No More Learning

"that were indeed a master stroke; and there are only two letters to alter; for as good luck has the fathers' names are
I' faith!
"
he exclaimed,
it,
THE FORGED WILL. 247
the same. But the seal ? " he added, " the seal ? how could you venture to break open the deed ? "
The old man made a second dive into the mysterious box, and drew out something resembling a signet. "I learned how to make this substance from a cunning fellow who went about soothsaying. If pressed upon a seal when soft, it receives all the characters with perfect accuracy and in a short time be comes as hard as stone. " The will had been opened before, and the seal appended to it was merely an impression of this. " Can you distinguish between it and the genuine one ? "
" No, that I can't," answered the nephew.
" So, then, it will be an easy matter to reseal the deed, when we have alterIed the letters in these two places. "
"
to become rich by this ? now interposed
"But how am
the youth, suspiciously; "my name is not mentioned in the testament. "
"Listen a moment," replied the uncle; "the inheritance, as you may have read, is coupled with one condition — that the heir must marry the widow Cleobule, and if he object to this, must be content with five talents as his portion ; but he will have the right of giving the widow in marriage, along with the rest of the property, to whomsoever he may judge proper. Now I am too old to marry again; and be sides, I was warned against it in a dream. I dreamed that I wished to take a wife, and went to the bride's house to be be trothed to her; but when I essayed to go away again, the door was fastened, and could not be opened. Two interpreters of dreams, whom I consulted, foretold that I should die on the day of my betrothment ; and that is warning enough ; but you shall marry Cleobule, if you will privately cede half the property to me. " "
After some higgling, it was finally settled that the uncle should not receive the five talents over and above his half of the property, but that these should be included in the parti tion.
The nephew reflected for a moment.
tition," he said at last: "your share is unincumbered, while my moiety will be saddled with the widow. "
" Fool ! " retorted Sosilas : " Cleobule is such a beauty that many a man would be glad to take her without any dowry at all ; besides which, it all depends on me, you know, whether you get a farthing. "
It's an unequal par
248 THE FORGED WILL.
" Now hand me the will," said the old man ; "with this little sponge I erase the two letters, and the more easily because the paper is so good. Look ! they are now scarce distinguishable. This ink," continued he, as he produced a little box and the writing reed, "is of just the same blackness as the writing. There we have it, all right. Who will assert that it was not always as it now stands ? "
" Excellent ! " said the nephew ; " now for the seal. "
The old man carefully folded up the deed again, moistened some clay, tied the string, and impressed the forged stamp upon the clay. "There ! " said he, "isn't it the same seal ? "
" Well, that beats everything," cried Lysistratos, as he com pared the two seals ; " no one will ever dream that it is a forgery. "
A rustling outside the door startled the old man. He snatched up the will and the other contents of the box, which he bore off, and fastened the door of the room adjacent, seal ing it for greater security. Then taking the lamp he explored the court, to discover if possible the cause of the disturbance. " It was nothing," he said, when he came back ; " most likely the storm which made the door shake. It will soon be morn ing : Lysistratos, come into my bedchamber, and let us have a short nap. "
The two worthies had not been long gone when Molon glided softly into the room, and groped about in the dark for one of the sofas. A gleam of moonlight shone through the open door, and he hastily seized something that lay in the folds of the drapery, and then as quickly and softly vanished, his gestures denoting the prize to be one on which he set a high value.
When morning dawned on the house of the deceased, it found the inmates already busy with preparations for the burial. An earthen vessel, filled with water, stood before the door, to signify to the passenger that it was a house of mourn ing. Within, the women were occupied in anointing and lay ing out the corpse. Cleobule, inexperienced, and woe-begone like an orphan child, had begged the aid of Sophilos, who, even without solicitation, would have undertaken to conduct the funeral. She had always looked on Polycles in the light of an affectionate uncle, who had indulged her every wish ; and now she wept for him as for a parent ; while she applied herself to
THE FORGED WILL. 249
her mournful duties, assisted by her mother, whom she had sent for on the previous evening, — as her childlike tremors, which had been early nourished by nurses' fairy tales and ghost stories, rendered solitude in the house of death insupportable.
It was still early, and Sophilos was just debating with the women of the order of the interment, when Sosilas also made his appearance, with sorrow in his aspect but exultation in his heart. He had hastened, he said, to bring the will which the deceased had deposited in his hands ; as perhaps it might con tain some dispositions respecting his interment. He then named the witnesses who had been by when he received the will, and whose presence would now be necessary at the opening. Cleo- bule was somewhat disconcerted to find the document that was to decide her future fate placed in the custody of one to whom, from early childhood, she had entertained feelings of aversion. Polycles had never been explicit on this head, merely assuring her in general terms that she had been cared for. And such she now hoped was the case ; but yet she had rather that any body else had produced the will. Sophilos, on the other hand, did not seem at all put out by the circumstance. He praised Sosilas for his punctuality, and desired that the witnesses might be cited to attend ; but this, the other said, was not necessary, as he had already sent them notices to that effect. "
Before long the three made their appearance.
present," said Sosilas to" them, " when Polycles committed his last will to my charge ?
They replied in the affirmative.
