No More Learning

159
WHEN
HEN I was at Grand Cairo, I picked up several Oriental
Manuscripts, which I have still by me. Among others I
met with one entitled, The Visions of Mirzah, which I
have read over with great Pleasure. I intend to give it to the
Publick when I have no other entertainment for them; and shall
begin with the first Vision, which I have translated Word for
Word as follows.
«On the fifth Day of the Moon, which according to the Cus-
tom of my Forefathers I always keep holy, after having washed
my self, and offered up my Morning Devotions, I ascended the
high hills of Bagdat, in order to pass the rest of the Day in
Meditation and Prayer. As I was here airing my self on the
Tops of the Mountains, I fell into a profound Contemplation on
the Vanity of human Life; and passing from one Thought to


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JOSEPH ADDISON
165
me
another, Surely, said I, Man is but a Shadow and Life a Dream.
Whilst I was thus musing, I cast my eyes towards the Summit of
a Rock that was not far from me, where I discovered one in the
Habit of a Shepherd, with a little Musical Instrument in his
Hand. As I looked upon him he applied it to his Lips, and be-
gan to play upon it. The sound of it was exceeding sweet, and
wrought into a Variety of Tunes that were inexpressibly melodi-
ous, and altogether different from any thing I had ever heard:
They put me in mind of those heavenly Airs that are played to
the departed Souls of good Men upon their first Arrival in Para-
dise, to wear out the Impressions of the last Agonies, and
qualify them for the Pleasures of that happy Place. My Heart
melted away in secret Raptures.
I had been often told that the Rock before
was the
Haunt of a Genius; and that several had been entertained with
Musick who had passed by it, but never heard that the Musi-
cian had before made himself visible. When he had raised my
Thoughts by those transporting Airs which he played, to taste
the Pleasures of his Conversation, as I looked upon him like one
astonished, he beckoned to me, and by the waving of his Hand
directed me to approach the Place where he sat. I drew near
with that Reverence which is due to a superior Nature; and as
my heart was entirely subdued by the captivating Strains I
heard, I fell down at his feet and wept. The Genius smiled
upon me with a Look of Compassion and Affability that famil-
iarized him to my Imagination, and at once dispelled all the
Fears and Apprehensions with which I approached him. He
lifted me from the Ground, and taking me by the hand, Mirzah,
said he, I have heard thee in thy Soliloquies; follow me.
He then led me to the highest Pinnacle of the Rock, and
placing me on the Top of it, Cast thy Eyes Eastward, said he,
and tell me what thou seest. I see, said I, a huge Valley, and a
prodigious Tide of Water rolling through it. The Valley that
thou seest, said he, is the Vale of Misery, and the Tide of
Water that thou seest is part of the great Tide of Eternity.
What is the Reason, said I, that the Tide I see rises out of a
thick Mist at one End, and again loses itself in a thick Mist at
the other? What thou seest, said he, is that Portion of Eternity
which is called Time, measured out by the Sun, and reaching
from the Beginning of the World to its Consummation. Examine
now, said he, this Sea that is bounded with darkness at both


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166
JOSEPH ADDISON
Ends, and tell me what thou discoverest in it. I see a Bridge,
said I, standing in the Midst of the Tide. The Bridge thou
seest, said he, is human Life, consider it attentively. Upon a
more leisurely Survey of it, I found that it consisted of three.
score and ten entire Arches, with several broken Arches, which
added to those that were entire, made up the Number about an
hundred. As I was counting the Arches, the Genius told me
that this Bridge consisted at first of a thousand Arches; but that
a great Flood swept away the rest, and left the Bridge in the
ruinous Condition I now beheld it: But tell me further, said he,
what thou discoverest on it. I see Multitudes of People passing
over it, said I, and a black Cloud hanging on each End of it.
As I looked more attentively, I saw several of the Passengers
dropping thro' the Bridge, into the great Tide that flowed under-
neath it; and upon farther Examination, perceived there were
innumerable Trap-doors that lay concealed in the Bridge, which
the Passengers no sooner trod upon, but they fell thro' them into
the Tide and immediately disappeared. These hidden Pit-falls
were set very thick at the Entrance of the Bridge, so that the
Throngs of People no sooner broke through the Cloud, but many
of them fell into them. They grew thinner towards the Middle,
but multiplied and lay closer together toward the End of the
Arches that were entire. There were indeed some Persons, but
their number was very small, that continued a kind of a hobbling
March on the broken Arches, but fell through one after another,
being quite tired and spent with so long a Walk.
I passed some Time in the Contemplation of this wonderful
Structure, and the great Variety of Objects which it presented.
My heart was filled with a deep Melancholy to see several drop-
ping unexpectedly in the midst of Mirth and Jollity, and catching
at every thing that stood by them to save themselves. Some
were looking up towards the Heavens in a thoughtful Posture,
and in the midst of a Speculation stumbled and fell out of Sight.
Multitudes were very busy in the Pursuit of Bubbles that glit-
tered in their Eyes and danced before them; but often when they
thought themselves within the reach of them their Footing failed
and down they sunk. In this Confusion of Objects, I observed
some with Scymetars in their Hands, and others with Urinals,
who ran to and fro upon the Bridge, thrusting several Persons
on Trap-doors which did not seem to lie in their way, and which
they might have escaped had they not been forced upon them.


