Plutarch · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
Let us consider what one might say about the upbringing of freeborn children, and by what practices they might turn out to be virtuous in character. Perhaps it is better to begin first from their birth. To fathers, then, who desire to have children of good repute, I would advise that they not cohabit with women of just any sort — I mean, for instance, courtesans or concubines. For those who are not well-born on their mother's or their father's side carry with them, ineradicably, the reproach of low birth for their whole life, a reproach ready at hand for anyone wishing to expose and revile them. The poet, then, was wise who says: "When the foundation of a family is not rightly laid, its offspring must of necessity be unfortunate." Noble birth is indeed a fine treasury of frank speech, and those who long for lawful procreation of children must take the greatest account of it. And indeed the spirits of those whose lineage is adulterated and counterfeit are by nature apt to falter and be humbled, and quite rightly the poet who says: "For it enslaves a man, however bold-hearted he may be, whenever he is conscious of the faults of his mother or his father." So too, as one might expect, the children of distinguished parents are filled with pride and arrogance. At any rate they say that Diophantus, the son of Themistocles, often declared to many people that whatever he himself wished, this the Athenian people also resolved; for what he himself wanted, his mother wanted too, and what his mother wanted, Themistocles wanted, and what Themistocles wanted, all the Athenians wanted. It is quite fitting also to praise the Spartans for their magnanimity, in that they fined their king Archidamus with money because he had ventured to marry a wife who was small in stature, adding the remark that he intended to furnish them not kings but "kinglets."
Next in order it would be fitting to say something that even those before us had overlooked. What is that? That men who approach their wives for the sake of begetting children ought to have intercourse either altogether without wine, or at least when only moderately drunk. For those tend to become fond of wine and given to drunkenness whose fathers, it happens, made the beginning of their conception while drunk. And Diogenes, seeing a young man out of his wits and deranged, said: "Young man, your father begot you while drunk." Let this much be said by me concerning birth; now the subject of upbringing must be discussed.
To speak generally, what we are accustomed to say about the arts and sciences must be said also about virtue: that three things must come together for the complete practice of righteousness — nature, reason, and habit. By reason I mean learning, and by habit, practice. The beginnings come from nature, the advances from learning, the applications from practice, and the highest perfection from all three together. Whichever of these is lacking, in that respect virtue is bound to be lame. For nature without learning is blind; learning apart from nature is deficient; and practice without both is incomplete. Just as in farming the soil must first be good, then the farmer skilled, and then the seeds sound, so in the same way nature corresponds to the soil, the one who educates to the farmer, and the precepts and instructions of reasoned discourse to the seed. Insisting on all this, I would say that these three came together and breathed as one into the souls of those celebrated by everyone — Pythagoras, Socrates, Plato, and all who have attained undying fame. Happy indeed and beloved of the gods is anyone to whom some god has granted all these together. But if anyone supposes that those who are not well endowed by nature, once they obtain right learning and practice toward virtue, cannot make up, as far as possible, for the deficiency of their nature, let him know that he is greatly mistaken — indeed, entirely so. For laziness ruins the virtue of a good nature, while teaching corrects a poor one; easy things escape the careless, while difficult things are captured by diligence. And one may learn how effective and accomplishing a thing diligence and toil are by observing many things that happen.
Drops of water hollow out rocks; iron and bronze are worn away by the constant touch of hands; the wheels of chariots, once bent by strain, could never, whatever happened, recover their original straightness; and the curved staffs of actors are impossible to straighten out again — rather, what is contrary to nature becomes, through toil, stronger than what is according to nature. And are these the only things that demonstrate the power of diligence? Not at all — there are countless others besides. Land is naturally good, but if neglected it turns to waste, and the better it is by nature, the more, if left idle through neglect, it is utterly ruined through carelessness. And there is land that is harsh and rougher than it should be, but once cultivated it soon brings forth noble crops. What trees, if neglected, do not grow crooked and become fruitless, but if they receive proper tending become fruitful and productive? What bodily strength does not waste away and decline through neglect, luxury, and poor condition? What weak nature has not, through exercise and rigorous training, gained the most toward strength? What horses, well broken in, have not become tractable to their riders, while those left untamed have become stiff-necked and disobedient? And what need is there to marvel at other things, when we see that many of even the most savage beasts become tame and gentle to the hand through labor? Well spoken too was the Thessalian who, when asked who were the gentlest of the Thessalians, said, "Those who have stopped making war." And what need is there to say much more? For character (ethos) is habit (ethos) of long standing, and if one were to call the moral virtues "habitual" virtues, one would not seem to be mistaken.