"You will be ready then to testify that this is the deed which he intrusted to me ? "
" The superscription and the seal," answered one of them, " are what prove its authenticity. All that we can witness to is that a testament was deposited with you — not, that this is the identical one in question ; still there is no ground for the con trary assumption, since the seal is untouched, and may be recog nized as that of Polycles. "
" Do you, therefore, satisfy yourself, Cleobule, that I have faithfully discharged your husband's behest. Do you acknowl edge this seal ? "
With trembling hand Cleobule took the deed. " An eagle clutching a snake," said she ; "it is the device of his signet. " She next handed the testament to Sophilos, who also pro nounced it all right.
You were
250
THE FORGED WILL.
" Open it then," said Sosilas to one of the witnesses, " that its contents may be known. My sight is bad : do one of you read for me. "
The string was cut, the document unfolded, and the witness read as follows : —
" The testament of Polycles the Paeanian. May all be well ; but should I not recover from this sickness, thus do I devise my estate. I give my wife Cleobule, with all my fortune, as set down in the accompanying schedule, — save and except all that is herein otherwise disposed, — to my friend Sosilas, the son of Philo, to which end I adopt him as my son. Should he refuse to marry her, then I bequeath to him the five talents lying with Pasion, the money changer ; but I then constitute him guardian of Cleobule, and he shall give her, with the rest of the property, to some husband of his own choosing, who shall take posses sion of my house. I give and bequeath my house on the Olym- pieion to Theron, the son of Callias ; and the lodging house in the Piraeus to Sophilos, son of Philo. To the son of Callipides I bequeath my largest silver bowl, and to his wife a pair of gold earrings, and two coverlets and two cushions of the best in my possession ; that I may not seem to have forgotten them. To my physician Zenothemis I leave a legacy of one thousand drachmae, though his skill and attention have deserved still more. Let my sepulchre be erected in a fitting spot of the garden outside the Melitic gate. Let Theron, together with Sophilos and my relatives, see to it that my obsequies and monument be neither unworthy of me, nor yet on too sumptu ous a scale. I expressly prohibit Cleobule and the women, as well as the female slaves, from cutting off their hair, or other wise disfiguring themselves. To Demetrius, who has long been free, I remit his ransom, and make him a present of five minae, a himation and a chiton [cloak and gown], in considera tion of his faithful services. Of the slaves I hereby manumit Parmeno, and Chares, with his child ; but Carion and Donax must work for four years in the garden, and shall then be made free, if they shall have conducted themselves well during that period. Manto shall be free immediately on Cleobule's mar riage, and shall also receive three minae. Of the children of my slaves none are to be sold, but are to be kept in the house
till they are grown up, and then set free. Syrus, however, shall be sold. Sophilos, Theron, and Callipides will discharge the duties of executors. This testament is placed in the keeping
THE FORGED WILL.
251
of Sosilas. Witnesses : Lysimachos, son of Strato ; Hegesias, of Hegio; and Hipparchos of Callippos. "
A deathlike stillness reigned among the audience when the reader had concluded. At the first words Cleobule had turned pale, and sunk back on a settle half fainting, while her mother, who was crying, supported her. Sophilos placed his hand on his lips, and was lost in thought ; the witnesses mutely surveyed the scene. Sosilas alone seemed perfectly composed. "Take courage," said he, approaching Cleobule ; " fear not that I will lay claim to the happiness that Polycles intended for me. I my self, too, am astonished, and could easily be dazzled by the tempt ing prize ; but I am too old to dream of wedding a young bride. Willingly do I resign the rich inheritance, and shall select for you a husband more suitable in age. "
Cleobule turned away with a shudder. Sosilas grasped the will, saying, " Nothing more is now wanting but the attesta tion of the witnesses, that such was the tenor of the will when opened. "
" The witnesses accordingly set their seals to the writing. It is not the only testament that Polycles has left," remarked
one of them. " " How ? What ?
exclaimed Sosilas, turning pale ; " noth ing is said here about the existence of another will. "
" I don't rightly understand it," replied the witness ; " but two days after you received this, Polycles called me and four others in as witnesses, on his depositing another document— doubtless a duplicate of this — in the hands of Menecles, to whose house he had caused himself to be conveyed. "
The effects of this disclosure on those present were, as might have been expected, extremely various. Sosilas stood like one utterly undone ; a faint ray of hope glimmered in the bosom of Cleobule ; Sophilos eyed narrowly the countenance of the forger, who quailed before his glance; and the witnesses looked doubtingly at one another.
Sosilas at length broke the silence. "This will," said he with some vehemence, " is genuine ; and even supposing that there is another authentic one in existence, its contents will of course be the same. "
"Why"! it is indeed hardly to be supposed," rejoined Sophilos, that Polycles would have changed his mind in two days ; but we must invite Menecles to produce the copy in his custody, without loss of time. " A slave here entered, and
252 THE FORGED WILL.
whispered a message in his ear. " The very thing ! " he cried. " Menecles is not less punctual than you. Two of his witnesses have already arrived, in obedience to his summons ; and he will therefore shortly be here in person. "
The men now entered. Sosilas walked up and down the room, and gradually recovered his composure. Even should his plans be unpleasantly disturbed by the contents of the second will, still a wide field would be open for litigation, in which he had an even chance of coming off victor. Menecles soon arrived with the other two witnesses, and delivered the will. The superscription and seal were found to be correct, and its contents tallied with those of the first, word for word, with the exception of the two names, which were interchanged. At the end was a postscript, to the effect that an exactly similar testament was deposited with Sosilas the Piraean.