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JOSEPH ADDISON
167
The Genius seeing me indulge my self in this melancholy Pros-
pect, told me I had dwelt long enough upon it: Take thine Eyes
off the Bridge, said he, and tell me if thou yet seest any thing
thou dost not comprehend. Upon looking up, What mean, said I,
those great Flights of Birds that are perpetually hovering about
the Bridge, and settling upon it from time to time? I see Vul-
tures, Harpyes, Ravens, Cormorants, and among many other
feather'd Creatures several little winged Boys, that perch in great
Numbers upon the middle Arches. These, said the Genius, are
Envy, Avarice, Superstition, Despair, Love, with the like Cares
and Passions that infest human Life.
I here fetched a deep Sigh, Alas, said I, Man was made in
vain! How is he given away to Misery and Mortality! tortured
in Life, and swallowed up in Death! The Genius being moved
with Compassion towards me, bid me quit so uncomfortable a
Prospect: Look no more, said he, on Man in the first Stage of his
Existence, in his setting out for Eternity; but cast thine Eye on
that thick Mist into which the Tide bears the several Generations
of Mortals that fall into it. I directed my Sight as I was ordered,
and (whether or no the good Genius strengthened it with any
supernatural Force, or dissipated Part of the Mist that was before
too thick for the Eye to penetrate) I saw the Valley opening at
the farther End, and spreading forth into an immense Ocean,
that had a huge Rock of Adamant running through the Midst
of it, and dividing it into two equal parts. The Clouds still
rested on one Half of it, insomuch that I could discover nothing
in it: But the other appeared to me a vast Ocean planted with
innumerable Islands, that were covered with Fruits and Flowers,
and interwoven with a thousand little shining Seas that ran
among them.
I could see Persons dressed in glorious Habits
with Garlands upon their Heads, passing among the Trees, lying
down by the Side of Fountains, or resting on Beds of Flowers;
and could hear a confused Harmony of singing Birds, falling
Waters, human Voices, and musical Instruments.
Gladness grew
in me upon the Discovery of so delightful a Scene. I wished for
the Wings of an Eagle, that I might fly away to those happy
Seats; but the Genius told me there was no Passage to them,
except through the Gates of Death that I saw opening every
Moment upon the Bridge. The Islands, said he, that lie so fresh
and green before thee, and with which the whole Face of the
Ocean appears spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in


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168
JOSEPH ADDISON
number than the Sands on the Sea-shore; there are Myriads of
Islands behind those which thou here discoverest, reaching further
than thine Eye, or even thine Imagination can extend it self.
These are the Mansions of good Men after Death, who according
to the Degree and Kinds of Virtue in which they excelled, are
distributed among these several Islands, which abound with
Pleasures of different kinds and Degrees, suitable to the Relishes
and Perfections of those who are settled in them; every Island is
a Paradise accommodated to its respective Inhabitants. Are not
these, O Mirzah, Habitations worth contending for ? Does Life
appear miserable, that gives thee Opportunities of earning such a
Reward? Is Death to be feared, that will convey thee to so
happy an Existence ? Think not Man was made in vain, who
has such an Eternity reserved for him. I gazed with inexpress-
ible Pleasure on these happy Islands. At length, said I, shew me
now, I beseech thee, the Secrets that lie hid under those dark
Clouds which cover the Ocean on the other side of the Rock of
Adamant. The Genius' making me no Answer, I turned about to
address myself to him a second time, but I found that he had
left me; I then turned again to the Vision which I had been so
long contemplating; but Instead of the rolling Tide, the arched
Bridge, and the happy Islands, I saw nothing but the long hollow
Valley of Bagdat, with Oxen, Sheep, and Camels grazing upon
the Sides of it.
AN ESSAY ON FANS
From the Spectator, No. 102
I
Do not know whether to call the following Letter a Satyr upon
Coquets, or a Representation of their several fantastical Accom-
plishments, or what other Title to give it; but as it is I shall
communicate it to the Publick. It will sufficiently explain its own
Intentions, so that I shall give it my Reader at Length, without
either Preface or Postscript.
Mr. Spectator :
Women are armed with Fans as Men with Swords, and some-
times do more Execution with them. To the end therefore that
Ladies may be entire Mistresses of the Weapon which they bear,
I have erected an Academy for the training up of young Women
in the Exercise of the Fan, according to the most fashionable Airs
and Motions that are now practis'd at Court. The Ladies who


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JOSEPH ADDISON
169
carry Fans under me are drawn up twice a-day in my great
Hall, where they are instructed in the Use of their Arms, and
exercised by the following Words of Command,
Handle your Fans,
Unfurl your Fans,
Discharge your Fans,
Ground your Fans,
Recover your Fans,
Flutter your Fans.
By the right Observation of these few plain Words of Command,
a Woman of a tolerable Genius, who will apply herself diligently
to her Exercise for the Space of but one half Year, shall be able
to give her Fan all the Graces that can possibly enter into that
little modish Machine.
But to the end that my Readers may form to themselves a
right Notion of this Exercise, I beg leave to explain it to them
in all its Parts. When my Female Regiment is drawn up in
Array, with every one her Weapon in her Hand, upon my giving
the Word to handle their Fans, each of them shakes her Fan at
me with a Smile, then gives her Right-hand Woman a Tap upon
the Shoulder, then presses her Lips with the Extremity of her
Fan, then lets her Arms fall in an easy Motion, and stands in a
Readiness to receive the next Word of Command. All this is
done with a close Fan, and is generally learned in the first Week.
The next Motion is that of unfurling the Fan, in which are
comprehended several little Flirts and Vibrations, as also gradual
and deliberate Openings, with many voluntary Fallings asunder in
the Fan itself, that are seldom learned under a Month's Practice.
This part of the Exercise pleases the Spectators more than any
other, as it discovers on a sudden an infinite Number of Cupids,
[Garlands,] Altars, Birds, Beasts, Rainbows, and the like agre-
able Figures, that display themselves to View, whilst every one in
the Regiment holds a Picture in her Hand.
Upon my giving the Word to discharge their Fans, they give
one general Crack that may be heard at a considerable distance
when the Wind sits fair. This is one of the most difficult parts
of the Exercise; but I have several ladies with me who at their
first Entrance could not give a Pop loud enough to be heard at
the further end of a Room, who can now discharge a Fan in such
a manner that it shall make a Report like a Pocket-Pistol. I have


