. Again, those jokes are accounted less affronting which reflect

somewhat also on the man that makes them; as when one poor man,

base-born fellow, or lover jokes upon another. For whatever comes

from one in the same circumstances looks more like a piece of mirth

than a designed affront; but otherwise it must needs be irksome and

distasteful. Upon this account, when a slave whom the King had lately

freed and enriched behaved himself very impertinently in the company

of some philosophers, asking them, how it came to pass that the broth

of beans, whether white or black, was always green, Aridices putting

another question, why, let the whips be white or not, the wales and

marks they made were still red, displeased him extremely, and made him

rise from the table in a great rage and discontent. But Amphias the

Tarsian, who was supposed to be sprung from a gardener, joking upon

the governor’s friend for his obscure and mean birth, and presently

subjoining, But ’tis true, I sprung from the same seed, caused much

mirth and laughter. And the harper very facetiously put a check to

Philip’s ignorance and impertinence; for when Philip pretended to

correct him, he cried out, God forbid, sir, that ever you should be

brought so low as to understand these things better than I. For by this

seeming joke he instructed him without giving any offence. Therefore

some of the comedians seem to lay aside their bitterness in every jest

that may reflect upon themselves; as Aristophanes, when he is merry

upon a bald-pate; and Cratinus in his play Pytine upon drunkenness and

excess.

13. Besides, you must be very careful that the jest should seem to

be extempore, taken from some present question or merry humor; not

far fetched, as if premeditate and designed. For as men are not much

concerned at the anger and debates among themselves at table while they

are in the midst of their cups, but if any stranger should come in and

offer abuse to any of the guests, they would hate and look upon him as

an enemy; so they will easily pardon and indulge a jest if undesignedly

taken from any present circumstance; but if it is nothing to the matter

in hand but fetched from another thing, it must look like a design and

be resented as an affront. Such was that of Timagenes to the husband

of a woman that often vomited,—“Thou beginnest thy troubles when thou

bringest home this vomiting woman,”[67]—saying τήνδ’ ἐμοῦσαν (_this

vomiting woman_), when the poet had written τήνδε Μοῦσαν (_this

Muse_); and also his question to Athenodorus the philosopher,—Is

the affection to our children natural? For when the raillery is not

founded on some present circumstance, it is an argument of ill-nature

and a mischievous temper; and such as delight in jests like these do

often for a mere word, the lightest thing in the world (as Plato says),

suffer the heaviest punishment. But those that know how to time and

apply a jest confirm Plato’s opinion, that to rally pleasantly and

facetiously is the business of a scholar and a wit.

_QUESTION II._

WHY IN AUTUMN MEN HAVE BETTER STOMACHS THAN IN OTHER SEASONS OF THE

YEAR.

GLAUCIAS, XENOCLES, LAMPRIAS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

In Eleusis, after the solemn celebration of the sacred mysteries,

Glaucias the orator entertained us at a feast; where, after the rest

had done, Xenocles of Delphi, as his humor is, began to be smart upon

my brother Lamprias for his good Boeotian stomach. I in his defence

opposing Xenocles, who was an Epicurean, said, Pray, sir, do not all

place the very essence of pleasure in privation of pain and suffering?

But Lamprias, who prefers the Lyceum before the Garden, ought by his

practice to confirm Aristotle’s doctrine; for he affirms that every

man hath a better stomach in the autumn than in other seasons of the

year, and gives the reason, which I cannot remember at present. So much

the better (says Glaucias), for when supper is done, we will endeavor

to discover it ourselves. That being over, Glaucias and Xenocles drew

various reasons from the autumnal fruit. One said, that it scoured the

body, and by this evacuation continually raised new appetites. Xenocles

affirmed, that ripe fruit had usually a pleasing vellicating sapor,

and thereby provoked the appetite better than sauces or sweetmeats;

for sick men of a vitiated stomach usually recover it by eating fruit.

But Lamprias said, that our natural heat, the principal instrument of

nutrition, in the midst of summer is scattered and becomes rare and

weak, but in autumn it unites again and gathers strength, being shut

in by the ambient cold and contraction of the pores. I for my part

said: In summer we are more thirsty and use more moisture than in other

seasons; and therefore Nature, observing the same method in all her

operations, at this change of seasons employs the contrary and makes us

hungry; and to maintain an equal temper in the body, she gives us dry

food to countervail the moisture taken in the summer. Yet none can deny

but that the food itself is a partial cause; for not only new fruit,

bread, or corn, but flesh of the same year, is better tasted than that

of the former, more forcibly provokes the guests, and enticeth them to

eat on.

_QUESTION III._

WHICH WAS FIRST, THE BIRD OR THE EGG?

PLUTARCH, ALEXANDER, SYLLA, FIRMUS, SOSSIUS SENECIO, AND OTHERS.

1. When upon a dream I had forborne eggs a long time, on purpose

that in an egg (as in a Carian[68]) I might make experiment of a

notable vision that often troubled me; some at Sossius Senecio’s table

suspected that I was tainted with Orpheus’s or Pythagoras’s opinions,

and refused to eat an egg (as some do the heart and brain) imagining

it to be the principle of generation. And Alexander the Epicurean

ridiculingly repeated,—

To feed on beans and parents’ heads

Is equal sin;

as if the Pythagoreans covertly meant eggs by the word κύαμοι

(_beans_), deriving it from κύω or κυέω (_to conceive_), and

thought it as unlawful to feed on eggs as on the animals that lay them.

Now to pretend a dream for the cause of my abstaining, to an Epicurean,

had been a defence more irrational than the cause itself; and therefore

I suffered jocose Alexander to enjoy his opinion, for he was a pleasant

man and excellently learned.

2. Soon after he proposed that perplexed question, that plague of the

inquisitive, Which was first, the bird or the egg? And my friend Sylla,

saying that with this little question, as with an engine, we shook

the great and weighty question (whether the world had a beginning),

declared his dislike of such problems. But Alexander deriding the

question as slight and impertinent, my relation Firmus said: Well, sir,

at present your atoms will do me some service; for if we suppose that

small things must be the principles of greater, it is likely that the

egg was before the bird; for an egg amongst sensible things is very

simple, and the bird is more mixed, and contains a greater variety of

parts. It is universally true, that a principle is before that whose

principle it is; now the seed is a principle, and the egg is somewhat

more than the seed, and less than the bird; for as a disposition or a

progress in goodness is something between a tractable mind and a habit

of virtue, so an egg is as it were a progress of Nature tending from

the seed to a perfect animal. And as in an animal they say the veins

and arteries are formed first, upon the same account the egg should be

before the bird, as the thing containing before the thing contained.

Thus art first makes rude and ill-shapen figures, and afterwards

perfects every thing with its proper form; and it was for this reason

that the statuary Polycletus said, Then our work is most difficult,

when the clay comes to be fashioned by the nail. So it is probable that

matter, not readily obeying the slow motions of contriving Nature,

at first frames rude and indefinite masses, as the egg, and of these

moulded anew, and joined in better order, the animal afterward is

formed. As the canker is first, and then growing dry and cleaving

lets forth a winged animal, called psyche; so the egg is first as it

were the subject matter of the generation. For it is certain that,

in every change, that out of which the thing changes must be before

the thing changing. Observe how worms and caterpillars are bred in

trees from the moisture corrupted or concocted; now none can say but

that the engendering moisture is naturally before all these. For (as

Plato says) matter is as a mother or nurse in respect of the bodies

that are formed, and we call that matter out of which any thing that

is is made. And with a smile continued he, I speak to those that are

acquainted with the mystical and sacred discourse of Orpheus, who not

only affirms the egg to be before the bird, but makes it the first

being in the whole world. The other parts, because deep mysteries (as

Herodotus would say), we shall now pass by; but let us look upon the

various kinds of animals, and we shall find almost every one beginning

from an egg,—fowls and fishes; land animals, as lizards; amphibious,

as crocodiles; some with two legs, as a cock; some without any, as a

snake; and some with many, as a locust. And therefore in the solemn

feast of Bacchus it is very well done to dedicate an egg, as the emblem

of that which begets and contains every thing in itself.

3. To this discourse of Firmus, Senecio replied: Sir, your last

similitude contradicts your first, and you have unwittingly opened the

world (instead of the door, as the saying is) against yourself. For

the world was before all, being the most perfect; and it is rational

that the perfect in Nature should be before the imperfect, as the

sound before the maimed, and the whole before the part. For it is

absurd that there should be a part when there is nothing whose part

it is; and therefore nobody says the seed’s man or egg’s hen, but the

man’s seed and hen’s egg; because those being after these and formed

in them, pay as it were a debt to Nature, by bringing forth another.