The reading of this caused a violent scene, and plenty of abuse and recrimination followed on both sides. Sosilas pro nounced it a forgery, and went off declaring that he would make good his claims before a court of law.
The morning of the funeral had arrived ; and before day break a crowd of mourners, and of others actuated merely by motives of curiosity, had collected in and around the house, either to attach themselves to the procession, or merely to be spectators of the pageant. Even the day before, whilst the corpse lay in state, the door was crowded by persons who in the course of their lives had never before crossed its threshold. Several, too, had evinced much celerity in putting on mourning, being very anxious to establish their claims to a distant rela tionship with the defunct, when they learned the property was in dispute, and there seemed a prospect of good fishing in the troubled waters.
Charicles, however, did not present himself within ; although perhaps the house possessed greater attractions for him than for any of the others. The impression his late unexpected appear ance made on Cleobule had not escaped him, and he held it im proper to disturb her duties to the departed by a second visit. Still he could not omit accompanying the funeral procession to the place of interment ; and in fact Sophilos, who somehow felt a great liking for the youth, had himself invited him to be pres ent. The old gentleman had paid him several visits, and in a significant manner had described how much Cleobule was im
THE FORGED WILL. 253
periled by the will, which he was convinced was a forgery. Charicles was perhaps more disquieted at this than even Sophilos himself. Whichever way the matter might be decided, it would of course make no difference to him personally : for in case a fraud were detected, the lady would become the wife of Sophilos ; and as regarded himself, he had made up his mind that even under the most favorable circumstances, it would never befit one of his years and condition to marry a widow of such large property : he was nevertheless pained to think that such a fascinating creature might fall into the power of one who, to judge from all accounts, must be utterly unworthy of her. . . .
When the bones had been consigned to the ground, and the women had bidden farewell to the new-made grave, Charicles with Sophilos wended his way back towards the city. The possible consequences of the unhappy will formed the topic of conversation. Charicles could not conceal how very different an impression Sosilas had made upon him from what he had ex pected. To-day the man had looked so unassuming and devout, and withal so venerable, that he had well nigh dropped his sus picions.
"Who would ever believe," said he, "that beneath this exterior lurked such knavery? "
" You will meet with plenty more such," answered Sophilos, "who go about with the aspect of lambs, but within are the most poisonous scorpions ; it is just these that are most danger ous of all. "
At the city gate they separated. A strange slave had fol lowed them at a distance all the way. He now stood still for a moment, "apparently undetermined which of the two he should pursue. Youth is more liberal," said he half aloud, after re flecting a moment, "especially when in love. " With this he struck into the path Charicles had taken, and which led through a narrow lonely lane, between two garden walls ; here he re doubled his pace, and soon overtook Charicles.
" Who art thou ? " asked the youth, retreating back a step.
" A slave, as you see," was the reply, " and one who may be of service to you. You seem interested in Cleobule's fate,
eh? " " " What business is that of yours ?
retorted Charicles ; but his blush was more than a sufficient answer for the slave.
"It is not indifferent to you," he proceeded, "whether Sophilos or Sosilas be the heir. "
254 THE FORGED WILL.
" Very possibly ; but wherefore these inquiries ? what is this to you, sirrah ? "
" More than you think," rejoined the slave. " What shall be my reward"if I hand you the proof that one of the two wills
is a forgery ? "
" You ! a miserable slave !
" The slave is often acquainted with his master's most secret
exclaimed the youth, astonished.
dealings," answered the other. " Come now, what's to be my reward ? " *
" Freedom, which is your rightful due for the discovery of such a crime. "
"Good," replied the slave, "but the freedman must have the means wherewith to live. "
" That also shall you have : five minae are yours, if you speak the truth. "
"Thy name is Charicles," said the slave; "no one hears your promise, but I'll trust you. My master is Sosilas, and they call me Molon. " He opened a small "bag, and pulled something out of it with a mysterious air. See, here is the signet," said he, " with which the forged will was sealed. " He took some wax, wetted it, and impressed the seal thereon. " That is the device of Polycles, an eagle clawing a snake ; you will be the eagle. " He related how he had witnessed the forgery through a crack in the door ; how a rustling he had made was near betraying him ; and how Sosilas, in his haste to bundle up the things, had unwittingly let the false stamp drop on the coverlet. "Now then," said he, "haven't I kept my word? "
" By the gods ! and so will I," cried Charicles, almost be side himself with wonder and joy. " Not five — no — ten minae shalt thou"have. And now to Sophilos with all speed. "
"No ! said the slave, "Itrust toyou. Do you go by your self, and have me called when you have need of me. " . . .
In addition to the slave's statement, and the production of the forged signet, another decisive proof had been obtained. With his usual circumspection and prudence, Polycles had, during his stay at iEdepsos, deposited a third copy of the will in the hands of a respectable man there. Of course this also testified against Sosilas ; and the forgery he had committed was now so manifest, that he might congratulate himself on the magnanimity of Sophilos in not proceeding against him.