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170
JOSEPH ADDISON
likewise taken care (in order to hinder young Women from letting
off their Fans in wrong Places or unsuitable Occasions) to shew
upon what Subject the Crack of a Fan may come in properly: I
have likewise invented a Fan, with which a Girl of Sixteen, by
the help of a little Wind which is inclosed about one of the largest
Sticks, can make as loud a Crack as a Woman of Fifty with an
ordinary Fan.
When the Fans are thus discharged, the Word of Command in
course is to ground their Fans. This teaches a Lady to quit her
Fan gracefully, when she throws it aside in order to take up a
Pack of Cards, adjust a Curl of Hair, replace a falling Pin, or
apply her self to any other Matter of Importance. This part of
the Exercise, as it only consists in tossing a Fan with an Air
upon a long Table (which stands by for that Purpose) may be
learned in two Days Time as well as in a Twelvemonth.
When my Female Regiment is thus disarmed, I generally let
them walk about the Room for some Time; when on a sudden
(like Ladies that look upon their Watches after a long Visit) they
all of them hasten to their Arms, catch them up in a Hurry, and
place themselves in their proper Stations upon my calling out
Recover your Fans. This part of the Exercise is not difficult,
provided a Woman applies her Thoughts to it.
The Fluttering of the Fan is the last, and indeed the Master-
piece of the whole Exercise; but if a Lady does not mis-spend her
Time, she may make herself Mistress of it in three Months. I
generally lay aside the Dog-days and the hot Time of the Sum-
mer for the teaching this part of the Exercise; for as soon as
ever I pronounce Flutter your Fans, the Place is fill'd with so
many Zephyrs and gentle Breezes as are very refreshing in that
Season of the Year, tho’ they might be dangerous to Ladies of a
tender Constitution in any other.
There is an infinite variety of Motions to be made use of in
the Flutter of a Fan. There is an Angry Flutter, the modest
Flutter, the timorous Flutter, the confused Flutter, the merry
Flutter, and the amorous Flutter. Not to be tedious, there is
scarce any Emotion in the Mind which does not produce a suit-
able Agitation in the Fan; insomuch, that if I only see the Fan
of a disciplin'd Lady, I know very well whether she laughs,
frowns, or blushes. I have seen a Fan so very Angry, that it
would have been dangerous for the absent Lover who provoked
it to have come within the Wind of it; and at other times so


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JOSEPH ADDISON
171
very languishing, that I have been glad for the Lady's sake the
Lover was at a sufficient Distance from it. I need not add, that a
Fan is either a Prude or Coquet according to the Nature of the
Person who bears it. To conclude my Letter, I must acquaint
you that I have from my own Observations compiled a little Trea-
tise for the use of my Scholars, entitled The Passions of the Fan;
which I will communicate to you, if you think it may be of use
to the Publick. I shall have a general Review on Thursday
next; to which you shall be very welcome if you will honour it
with your Presence.
I am, &c.
P. S. I teach young Gentlemen the whole Art of Gallanting
a Fan.
N. B.
I have several little plain Fans made for this Use, to
avoid Expence.
L.
HYMN
From the Spectator, No. 465
T"
HE Spacious Firmament on high
With all the blue Etherial Sky,
And Spangled Heav'ns, a Shining Frame,
Their great Original proclaim:
Th' unwearied Sun, from Day to Day,
Does his Creator's Pow'r display,
And publishes to every Land
The Work of an Almighty Hand.
Soon as the Evening Shades prevail,
The Moon takes up the wondrous Tale,
And nightly to the list'ning Earth,
Repeats the Story of her Birth:
While all the Stars that round her burn,
And all the Planets in their Turn,
Confirm the Tidings as they rowl,
And spread the Truth from Pole to Pole.
What though, in solemn Silence, all
Move round the dark terrestrial Ball ?
What tho' nor real Voice nor Sound
Amid their radiant Orbs be found ?
In Reason's Ear they all rejoice,
And utter forth a glorious Voice,
For ever singing, as they shine,
« The Hand that made us is Divine. ”


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172
ÆLIANUS CLAUDIUS
(Second Century A. D. )
a
ACCORDING to his 'Varia Historia,' Ælianus Claudius was
native of Præneste and a citizen of Rome, at the time of
the emperor Hadrian. He taught Greek rhetoric at Rome,
and hence was known as “the Sophist. ” He spoke and wrote Greek
with the fluency and ease of a native Athenian, and gained thereby
the epithet of “the honey-tongued. ” He lived to be sixty years of
age, and never married because he would not incur the responsi-
bility of children.
The Varia Historia) is the most noteworthy of his works. It is
a curious and interesting collection of short narratives, anecdotes,
and other historical, biographical, and antiquarian matter, selected
from the Greek authors whom he said he loved to study. And it
is valuable because it preserves scraps of works now lost. The
extracts are either in the words of the original, or give the com-
piler's version; for, as he says, he liked to have his own way and
to follow his own taste. They are grouped without method; but in
this very lack of order — which shows that browsing” instinct which
Charles Lamb declared to be essential to a right feeling for liter-
ature — the charm of the book lies. This habit of straying, and his
lack of style, prove Ælianus more of a vagabond in the domain of
letters than a rhetorician.
His other important book, De Animalium Natura' (On the Nature
of Animals), is a medley of his own observations, both in Italy and
during his travels as far as Egypt. For several hundred years it
was a popular and standard book on zoölogy; and even as late as the
fourteenth century, Manuel Philes, a Byzantine poet, founded upon it
a poem on animals.
Like the Varia Historia,' it is scrappy and
gossiping He leaps from subject to subject: from elephants to
dragons, from the liver of mice to the uses of oxen. There was,
however, method in this disorder; for as he says, he sought thereby
to give variety and hold his reader's attention. The book is inter-
esting, moreover, as giving us a personal glimpse of the man and of
his methods of work; for in a concluding chapter he states the gen-
eral principle on which he composed: that he has spent great labor,
thought, and care in writing it; that he has preferred the pursuit of
knowledge to the pursuit of wealth; that for his part, he found more
pleasure in observing the habits of the lion, the panther, and the
fox, in listening to the song of the nightingale, and in studying the


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ÆLIANUS CLAUDIUS
173
migrations of cranes, than in mere heaping up of riches and finding
himself numbered among the great; and that throughout his work
he has sought to adhere to the truth.
Ælianus was more of moralizer than an artist in words; his
style has no distinctive literary qualities, and in both of his chief
works is the evident intention to set forth religious and moral prin-
ciples. He wrote, moreover, some treatises expressly on religious
and philosophic subjects, and some letters on husbandry.
The Varia Historia” has been twice translated into English: by
Abraham Fleming in 1576, and by Thomas Stanley, son of the poet
and philosopher Stanley, in 1665. Fleming was a poet and scholar
of the English Renaissance, who translated from the ancients, and
made a digest of Holinshed's Historie of England. His version of
Ælianus loses nothing by its quaint wording, as will be seen from
the subjoined stories. The full title of the book is (A Registre of
Hystories containing martiall Exploits of worthy Warriours, poli-
tique Practices and civil Magistrates, wise Sentences of famous
Philosophers, and other Matters manifolde and memorable written in
Greek by Ælianus Claudius and delivered in English by Abraham
Fleming' (1576).
>
[All the selections following are from (A Registre of Hystories »]
OF CERTAIN NOTABLE MEN THAT MADE THEMSELVES PLAY.
FELLOWES WITH CHILDREN
H
ERCULES (as some say) assuaged the tediousness of his labors,
which he sustayned in open and common games, with play-
ing. This Hercules, I say, being an incomparable warriour,
and the sonne of Jupiter and Latona, made himselfe a playfellowe
with boys. Euripides the poet introduceth, and bringeth in,
the selfe same god speaking in his owne person, and saying, “I
play because choyce and chaunge of labors is delectable and
sweete unto me,” whiche wordes he uttered holdinge a boy by
the hande. Socrates also was espied of Alcibiades upon a time,
playing with Lamprocles, who was in manner but a childe.
Agesilaus riding upon a rude, or cock-horse as they terme it,
played with his sonne beeing but a boy: and when a certayn man
passing by sawe him so doe and laughed there withall, Agesilaus
sayde thus, Now hold thy peace and say nothing; but when thou
art a father I doubt not thou wilt doe as fathers should doe with
their children. Architas Tarentinus being both in authoritie in