Let me employ one further example concerning these matters and then be free of dwelling on them any longer. Lycurgus, the lawgiver of the Spartans, took two puppies of the same parents and raised them in wholly different ways, making the one gluttonous and worthless, but the other capable of tracking and hunting. Then once, when the Spartans had gathered together in the same place, he said: "Great indeed, men of Sparta, is the influence upon the growth of virtue exercised by habits, upbringing, teachings, and ways of life, and I shall now make this clear to you at once." Then, bringing forward the two puppies, he released them, having placed in the middle a dish of food and a hare, right in front of the puppies. And the one rushed at the hare, while the other made straight for the dish. While the Spartans were still unable to grasp what this meant and what he intended by displaying the puppies, he said: "These two are of the same parents, but having received different upbringing, the one has turned out gluttonous, the other a hunter." Let this suffice concerning habits and ways of life.
Next in order it would be fitting to speak about nurture. I would say that mothers themselves ought to nurse their children and offer them the breast, for they will nurture them with more sympathy and greater care, as loving their children, so to speak, "from the fingertips" — that is, from the very depths of their being. Wet nurses and nannies, on the other hand, have a spurious and counterfeit affection, since they love only for pay. Nature herself shows that mothers ought to nurse and rear the children they have borne; for this reason she has provided every creature that gives birth with nourishment from milk. Indeed providence was wise in this too: it placed two breasts on women, so that even if they should bear twins, they would have two sources of nourishment. Apart from this, mothers who nurse their own children become more affectionate and more loving toward them. And this is not unreasonable, by Zeus — for being reared together is, as it were, a bond that draws affection tight. Even wild animals, when torn away from those they have been raised with, are visibly seen to long for them.
So, above all, as I have said, mothers should endeavor to nurse their own children themselves; but if they are unable to do so, either through bodily weakness — for such a thing might indeed occur — or because they are hastening toward the birth of other children, then at least the wet nurses and nannies chosen must not be just anyone, but as far as possible the most respectable available, and first of all Greek in character. For just as it is necessary to shape the limbs of children straight from birth so that they may grow up straight and without deformity, in the same way it is fitting to mold the characters of children right from the start. For youth is impressionable and pliant, and it is while their souls are still tender that learning becomes ingrained in them; whereas everything hardened is difficult to soften. For just as seals are impressed upon soft wax, so are lessons stamped upon the souls of children while they are still young. And it seems to me that the godlike Plato gives fitting advice in urging nurses not to tell children just any stories, so that their souls may not be filled from the start with folly and corruption. It seems likely too that the poet Phocylides gives good advice when he says: "One must teach a child, while still a child, noble deeds."
Nor, indeed, should this be passed over: that the slave children who are destined to serve the young masters and to be raised together with them must be sought out as being, first and foremost, sound in character, but also, moreover, able to speak Greek clearly and correctly, so that by close association with barbarians of corrupt character they may not carry away with them something of that baseness. And those who speak in proverbs say, not without reason, "If you dwell beside a lame man, you will learn to limp." Then, once the children have reached the appropriate age to be placed under the charge of tutors, great care must be taken at that point regarding the character of these men, so that parents do not unwittingly hand over their children to slaves, or barbarians, or fickle men. For as things now stand, the practice followed by many people is utterly ridiculous. Among their respectable slaves, they appoint some as farmers, others as ship-captains, others as merchants, others as stewards, others as moneylenders; but whatever slave they find given to wine and gluttony, useless for any serious business — to this man they hand over their sons. The proper tutor ought to be, by nature, such a man as Phoenix, the tutor of Achilles, was.