For they are not in themselves perfect, and therefore have a natural

appetite to produce such a thing as that out of which they were first

formed; and therefore seed is defined as a thing produced that is to

be perfected by another production. Now nothing can be perfected by

or want that which as yet is not. Everybody sees that eggs have the

nature of a concretion or consistence in some animal or other, but

want those organs, veins, and muscles which animals enjoy. Therefore

no story delivers that ever any egg was formed immediately from earth;

and the poets themselves tell us, that the egg out of which came the

Tyndaridae fell down from heaven. But even till this time the earth

produceth some perfect and organized animals, as mice in Egypt, and

snakes, frogs, and grasshoppers almost everywhere, some external and

invigorating principle assisting in the production. And in Sicily,

where in the servile war much blood was shed, and many carcasses rotted

on the ground, whole swarms of locusts were produced, and spoiled the

corn over the whole isle. Such spring from and are nourished by the

earth; and seed being formed in them, pleasure and titillation provoke

them to mix, upon which some lay eggs, and some bring forth their

young alive; and this evidently proves that animals first sprang from

earth, and afterwards by copulation, after different ways, propagated

their several kinds. In short, it is the same thing as if you said

the womb was before the woman; for as the womb is to the egg, the egg

is to the chick that is formed in it; so that he that inquires how

birds should be when there were no eggs, might ask as well how men

and women could be before any organs of generation were formed. Parts

generally have their subsistence together with the whole; particular

powers follow particular members, and operations follow those powers,

and effects those operations. Now the effect of the generative power

is the seed and egg; so that these must be after the formation of the

whole. Therefore consider, as there can be no digestion of food before

the animal is formed, so there can be no seed nor egg; for those, it

is likely, are made by some digestion and alterations; nor can it be

that, before the animal is, the superfluous parts of the food of the

animal should have a being. Besides, though seed may perhaps pretend

to be a principle, the egg cannot; for it doth not subsist first, nor

hath it the nature of a whole, for it is imperfect. Therefore we do not

affirm that the animal is produced without a principle of its being;

but we call the principle that power which changes, mixes, and tempers

the matter, so that a living creature is regularly produced; but the

egg is an after-production, as the blood or milk of an animal after the

taking in and digestion of the food. For we never see an egg formed

immediately of mud, for it is produced in the bodies of animals alone;

but a thousand living creatures rise from the mud. What need of many

instances? None ever found the spawn or egg of an eel; yet if you empty

a pit and take out all the mud, as soon as other water settles in it,

eels likewise are presently produced. Now that must exist first which

hath no need of any other thing that it may exist, and that after,

which cannot be without the concurrence of another thing. And of this

priority is our present discourse. Besides, birds build nests before

they lay their eggs; and women provide cradles, swaddling-clothes,

and the like; yet who says that the nest is before the egg, or the

swaddling-clothes before the infant? For the earth (as Plato says) doth

not imitate a woman, but a woman, and so likewise all other females,

the earth. Moreover it is probable that the first production out of the

earth, which was then vigorous and perfect, was self-sufficient and

entire, nor stood in need of those secundines, membranes, and vessels,

which now Nature forms to help the weakness and supply the defects of

breeders.

_QUESTION IV._

WHETHER OR NO WRESTLING IS THE OLDEST EXERCISE.

SOSICLES, LYSIMACHUS, PLUTARCH, PHILINUS.

Sosicles of Coronea having at the Pythian games won the prize from all

the poets, we gave him an entertainment. And the time for running,

cuffing, wrestling, and the like drawing on, there was a great talk of

the wrestlers; for there were many and very famous men, who came to

try their skill. Lysimachus, one of the company, a procurator of the

Amphictyons, said he heard a grammarian lately affirm that wrestling

was the most ancient exercise of all, as even the very name witnessed;

for some modern things have the names of more ancient transferred to

them; thus tuning a pipe is called fitting it, and playing on it is

called striking; both these being transferred to it from the harp.

Thus all places of exercise they call wrestling schools, wrestling

being the oldest exercise, and therefore denominating the newer sorts.

That, said I, is no good argument, for these palaestras or wrestling

schools are called so from wrestling (πάλη), not because it is the

most ancient exercise, but because it is the only sort in which they

use clay (πηλός), dust, and oil; for in these there is neither racing

nor cuffing, but wrestling only, and that part of the pancratium in

which they struggle on the ground,—for the pancratium comprises both

wrestling and cuffing. Besides, it is unlikely that wrestling, being

more artificial and methodical than any other sort of exercise, should

likewise be the most ancient; for mere want or necessity, putting us

upon new inventions, produces simple and inartificial things first, and

such as have more of force in them than sleight and skill. This ended,

Sosicles said: You speak right, and I will confirm your discourse from

the very name; for, in my opinion, πάλη, wrestling, is derived from

παλέυειν, i. e. to throw down by sleight and artifice. And Philinus

said, it seems to me to be derived from παλαιστή, the palm of the

hand, for wrestlers use that part most, as cuffers do the πυγμή, fist;

and hence both these sorts of exercises have their proper names, the

one πάλη, the other πυγμή. Besides, since the poets use the word

παλύνειν for καταπάσσειν and συμπάσσειν, to sprinkle, and this action

is most frequent amongst wrestlers, this exercise πάλη may receive

its name from that word. But more, consider that racers strive to be

distant from one another; cuffers, by the judges of the field, are not

permitted to take hold; and none but wrestlers come up close breast

to breast, and clasp one another round the waist, and most of their

turnings, liftings, lockings, bring them very close. It is probable

therefore that this exercise is called πάλη from πλησιάζειν or πέλας

γίγνεσθαι, to come up close or to be near together.

_QUESTION V._

WHY, IN RECKONING UP DIFFERENT KINDS OF EXERCISES, HOMER PUTS

CUFFING FIRST, WRESTLING NEXT, AND RACING LAST.

LYSIMACHUS, CRATES, TIMON, PLUTARCH.

1. This discourse being ended, and Philinus hummed, Lysimachus began

again, What sort of exercise then shall we imagine to be first? Racing,

as at the Olympian games? For here in the Pythian, as every exercise

comes on, all the contenders are brought in, the boy wrestlers first,

then the men, and the same method is observed when the cuffers and

fencers are to exercise; but there the boys perform all first, and then

the men. But, says Timon interposing, pray consider whether Homer hath

not determined this matter; for in his poems cuffing is always put in

the first place, wrestling next, and racing last. At this Menecrates

the Thessalian surprised cried out, Good God, what things we skip over!

But, pray sir, if you remember any of his verses to that purpose,

do us the favor to repeat them. And Timon replied: That the funeral

solemnities of Patroclus had this order I think every one hath heard;

but the poet, all along observing the same order, brings in Achilles

speaking to Nestor thus:

With this reward I Nestor freely grace,

Unfit for cuffing, wrestling, or the race.

And in his answer he makes the old man impertinently brag:

I cuffing conquered Oinop’s famous son,

With Anceus wrestled, and the garland won,

And outran Iphiclus.[69]

And again he brings in Ulysses challenging the Phaeacians

To cuff, to wrestle, or to run the race;

and Alcinous answers:

Neither in cuffing nor in wrestling strong,

But swift of foot are we.[70]

So that he doth not carelessly confound the order, and, according to

the occasion, now place one sort first and now another; but he follows

the then custom and practice, and is constant in the same. And this was

so as long as the ancient order was observed.

2. To this discourse of my brother’s I subjoined, that I liked what

he said, but could not see the reason of this order. And some of the

company, thinking it unlikely that cuffing or wrestling should be a

more ancient exercise than racing, desired me to search farther into

the matter; and thus I spake upon the sudden. All these exercises seem

to me to be representations of feats of arms and training therein;

for after all, a man armed at all points is brought in to show that

that is the end at which all these exercises and trainings aim. And

the privilege granted to the conquerors—as they rode into the city,

to throw down some part of the wall—hath this meaning, that walls

are but a small advantage to that city which hath men able to fight

and overcome. In Sparta those that were victors in any of the crowned

games had an honorable place in the army, and were to fight near

the King’s person. Of all creatures a horse only can have a part in

these games and win the crown, for that alone is designed by nature

to be trained to war, and to prove assisting in a battle. If these

things seem probable, let us consider farther, that it is the first

work of a fighter to strike his enemy and ward the other’s blows; the

second, when they come up close and lay hold of one another, to trip

and overturn him; and in this, they say, our countrymen being better

wrestlers very much distressed the Spartans at the battle of Leuctra.

Aeschylus describes a warrior thus,

One stout, and skilled to wrestle in his arms;

and Sophocles somewhere says of the Trojans,

They rid the horse, they could the bow command,

And wrestle with a rattling shield in hand.

But it is the third and last, either when conquered to fly, or when

conquerors to pursue. And therefore it is likely that cuffing is

set first, wrestling next, and racing last; for the first bears the

resemblance of charging or warding the blows; the second, of close

fighting and repelling; and the third, of flying a victorious, or

pursuing a routed enemy.

_QUESTION VI._

WHY FIR-TREES, PINE-TREES, AND THE LIKE WILL NOT BE GRAFTED

UPON.

SOCLARUS, CRATO, PHILO.

1. Soclarus entertaining us in his gardens, round which the river

Cephissus runs, showed us several trees strangely varied by the

different grafts upon their stocks. We saw an olive upon a mastic, a

pomegranate upon a myrtle, pear grafts on an oak, apple upon a plane, a

mulberry on a fig, and a great many such like, which were grown strong

enough to bear. Some joked on Soclarus as nourishing stranger kinds

of things than the poets’ Sphinxes or Chimaeras; but Crato set us to

enquire why those stocks only that are of an oily nature will not admit

such mixtures, for we never see a pine, fir, or cypress bear a graft of

another kind.