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174
ÆLIANUS CLAUDIUS
the commonwealth, that is to say a magestrat, and also a philoso-
pher, not of the obscurest sorte, but a precise lover of wisdom,
at that time he was a housband, a housekeeper, and maintained
many servauntes, he was greatly delighted with their younglinges,
used to play oftentimes with his servauntes' children, and was
wonte, when he was at dinner and supper, to rejoyce in the sight
and presence of them: yet was Tarentinus (as all men knowe) a
man of famous memorie and noble name.
OF A CERTAINE SICILIAN WHOSE EYSIGHT WAS WOONDER-
FULL SHARPE AND QUICK
TH
HERE was in Sicilia a certaine man indued with such sharp-
nesse, quicknesse, and clearnesse of sight (if report may
challenge credite) that hee coulde see from Lilybæus to
Carthage with such perfection and constancy that his eies coulde
not be deceived: and that he tooke true and just account of all
ships and vessels which went under sayle from Carthage, over-
skipping not so much as one in the universall number.
Something straunge it is that is recorded of Argus, a man
that had no lesse than an hundred eyes, unto whose custody Juno
committed Io, the daughter of Inachus, being transformed into a
young heifer: while Argus (his luck being such) was slaine sleep-
ing, but the Goddess Juno so provided that all his eyes (whatso-
ever became of his carkasse) should be placed on the pecock's
taile; wherupon (sithence it came to passe) the pecock is called
Avis Junonia, or Lady Juno Birde. This historie is notable, but
yet the former (in mine opinion) is more memorable.
THE LAWE OF THE LACEDÆMONIANS AGAINST COVETOUS-
NESS
A
CERTAIN young man of Lacedæmonia having bought a plot
of land for a small and easy price (and, as they say, dogge
cheape) was arrested to appear before the magistrates, and
after the trial of his matter he was charged with a penalty. The
reason why hee was judged worthy this punishment was because
he being but a young man gaped so gredely after gain and
yawned after filthy covetousness. For yt was a most commend.
able thing among the Lacedæmonians not only to fighte against
the enemie in battell manfully; but also to wrestle and struggle
with covetousness (that misschievous monster) valliauntly.


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ÆLIANUS CLAUDIUS
175
THAT SLEEP IS THE BROTHER OF DEATH, AND OF GORGIAS
DRAWING TO HIS END
G
ORGIAS LEONTINUS looking towardes the end of his life and
beeing wasted with the weaknes and wearysomenesse of
drooping olde age, falling into sharp and sore sicknesse
upon a time slumbered and slept upon his soft pillowe a little sea-
Unto whose chamber a familiar freend of his resorting to
visit him in his sicknes demaunded how he felt himself affected in
body. To whom Gorgias Leontinus made this pithy and plaus-
ible answeer, “Now Sleep beginneth to deliver me up into the
jurisdiction of his brother-germane, Death. ”
son.
OF THE VOLUNTARY AND WILLING DEATH OF CALANUS
it
T" "procureth admiration; it is no less praiseworthy than it was
worthy wonder. The manner, therefore, was thus. The
within-named Calanus, being a sophister of India, when he had
taken his long leave and last farewell of Alexander, King of
Macedonia, and of his life in lyke manner, being willing, desirous,
and earnest to set himselfe at lybertie from the cloggs, chaines,
barres, boults, and fetters of the prison of the body, pyled up a
bonnefire in the suburbs of Babylon of dry woodde and chosen
sticks provided of purpose to give a sweete savour and an
odoriferous smell in burning. The kindes of woodde which hee
.
used to serve his turne in this case were these: Cedre, Rose-
mary, Cipres, Mirtle, and Laurell. These things duely ordered,
he buckled himselfe to his accustomed exercise, namely, running
and leaping into the middest of the wodstack he stoode bolte
upright, having about his head a garlande made of the greene
leaves of reedes, the sunne shining full in his face, as he stoode
in the pile of stycks, whose glorious majesty, glittering with
bright beams of amiable beuty, he adored and worshipped. Fur-
thermore he gave a token and signe to the Macedonians to kindle
the fire, which, when they had done accordingly, hee beeing com-
passed round about with flickering flames, stoode stoutly and
valiauntly in one and the selfe same place, and dyd not shrincke
one foote, until hee gave up the ghost, whereat Alexander un-
vailyng, as at a rare strange sight and worldes wonder, saide
a