THE GOLDEN MEAN. 255
THE GOLDEN MEAN. By ARISTOTLE.
(From the "Ethics. ")
[Aristotle, the greatest name in the history of philosophy, was born at Stageira, Macedonia, B. C. 384, of a line of able physicians ; his father was the friend and physician of King Philip's father. Early orphaned, and trained for the family profession, at eighteen he went to Athens to study philosophy ; on Plato's return from Syracuse, three years later, Aristotle became his pupil, and remained such for the seventeen years of Plato's life, teaching rhetoric, also in rivalry with Isocrates. On Plato's death, he went to the court of his old pupil Hermeias, now chief by conquest of Atarneus, opposite Lesbos.
Three years after, Hermeias was slain by treachery ; Aristotle escaped to Mitylene with and married Hermeias' daughter. Two years later, b. c. 342, Philip invited him to Macedon to educate his son Alexander, then thirteen. In 334, when Alexander invaded Asia, he returned to Athens, and opened a school of phi losophy in the Peripatos, or covered walk of the Lyceum. After the death of Alexander in 323, Aristotle was prosecuted for impiety, like Socrates ; he fled to Chalcis in Euboea, and died in 322. His writings comprised 146 volumes
(100 now lost), and systematized all the knowledge of antiquity. Of his extant works, the chief are his "Logic,""— a science he practically created, — "Eth ics," "Politics," "Poetics," and Rhetoric. "]
Liberality and Illiberalitt.
Let us next speak of liberality. Now it appears to be a mean on the subject of possessions ; for the liberal man is praised, not for matters which relate to war, nor for those in which the temperate character is exhibited, nor yet for his judgment, but in respect to the giving and receiving of prop erty; and more in giving than receiving. But by property we mean everything of which the value is measured by money. Now, the excess and defect on the subject of property are prodigality and illiberality : the term illiberality we always attach to those who are more anxious than they ought about money ; but that of prodigality we sometimes use in a com plex sense, and attach it to intemperate people, — for we call those who are incontinent, and profuse in their expenditure for purposes of intemperance, prodigal ; therefore they seem to be the most wicked, for they have many vices at once. Now, they are not properly so called, for the meaning of the word prodigal is the man who has one single vice, namely, that of wasting his fortune ; for the man who is ruined by his own means is prodigal, and the waste of property appears
256 THE GOLDEN MEAN.
to be a sort of ruining one's self, since life is supported by means of property. This is the sense, therefore, that we attach to prodigality. But it is possible to make a good and bad use of everything which has use. Now, money is one of the useful things ; and that man makes the best use of every thing who possesses the virtue which relates to it : therefore he who possesses the virtue that relates to money will make the best use of it, and the possessor of it is the liberal man.
But spending and giving seem to be the use of money, and receiving and taking care of it are more properly the method of acquiring it : hence it is more the part of the liberal man to give to proper objects than to receive from proper persons, or to abstain from receiving from improper persons; for it belongs more to the virtue of liberality to do than to receive good, and to do what is honorable than to abstain from doing what is disgraceful. And it is clear that doing what is good and honorable belongs to giving, and that receiving good and abstaining from doing what is disgraceful belongs to receiv ing; and thanks are bestowed on the giver, and not on him who abstains from receiving, and praise still more so ; and abstaining from receiving is more easy than giving, for men are less disposed to give what is their own than not to take what belongs to another; and givers are called liberal, while those who abstain from receiving are not praised for liberality, but nevertheless they are praised for justice ; but those who receive are not praised at all. But liberal men are more beloved than any others, for they are useful, and their use fulness consists in giving.
But actions according to virtue are honorable, and are done for the sake of the honorable : the liberal man, therefore, will give for the sake of the honorable, and will give properly, for he will give to proper objects, in proper quantities, at proper times: and his giving will have all the other qualifications of right giving, and he will do this pleasantly and without pain ; for that which is done according to virtue is pleasant, or without pain, and by no means annoying to the doer. But he who gives to improper objects, and not for the sake of the honorable, is not to be called liberal, but something else ; nor yet he who gives with pain, for he would prefer the money to the performance of an honorable action, and this is not the part of a liberal man. Nor yet will the liberal man receive from improper persons, for such receiving is not characteristic
THE GOLDEN MEAN. 257
of him who estimates things at their proper value ; nor would he be fond of asking, for it is not like a benefactor readily to allow himself to be benefited : but he will receive from proper sources, for instance from his own possessions, not because it is honorable, but because it is necessary in order that he may have something to give; nor will he be careless of his own fortune, because he hopes by means of it to be of use to others ; nor will he give at random to anybody, in order that he may have something to give to proper objects and in cases where it is honorable to do so.
It is characteristic of the liberal man to be profuse and lavish in giving, so as to leave but little for himself ; for it is characteristic of him not to look to his own interest. But the term liberality is applied in proportion to a man's fortune, for the liberal consists not in the quantity of the things given, but in the habit of the giver ; and this habit gives according to the means of the giver. And there is nothing to hinder the man whose gifts are smaller being more liberal, provided he gives from smaller means. But those who have not been the makers of their own fortune, but have received it by inheritance, are thought to be more liberal, for they are inexperienced in want, and all men love their own productions most, as parents and poets. But it is not easy for the liberal man to be rich, since he is not apt to receive or to take care of money, but rather to give it away, and to be careless of it for its own sake, and only to care for it for the sake of giving away. And for this reason people upbraid fortune, because those who are most deserving of wealth are the least wealthy. But this happens not without reason, for it is impossible for a man to have money who takes no pains about getting as the case in other things.