But now I come to say the greatest and most decisive point of all that I have mentioned. Teachers must be sought for children who are irreproachable in their lives, blameless in character, and most accomplished in experience; for the fountain and root of nobility of character is to obtain a proper education. And just as farmers set stakes beside their plants, so lawful and orderly teachers plant beside the young their fitting counsels and exhortations, so that their characters may grow up straight. As things stand now, one might well spit in contempt on some fathers, who, before testing those who are to teach their children, out of ignorance — and sometimes even out of inexperience — entrust their sons to men of no repute and dubious credentials. And this is not yet the most ridiculous part, if they do it through inexperience; but the following is utterly absurd. What is that? Sometimes, though they know it, and though others have told them of it, of the inexperience and even the depravity of certain teachers, they nevertheless entrust their children to them all the same — some overcome by the flatteries of those who curry favor, others doing a favor to friends who ask it of them, acting in a manner comparable to someone who, being ill in body, passes over the physician who, with his skill, could have saved him, and, doing a favor to a friend, chooses instead the one who through inexperience would destroy him; or like someone who, to please a friend who requests it, passes over the best ship's captain and approves instead the worst. By Zeus and all the gods, does a man called a father give more weight to the gratitude of those who make requests of him than to the education of his children?
So it was not unreasonable that Socrates of old often used to say that, if it were possible, he would climb to the highest point of the city and cry aloud: "Men, where are you being carried, you who take every care about the acquisition of wealth, but give little thought to the sons to whom you will leave it?" To this I myself would add that such fathers do something comparable to a man who takes care of his shoe but pays no regard to his foot. Many fathers advance to such a degree of love of money combined with hatred of their own children that, in order not to pay a higher fee, they choose as teachers for their children men worth nothing at all, hunting after cheap ignorance. It was for this reason that Aristippus, not without wit but indeed quite cleverly, mocked in speech a father empty of sense and understanding. For when someone asked him how much fee he would charge for the education of his son, he said, "A thousand drachmas." And when the man said, "Heracles! What an excessive demand — for that sum I could buy a slave," Aristippus replied, "Well then, you will have two slaves — both your son and whichever one you buy." And on the whole, how is it not absurd to accustom children to receive their food with the right hand, and to rebuke them if they offer the left, but to take no forethought at all that they should hear discourse that is skillful and lawful?
What, then, happens to these admirable fathers, when they have reared their sons badly and educated them badly? I will tell you. When, having been enrolled among men, they neglect a healthy and well-ordered life and hurl themselves headlong into disorderly and slavish pleasures, then indeed they repent of having betrayed the education of their children — when it is of no use — being distressed at their children's wrongdoings. For some of them take up flatterers and parasites, men of no repute, accursed, corrupters and destroyers of youth; others ransom haughty and expensive courtesans and prostitutes; others gorge themselves on delicacies; others run headlong into dice and revelry; and some of the more reckless even lay hold of graver evils, committing adultery and ruining households, and prizing a single pleasure above death itself. Had these men associated with philosophy, they would perhaps not have made themselves so submissive to such conduct, and they would have learned the precept of Diogenes, who, coarsely in his words but truly in substance, advises and says: "Go into a brothel, boy, so that you may learn that there is no difference between what is honored and what is worthless."
To sum up, then, I say — and I would seem to be uttering an oracle rather than giving advice — that the first, the middle, and the last point in all this is a serious upbringing and a lawful education, and that these are contributions and aids toward virtue and toward happiness. As for the rest of what people call good, it is merely human, small, and not...
...are not worthy of serious pursuit. Good birth is a fine thing, but it is a good that belongs to one's ancestors. Wealth is valuable, but it is a possession of fortune, since fortune has often taken it away from those who had it and brought it, beyond their hope, to those who did not expect it; and great wealth stands as a target set up for those who wish to shoot at purses—wicked slaves and false accusers—and, worst of all, even the most depraved men have a share in it. Reputation, again, is impressive, but insecure.
Beauty is a prize worth fighting for, but short-lived. Health is precious, but easily overturned. Strength is enviable, but liable to sickness and old age. And in general, if anyone prides himself on bodily strength, let him learn that he is mistaken in his judgment: for how small a portion is human strength of the power possessed by other animals—I mean, for instance, elephants and bulls and lions!
Education alone, of all the things that are in us, is immortal and divine. And there are two things that are most sovereign of all in human nature, mind and reason. The mind rules over reason, and reason serves the mind; it cannot be taken away by fortune, cannot be removed by false accusation, cannot be corrupted by illness, cannot be ruined by old age. For the mind alone grows young again as it grows old, and while time takes away everything else, it adds knowledge to old age. As for war, which like a torrent sweeps and carries away everything, it alone is unable to take away education. Stilpo the Megarian philosopher, I think, gave a memorable answer when Demetrius, having enslaved the city, razed it to the ground and asked Stilpo whether he had lost anything. "No indeed," he said, "for war does not plunder virtue."