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176
ÆLIANUS CLAUDIUS
(as the voice goes) these words: “Calanus hath subdued, over-
come, and vanquished stronger enemies than I. For Alexander
made warre against Porus, Taxiles, and Darius. But Calanus did
denounce and did battell to labor and fought fearcely and man-
fully with death. ”
»
T'
OF DELICATE DINNERS, SUMPTUOUS SUPPERS, AND PRODI-
GALL BANQUETING
imothy, the son of Conon, captain of the Athenians, leaving
his sumptuous fare and royall banqueting, beeing desired
and intertained of Plato to a feast philosophicall, seasoned
with contentation and musick, at his returning home from that
supper of Plato, he said unto his familiar freends: “They whiche
suppe with Plato, this night, are not sick or out of temper the
next day following;” and presently upon the enunciation of that
speech, Timothy took occasion to finde fault with great dinners,
suppers, feasts, and banquets, furnished with excessive fare, im-
moderate consuming of meats, delicates, dainties, toothsome jun-
kets, and such like, which abridge the next dayes joy, gladnes,
delight, mirth, and pleasantnes. Yea, that sentence is consonant
and agreeable to the former, and importeth the same sense not-
withstanding in words it hath a little difference. That the within
named Timothy meeting the next day after with Plato said to
him:— “You philosophers, freend Plato, sup better the day fol-
lowing than the night present.
OF BESTOWING TIME, AND HOW WALKING UP AND DOWNE
WAS NOT ALLOWABLE AMONG THE LACEDÆMONIANS
HE Lacedæmonians were of this judgment, that measureable
to
did they conforme and apply themselves to any kinde of
laboure moste earnestly and painfully, not withdrawing their hands
from works of much bodyly mooving, not permitting any particu-
lar person, beeing a citizen, to spend the time in idlenes, to waste
it in unthrifty gaming, to consume it in trifling, in vain toyes and
lewd loytering, all whiche are at variance and enmity with vertue.
Of this latter among many testimonyes, take this for one.
When it was reported to the magistrates of the Lacedæmo-
nians called Ephori, in manner of complaint, that the inhabitants


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ÆLIANUS CLAUDIUS
177
of Deceleia used afternoone walkings, they sent unto them mes-
sengers with their commandmente, saying:-"Go not up and
doune like loyterers, nor walke not abrode at your pleasure, pam-
pering the wantonnes of your natures rather than accustoming
yourself to exercises of activity. For it becometh the Lacedæmo-
nians to regarde their health and to maintaine their safety not
with walking to and fro, but with bodily labours. ”
HOW SOCRATES SUPPRESSED THE PRYDE AND HAUTINESSE
OF ALCIBIADES
Soo
OCRATES, seeing Alcibiades puft up with pryde and broyling in
ambitious behavioure (because possessor of such great wealth
and lorde of so large lands) brought him to a place where
a table did hang containing a discription of the worlde universall.
Then did Socrates will Alcibiades to seeke out the situation of
Athens, which when he found Socrates proceeded further and
willed him to point out that plot of ground where his lands and
lordships lay. Alcibiades, having sought a long time and yet
never the nearer, sayde to Socrates that his livings were not set
forth in that table, nor any discription of his possession therein
made evident. When Socrates, rebuked with this secret quip:
"And art thou so arrogant (sayeth he) and so hautie in heart for
that which is no parcell of the world ? ”
OF CERTAINE WASTGOODES AND SPENDTHRIFTES
P
RODIGALL lavishing of substance, unthrifty and wastifull spend-
ing, voluptuousness of life and palpable sensuality brought
Pericles, Callias, the sonne of Hipponicus, and Nicias not
only to necessitie, but to povertie and beggerie. Who, after their
money waxed scant, and turned to a very lowe ebbe, they three
drinking a poysoned potion one to another (which was the last
cuppe that they kissed with their lippes) passed out of this life
(as it were from a banquet) to the powers infernall.
1-12


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178
ÆSCHINES
(389-314 B. C. )
If we
He life and oratory of Æschines fall fittingly into that period
of Greek history when the free spirit of the people which
Gel had created the arts of Pindar and Sophocles, Pericles, Phi-
dias, and Plato, was becoming the spirit of slaves and of savants, who
sought to forget the freedom of their fathers in learning, luxury,
and the formalism of deducers of rules. To this slavery Æschines
himself contributed, both in action with Philip of Macedon and in
speech. Philip had entered upon a career of conquest; a policy
legitimate in itself and beneficial as judged by
its larger fruits, but ruinous to the advanced
civilization existing in the Greek City-States
below, whose high culture was practically con-
fiscated to spread out over a waste of semi-
barbarism and mix with alien cultures. Among
his Greek sympathizers, Æschines was perhaps
his chief support in the conquest of the Greek
world that lay to the south within his reach.
Æschines was born in 389 B. C. , six years
before his lifelong rival Demosthenes.
may trust that rival's elaborate details of his
ÆSCHINES early life, his father taught a primary school
and his mother was overseer of certain initia-
tory rites, to both of which occupations Æschines gave his youthful
hand and assistance. He became in time a third-rate actor, and the
duties of clerk or scribe presently made him familiar with the execu-
tive and legislative affairs of Athens. Both vocations served as an
apprenticeship to the public speaking toward which his ambition was
turning. We hear of his serving as a heavy-armed soldier in various
Athenian expeditions, and of his being privileged to carry to Athens,
in 349 B. C. , the first news of the victory of Tamynæ, in Eubea, in
reward for the bravery he had shown in the battle.
Two years afterward he was sent as an envoy into th Pelopon-
nesus, with the object of forming a union of the Greeks against Philip
for the defense of their liberties. But his mission was unsuccessful.
Toward the end of the same year he served as one of the ten
ambassadors sent to Philip to discuss terms of peace. The harangues
of the Athenians at this meeting were followed in turn by a speech
of Philip, whose openness of manner, pertinent arguments, and pre-
tended desire for a settlement led to a second embassy, empowered



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ÆSCHINES
179
to receive from him the oath of allegiance and peace. It was dur-
ing this second embassy that Demothenes says he discovered the
philippizing spirit and foul play of Æschines. Upon their return to
Athens, Æschines rose before the assembly to assure the people that
Philip had come to Thermopylæ as the friend and ally of Athens.
“We, your envoys, have satisfied him," said Æschines.
<< You will
hear of benefits still more direct which we have determined Philip
to confer upon you, but which it would not be prudent as yet to
specify. ”
But the alarm of the Athenians at the presence of Philip within
the gates was not allayed. The king, however, anxious to temporize
with them until he could receive his army supplies by sea, suborned
Æschines, who assured his countrymen of Philip's peaceful intentions.
On another occasion, by an inflammatory speech at Delphi, he so
played upon the susceptibilities of the rude Amphictyones that they
rushed forth, uprooted their neighbors' harvest fields, and began a
devastating war of Greek against Greek. Internal dissensions prom-
ised the shrewd Macedonian the conquest he sought. At length, in
August, 338, came Philip's victory at Chæronea, and the complete
prostration of Greek power. Æschines, who had hitherto disclaimed
all connection with Philip. now boasted of his intimacy with the
king. As Philip's friend, while yet an Athenian, he offered himself
as ambassador to entreat leniency from the victor toward the un-
happy citizens.
The memorable defense of Demosthenes against the attack of
Æschines was delivered in 330 B. C. Seven years before this, Ctesi-
phon had proposed to the Senate that the patriotic devotion and
labors of Demosthenes should be acknowledged by the gift of a
golden crown- a recognition willingly accorded. But as this decis-
ion, to be legal, must be confirmed by the Assembly, Æschines gave
notice that he would proceed against Ctesiphon for proposing an
unconstitutional measure. He managed to postpone action on the
notice for six years. At last he seized a moment when the victo-
ries of Philip's son and successor, Alexander, were swaying popular
feeling, to deliver a bitter harangue against the whole life and pol-
icy of his political opponent. Demosthenes answered in that magnifi-
cent oration called by the Latin writers De Corona. Æschines was
not upheld by the people's vote. He retired to Asia, and, it is said,
opened a school of rhetoric at Rhodes. There is a legend that after
he had one day delivered in his school the masterpiece of his enemy,
his students broke into applause: «What,” he exclaimed, “if you
had heard the wild beast thunder it out himself! »
Æschines was what we call nowadays a self-made man. The great
faults of his life, his philippizing policy and his confessed corruption,