Yet the liberal man will not give to improper persons, nor at improper times, and so forth, for he did, he would cease to act with liberality; and he were to spend money upon these things, he would have none to spend upon proper objects, —for, as has been observed, the man who spends according to his means, and upon proper objects, liberal, but he who
in the excess prodigal. For this reason we do not call kings prodigal, for does not appear easy to exceed the greatness of their possessions in gifts and expenditure.
Liberality, therefore, being middle state on the subject of
giving and receiving money, the liberal man will give and vol. nr. — 17
it is
a
is
if
is
if
it, is
258 THE GOLDEN MEAN.
expend upon proper objects, and in proper quantities, in small and great matters alike, and this he will do with pleasure ; and he will receive from proper sources, and in proper quantities : for since the virtue of liberality is a mean state, it both giving and receiving, he will in both cases act as he ought ; for proper receiving is naturally consequent upon proper giving, and im proper receiving is the contrary. Habits, therefore, which are naturally consequent upon each other are produced together in the same person, but those that are contrary clearly cannot. But if it should happen to the liberal man to spend in a manner inconsistent with propriety and what is honorable, he will feel pain, but only moderately and as he ought ; for it is character istic of virtue to feel pleasure and pain at proper objects, and in a proper manner. And the liberal man is ready to share his money with others ; for, from his setting no value on it, he is liable to be dealt with unjustly, and he is more annoyed at not spending anything that he ought to have spent, than pained at having spent what he ought not. But the prodigal man even in these cases acts wrongly, for he neither feels pleasure nor pain, where he ought nor as he ought.
But we have said that prodigality and illiberality are the excess and the defect, and that they are conversant with two things, giving and receiving, for we include spending under giving. Prodigality, therefore, exceeds in giving and not receiving, and falls short in receiving ; but illiberality is defi cient in giving, but excessive in receiving, but only in cases of small expenditure. Both the characteristics of prodigal ity, therefore, are seldom found in the same person ; for it is not easy for a person who receives from nobody to give to everybody, for their means soon fail private persons who give, and these are the very persons who seem to be prodigal. This character now would seem considerably better than the illiberal one ; for he is easily to be cured by age and by want, and is able to arrive at the mean : for he has the qualifications of the liberal man ; for he both gives and abstains from receiving, but in neither instance as he ought, nor well. If, therefore, he could be accustomed to do this, or could change his conduct in any other manner, he would be liberal, for he will then give to proper objects, and will not receive from improper sources ; and for this reason he does not seem to be bad in moral char acter, for it is not the mark of a wicked or an ungenerous man to be excessive in giving and not receiving, but rather of a
THE GOLDEN MEAN. 259
fool. But he who is in this manner prodigal seems far better than the illiberal man, not only on account of the reasons already stated, but also because he benefits many people, while the other benefits nobody, not even himself.
But the majority of prodigals, as has been stated, also receive from improper sources, and are in this respect illiberal. Now, they become fond of receiving, because they wish to spend, and are not able to do it easily, for their means soon fail them: they are, therefore, compelled to get supplies from some other quarter, and at the same time, owing to their not caring for the honorable, they receive without scruple from any person they can ; for they are anxious to give, and the how or whence they get the money matters not to them. Therefore their gifts are not liberal, for they are not honorable, nor done for the sake of the honorable, nor as they ought to be done ; but sometimes they make men rich who deserve to be poor, and will give to men of virtuous characters nothing, and to flat terers, or those who provide them with any other pleasure, much. Hence the generality of prodigals are intemperate also; for, spending money carelessly, they are expensive also in acts of intemperance, and, because they do not live with a view to the honorable, they fall away towards pleasures. The prodigal, therefore, if he be without the guidance of a master, turns aside to these vices ; but if he happen to be taken care of, he may possibly arrive at the mean, and at propriety.
But illiberality is incurable, for old age and imbecility of every kind seem to make men illiberal, and it is more congenial to human nature than prodigality; for the generality of man kind are fond of money rather than of giving, and it extends very widely, and has many forms, for there appear to be many modes of illiberality : for as it consists in two things, the defect of giving and the excess of receiving, it does not exist in all persons entire, but is sometimes divided ; and some ex ceed in receiving, and others fall short in giving. For those who go by the names of parsimonious, stingy, and niggardly, all fall short in giving : but do not desire what belongs to another, nor do they wish to receive, some of them from a cer tain fairness of character, and caution lest they commit a base action ; for some people seem to take care of their money, or at least say that they do, in order that they may never be com pelled to commit a disgraceful action. Of these also is the cummin splitter, and every one of similar character, and he
260 THE GOLDEN MEAN.
derives his name from being in the excess of unwillingness to give. Others, again, through fear abstain from other persons' property, considering it difficult for them to take what belongs to other people, without other people taking theirs. They therefore are satisfied neither to receive nor give.