2. And Philo subjoined: There is, Crato, a reason for this amongst the

philosophers, which the gardeners confirm and strengthen. For they say,

oil is very hurtful to all plants, and any plant dipped in it, like

a bee, will soon die. Now these trees are of a fat and oily nature,

insomuch that they weep pitch and rosin; and, if you cut them gore (as

it were) appears presently in the wound. Besides, a torch made of them

sends forth an oily smoke, and the brightness of the flame shows it to

be fat; and upon this account these trees are as great enemies to all

other kinds of grafts as oil itself. To this Crato added, that the bark

was a partial cause; for that, being rare and dry, could not afford

either convenient room or sufficient nourishment to the grafts; but

when the bark is moist, it quickly joins with those grafts that are let

into the body of the tree.

3. Then Soclarus added: This too ought to be considered, that that

which receives a graft of another kind ought to be easy to be changed,

that the graft may prevail, and make the sap in the stock fit and

natural to itself. Thus we break up the ground and soften it, that

being thus broken it may more easily be wrought upon, and applied to

what we plant in it; for things that are hard and rigid cannot be so

quickly wrought upon nor so easily changed. Now those trees, being of

very light wood, do not mix well with the grafts, because they are very

hard either to be changed or overcome. But more, it is manifest that

the stock which receives the graft should be instead of a soil to it,

and a soil should have a breeding faculty; and therefore we choose the

most fruitful stocks to graft on, as women that are full of milk, when

we would put out a child to nurse. But everybody knows that the fir,

cypress, and the like are no great bearers. For as men very fat have

few children (for, the whole nourishment being employed in the body,

there remains no overplus to make seed), so these trees, spending all

their sap in their own stock, flourish indeed and grow great; but as

for fruit, some bear none at all, some very little, and that too slowly

ripens; therefore it is no wonder that they will not nourish another’s

fruit, when they are so very sparing to their own.

_QUESTION VII._

ABOUT THE FISH CALLED REMORA OR ECHENEIS.

CHAEREMONIANUS, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. Chaeremonianus the Trallian, when we were at a very noble fish

dinner, pointing to a little, long, sharp-headed fish, said the

echeneis (ship-stopper) was like that, for he had often seen it as he

sailed in the Sicilian sea, and wondered at its strange force; for it

stopped the ship when under full sail, till one of the seamen perceived

it sticking to the outside of the ship, and took it off. Some laughed

at Chaeremonianus for believing such an incredible and unlikely story.

Others on this occasion talked very much of antipathies, and produced a

thousand instances of such strange effects; for example, the sight of

a ram quiets an enraged elephant; a viper lies stock-still, if touched

with a beechen leaf; a wild bull grows tame, if bound with the twigs of

a fig-tree; amber draws all light things to it, except basil and such

as are dipped in oil; and a loadstone will not draw a piece of iron

that is rubbed with garlic. Now all these, as to matter of fact, are

very evident; but it is hard, if not altogether impossible, to find the

cause.

2. Then said I: This is a mere shift and avoiding of the question,

rather than a declaration of the cause; but if we please to consider,

we shall find a great many accidents that are only consequents of the

effect to be unjustly esteemed the causes of it; as for instance, if we

should fancy that by the blossoming of the chaste-tree the fruit of the

vine is ripened; because this is a common saying,

The chaste-tree blossoms, and the grapes grow ripe;

or that the little protuberances in the candle-snuff thicken the air

and make it cloudy; or the hookedness of the nails is the cause and

not an accident consequential to an internal ulcer. Therefore as those

things mentioned are but consequents to the effect, though proceeding

from one and the same cause, so one and the same cause stops the ship,

and joins the echeneis to it; for the ship continuing dry, not yet

made heavy by the moisture soaking into the wood, it is probable that

it glides lightly, and as long as it is clean, easily cuts the waves;

but when it is thoroughly soaked, when weeds, ooze, and filth stick

upon its sides, the stroke of the ship is more obtuse and weak; and the

water, coming upon this clammy matter, doth not so easily part from

it; and this is the reason why they usually scrape the sides of their

ships. Now it is likely that the echeneis in this case, sticking upon

the clammy matter, is not thought an accidental consequent to this

cause, but the very cause itself.

_QUESTION VIII._

WHY THEY SAY THOSE HORSES CALLED λυκοσπάδες ARE VERY

METTLESOME.

PLUTARCH, HIS FATHER, AND OTHERS.

Some say the horses called λυκοσπάδες received that name from the

fashion of their bridles (called λύκοι), that had prickles like the

teeth on the wolf’s jaw; for being fiery and hard-mouthed, the riders

used such to tame them. But my father, who seldom speaks but on good

reason, and breeds excellent horses, said, those that were set upon

by wolves when colts, if they escaped, grew swift and mettlesome, and

were called λυκοσπάδες. Many agreeing to what he said, it began to be

enquired why such an accident as that should make them more mettlesome

and fierce; and many of the company thought that, from such an assault,

fear and not courage was produced; and that thence growing fearful

and apt to start at every thing, their motions became more quick and

vigorous, as they are in wild beasts when entangled in a net. But, said

I, it ought to be considered whether the contrary be not more probable;

for the colts do not become more swift by escaping the assault of a

wild beast, but they had never escaped unless they had been swift and

mettlesome before. As Ulysses was not made wise by escaping from the

Cyclops, but he escaped by being wise before.

_QUESTION IX._

WHY THE FLESH OF SHEEP BITTEN BY WOLVES IS SWEETER THAN THAT OF

OTHERS, AND THE WOOL MORE APT TO BREED LICE.

PATROCLIAS, THE SAME.

After the former discourse, mention was made of those sheep that wolves

have bitten; for it is commonly said of them, that their flesh is very

sweet, and their wool breeds lice. Our relation Patroclias seemed to

be pretty happy in his reasoning upon the first part, saying, that

the beast by biting it did mollify the flesh; for wolves’ spirits are

so hot and fiery, that they soften and digest the hardest bones; and

for the same reason things bitten by wolves rot sooner than others.

But concerning the wool we could not agree, being not fully resolved

whether it breeds those lice, or only opens a passage for them,

separating the flesh by its fretting roughness or proper warmth; and

it seemed that this power proceeded from the bite of the wolf, which

alters even the very hair of the creature that it kills. And this some

particular instances seem to confirm; for we know some huntsmen and

cooks will kill a beast with one stroke, so that it never breathes

after, whilst others repeat their blows, and scarce do it with a great

deal of trouble. But (what is more strange) some, as they kill it,

infuse such a quality that the flesh rots presently and cannot be kept

sweet above a day; yet others that despatch it as soon find no such

alteration, but the flesh will keep sweet a long while. And that by the

manner of killing a great alteration is made even in the skins, nails,

and hair of a beast, Homer seems to witness, when, speaking of a good

hide, he says,

An ox’s hide that fell by violent blows;[71]

for those that fell not by a disease or old age, but by a violent

death, leave us tough and strong hides; but when they are bitten by

wild beasts, their hoofs grow black, their hair falls, their skins

putrefy and are good for nothing.

_QUESTION X._

WHETHER THE ANCIENTS, WHO PROVIDED EVERY ONE HIS MESS, DID BETTER

THAN WE, WHO SET MANY TO THE SAME DISH.

PLUTARCH, HAGIAS.

1. When I was chief magistrate, most of the suppers consisted of

distinct messes, where every particular guest had his portion of the

sacrifice allowed him. Some were wonderfully well pleased with this

order; others blamed it as unsociable and ungenteel, and were of

the opinion that, as soon as I was out of my office, the manner of

entertainments ought to be reformed; for, says Hagias, we invite one

another not barely to eat and drink, but to eat and drink together. Now

this division into messes takes away all society, makes many suppers,

and many eaters, but no one sups with another; but every man takes

his pound of beef, as from the market, sets it before himself, and

falls on. And is it not the same thing to provide a different cup and

different table for every guest (as the Demophontidae treated Orestes),

as now to set each man his loaf of bread and mess of meat, and feed

him, as it were, out of his own proper manger? Only, it is true, we are

not (as those that treated Orestes were) obliged to be silent and not

discourse. Besides, to show that all the guests should have a share in

every thing, we may draw an argument from hence;—the same discourse is

common to us all, the same songstress sings, the same musician plays

to all. So, when the same cup is set in the midst, not appropriated to

any, it is a large spring of good-fellowship, and each man may take as

much as his appetite requires; not like this most unjust distribution

of bread and meat, which prides itself forsooth in being equal to

all, though unequal, stomachs; for the same portion to a man of a

small appetite is too much; to one of a greater, too little. And, sir,

as he that administers the very same dose of physic to all sorts of

patients must be very ridiculous; so likewise must that entertainer

who, inviting a great many guests that can neither eat nor drink alike,

sets before every one an equal mess, and measures what is just and fit

by an arithmetical not geometrical proportion. When we go to a shop to

buy, we all use, it is true, one and the same public measure; but to an

entertainment each man brings his own belly, which is satisfied with a

portion, not because it is equal to that which others have, but because

it is sufficient for itself. Those entertainments where every one

had his single mess Homer mentions amongst soldiers and in the camp,

which we ought not to bring into fashion amongst us; but we should

rather imitate the good friendship of the ancients, who, to show what

reverence they had for all kinds of societies, not only honored those

that lived with them or under the same roof, but also those that drank

out of the same cup or ate out of the same dish. Let us never mind

Homer’s entertainments; they were good for nothing but to starve a man,

and the makers of them were kings, more stingy and observant than the

Italian cooks; insomuch that in the midst of a battle, whilst they were

at handy-blows with their enemies, they could exactly reckon up how

many glasses each man drank at his table. Those that Pindar describes

are much better,

Where heroes mixed sat round the noble board,

because they maintained society and good fellowship; for the latter

truly mixed and joined friends, but this modern custom divides and

asperses them as persons who, though seemingly very good friends,

cannot so much as eat with one another out of the same dish.