The answer of Socrates seems to me to be in tune and harmony with this. For when Gorgias asked him what opinion he held of the Great King, and whether he thought him happy, Socrates said, "I do not know how he stands with respect to virtue and education," implying that happiness lies in these things, not in the goods of fortune.
Just as I urge that nothing be made of greater importance than the education of children, so again I say that one must hold fast to that which is uncorrupted and sound, and lead one's sons as far as possible away from the nonsense of public displays. For to please the many is to displease the wise. Euripides bears witness to my point when he says, "I am unpolished at addressing a crowd, but wiser when speaking to a few of my own age." And there is truth in this too: "For those who are inferior among the wise are more skilled speakers before a crowd." I myself observe that those who practice speaking so as to please and gratify disorderly crowds generally turn out, in their manner of life as well, to be dissolute and pleasure-loving.
And this is reasonable enough: for if, in providing pleasures for others, they neglect what is honorable, they will hardly place what is right and sound above their own self-indulgence and luxury, or pursue what is prudent rather than what is pleasant. Besides this, what benefit would children get—for it is a fine thing to say and do nothing at random, and as the proverb has it, "fine things are difficult." Extemporaneous speeches are full of much carelessness and slovenliness, since those who speak them know neither where to begin nor where to stop.
Apart from their other faults, those who speak on the spur of the moment fall into a terrible lack of proportion and wordiness, whereas forethought does not allow speech to fall short of the proper measure. Pericles, as tradition has it, when often called on by the people, did not respond, saying that he was not prepared. In the same way Demosthenes, becoming an emulator of his statesmanship, when the Athenians called on him for advice, resisted, saying, "I have not prepared."
This story, perhaps, is of uncertain authorship and may be a fabrication; but in the speech Against Meidias he clearly demonstrates the benefit of forethought. He says, at any rate, "I confess, men of Athens, that I have thought this through, and I would not deny it, and that I have practiced as much as I was able; for I would have been wretched if, after suffering what I suffered and am suffering, I had neglected what I was going to say to you about these things."
I would not say that one must altogether reject readiness of speech, or again that one should not practice it for worthy occasions, but that it should be used as a kind of medicine. Up to the age of manhood I do not think one should speak on any chance occasion; but when someone has rooted his ability firmly, then, when circumstances call for it, it is fitting for him to speak with freedom.
For just as those who have been bound for a long time, even if they are later released, are unable to walk because of their long habituation to bonds, and stumble, in the same way those who have kept their speech under restraint for a long time, even if at some point they need to speak extemporaneously, nonetheless preserve the same character of expression. But to allow children, while still children, to speak on the spur of the moment on any occasion is a cause of the worst kind of idle talk.
They say a wretched painter once showed Apelles a picture and said, "I have just now painted this," and Apelles replied, "Even if you did not say so, I would know it was painted quickly; I am only amazed that you have not painted more such pictures."
So then, just as I return to the original subject of my discourse, I urge avoiding and fleeing the theatrical and overwrought style of speech, so again I urge guarding against and avoiding meanness and lowliness of diction: the one is unstatesmanlike in its bombast, the other, being too thin, fails to impress. Just as the body must be not only healthy but also vigorous, so speech likewise must be not only free of disease but also robust.
For what is merely safe is only praised, but what is also daring is admired as well. I happen to hold the same opinion about the disposition of the soul. For one ought to be neither rash nor cowardly and timid: the one tends toward shamelessness, the other toward servility. It is a matter of skill to cut the middle course in all things and to be well-tempered.
I wish, while I still remember the subject of education, to say what opinion I hold about it: that I consider a speech confined to a single register to be no small proof of a lack of taste, and moreover I believe it to be, with respect to practice, quickly wearisome and altogether unable to hold one's interest. For monotony in everything is cloying and irksome, whereas variety is delightful, just as it is in all other things, such as things heard or things seen.
One must therefore not allow the freeborn child to be unacquainted with, or a stranger to, any of the other so-called subjects of general education, but should let him learn these by the way, so to speak, as a mere taste of them—for perfection in all subjects is impossible—while giving philosophy the place of honor. I can illustrate my own opinion by an image: just as it is a fine thing to sail around many cities, but useful to settle in the best one, so also, as Bion the philosopher wittily said, just as the suitors, unable to approach Penelope, consorted with her serving-maids, so also those who are unable to attain philosophy wear themselves to the bone on other studies that are worth nothing.