Again, in receiving, some are excessive in receiving from any source and anything; those, for instance, who exercise illiberal professions, and brothel keepers, and all persons of this kind, and usurers, and those who lend small sums at high interest; for all these receive from improper sources, and in improper quantities. And the love of base gain appears to be common to them all ; for they all submit to reproach for the sake of gain, and even for small gain. For we do not call those illiberal who receive great things from improper sources, as tyrants, who lay waste cities and pillage temples, but rather we call them wicked, impious, and unjust. But the gamester, the clothes stealer, and the robber are of the illiberal class, for they are fond of base gain ; for both of them ply their trades for the sake of gain, and incur reproach. Clothes stealers and robbers submit to the greatest dangers for the sake of the advantage they gain, and gamesters gain from their friends, to whom they ought to give. Both, therefore, are lovers of base gain, in that they desire to gain from sources whence they ought not ; and all such modes of receiving are illiberal. With reason, therefore, is illiberality said to be contrary to liberal ity ; for not only is it a greater evil than prodigality, but also men are more apt to err on this side than on the side of the prodigality before mentioned.
Of Magnanimity and Little-Mindedness.
Magnanimity, even from its very name, appears to be con versant with great matters. First let us determine with what kind of great matters. But it makes no difference whether we consider the habit, or the man who lives according to the habit. Now, the magnanimous man appears to be he who, being really worthy, estimates his own worth highly ; for he who makes too low an estimate of it is a fool ; and no man who acts according to virtue can be a fool, nor devoid of sense. The character before-mentioned, therefore, is magnanimous ; for he whose worth is low, and who estimates it lowly, is a modest man, but not a magnanimous one : for magnanimity belongs to greatness,
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just as beauty exists only with good stature ; for little persons may be pretty and well proportioned, but cannot be beautiful. He who estimates his own worth highly, when in reality he is unworthy, is vain ; but he who estimates it more highly than he deserves, is not in all cases vain. He who estimates it less highly than it deserves, is little-minded, whether his worth be great or moderate, or when worth little, he estimates himself at less and the man of great worth appears especially little- minded for what would he have done his worth had not been so great The magnanimous man, therefore, in the great ness of his merits, in the highest place but in his proper estimation of himself, in the mean for he estimates himself at the proper rate, while the others are in the excess and defect. If therefore the magnanimous man, being worthy of great things, thinks himself so, and still more of the greatest, his character must display itself on some one subject in particular.
Now, the term value used with reference to external goods and we must assume that to be of the greatest value which we award to the gods, and which men of eminence are most desirous of, and which the prize of the most honorable acts and such
thing as this honor; for this the greatest of external goods. The magnanimous man, therefore, acts with propriety on subjects of honor and dishonor. And, even without argu ments to prove the point, seems that the magnanimous are concerned with honor, for great men esteem themselves worthy of honor more than anything else for according to their desert. But the little-minded man in the defect, both as regards his own real merit and the magnanimous man's dig nity but the vain man in the excess as regards his own real merit, but in the defect as regards that of the magnanimous man.
The magnanimous man, he worthy of the highest honors, must be the best of men for the better man always worthy of the greater honor, and the best man of the greatest. The truly magnanimous man must therefore be good man and seems that whatever great in any virtue belongs to the magnanimous character for can in nowise be befitting the magnanimous man to swing his arms and run away, nor to commit an act of injustice for what could be the motive to base conduct to him to whom nothing great? And we examine the particulars of the case will appear ridiculous that the magnanimous man should not be good man and he
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could not even be deserving of honor, if he were a bad man ; for honor is the prize of virtue, and is bestowed upon the good.
Magnanimity, then, seems to be, as it were, a kind of orna ment of the virtues; for it makes them greater, and cannot exist without them. And for this reason it is difficult to be really magnanimous ; for it is impossible without perfect excel lence and goodness. The magnanimous character, therefore, is principally displayed on the subject of honor and dishonor. And in the case of great instances of honor, bestowed by the good, he will be moderately gratified, under the idea that he has obtained what is his due, or even less than he deserves ; for no honor can be equivalent to perfect virtue. Not but that he will receive it, because they have nothing greater to give him ; but honor from any other persons, and on the score of trifles, he will utterly despise : for these he does not deserve ; and like wise he will despise dishonor, for he cannot justly deserve it.
The magnanimous character is therefore, as has been said, principally concerned with honors : not but that in wealth and power, and all good and bad fortune, however it may come to pass, he will behave with moderation ; and not be too much delighted at success, nor too much grieved at failure : for he will not feel thus even at honor, though it is the greatest thing of all ; for power and wealth are eligible because of the honor they confer — at any rate, those who possess them desire to be honored on account of them. To him, therefore, by whom honor is lightly esteemed, nothing else can be important ; wherefore magnanimous men have the appearance of supercili ousness. Instances of good fortune also appear to contribute to magnanimity ; for the nobly born are thought worthy of honor, and those who possess power and wealth, for they sur pass others ; and everything which is superior in goodness is more honorable. Hence, such things as these make men more magnanimous ; for by some people they are honored. But in reality the good man alone is deserving of honor ; but he who has both is thought more worthy of honor : but those who, without virtue, possess such good things as these, neither have any right to think themselves worthy of great things, nor are properly called magnanimous; for magnanimity cannot exist without perfect virtue. But those who possess these things become supercilious and insolent ; for without virtue it is diffi cult to bear good fortune with propriety : and being unable to bear it, and thinking that they excel others, they despise them,
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while they themselves do anything they please ; for they imi tate the magnanimous man, though they are not like him : but this they do wherever they can. Actions according to virtue they do not perform, but they despise others. But the mag nanimous man feels contempt justly, for he forms his opinions truly ; but the others form theirs at random.