## p. 180 (#206) ############################################

180
ÆSCHINES
arose, doubtless, from the results of youthful poverty: a covetousness
growing out of want, and a lack of principles of conduct which a
broader education would have instilled. As an orator he was second
only to Demosthenes; and while he may at times be compared to
his rival in intellectual force and persuasiveness, his moral defects —
which it must be remembered that he himself acknowledged — make
a comparison of character impossible.
His chief works remaining to us are the speeches (Against Timar-
chus,' On the Embassy,' Against Ctesiphon,' and letters, which are
included in the edition of G. E. Benseler (1855-60). In his History of
Greece,' Grote discusses at length of course adversely - the influence
of Æschines; especially controverting Mitford's favorable view and
his denunciation of Demosthenes and the patriotic party. The trend
of recent writing is toward Mitford's estimate of Philip's policy,
and therefore less blame for the Greek statesmen who supported it,
though without Mitford's virulence toward its opponents. Mahaffy
(Greek Life and Thought') holds the whole contest over the crown
to be mere academic threshing of old straw, the fundamental issues
being obsolete by the rise of a new world under Alexander.
A DEFENSE AND AN ATTACK
From the Oration against Ctesiphon)
IN
N REGARD to the calumnies with which I am attacked, I wish
to say a word or two before Demosthenes speaks. He will
allege, I am told, that the State has received distinguished
services from him, while from me it has suffered injury on
many occasions; and that the deeds of Philip and Alexander,
and the crimes to which they gave rise, are to be imputed to me.
Demosthenes is so clever in the art of speaking that he does not
bring accusation against me, against any point in my conduct of
affairs or any counsels I may have brought to our public meet-
ings; but he rather casts reflections upon my private life, and
charges me with a criminal silence.
Moreover, in order that no circumstance may escape his cal-
umny, he attacks my habits of life when I was in school with my
young companions; and even in the introduction of his speech
he will say that I have begun this prosecution, not for the benefit
of the State, but because I want to make a show of myself to
Alexander and gratify Alexander's resentment against him. He
purposes, as I learn, to ask why I blame his administration as a
whole, and yet never hindered or indicted any one separate act;


## p. 181 (#207) ############################################

ÆSCHINES
181
.
why, after a considerable interval of attention to public affairs,
I now return to prosecute this action.
But what I am now about to notice a matter which I hear
Demosthenes will speak of - about this, by the Olympian deities,
I cannot but feel a righteous indignation. He will liken my
speech to the Sirens', it seems, and the legend anent their art is
that those who listen to them are not charmed, but destroyed;
wherefore the music of the Sirens is not in good repute. Even
so he will aver that knowledge of my words and myself is a
source of injury to those who listen to me. I, for my part, think
it becomes no one to urge such allegations against me; for it is
a shame if one who makes charges cannot point to facts as full
evidence. And if such charges must be made, the making surely
does not become Demosthenes, but rather some military man
some man of action — who has done good work for the State, and
who, in his untried speech, vies with the skill of antagonists
because he is conscious that he can tell no one of his deeds, and
because he sees his accusers able to show his audience that he
had done what in fact he never had done. But when a man
made up entirely of words,- of sharp words and overwrought
sentences, - when he takes refuge in simplicity and plain facts, who
then can endure it? — whose tongue is like a flute, inasmuch as if
you take it away the rest is nothing.
This man thinks himself worthy of a crown— that his honor
should be proclaimed. But should you not rather send into exile
this common pest of the Greeks? Or will you not seize upon him
as a thief, and avenge yourself upon him whose mouthings have
enabled him to bear full sail through our commonwealth? Re.
member the season in which you cast your vote. In a few days
the Pythian Games will come round, and the convention of the
Hellenic States will hold its sessions. Our State has been con.
cerned on account of the measures of Demosthenes regarding
present crises. You will appear, if you crown him, accessory to
those who broke the general peace. But if, on the other hand,
you refuse the crown, you will free the State from blame. Do
not take counsel as if it were for an alien, but as if it concerned,
as it does, the private interest of your city; and do not dispense
your honors carelessly, but with judgment; and let your public
gifts be the distinctive possession of men most worthy. Not only
hear, but also look around you and consider who are the men
who support Demosthenes. Are they his fellow-hunters, or his