2. To this polite discourse of Hagias they urged me to reply. And I

said: Hagias, it is true, hath reason to be troubled at this unusual

disappointment, because having so great a belly (for he was an

excellent trencher-man) he had no larger mess than others; for in a

fish eaten in common, Democritus says, there are no bones. But that

very thing is especially apt to bring us a share beyond our own proper

allowance. For it is equality, as the old woman in Euripides hath it,

That fastens towns to towns, and friends to friends;[72]

and entertainments chiefly stand in need of this. The necessity is from

nature as well as custom, and is not lately introduced or founded only

on opinion. For when the same dish lies in common before all, the man

that is slow and eats little must be offended at the other that is too

quick for him, as a slow ship at the swift sailer. Besides, snatching,

contention, shoving, and the like, are not, in my mind, neighborly

beginnings of mirth and jollity; but they are absurd, doggish, and

often end in anger or reproaches, not only against one another, but

also against the entertainer himself or the carvers of the feast. But

as long as Moera and Lachesis (_division_ and _distribution_)

kept an equality in feasts, nothing uncivil or disorderly appeared, and

they called the feasts δαῖτες, _distributions_, the entertained

δαιτυμόνες, and the carvers δαιτροί, _distributers_, from dividing

and distributing to every man his proper mess. The Lacedaemonians

had officers called distributers of the flesh, no mean men, but

the chief of the city; for Lysander himself by King Agesilaus was

constituted one of these in Asia. But when luxury crept into our

feasts, distributing was thrown out; for I suppose they had not

leisure to divide these numerous tarts, cheese-cakes, pies, and other

delicate varieties; but, surprised with the pleasantness of the taste

and tired with the variety, they left off cutting it into portions,

and left all in common. This is confirmed from the present practice;

for in our religious or public feasts, where the food is simple and

inartificial, each man hath his mess assigned him; so that he that

endeavors to retrieve the ancient custom will likewise recover thrift

and almost lost frugality again. But, you object, where only property

is, community is lost. True indeed, where equality is not; for not

the possession of what is proper and our own, but the taking away of

another’s and coveting that which is common, is the cause of all injury

and contention; and the laws, restraining and confining these within

the bounds of propriety, receive their name from their office, being

a power distributing equality to every[*P1: no hyphen in image|P3 not

needed see next line] one in order to the common good. Thus every

one is not to be honored by the entertainer with the garland or the

chiefest place; but if any one brings with him his sweet-heart or a

minstrel-wench, they must be common to him and his friends, that all

things may be huddled together in one mass, as Anaxagoras would have

it. Now if propriety in these things doth not in the least hinder but

that things of greater moment, and the only considerable, as discourse

and civility, may be still common, let us leave off disgracing

distributions or the lot, the son of Fortune (as Euripides hath it),

which hath no respect either to riches or honor, but which in its

inconsiderate wheel now and then raiseth up the humble and the poor,

and makes him master of himself, and, by accustoming the great and rich

to endure and not be offended at equality, pleasingly instructs.

BOOK III.

Simonides the poet, my Sossius Senecio, seeing one of the company sit

silent and discourse nobody, said: Sir, if you are a fool, it is wisely

done; if a wise man, very foolishly. It is good to conceal a man’s

folly, but (as Heraclitus says) it is very hard to do it over a glass

of wine,

Which doth the gravest men to mirth advance,

And let them loose to sing, to laugh, and dance,

And speak what had been better left unsaid.[73]

In which lines the poet in my mind shows the difference between being

a little heated and downright drunk; for to sing, laugh, and dance may

agree very well with those that have gone no farther than a merry cup;

but to prattle, and speak what had been better left unsaid, argues a

man to be quite gone. Therefore Plato thinks that wine is the most

ingenious discoverer of men’s humors; and Homer, when he says,

At feasts they had not known each other’s minds,[74]

evidently shows that he knew wine was powerful to open men’s thoughts,

and was full of new discoveries. It is true from the bare eating and

drinking, if they say nothing, we can give no guess at the tempers of

the men; but because drinking leads them on to discourse, and discourse

lays a great many things open and naked which were secret and hid

before, therefore to sport a glass of wine together lets us into one

another’s humors. And therefore a man may reasonably fall foul on

Aesop: Why, sir, would you have a window in every man’s breast, through

which we may look in upon his thoughts? Wine opens and exposes all, it

will not suffer us to be silent, but takes off all mask and visor, and

makes us regardless of the severe precepts of decency and custom. Thus

Aesop, or Plato, or any other that designs to look into a man, may have

his desires satisfied by the assistance of a bottle; but those that are

not solicitous to pump one another, but to be sociable and pleasant,

discourse of such matters and handle such questions as make no

discovery of the bad parts of the soul, but such as comfort the good,

and, by the help of neat and polite learning, lead the intelligent part

into an agreeable pasture and garden of delight. This made me collect

and dedicate to you this third dedication of table discourses, the

first of which is about chaplets made of flowers.

_QUESTION I._

WHETHER IT IS BECOMING TO WEAR CHAPLETS OF FLOWERS AT TABLE.

ERATO, AMMONIUS, TRYPHO, PLUTARCH, AND OTHERS.

1. At Athens Erato the musician keeping a solemn feast to the Muses,

and inviting a great many to the treat, the company was full of talk,

and the subject of the discourse garlands. For after supper many of

all sorts of flowers being presented to the guests, Ammonius began to

jeer me for choosing a rose chaplet before a laurel, saying that those

made of flowers were effeminate, and fitted toyish girls and women

more than grave philosophers and men of music. And I admire that our

friend Erato, that abominates all flourishing in songs, and blames good

Agatho, who first in his tragedy of the Mysians ventured to introduce

the chromatic airs, should himself fill his entertainment with such

various and such florid colors, and that, while he shuts out all the

soft delights that through the ears can enter to the soul, he should

introduce others through the eyes and through the nose, and make these

garlands, instead of signs of piety, to be instruments of pleasure.

For it must be confessed that this ointment gives a better smell than

those trifling flowers, which wither even in the hands of those that

wreathe them. Besides, all pleasure must be banished the company of

philosophers, unless it is of some use or desired by natural appetite;

for as those that are carried to a banquet by some of their invited

friends (as, for instance, Socrates carried Aristodemus to Agatho’s

table) are as civilly entertained as the bidden guests, but he that

goes on his own account is shut out of doors; thus the pleasures of

eating and drinking, being invited by natural appetite, should have

admission; but all the others which come on no account, and have only

luxury to introduce them, ought in reason to be denied.

2. At this some young men, not thoroughly acquainted with Ammonius’s

humor, being abashed, privately tore their chaplets; but I, perceiving

that Ammonius proposed this only for discourse and disputation’s sake,

applying myself to Trypho the physician, said: Sir, you must put off

that sparkling rosy chaplet as well as we, or declare, as I have often

heard you, what excellent preservatives these flowery garlands are

against the strength of liquor. But here Erato putting in said: What,

is it decreed that no pleasure must be admitted without profit? And

must we be angry with our delight, unless hired to endure it? Perhaps

we may have reason to be ashamed of ointments and purple vests, because

so costly and expensive, and to look upon them as (in the barbarian’s

phrase) treacherous garments and deceitful odors; but these natural

smells and colors are pure and simple as fruits themselves, and without

expense or the curiosity of art. And I appeal to any one, whether it

is not absurd to receive the pleasant tastes Nature gives us, and

reject those smells and colors that the seasons afford us, because

forsooth they blossom with delight, if they have no other external

profit or advantage. Besides, we have an axiom against you, for if (as

you affirm) Nature makes nothing vain, those things that have no other

use were designed on purpose to please and to delight. Besides, observe

that to thriving trees Nature hath given leaves, for the preservation

of the fruit and of the stock itself; for those sometimes warming

sometimes cooling it, the seasons creep on by degrees, and do not

assault it with all their violence at once. But now the flower, whilst

it is on the plant, is of no profit at all, unless we use it to delight

our nose with the admirable smell, and to please our eyes when it opens

that inimitable variety of colors. And therefore, when the leaves are

plucked off, the plants as it were suffer injury and grief. There is a

kind of an ulcer raised, and an unbecoming nakedness attends them; and

we must not only (as Empedocles says)

By all means spare the leaves that grace the palm,

but likewise the leaves of all other trees, and not injuriously against

Nature robbing them of their leaves, bring deformity on them to adorn

ourselves. But to pluck the flowers doth no injury at all. It is like

gathering of grapes at the time of vintage; unless plucked when ripe,

they wither of themselves and fall. And therefore, like the barbarians

who clothe themselves with the skins more commonly than with the wool

of sheep, those that wreathe leaves rather than flowers into garlands

seem to me to use the plants according to neither the dictates of

reason nor the design of Nature. And thus much I say in defence of

those who sell chaplets of flowers; for I am not grammarian enough

to remember those poems which tell us that the old conquerors in the

sacred games were crowned with flowers. Yet, now I think of it, there

is a story of a rosy crown that belongs to the Muses; Sappho mentions

it in a copy of verses to a woman unlearned and unacquainted with the

Muses:

Dead thou shalt lie forgotten in thy tomb,

Since not for thee Pierian roses bloom.[75]

But if Trypho can produce any thing to our advantage from physic, pray

let us have it.