For this reason one ought to make philosophy, as it were, the crown of one's other education. For with regard to the care of the body, men have discovered two sciences, medicine and gymnastics, of which the one instills health, the other physical fitness; but for the sicknesses and afflictions of the soul, philosophy alone is the remedy. For through philosophy, and with its help, one can come to know what is honorable,
what is shameful, what is just, what is unjust, what, in a word, is to be chosen, and what is to be avoided; how one should behave toward the gods, toward parents, toward one's elders, toward the laws, toward strangers, toward those in authority, toward friends, toward women, toward children, toward slaves—namely, that one must revere the gods, honor one's parents, respect one's elders, obey the laws, submit to those in authority, love one's friends,
be chaste toward women, be affectionate toward one's children, and not treat slaves with excessive harshness; and, most important of all, that one must be neither overjoyed in good fortune nor overly distressed in misfortune, neither dissolute in pleasures nor savage and beast-like in fits of anger. These I judge to be the most venerable of all the goods that come from philosophy. For to prosper nobly belongs to a great man; to bear one's good fortune without arousing envy belongs to a well-governed man;
to master one's pleasures by reason of a wise man; and to overcome anger belongs to no ordinary man, but to a man of exceptional character. I regard as complete those men who are able to mix and blend political power with philosophy, and I take them to have laid hold of the two greatest goods: living a life of public service, and living a life free from turbulence and calm, spent in the pursuit of philosophy. For of three kinds of life—
of which one is the practical, another the contemplative, and another the life devoted to enjoyment—the life given over to pleasure and enslaved to it is bestial and mean; the contemplative life, if it neglects the practical, is useless; and the practical life, if it has no share in philosophy, is graceless and faulty. One must therefore try, so far as possible, both to take part in public affairs and to lay hold of philosophy, to the extent that circumstances allow.
So Pericles conducted his public life, so Archytas of Tarentum, so Dion of Syracuse, so Epaminondas the Theban, one of whom was a companion of Plato. And concerning education I do not know that it is necessary to spend more words; but in addition to what has been said, it is useful, indeed necessary, not to be careless about acquiring the writings of the ancients, but to make a collection of them,
after the manner of a farmer. For in the same way that the use of books is an instrument of education, so it happens that knowledge is preserved as if drawn from a spring. Nor, indeed, is it right to neglect the exercise of the body; rather, one should send children to the trainer's school and have them work sufficiently hard at this, partly for the sake of good bodily proportion, and partly also for strength; for the foundation of a fine old age
in children is bodily fitness. Just as it is fitting, in fair weather, to make preparations for winter, so in youth one should lay up good order and self-control as provision for old age. But one must manage the labor of the body so carefully that children, worn out, do not give up their attention to education; for according to Plato, sleep and fatigue are enemies to learning.
But why dwell on this? Let me hasten to say what is the most important point of all that has been mentioned. Children must be trained for military contests by exercising themselves in javelin-throwing, archery, and hunting. For "the goods of the defeated in battle lie set out as prizes for the victors"; and war does not accept a body pampered by a sheltered upbringing, but a lean soldier accustomed to warlike contests routs even the ranks of trained athletes
and enemy phalanxes as well. What then might someone say? "You, having promised to give precepts about the upbringing of the freeborn, then appear to neglect the upbringing of the poor and common people, and to offer your instructions in agreement only with the wealthy." It is not difficult to answer such people. For I myself would wish, above all, that this system of education be useful to all in common; but if
some, being in straitened circumstances in their private affairs, are unable to make use of my precepts, let them blame fortune, not the one who gives this advice. One must try, then, so far as possible, to provide the best upbringing for children even among the poor; but if that is not possible, one must make use of whatever is possible. I have loaded my discourse with these remarks so that I might next join to them the other matters bearing on
the right upbringing of the young. And I say this too: that children must be led to honorable pursuits by exhortations and reasoning, and certainly not by blows or ill-treatment; for such things, I think, seem more fitting for slaves than for the freeborn. For they grow numb and shudder at their labors, partly because of the pain of the blows, and partly also because of the