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182
ÆSCHINES
associates in old athletic sports ? No, by Olympian Zeus, he was
never engaged in hunting the wild boar, nor in care for the
well-being of his body; but he was toiling at the art of those
who keep up possessions.
Take into consideration also his art of juggling, when he says
that by his embassy he wrested Byzantium from the hands of
Philip, and that his eloquence led the Acarnanians to revolt, and
struck dumb the Thebans. He thinks, forsooth, that you have
fallen to such a degree of weakness that he can persuade you
that you have been entertaining Persuasion herself in your city,
and not a vile slanderer. And when at the conclusion of his
argument he calls upon his partners in bribe-taking, then fancy
that you see upon these steps, from which I now address you,
the benefactors of your State arrayed against the insolence of
those men. Solon, who adorned our commonwealth with most
noble laws, a man who loved wisdom, a worthy legislator, asking
you in dignified and sober manner, as became his character,
not to follow the pleading of Demosthenes rather than your
oaths and laws. Aristides, who assigned to the Greeks their
tributes, to whose daughters after he had died the people gave
portions— imagine Aristides complaining bitterly at the insult to
public justice, and asking if you are not ashamed that when your
fathers banished Arthurias the Zelian, who brought gold from
the Medes (although while he was sojourning in the city and a
guest of the people of Athens they were scarce restrained from
killing him, and by proclamation forbade him the city and any
dominion the Athenians had power over), nevertheless that you
are going to crown Demosthenes, who did not indeed bring gold
from the Medes, but who received bribes and has them still in
his possession. And Themistocles and those who died at Mara-
thon and at Platæa, and the very graves of your ancestors-
will they not cry out if you venture to grant a crown to one who
confesses that he united with the barbarians against the Greeks?
And now, ( earth and sun! virtue and intelligence! and thou,
O genius of the humanities, who teachest us to judge between
the noble and the ignoble, I have come to your succor and I
have done.
If I have made my pleading with dignity and
worthily, as I looked to the flagrant wrong which called it forth,
I have spoken as I wished. If I have done ill, it was as I was
able. Do you weigh well my words and all that is left unsaid,
and vote in accordance with justice and the interests of the city!


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183
ÆSCHYLUS
(B. C. 525-456)
BY JOHN WILLIAMS WHITE
He mightiest of Greek tragic poets was the son of Euphorion,
an Athenian noble, and was born B. C. 525. When he was a
lad of eleven, the tyrant Hipparchus fell in a public street
of Athens under the daggers of Harmodius and Aristogeiton. Later,
Æschylus saw the family of tyrants, which for fifty years had ruled
Attica with varying fortunes, banished from the land. With a boy's
eager interest he followed the establishment of the Athenian democ-
racy by Cleisthenes. He grew to manhood in stirring times. The
new State was engaged in war with
the powerful neighboring island of
Ægina; on the eastern horizon was
gathering the cloud that was to burst
in storm at Marathon. Æschylus was
trained in that early school of Athe-
nian greatness whose masters were
Miltiades, Aristides, and Themistocles.
During the struggle with Persia,
fought out on Greek soil, the poet
was at the height of his physical
powers, and we may feel confidence
in the tradition that he fought not
only at Marathon, but also at Sala-
mis. Two of his. extant tragedies
ÆschyLUS
breathe the very spirit of war, and
show a soldier's experience; and the epitaph upon his tomb, which
was said to have been written by himself, recorded how he had been
one of those who met the barbarians in the first shock of the great
struggle and had helped to save his country.
«How brave in battle was Euphorion's son,
The long-haired Mede can tell who fell at Marathon. ”
Before Æschylus, Attic tragedy had been essentially lyrical. It
arose 'from the dithyrambic chorus that was sung at the festivals of
Dionysus. Thespis had introduced the first actor, who, in the pauses
of the choral song, related in monologue the adventures of the god
or engaged in dialogue with the leader of the chorus. To Æschylus



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184
ÆSCHYLUS
is due the invention of the second actor. This essentially changed the
character of the performance. The dialogue could now be carried on
by the two actors, who were thus able to enact a complete story.
The functions of the chorus became less important, and the lyrical
element was subordinated to the action. (The word “drama” signi-
fies action. ) The number of actors was subsequently increased to
three, and Æschylus in his later plays used this number.
This re-
striction imposed upon the Greek playwright does not mean that he
was limited to two or three characters in his play, but that only two,
or at the most three, of these might take part in the action at once.
The same actor might assume different parts. The introduction of
the second actor was so capital an innovation that it rightly entitles
Æschylus to be regarded as the creator of the drama, for in his
hands tragedy first became essentially dramatic. This is his great
distinction, but his powerful genius wrought other changes. He per-
fected, if he did not discover, the practice of introducing three plays
upon a connected theme (technically named a trilogy), with an after-
piece of lighter character. He invented the tragic dress and buskin,
and perfected the tragic mask. He improved the tragic dance, and
by his use of scénic decoration and stage machinery, secured effects
that were unknown before him. His chief claim to superior excel-
lence, however, lies after all in his poetry. Splendid in diction, vivid
in the portraiture of character, and powerful in the expression of
passion, he is regarded by many competent critics as the greatest
tragic poet of all time.
The Greek lexicographer, Suidas, reports that Æschylus wrote
ninety plays. The titles of seventy-two of these have been handed
down in an ancient register. He brought out the first of these at
the age of twenty-five, and as he died at the age of sixty-nine, he
wrote on an average two plays each year throughout his lifetime.
Such fertility would be incredible, were not similar facts authen-
tically recorded of the older tragic poets of Greece. The Greek
drama, moreover, made unusual demands on the creative powers of
the poet.
It was lyrical, and the lyrics were accompanied by the
dance. All these elements — poetry, song, and dance — the poet con-
tributed; and we gain a new sense of the force of the word “poet”
(it means creator”), when we contemplate his triple function.
Moreover, he often staged” the play himself, and sometimes he
acted in it. Æschylus was singularly successful in an age that pro-
duced many great poets. He took the first prize at least thirteen
times; and as he brought out four plays at each contest, more than
half his plays were adjudged by his contemporaries to be of the
highest quality. After the poet's death, plays which he had writ-
ten, but which had not been acted in his lifetime, were brought out