3. Then Trypho taking the discourse said: The ancients were very

curious and well acquainted with all these things, because plants

were the chief ingredients of their physic. And of this some signs

remain till now; for the Tyrians offer to the son of Agenor, and the

Magnesians to Chiron, the first supposed practitioners of physic, as

the first fruits, the roots of those plants which have been successful

on a patient. And Bacchus was counted a physician not only for finding

wine, the most pleasing and most potent remedy, but for bringing ivy,

the greatest opposite imaginable to wine, into reputation, and for

teaching his drunken followers to wear garlands of it, that by that

means they might be secured against the violence of a debauch, the heat

of the liquor being remitted by the coldness of the ivy. Besides, the

names of several plants sufficiently evidence the ancients’ curiosity

in this matter; for they named the walnut-tree καρύα, because it sends

forth a heavy and drowsy (καρωτικόν) spirit, which affects their heads

who sleep beneath it; and the daffodil, νάρκισσος, because it benumbs

the nerves and causes a stupid narcotic heaviness in the limbs; and

therefore Sophocles calls it the ancient garland flower of the great

(that is, the earthy) Gods. And some say rue was called πήγανον from

its astringent quality; for, by its dryness proceeding from its

heat, it fixes (πήγνυσι) or coagulates the seed, and is very hurtful

to great-bellied women. But those that imagine the herb amethyst

(ἀμέθυστος), and the precious stone of the same name, are called so

because powerful against the force of wine are much mistaken; for both

receive their names from their color; for its leaf is not of the color

of strong wine, but resembles that of weak diluted liquor. And indeed

I could mention a great many which have their names from their proper

virtues. But the care and experience of the ancients sufficiently

appears in those of which they made their garlands when they designed

to be merry and frolic over a glass of wine; for wine, especially when

it seizes on the head, and strains the body just at the very spring

and origin of the sense, disturbs the whole man. Now the effluvia of

flowers are an admirable preservative against this, they secure the

brain, as it were a citadel, against the efforts of drunkenness; for

those that are hot open the pores and give the fumes free passage to

exhale, and those that are moderately cold repel and keep down the

ascending vapors. Of this last nature are the violet and rose; for

the odors of both these are prevalent against any ache and heaviness

in the head. The flowers of privet and crocus bring those that have

drunk freely into a gentle sleep; for they send forth a smooth and

gentle effluvia, which softly takes off all asperities that arise in

the body of the drunken; and so all things being quiet and composed,

the violence of the noxious humor is abated and thrown off. The smells

of some flowers being received into the brain cleanse the organs and

instruments of sense, and gently by their heat, without any violence

or force, dissolve the humors, and warm and cherish the brain itself,

which is naturally cold. Upon this account, they called those little

posies they hung about their necks ὑποθύμιδες, and anointed their

breasts with the oils that were squeezed from them; and of this Alcaeus

is a witness, when he bids his friends,

Pour ointment o’er his laboring temples, pressed

With various cares, and o’er his aged breast.

Hence the odors by means of the heat shoot upward into the very brain,

being caught up by the nostrils. For they did not call those garlands

hung about the neck ὑποθυμίδες because they thought the heart was the

seat and citadel of the mind (θυμός), for on that account they should

rather have called them ἐπιθυμίδες; but, as I said before, from their

vapor and exhalation. Besides, it is no strange thing that these smells

of garlands should be of so considerable a virtue; for some tell us

that the shadow of the yew, especially when it blossoms, kills those

that sleep under it; and a subtile spirit ariseth from pressed poppy,

which suddenly overcomes the unwary squeezers. And there is an herb

called alyssus, which to some that take it in their hands, to others

that do but look on it, is found a present remedy against the hiccough;

and some affirm that planted near the stalls it preserves sheep and

goats from the rot and mange. And the rose is called ῥόδον, probably

because it sends forth a stream (ῥεῦμα) of odors; and for that reason

it withers presently. It is a cooler, yet fiery to look upon; and no

wonder, for upon the surface a subtile heat, being driven out by the

inward cold, looks vivid and appears.

_QUESTION II._

WHETHER IVY IS OF A HOT OR COLD NATURE.

AMMONIUS, TRYPHO, ERATO.

1. Upon this discourse, when we all hummed Trypho, Ammonius with a

smile said: It is not decent by any contradiction to pull in pieces,

like a chaplet, this various and florid discourse of Trypho’s. Yet

methinks the ivy is a little oddly interwoven, and unjustly said by its

cold powers to temper the heat of strong wine; for it is rather fiery

and hot, and its berries steeped in wine make the liquor more apt to

inebriate and inflame. And from this cause, as in sticks warped by

the fire, proceeds the crookedness of the boughs. And snow, that for

many days will lie on other trees, presently melts from the branches of

the ivy, and wastes all around, as far as the warmth reaches. But the

greatest evidence is this. Theophrastus tells us, that when Alexander

commanded Harpalus to plant some Grecian trees in the Babylonian

gardens, and—because the climate is very hot and the sun violent—such

as were leafy, thick, and fit to make a shade, the ivy only would not

grow; though all art and diligence possible was used, it withered and

died. For being hot itself, it could not agree with the fiery nature of

the soil; for excess in similar qualities is destructive, and therefore

we see every thing as it were affects its contrary; a cold plant

flourishes in a hot ground, and a hot plant is delighted with a cold.

Upon which account it is that bleak mountains, exposed to cold winds

and snow, bear firs, pines, and the like, full of pitch, fiery, and

excellent to make a torch. But besides, Trypho, trees of a cold nature,

their little feeble heat not being able to diffuse itself but retiring

to the heart, shed their leaves; but their natural oiliness and warmth

preserve the laurel, olive, and cypress always green; and the like too

in the ivy may be observed. And therefore it is not likely our dear

friend Bacchus, who called wine μέθυ (_intoxicating_) and himself

μεθυμναῖος, should bring ivy into reputation for being a preservative

against drunkenness and an enemy to wine. But in my opinion, as lovers

of wine, when they have not any juice of the grape ready, drink

ale, mead, cider, or the like; thus he that in winter would have a

vine-garland on his head, finding the vine naked and without leaves,

used the ivy that is like it; for its boughs are twisted and irregular,

its leaves moist and disorderly confused, but chiefly the berries, like

ripening clusters, make an exact representation of the vine. But grant

the ivy to be a preservative against drunkenness,—that to please you,

Trypho, we may call Bacchus a physician,—still I affirm that power to

proceed from its heat, which either opens the pores or helps to digest

the wine.

2. Upon this Trypho sat silent, studying for an answer. Erato

addressing himself to us youths, said: Trypho wants your assistance;

help him in this dispute about the garlands, or be content to sit

without any. Ammonius too bade us not be afraid, for he would not reply

to any of our discourses; and Trypho likewise urging me to propose

something, I said: To demonstrate that the ivy is cold is not so proper

a task for me as Trypho, for he often useth coolers and binders; but

that proposition, that wine in which ivy berries have been is more

inebriating, is not true; for that disturbance which it raiseth in

those that drink it is not so properly called drunkenness as alienation

of mind or madness, such as hyoscyamus and a thousand other things

that set men beside themselves usually produce. The crookedness of the

bough is no argument at all, for such violent and unnatural effects

cannot be supposed to proceed from any natural quality or power. Now

sticks are bent by the fire, because that draws the moisture, and so

the crookedness is a violent distortion; but the natural heat nourishes

and preserves the body. Consider therefore, whether it is not the

weakness and coldness of the body that makes it wind, bend, and creep

upon the ground; for those qualities check its rise, and depress it in

its ascent, and render it like a weak traveller, that often sits down

and then goes on again. Therefore the ivy requires something to twine

about, and needs a prop; for it is not able to sustain and direct its

own branches, because it wants heat, which naturally tends upward.