insults. Praise and blame are more beneficial to the freeborn than any kind of ill-treatment, the one spurring them on toward what is honorable, the other holding them back from what is shameful. One must use rebukes and praises alternately and in varied ways, and whenever children become overconfident, one must shame them with rebukes, and then again call them back with praise, imitating nurses, who, whenever their infants
start crying, offer the breast again to comfort them. Yet one must not puff children up and inflate them with excessive praise either, for they become vain and spoiled by extravagant praise. I have already seen some fathers whose excessive fondness became the cause of their children's not being loved at all. What, then, is the point I wish to make, so that I may make my argument clearer by an example? Fathers, in their eagerness
to have their children excel quickly in everything, lay upon them tasks beyond their measure, under which, growing discouraged, they fail, and, being otherwise weighed down by hardships, do not readily accept instruction. For just as plants are nourished by moderate amounts of water but drowned by too much, in the same way the soul grows through tasks that are proportionate, but is submerged by those that are excessive. One must therefore give children a respite
from continuous labors, bearing in mind that our whole life is divided between relaxation and exertion. And for this reason not only waking but also sleep was devised, not only war but also peace, not only storm but also fair weather, and not only active pursuits but also festivals. In short, rest is the seasoning of labor. And one may see this happening not only among living creatures,
but also among lifeless things; for we relax bows and lyres, so that we may be able to draw them taut again. Generally speaking, the body is preserved by deprivation and by fullness, and the soul by relaxation and by exertion. It is right to censure those fathers who, having entrusted their sons to tutors and teachers, do not themselves become either eyewitnesses
or listeners at all to their sons' instruction, thereby erring most gravely in what is required of them. For they themselves ought to take stock of their children's progress every few days, rather than resting their hopes on the disposition of a hired man; for those men too will take greater care of the children when they know they must render an account each time. And here the saying of the groom is fitting, that nothing so fattens a horse as
...the king's eye. But above all one must train and habituate children's memory, for this is, as it were, the storehouse of education; and it is for this reason that the ancients told the myth that Memory (Mnemosyne) is the mother of the Muses, hinting and signifying by this that nothing so engenders and nurtures learning as memory does. This faculty, then, must be exercised on both counts, whether children are naturally gifted with memory or, on the contrary, forgetful: for we shall strengthen nature's abundance in the one case, and make up its deficiency in the other; and the one sort of children will surpass others, the other sort will surpass their former selves. For Hesiod's saying is well put: "If you lay up even a little upon a little, and do this often, soon that little will become great."
Let fathers, then, not fail to notice this too: that the mnemonic part of learning contributes no small share not only to education but also to the business of life. For the memory of past actions becomes a pattern for good counsel about the future. And moreover, sons must be kept away from foul talk, for "speech is the shadow of the deed," as Democritus says. Furthermore, they must be trained to be sociable and given to friendly address, for nothing is so deserving of hatred as an unsociable character. Again, children will become free of hatred toward those with whom they associate if they are not utterly intransigent in disputes; for it is noble to know how to be defeated as well as to win, in cases where winning is harmful. Indeed there truly is such a thing as a Cadmean victory.
As a witness to this I can call the wise Euripides, who says that when two men are speaking and one of them grows angry, the one who does not resist his words in turn is the wiser. Now the things I have next to say are, if anything, even more to be practiced by the young than what has already been mentioned. These are: to keep one's life free of pretension, to hold one's tongue in check, to rise above anger, and to master one's hands. How great a matter each of these is one must consider; it will become clearer through examples.
To begin, for example, from the last of these first: some men, by stretching out their hands for unjust gain, have poured away the reputation of their past lives — as Gylippus the Spartan, who broke open the sacks of money, was driven into exile from Sparta. As for freedom from anger, that belongs to a wise man. Socrates, when a bold and disgusting young fellow kicked him, and those around him were indignant and roused enough to want to chase the youth down, said, "If a donkey had kicked me, would you have thought it right to kick it back?" That young man, however, did not entirely escape unpunished, for when everyone reproached him and called him "the kicker," he hanged himself. And when Aristophanes brought out the Clouds and poured every kind of abuse upon him in every way, and one of those present said, "Are you not angry, Socrates, that he mocks you like this in his comedy?" Socrates said, "No, by Zeus, I am not; for I am being teased as if at a great banquet — the theater."