## p. 185 (#211) ############################################

ÆSCHYLUS
185
by his sons and a nephew. It is on record that his son Euphorion
took the first prize four times with plays of his father; so the poet's
art lived after him and suffered no eclipse.
Only seven complete plays of Æschylus are still extant. The
best present source of the text of these is a manuscript preserved in
the Laurentian Library, at Florence in Italy, which was written in
the tenth or eleventh century after Christ. The number of plays
still extant is small, but fortunately, among them is the only com-
plete Greek trilogy that we possess, and luckily also the other four
serve to mark successive stages in the poet's artistic development.
The trilogy of the Oresteia' is certainly his masterpiece; in some of
the other plays he is clearly seen to be still bound by the limitations
which hampered the earlier writers of Greek tragedy. In the follow-
ing analysis the seven plays will be presented in their probable
chronological order.
The Greeks signally defeated Xerxes in the great sea fight in the
bay of Salamis, B. C. 480. The poet made this victory the theme of
his Persians. This is the only historical Greek tragedy which we
now possess: the subjects of all the rest are drawn from mythology.
But Æschylus had a model for his historical play in the Phæni-
cian Women of his predecessor Phrynichus, which dealt with the
same theme. Æschylus, indeed, is said to have imitated it closely
in the Persians. Plagiarism was thought to be a venial fault by
the ancients, just as in the Homeric times piracy was not considered
a disgrace. The scene of the play is not Athens, as one might
expect, but Susa. It opens without set prologue. The Chorus con-
sists of Persian elders, to whom the government of the country has
been committed in the absence of the King. These venerable men
gather in front of the royal palace, and their leader opens the play
with expressions of apprehension: no news has come from the host
absent in Greece. The Chorus at first express full confidence in the
resistless might of the great army; but remembering that the gods
are jealous of vast power and success in men, yield to gloomy fore-
bodings. These grow stronger when Atossa, the aged mother of
Xerxes, appears from the palace and relates the evil dreams which
she has had on the previous night, and the omen that followed. The
Chorus beseech her to make prayer to the gods, to offer libations to
the dead, and especially to invoke the spirit of Darius to avert the
evil which threatens his ancient kingdom. Too late! A messenger
arrives and announces that all is lost. By one fell stroke the might
of Persia has been laid low at Salamis. At Atossa's request, the mes-
senger, interrupted at first by the lamentations of the Chorus, recounts
what has befallen. His description of the battle in the straits is a
passage of signal power, and is justly celebrated. The Queen retires,


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186
ÆSCHYLUS
and the Chorus sing a song full of gloomy reflections. The Queen
reappears, and the ghost of Darius is invoked from the lower world.
He hears from Atossa what has happened, sees in this the fulfill-
ment of certain ancient prophecies, foretells disaster still to come,
and warns the Chorus against further attempts upon Greece. As he
departs to the underworld, the Chorus sing in praise of the wisdom
of his reign. Atossa has withdrawn. Xerxes now appears with
attendants, laments with the Chorus the disaster that has overtaken
him, and finally enters the palace.
The economy of the play is simple: only two actors are required.
The first played the parts of Atossa and Xerxes, the second that of
the messenger and the ghost of Darius. The play well illustrates
the conditions under which Æschylus at this period wrote. The
Chorus was still of first importance; the ratio of the choral parts in
the play to the dialogue is about one to two.
The exact date of the Suppliants' cannot be determined; but the
simplicity of its plot, the lack of a prologue, the paucity of its char-
acters, and the prominence of the Chorus, show that it is an early
play. The scene is Argos. The Chorus consists of the daughters of
Danaüs, and there are only three characters, — Danaüs, a Herald, and
Pelasgus King of Argos.
Danaüs and Ægyptus, brothers, and descendants of Io and Epa-
phus, had settled near Canopus at the mouth of the Nile. Ægyptus
sought to unite his fifty sons in marriage with the fifty daughters of
the brother. The daughters fled with their father to Argos. Here
his play opens. The Chorus appeal for protection to the country,
once the home of Io, and to its gods and heroes. Pelasgus, with the
consent of the Argive people, grants them refuge, and at the end of
the play repels the attempt to seize them made by the Herald of the
sons of Ægyptus.
A part of one of the choruses is of singular beauty, and it is
doubtless to them that the preservation of the play is due. The
play hardly seems to be a tragedy, for it ends without bloodshed.
Further, it lacks dramatic interest, for the action almost stands still.
It is a cantata rather than a tragedy. Both considerations, . however,
are sufficiently explained by the fact that this was the first play of a
trilogy. The remaining plays must have furnished, in the death of
forty-nine of the sons of Ægyptus, both action and tragedy in suffi-
cient measure to satisfy the most exacting demands.
The Seven Against Thebes' deals with the gloomy myth of the
house of Laïus. The tetralogy to which it belonged consisted of the
Laius,' 'Edipus, Seven Against Thebes,' and (Sphinx. The
themes of Greek tragedy were drawn from the national mythology,
but the myths were treated with a free hand. In his portrayal of


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ÆSCHYLUS
187
the fortunes of this doomed race, Æschylus departed in important
particulars, with gain in dramatic effect, from the story as it is read
in Homer.
Edipus had pronounced an awful curse upon his sons, Eteocles
and Polynices, for their unfilial neglect, — «they should one day
divide their land by steel. ” They thereupon agreed to reign in
turn, each for a year; but Eteocles, the elder, refused at the end of
the first year to give up the throne. Polynices appealed to Adrastus
King of Argos for help, and seven chiefs appeared before the walls
of Thebes to enforce his claim, and beleaguered the town. Here
the play opens, with an appeal addressed by Eteocles to the citizens
of Thebes to prove themselves stout defenders of their State in its
hour of peril. A messenger enters, and describes the sacrifice and
oath of the seven chiefs. The Chorus of Theban maidens enter in
confusion and sing the first ode. The hostile army is hurrying from
its camp against the town; the Chorus hear their shouts and the
rattling din of their arms, and are overcome by terror. Eteocles
reproves them for their fears, and bids them sing a pæan that shall
hearten the people. The messenger, in a noteworthy scene, de-
scribes the appearance of each hostile chief. The seventh and last
is Polynices. Eteocles, although conscious of his father's curse, nev-
ertheless declares with gloomy resoluteness that he will meet his
brother in single combat, and, resisting the entreaties of the Chorus,
goes forth to his doom. The attack on the town is repelled, but
the brothers fall, each by the other's hand. Thus is the curse ful-
filled. Presently their bodies are wheeled in. Their sisters, Antigone
and Ismene, follow and sing a lament over the dead. A herald an-
nounces that the Theban Senate forbid the burial of Polynices; his
body shall be cast forth as prey of dogs. Antigone declares her
resolution to brave their mandate, and perform the last sad rites for
her brother.
«Dread tie, the common womb from which we sprang,–
Of wretched mother born and hapless sire. »
The Chorus divides. The first semi-chorus sides with Antigone;
the second declares its resolution to follow to its last resting-place
the body of Eteocles. And thus the play ends. The theme is here
sketched, just at the close of the play, in outline, that Sophocles
has developed with such pathetic effect in his Antigone. '
The Prometheus' transports the reader to another world. The
characters are gods, the time is the remote past, the place a desolate
waste in Scythia, on the confines of the Northern Ocean. Pro-
metheus had sinned against the authority of Zeus. Zeus wished to
destroy the old race of mankind; but Prometheus gave them fire,


## p.