The snow is melted by the wetness of the leaf, for water destroys it

easily, passing through the thin contexture, it being nothing but

a congeries of small bubbles; and therefore in very cold but moist

places the snow melts as soon as in hot. That it is continually green

doth not proceed from its heat, for to shed its leaves doth not argue

the coldness of a tree. Thus the myrtle and maiden-hair, though not

hot, but confessedly cold, are green all the year. Some imagine this

comes from the equal and duly proportioned mixture of the qualities

in the leaf, to which Empedocles hath added a certain aptness of

pores, through which the nourishing juice is orderly transmitted, so

that there is still supply sufficient. But now it is otherwise in

trees whose leaves fall, by reason of the wideness of their higher

and narrowness of their lower pores; for the latter do not send juice

enough, nor do the former keep it, but pour it out as soon as a small

stock is received. This may be illustrated from the usual watering of

our gardens; for when the distribution is unequal, the plants that are

always watered have nourishment enough, seldom wither, and look always

green. But you further argue, that being planted in Babylon it would

not grow. It was well done of the plant, methinks, being a particular

friend and familiar of the Boeotian God, to scorn to live amongst the

barbarians, or imitate Alexander in following the manners of those

nations; but it was not its heat but cold that was the cause of this

aversion, for that could not agree with the contrary quality. For one

similar quality doth not destroy but cherish another. Thus dry ground

bears thyme, though it is naturally hot. Now at Babylon they say the

air is so suffocating, so intolerably hot, that many of the merchants

sleep upon skins full of water, that they may lie cool.

_QUESTION III._

WHY WOMEN ARE HARDLY, OLD MEN EASILY, FOXED.

FLORUS, SYLLA.

Florus thought it strange that Aristotle in his discourse of

Drunkenness, affirming that old men are easily, women hardly,

overtaken, did not assign the cause, since he seldom failed on such

occasions. He therefore proposed it to us (we were a great many

acquaintance met at supper) as a fit subject for our enquiry. Sylla

began: One part will conduce to the discovery of the other; and if

we rightly hit the cause in relation to the women, the difficulty,

as it concerns the old men, will be easily despatched; for their two

natures are quite contrary. Moistness, smoothness, and softness belong

to the one; and dryness, roughness, and hardness are the accidents of

the other. As for women, I think the principal cause is the moistness

of their temper; this produceth a softness in the flesh, a shining

smoothness, and their usual purgations. Now when wine is mixed with

a great deal of weak liquor, it is overpowered by that, loses its

strength, and becomes flat and waterish. Some reason likewise may be

drawn from Aristotle himself; for he affirms that those that drink

fast, and take a large draught without drawing breath, are seldom

overtaken, because the wine doth not stay long in their bodies, but

having acquired an impetus by this greedy drinking, suddenly runs

through; and women are generally observed to drink after that manner.

Besides, it is probable that their bodies, by reason of the continual

defluction of the moisture in order to their usual purgations, are very

porous, and divided as it were into many little pipes and conduits;

into which when the wine falls, it is quickly conveyed away, and

doth not lie and fret the principal parts, from whose disturbance

drunkenness proceeds. But that old men want the natural moisture,

even the name γέρουτες, in my opinion, intimates; for that name was

given them not as inclining to the earth (ῥέοντες εἰς γῆν), but as

being in the habit of their body γεώδεις and γεηροί, _earthlike_

and _earthy_. Besides, the stiffness and roughness prove the

dryness of their nature. Therefore it is probable that, when they

drink, their body, being grown spongy by the dryness of its nature,

soaks up the wine, and that lying in the vessels it affects the senses

and prevents the natural motions. For as floods of water glide over

the close grounds, nor make them slabby, but quickly sink into the

open and chapped fields; thus wine, being sucked in by the dry parts,

lies and works in the bodies of old men. But besides, it is easy to

observe, that age of itself hath all the symptoms of drunkenness. These

symptoms every body knows; shaking of the joints, faltering of the

tongue, babbling, passion, forgetfulness, and distraction of the mind;

many of which being incident to old men, even whilst they are well

and in perfect health, are heightened by any little irregularity and

accidental debauch. So that drunkenness doth not beget in old men any

new and proper symptoms, but only intend and increase the common ones.

And an evident sign of this is, that nothing is so like an old man as a

young man drunk.

_QUESTION IV._

WHETHER THE TEMPER OF WOMEN IS COLDER OR HOTTER THAN THAT OF

MEN.

APOLLONIDES, ATHRYILATUS.

1. Thus Sylla said, and Apollonides the marshal subjoined: Sir, what

you discoursed of old men I willingly admit; but in my opinion you have

omitted a considerable reason in relation to the women, the coldness of

their temper, which quencheth the heat of the strongest wine, and makes

it lose all its destructive force and fire. This reflection seeming

reasonable, Athryilatus the Thasian, a physician, kept us from a hasty

conclusion in this matter, by saying that some supposed the female sex

was not cold, but hotter than the male; and others thought wine rather

cold than hot.

2. When Florus seemed surprised at this discourse, Athryliatus

continued: Sir, what I mention about wine I shall leave to this man

to make out (pointing to me, for a few days before we had handled the

same matter). But that women are of a hot constitution, some suppose,

may be proved, first, from their smoothness, for their heat wastes all

the superfluous nourishment which breeds hair; secondly from their

abundance of blood, which seems to be the fountain and source of all

the heat that is in the body;—now this abounds so much in females,

that they would be all on fire, unless relieved by frequent and sudden

evacuations. Thirdly, from a usual practice of the sextons in burning

the bodies of the dead, it is evident that females are hotter than

males; for the beds-men are wont to put one female body with ten males

upon the same pile, for that contains some inflammable and oily parts,

and serves for fuel to the rest. Besides, if that that is soonest fit

for generation is hottest, and a maid begins to be furious sooner than

a boy, this is a strong proof of the hotness of the female sex. But a

more convincing proof follows: women endure cold better than men, they

are not so sensible of the sharpness of the weather, and are contented

with a few clothes.

3. And Florus replied: Methinks, sir, from the same topics I could

draw conclusions against your assertion. For, first, they endure cold

better, because one similar quality doth not so readily act upon

another; and then again, their seed is not active in generation, but

passive matter and nourishment to that which the male injects. But

more, women grow effete sooner than men; that they burn better than the

males proceeds from their fat, which is the coldest part of the body;

and young men, or such as use exercise, have but little fat. Their

monthly purgations do not prove the abundance, but the corruption and

badness, of their blood; for being the superfluous and undigested part,

and having no convenient vessel in the body, it flows out, and appears

languid and feculent, by reason of the weakness of its heat. And the

shivering that seizes them at the time of their purgations sufficiently

proves that which flows from them is cold and undigested. And who will

believe their smoothness to be an effect of heat rather than cold, when

every body knows that the hottest parts of a man’s body are the most

hairy? For all such excrements are thrust out by the heat, which opens

and makes passages through the skin; but smoothness is a consequent

of that closeness of the superficies which proceeds from condensing

cold. And that the flesh of women is closer than that of men, you may

be informed by those that lie with women that have anointed themselves

with oil or other perfumes; for though they do not touch the women, yet

they find themselves perfumed, their bodies by reason of their heat and

rarety drawing the odor to them. But I think we have disputed plausibly

and sufficiently of this matter....

_QUESTION V._

WHETHER WINE IS POTENTIALLY COLD.

ATHRYILATUS, PLUTARCH.

1. But now I would fain know upon what account you can imagine that

wine is cold. Then, said I, do you believe this to be my opinion? Yes,

said he, whose else? And I replied: I remember a good while ago I met

with a discourse of Aristotle’s upon this very question. And Epicurus,

in his Banquet, hath a long discourse, the sum of which is that wine

of itself is not hot, but that it contains some atoms that cause heat,

and others that cause cold; now, when it is taken into the body, it

loses one sort of particles and takes the other out of the body itself,

according to the person’s nature and constitution; so that some when

they are drunk are very hot, and others very cold.

2. This way of talking, said Florus, leads us by Protagoras directly

to Pyrrho; for it is evident that, suppose we were to discourse of

oil, milk, honey, or the like, we shall avoid all enquiry into their

particular natures, by saying that things are so and so by their mutual

mixture with one another. But how do you prove that wine is cold? And

I, being forced to speak extempore, replied: By two arguments. The

first I draw from the practice of physicians, for when their patients’

stomachs grow very weak, they prescribe no hot things, and yet give

them wine as an excellent remedy. Besides, they stop looseness and

immoderate sweating by wine; and this shows that they think it more

binding and constipating than snow itself. Now if it were potentially

hot, I should think it as wise a thing to apply fire to snow as wine to

the stomach.

Again, most teach that sleep proceeds from the coolness of the parts;

and most of the narcotic medicines, as mandrake and opium, are coolers.