The magnanimous man neither shuns nor is fond of danger, because there are but few things which he cares for ; but to great dangers he exposes himself, and when he does run any risk, he is unsparing of his life, thinking that life is not worth having on some terms. He is disposed to bestow, but ashamed to receive benefits ; for the former is the part of a superior, the latter of an inferior : and he is disposed to make a more liberal return for favors; for thus the original giver will have incurred an additional obligation, and will have received a benefit. He is thought also to recollect those whom he has benefited, but not those from whom he has received benefits ; for the receiver is inferior to the giver : but the magnanimous man wishes to be superior, and the benefits which he confers he hears of with pleasure, but those he receives with pain. Thetis therefore says nothing to Jupiter about the benefits she has conferred upon him, nor do the Lacedaemonians to the Athenians, but only about those which they have received. Again, it is char acteristic of the magnanimous man to ask no favors, or very few, of anybody, but to be willing to serve others : and towards men of rank or fortune to be haughty in his demeanor, but to be moderate towards men of middle rank ; for to be superior to the former is difficult and honorable, but to be superior to the latter is easy : and among the former there is nothing un generous in being haughty ; but to be so amongst persons of humble rank is bad taste, just like making a show of strength to the weak.
Another characteristic is, not to go in search of honor, nor where others occupy the first places ; and to be inactive and slow, except where some great honor is to be gained, or some great work to be performed ; and to be inclined to do but few things, but those great and distinguished. He must also necessarily be open in his hatreds and his friendships ; for concealment is the part of a man who is afraid. He must care more for truth than for opinion. He must speak and act openly ; for this is characteristic of a man who despises others : for he is bold in speech, and therefore apt to despise
264 THE GOLDEN MEAN.
others and truth telling, except when he uses dissimulation; but to the vulgar he ought dissemble. And he cannot live at the will of another, except it be a friend ; for it is servile : for which reason all flatterers are mercenary, and low-minded men are flatterers. He is not apt to admire ; for nothing is great to him. He does not recollect injuries ; for accurate recollection, especially of injuries, is not characteristic of the
man : but he rather overlooks them. He is not fond of talking of people : for he will neither speak of him self, nor of anybody else ; for he does not care that he himself should be praised, nor that others should be blamed. He is not disposed to praise; and therefore he does not find fault even with his enemies, except for the sake of wanton insult. He is by no means apt to complain or supplicate help in unavoidable or trifling calamities; for to be so in such cases shows anxiety about them. He is apt to possess rather what is honorable and unfruitful, than what is fruitful and useful ; for this shows more self-sufficiency. The step of the magnani mous man is slow, his voice deep, and his language stately; for he who only feels anxiety about few things is not apt to be in a hurry : and he who thinks highly of nothing is not vehement ; and shrillness and quickness of speaking arise from these things. This, therefore, is the character of the magnani mous man.
He who is in the defect is little-minded ; he who is in the excess is vain. But these do not seem to be vicious, for they are not evil doers, but only in error : for the little-minded man, though worthy of good things, deprives himself of his deserts ; but yet he resembles one who has something vicious about him, from his not thinking himself worthy of good things, and he seems ignorant of himself, for otherwise he would have desired those things of which he was worthy, especially as they are good things. Yet such men as these seem not to be fools, but rather idle. And such an opinion
seems to make them worse ; for each man desires those things which are according to his deserts : and they abstain even from honorable actions and customs, considering themselves unworthy ; and in like manner from external goods.
But vain men are foolish, and ignorant of themselves, and this obviously ; for, thinking themselves worthy, they aspire to distinction, and then are found out ; and they are fine in their dress, and their gestures, and so on ; and they wish their
magnanimous
HYMN TO DEMETRIUS POLIORCETES. 265
good fortune to be known, and speak of it, hoping to be honored for it. But little-mindedness is more opposed to magnanimity than vanity, for it is oftener found, and is worse. Magnanimity, therefore, as we have said, relates to great honor.
HYMN TO DEMETRIUS POLIORCETES. Tbamblation by J. A. 8YMOND8.
See how the mightiest gods, and best-beloved Towards our town are winging !
For lo, Demeter and Demetrius This glad day is bringing !
She to perform her daughter's solemn rites ; Mystic pomps attend her :
He, joyous as a god should be, and blithe, Comes with laughing splendor.
Show forth your triumph ! Friends all, troop around ! Let him shine above you !
Be you the stars to circle him with love ; He's the sun to love you.
Hail, offspring of Poseidon, powerful god, Child of Aphrodite !
The other gods keep far away from earth ; Have no ears, though mighty ;
They are not, or they will not hear us wail : Thee our eye beholdeth ;
Not wood, not stone, but living, breathing, real, Thee our prayer enfoldeth.
First give us peace ! Give, dearest, for thou canst : Thou art Lord and Master !