Those indeed work violently, and forcibly condense, but wine cools by

degrees; it gently stops the motion, according as it hath more or less

of such narcotic qualities. Besides, heat is generative; for owing to

heat the moisture flows easily, and the vital spirit gains intensity

and a stimulating force. Now the great drinkers are very dull, inactive

fellows, no women’s men at all; they eject nothing strong, vigorous,

and fit for generation, but are weak and unperforming, by reason of the

bad digestion and coldness of their seed. And it is farther observable

that the effects of cold and drunkenness upon men’s bodies are the

same,—trembling, heaviness, paleness, shivering, faltering of tongue,

numbness, and cramps. In many, a debauch ends in a dead palsy, when

the wine stupefies and extinguisheth all the heat. And the physicians

use this method in curing the qualms and diseases gotten by debauch;

at night they cover them well and keep them warm; and at day they

anoint and bathe, and give them such food as shall not disturb, but

by degrees recover the heat which the wine hath scattered and driven

out of the body. Thus, I added, in these appearances we trace obscure

qualities and powers; but as for drunkenness, it is easily discerned

what it is. For, in my opinion, as I hinted before, those that are

drunk are very much like old men; and therefore great drinkers grow old

soonest, and they are commonly bald and gray before their time; and all

these accidents certainly proceed from want of heat. But mere vinegar

is of a vinous nature and strength, and nothing quenches fire so soon

as that; its extreme coldness overcomes and kills the flame presently.

And of all fruits physicians use the vinous as the greatest coolers, as

pomegranates and apples. Besides, do they not make wine by mixing honey

with rain-water or snow; for the cold, because those two qualities are

near akin, if it prevails, changes the luscious into a poignant taste?

And did not the ancients of all the creeping beasts consecrate the

snake to Bacchus, and of all the plants the ivy, because they were of

a cold and frozen nature? Now, lest any one should think this is an

evidence of its heat, that if a man drinks juice of hemlock, a large

dose of wine cures him, I shall on the contrary affirm that wine and

hemlock juice mixed are an incurable poison, and kill him that drinks

it presently. So that we can no more conclude it to be hot because it

resists, than to be cold because it assists, the poison. For cold is

the only quality by which hemlock juice works and kills.

_QUESTION VI._

WHICH IS THE FITTEST TIME FOR A MAN TO KNOW HIS WIFE?

YOUTHS, ZOPYRUS, OLYMPICHUS, SOCLARUS.

1. Some young students, that had not gone far in the learning of

the ancients, inveighed against Epicurus for bringing in, in his

Symposium, an impertinent and unseemly discourse, about what time was

best to lie with a woman; for (they said) for an old man at supper in

the company of youths to talk of such a subject, and dispute whether

after or before supper was the most convenient time, argued him to be

a very loose and debauched man. To this some said that Xenophon, after

his entertainment was ended, sent all his guests home on horseback,

to lie with their wives. But Zopyrus the physician, a man very well

read in Epicurus, said, that they had not duly weighed that piece;

for he did not propose that question at first, and then discourse of

that matter on purpose; but after supper he desired the young men to

take a walk, and then discourse upon it, that he might induce them

to continence, and persuade them to abate their desires and restrain

their appetites; showing them that it was very dangerous at all

times, but especially after they had been eating or making merry. But

suppose he had proposed this as the chief topic for discourse, doth

it never become a philosopher to enquire which is the convenient and

proper time? Ought we not to time it well, and direct our embrace by

reason? Or may such discourses be otherwise allowed, and must they

be thought unseemly problems to be proposed at table? Indeed I am of

another mind. It is true, I should blame a philosopher that in the

middle of the day, in the schools, before all sorts of men, should

discourse of such a subject; but over a glass of wine between friends

and acquaintance, when it is necessary to propose something beside dull

serious discourse, why should it be a fault to hear or speak any thing

that may inform our judgments or direct our practice in such matters?

And I protest I had rather that Zeno had inserted his loose topics in

some merry discourses and agreeable table-talk, than in such a grave,

serious piece as his politics.

2. The youth, startled at this free declaration, sat silent; and the

rest of the company desired Zopyrus to deliver Epicurus’s sentiment.

He said: The particulars I cannot remember; but I believe he feared

the violent agitations of such exercises, because the bodies employed

in them are so violently disturbed. For it is certain that wine is a

very great disturber, and puts the body out of its usual temper; and

therefore, when thus disquieted, if quiet and sleep do not compose it

but other agitations seize it, it is likely that those parts which knit

and join the members may be loosened, and the whole frame be as it were

unsettled from its foundation and overthrown. For then likewise the

seed cannot freely pass, but is confusedly and forcibly thrown out,

because the liquor hath filled the vessels of the body, and stopped its

way. Therefore, says Epicurus, we must use those sports when the body

is at quiet, when the meat hath been thoroughly digested, carried about

and applied to several parts of the body, but before we begin to want

a fresh supply of food. To this of Epicurus we might join an argument

taken from physic. At day time, while our digestion is performing, we

are not so lusty nor eager to embrace; and presently after supper to

endeavor it is dangerous, for the crudity of the stomach, the food

being yet undigested, may be increased by a disorderly motion upon this

crudity, and so the mischief be double.

3. Olympicus, continuing the discourse, said: I very much like what

Clinias the Pythagorean delivers. For story goes that, being asked

when a man should lie with a woman, he replied, when he hath a mind

to receive the greatest mischief that he can. For Zopyrus’s discourse

seems rational, and other times as well as those he mentions have their

peculiar inconveniences. And therefore,—as Thales the philosopher, to

free himself from the pressing solicitations of his mother who advised

him to marry, said at first, ’tis not yet time; and when, now he was

growing old, she repeated her admonition, replied, nor is it now

time,—so it is best for every man to have the same mind in relation to

those sports of Venus; when he goes to bed, let him say, ’tis not yet

time; and when he rises, ’tis not now time.

4. What you say, Olympicus, said Soclarus interposing, befits wrestlers

indeed; it smells, methinks, of their cottabus, and their meals of

flesh and casks of wine, but is not suitable to the present company,

for there are some young married men here.

Whose duty ’tis to follow Venus’ sports.

Nay, we ourselves seem to have some relation to Venus still, when in

our hymns to the Gods we pray thus to her,

Fair Venus, keep off feeble age.

But waving this, let us enquire (if you think fit) whether Epicurus

does well, when contrary to all right and equity he separates Venus

and the Night, though Menander, a man well skilled in love matters,

says that she likes her company better than that of any of the Gods.

For, in my opinion, night is a very convenient veil, spread over those

that give themselves to that kind of pleasure; for it is not fit that

day should be the time, lest modesty should be banished from our eyes,

effeminacy grow bold, and such vigorous impressions on our memories

be left, as might still possess us with the same fancies and raise

new inclinations. For the sight (according to Plato) receives a more

vigorous impression than any other bodily organ, and joining with

imagination, that lies near it, works presently upon the soul, and

ever raises a new and fresh desire by those images of pleasure which

it brings. But the night, hiding many and the most furious of the

actions, quiets and lulls nature, and doth not suffer it to be carried

to intemperance by the eye. But besides this, how absurd is it, that a

man returning from an entertainment, merry perhaps and jocund, crowned

and perfumed, should cover himself up, turn his back to his wife, and

go to sleep; and then at day-time, in the midst of his business, send

for her out of her apartment to come to him for such a matter; or in

the morning, as a cock treads his hens. No, sir, the evening is the end

of our labor, and the morning the beginning. Bacchus the Loosener and

Terpsichore and Thalia preside over the former; and the latter raiseth

us up betimes to attend on Minerva the Work-mistress, and Mercury

the merchandiser. And therefore songs, dances, and epithalamiums,

merry-meetings, with balls and feasts, and sounds of pipes and flutes,

are the entertainment of the one; but in the other, nothing but the

noise of hammers and anvils, the scratching of saws, the morning cries

of noisy tax-gatherers, citations to court or to attend this or that

prince and magistrate, are heard.

Then all the sports of pleasure disappear.

Then Venus, then gay youth removes;

No Thyrsus then which Bacchus loves;

But all is clouded and o’erspread with care.

Besides, Homer makes not one of the heroes lie with his wife or

mistress in the daytime, but only Paris, who, having shamefully fled

from the battle, sneaked into the embraces of his wife; intimating that

such lasciviousness by day did not befit the sober temper of a man,

but the mad lust of an adulterer. But, moreover, the body will not (as

Epicurus fancies) be injured more after supper than at any other time,

unless a man be drunk or overcharged,—for in those cases, no doubt, it

is very dangerous and hurtful. But if a man is only raised and cheered,

not overpowered by liquor, if his body is pliable, his mind agreeing,

if he interposes some reasonable time between, and then he sports, he

need not fear any disturbance from the load he has within him; he need

not fear catching cold, or too great a transportation of atoms, which

Epicurus makes the cause of all the ensuing harm. For if he lies quiet

he will quickly fill again, and new spirits will supply the vessels

that are emptied. But this is especially to be taken care of, that,

the body being then in a ferment and disturbed, no cares of the soul,

no business about necessary affairs, no labor, should distract and

seize it, lest they should corrupt and sour its humors, Nature not

having time enough for settling what has been disturbed. For, sir, all

men have not the command of that happy ease and tranquillity which

Epicurus’s philosophy procured him; for many great incumbrances seize

almost upon every one every day, or at least some disquiets; and it

is not safe to trust the body with any of these, when it is in such a

condition and disturbance, presently after the fury and heat of the

embrace is over. Let, according to his opinion, the happy and immortal

Deity sit at ease and never mind us; but if we regard the laws of our

country, we must not dare to enter into the temple and offer sacrifice,

if but a little before we have done any such thing. It is fit therefore

to let night and sleep intervene, and after there is a sufficient

space of time past between, to rise as it were pure and new, and (as

Democritus was wont to say) “with new thoughts upon the new day.”

_QUESTION VII._

WHY NEW WINE DOTH NOT INEBRIATE AS SOON AS OTHER.

PLUTARCH, HIS FATHER, HAGIAS, ARISTAENETUS, AND OTHER YOUTH.

1. At Athens on the eleventh day of February (thence called Πιθοίγια,

(_the barrel-opening_), they began to taste their new wine; and

in old times (as it appears), before they drank, they offered some

to the Gods, and prayed that that cordial liquor might prove good

and wholesome. By us Thebans the month is named Προστατήριος, and it

is our custom upon the sixth day to sacrifice to our good Genius and

taste our new wine, after the zephyr has done blowing; for that wind

makes wine ferment more than any other. and the liquor that can bear

this fermentation is of a strong body and will keep well. My father

offered the usual sacrifice, and when after supper the young men, my

fellow-students, commended the wine, he started this question: Why

does not new wine inebriate as soon as other? This seemed a paradox

and incredible to most of us; but Hagias said, that luscious things

were cloying and would presently satiate, and therefore few could drink

enough to make them drunk; for when once the thirst is allayed, the

appetite would be quickly palled by that unpleasant liquor; for that a

luscious is different from a sweet taste, even the poet intimates, when

he says,

With luscious wine, and with sweet milk and cheese.[76]

Wine at first is sweet; afterward, as it grows old, it ferments and

begins to be pricked a little; then it gets a sweet taste.

2. Aristaenetus the Nicaean said, that he remembered he had read

somewhere that sweet things mixed with wine make it less heady, and

that some physicians prescribe to one that hath drunk freely, before he

goes to bed, a crust of bread dipped in honey. And therefore, if sweet

mixtures weaken strong wine, it is reasonable that new wine should not

be heady till it hath lost its sweetness.

3. We admired the acuteness of the young philosophers, and were

well pleased to see them propose something out of the common road,

and give us their own sentiments on this matter. Now the common and

obvious reason is the heaviness of new wine,—which (as Aristotle

says) violently presseth the stomach,—or the abundance of airy and

watery parts that lie in it; the former of which, as soon as they are

pressed, fly out; and the watery parts are naturally fit to weaken the

spirituous liquor. Now, when it grows old, the juice is improved, and

though by the separation of the watery parts it loses in quantity, it

gets in strength.

_QUESTION VIII._

WHY THOSE THAT ARE STARK DRUNK SEEM NOT SO MUCH DEBAUCHED AS THOSE

THAT ARE BUT HALF FOXED.

PLUTARCH, HIS FATHER.

1. Well then, said my father, since we have fallen upon Aristotle, I

will endeavor to propose something of my own concerning those that are

half drunk; for, in my mind, though he was a very acute man, he is not

accurate enough in such matters. They usually say, I think, that a

sober man’s understanding apprehends things right and judges well; the

sense of one quite drunk is weak and enfeebled; but of them that are

half drunk the fancy is vigorous and the understanding weakened, and

therefore, following their own fancies, they judge, but judge ill. But

pray, sirs, what is your opinion in these matters?

2. This reason, I replied, would satisfy me upon a private

disquisition; but if you will have my own sentiments, let us first

consider, whether this difference doth not proceed from the different

temper of the body. For of those that are only half drunk, the mind

alone is disturbed, but the body not being quite overwhelmed is yet

able to obey its motions; but when it is too much oppressed and the

wine has overpowered it, it betrays and frustrates the motions of the

mind, for men in such a condition never go so far as action. But those

that are half drunk, having a body serviceable to the absurd motions of

the mind, are rather to be thought to have greater ability to comply

with those they have, than to have worse inclinations than the others.

Now if, proceeding on another principle, we consider the strength of

the wine itself, nothing hinders but that this may be different and

changeable, according to the quantity that is drunk. As fire, when

moderate, hardens a piece of clay, but if very strong, makes it brittle

and crumble into pieces; and the heat of the spring fires our blood

with fevers, but as the summer comes on, the disease usually abates;

what hinders then but that the mind, being naturally raised by the

power of the wine, when it is come to a pitch, should by pouring on

more be weakened again, and its force abated? Thus hellebore, before

it purges, disturbs the body; but if too small a dose be given, it

disturbs only and purges not at all; and some taking too little of an

opiate are more restless than before; and some taking too much sleep

well. Besides, it is probable that this disturbance into which those

that are half drunk are put, when it comes to a pitch, conduces to that

decay. For a great quantity being taken inflames the body and consumes

the frenzy of the mind; as a mournful song and melancholy music at a

funeral raises grief at first and forces tears, but as it continues, by

little and little it takes away all dismal apprehensions and consumes

our sorrows. Thus wine, after it hath heated and disturbed, calms the

mind again and quiets the frenzy; and when men are dead drunk, their

passions are at rest.

_QUESTION IX.[77]_

WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THE SAYING: DRINK EITHER FIVE OR THREE, BUT

NOT FOUR?

ARISTO, PLUTARCH, PLUTARCH’S FATHER.

1. When I had said this, Aristo cried out aloud, as his manner was,

and said: I see well now that there is opened a return again of

measures unto feasts and banquets; which measures, although they are

most just and democratical, have for a long time (I wot not by what

sober reason) been banished from thence, as by a tyrant. For, as

they who profess a canonical harmony in sounding of the harp do hold

and say, that the sesquialteral proportion produceth the symphony

_diapente_ (διὰ πέντε), the double proportion the _diapason_

(διὰ πασῶν), and that the accord called _diatessaron_ (διὰ

τεσσάρων), which is of all most obscure and dull, consisteth in the

epitrite proportion; even so they that make profession of skill in

the harmonies of Bacchus have observed, that three symphonies or

accords there are between wine and water, namely, _diapente_,

_diatrion_ (διὰ τριῶν), and _diatessaron_; and so they say

and sing,—Drink either five or three, but not four. For the fifth has

the sesquialteral proportion, three cups of water being mingled with

two of wine; the third has the double proportion, two cups of water

being put to one of wine; but the fourth answereth to the epitrite

proportion of three parts of water poured into one of wine. Now this

last proportion may be fit for some grave magistrates sitting in the

council-hall, or for logicians who pull up their brows when they are

busy in watching the unfolding of their arguments; for surely it is

a mixture sober and weak enough. As for the other twain; that medley

which carrieth the proportion of two for one bringeth in that turbulent

tone of those who are half-drunk,

Which stirs the heart-strings never moved before;

for it suffereth a man neither to be fully sober, nor yet to drench

himself so deep in wine as to be altogether witless and past his sense;

but the other, standing upon the proportion of three to two, is of all

the most musical accord, causing a man to sleep peaceably and forget

all cares, and, like the corn-field which Hesiod speaks of,

Which doth from man all curses drive,

And children cause to rest and thrive,

stilling and appeasing all proud and disordered passions within the

heart, and inducing instead of them a peaceable calm and tranquillity.

2. These speeches of Aristo no one there would contradict, for it was

well known that he spoke in jest. But I willed him to take a cup, and,

as if it were a harp, to set and tune it to that accord and harmony

which he so highly praised. Then came a boy close unto him, and offered

him strong wine; but he refused it, saying with laughter, that his

music consisted in theory, and not in practice of the instrument. Then

my father added to what had been said, that the ancient poets gave two

nurses to Jupiter, namely, Ite and Adrastea; one to Juno, Euboea; two,

moreover, to Apollo, Alethea and Corythalea; while they gave many more

to Bacchus. For, as it seemed to him, Bacchus was nursed and suckled

by many Nymphs, because he had need of many measures of _water_

(νύμφαι), to make him more tame, gentle, witty, and wise.

_QUESTION X._

WHY FLESH STINKS SOONER WHEN EXPOSED TO THE MOON, THAN TO THE

SUN.

EUTHYDEMUS, SATYRUS.

1. Euthydemus of Sunium gave us at an entertainment a very large boar.

The guests wondering at the bigness of the beast, he said that he

had one a great deal larger, but in the carriage the moon had made

it stink; he could not imagine how this should happen, for it was

probable that the sun, being much hotter than the moon, should make it

stink sooner. But, said Satyrus, this is not so strange as the common

practice of the hunters; for, when they send a boar or a doe to a city

some miles distant, they drive a brazen nail into it to keep it from

stinking.

2. After supper Euthydemus bringing the question into play again,

Moschio the physician said, that putrefaction was a colliquation of

the flesh, and that every thing that putrefied grew moister than

before, and that all heat, if gentle, did stir the humors, though

not force them out but if strong, dry the flesh; and that from these

considerations an answer to the question might be easily deduced.

For the moon gently warming makes the body moist; but the sun by his

violent beams dries rather, and draws all moisture from them. Thus

Archilochus spoke like a naturalist,