The Sphinx, who not on Thebes, but on all Greece Swoops to gloat and pasture ;
The iEtolian, he who sits upon his rock, Like that old disaster ;
He feeds upon our flesh and blood, and we Can no longer labor ;
For it was ever thus the jEtolian thief Preyed upon his neighbor ;
Him punish thou, or if not thou, then send (Edipus to harm him,
Who'll cast this Sphinx down from his cliff of pride, Or to stone will charm him.
266 CHARACTERS OF MEN.
CHARACTERS OF MEN. By THEOPHRASTU8.
(Translated by R. C. Jebb. )
[Theophbastcs, the successor of Aristotle at the head of the Lyceum (born in Lesbos, b. o. 874), was like him a naturalist as well as philosopher, and wrote works on botany. But his vital work was a little pamphlet containing thirty brief sketches of types of masculine character as exhibited in social relations, the model of the many such characterizations attempted since. He died b. c. 287. ]
The Surly Man.
Surliness is discourtesy in words.
The Surly man is one who, when asked where so and so will say, " Don't bother me " or, when spoken to, will not re ply. If he has anything for sale, instead of informing the buyers at what price he prepared to sell it, he will ask them what he to get for it. Those who send him presents with their compliments at feast-tide are told that he " will not touch " their offerings. He cannot forgive person who has be smirched him by accident, or pushed him, or trodden upon his foot. Then friend asks him for subscription, he will say that he cannot give one; but will come with by and by, and remark that he losing this money also. When he stumbles in the street he apt to swear at the stone. He will not en dure to wait long for any one nor will he consent to sing, or to recite, or to dance. He apt also not to pray to the gods.
The Arrogant Man.
Arrogance certain scorn for all the world beside one self.
The Arrogant man one who will say to person who in hurry, that he will see him after dinner when he taking his walk. He will profess to recollect benefits which he has conferred. As he saunters in the street, he will decide cases for those who have made him their referee. When he nomi nated to public offices he will protest his inability to accept them, alleging that he too busy. He will not permit himself to give any man the first greeting. He apt to order persons
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who have anything to sell, or who wish to hire anything from him, to come to him at daybreak. When he walks in the streets he will not speak to those whom he meets, keeping his head bent down, or at other times, when so it pleases him, erect. If he entertains his friends, he will not dine with them himself, but will appoint a subordinate to preside. As soon as he sets out on a journey, he will send some one forward to say that he is coming. He is not likely to admit a visitor when he is anointing himself, or bathing, or at table. It is quite in his manner, too, when he is reckoning with any one, to bid his slave push the counters apart, set down the total, and charge"it to the other's account. In writing a letter, he will not say I should be much obliged," but " I wish it to be thus and thus ; " or"Ihave sent to youfor"thisorthat; or"Youwillattendto this strictly;" or " Without a moment's delay. "
The Mas of Petty Ambition.
Petty Ambition would seem to be a mean craving for dis tinction.
The man of Petty Ambition is one who, when asked to dinner, will be anxious to be placed next to the host at table. He will take his son away to Delphi to have his hair cut. He will be careful, too, that his attendant shall be an Ethiopian ; and when he pays a mina he will cause the slave to pay it with a new coin. Also he will have his hair cut very frequently, and will keep his teeth white ; he will change his clothes, too, while still good ; and will anoint himself with unguent. In the market place he will frequent the bankers' tables; in the gymnasia he will haunt those places where the young men take exercise ; in the theater, when there is a representation, he will sit near the generals. For himself he will buy nothing, but will make purchases on commission for foreign friends — pickled olives to go to Byzantium, Laconian hounds for Cyzicus, Hymettian honey for Rhodes ; and will talk thereof to people at Athens. Also he is very much the person to keep a mon key ; to get a satyr ape, Sicilian doves, deerhorn dice, Thurian vases of the approved rotundity, walking sticks with the true Laconian curve, and a curtain with Persians embroidered upon it. He will have a little court provided with an arena for wrestling and a ball alley, and will go about lending it to phi losophers, sophists, drill sergeants, musicians, for their displays ;
268 CHARACTERS OF MEN.
at which he himself will appear upon the scene rather late, in order that the spectators may say one to another, " This is the owner of the palestra. " When he has sacrificed an ox, he will nail up the skin of the forehead, wreathed with large garlands, opposite the entrance, in order that those who come in may see that he has sacrificed an ox. When he has been taking part in a procession of the knights, he will give the rest of his ac- couterments to his slave to carry home, but, after putting on his cloak, will walk about the market place in his spurs. He is apt, also, to buy a little ladder for his domestic jackdaw, and to make a little brass shield, wherewith the jackdaw shall hop upon the ladder. Or if his little Melitean dog has died, he will put up a memorial slab, with the inscription, A Scion of Melita. If he has dedicated a brass ring in the temple of Asclepius, he will wear it to a wire with daily burnishings and oilings. It is just like him, too, to obtain from the presidents of the Senate by private arrangement the privilege of report ing the sacrifice to the people ; when, having provided himself with a smart white cloak and put on a wreath, he will come forward and say : "Athenians ! we, the presidents of the Senate, have been sacrificing to the Mother of the Gods meetly and auspiciously ; receive ye her good gifts ! " Having made this announcement, he will go home to his wife and declare that he is supremely fortunate.
The Unseasonable Man.