Kindred and comparable to these will be found the actions of Archytas of Tarentum and Plato. The former, on returning from a campaign in which he had happened to be general, found his land grown wild with neglect; he called his steward and said, "I would have punished you, were I not so angry." Plato, angered at a greedy and disgusting slave, called his sister's son Speusippus and said, "Go and beat this fellow, for I myself am too angry." These things, someone might say, are difficult and hard to imitate. I know it too. One must nevertheless try, using these examples as far as possible, to remove the greater part of unrestrained and raging anger; for we are not rivals of those men in other respects either, neither in experience nor in nobility of character. But nonetheless, no less than they — being, as it were, hierophants and torchbearers of wisdom before the gods — we attempt to imitate and approach, as far as is in our power, all that they achieved.
Now as to mastering the tongue — for it remains to speak of this, as I proposed — if anyone has supposed it a small and trivial matter, he is very far from the truth. Timely silence is wise, and better than any speech. And it is for this reason, I think, that the ancients instituted the mystic rites of initiation, so that, being accustomed in them to keep silence, we might transfer to matters concerning the gods the fear we learn in trusting human mysteries. For indeed no one ever regretted having kept silent, while countless people have regretted having spoken. And what has been kept silent is easy to speak out, but what has been spoken cannot be taken back. I myself know of countless people who have fallen into the greatest misfortunes through incontinence of the tongue. Passing over the rest, I shall mention one or two as examples of the type.
When Philadelphus married his sister Arsinoe, Sotades said, "Into an unholy hole you are thrusting your goad," and for this he rotted away for many long years in prison, paying no trifling penalty for his ill-timed talk; and in order to provide laughter for others, he himself wept for a long time. Comparable and akin to this, and in fact far more terrible, is what the sophist Theocritus said and suffered. When Alexander ordered the Greeks to provide purple garments, so that on his return he might sacrifice the victory offerings for the war against the barbarians, and the nations were contributing silver by head-count, Theocritus said, "Before I was in doubt, but now I clearly perceive that this is Homer's 'purple death.'" By this he made an enemy of Alexander. And by taunting Antigonus, the king of the Macedonians, who had lost one eye, with his disfigurement, he provoked him to no ordinary anger. For Antigonus sent his chief cook, Eutropion, who had been made a general, to meet with him and to exchange words with him; and when Eutropion kept reporting this to him and approaching him repeatedly, Theocritus said, "I know well that you want to serve me up raw to the Cyclops," taunting the one for being one-eyed and the other for having been a cook. And Eutropion replied, "Then indeed you will not keep your head, but you will pay the penalty for this loose talk and madness," and he reported what had been said to the king, who sent men and killed Theocritus.
Beyond all these things — and this is the most sacred point of all — one must habituate children to speak the truth; for lying is slavish and deserves to be hated by all men, and is not even to be forgiven in decent slaves. Now these matters I have discussed without hesitation or delay, concerning the good order and self-control of children; but about what I am about to say, I am of two minds and undecided, and swaying now this way, now that, as if on a balance scale, I am unable to incline to either side. Great hesitation holds me back both from proposing and from discouraging the matter. Nevertheless I must venture to state it. What, then, is this matter? Whether one should allow those who are in love with boys to associate and spend time with them, or, on the contrary, one ought to keep them away and drive them off from company with such men.
For when I look to those fathers who are blunt and harsh in character, sour and severe, who consider the company of lovers an intolerable outrage upon their children, I am wary of becoming a proposer and advocate of it. But when, on the other hand, I call to mind Socrates, Plato, Xenophon, Aeschines, Cebes, and the whole chorus of those men who approved of love between males and led young men on toward education and leadership of the people and excellence of character, again I become a different man and am swayed toward emulation of those men. Euripides bears witness to this when he says: "But there is indeed another kind of love among mortals, the love for a soul that is just, self-controlled, and good." And what Plato says, mixed with both earnestness and playfulness, must not be passed over: he says that it should be permitted to those who have distinguished themselves to kiss whichever of the beautiful youths they wish.
Those, then, who desire only the bloom of youth should be driven away, while those who are lovers of the soul should be admitted without qualification. And the kinds of love practiced at Thebes and at Elis are to be shunned, as is the so-called "abduction" practiced in Crete; but those practiced at Athens and at Sparta are to be emulated. As for these matters, however, let each person judge for himself according to his own persuasion.
For my part, since I have spoken about the good order and discipline of children, I shall now move on to the age of youths, and I shall say only a very little; for I have often found fault with those who introduce corrupt habits, who set tutors and teachers over their sons as children but let the impulses of their youths range free and unchecked, when in fact the opposite ought to be done — greater caution and watchfulness ought to be exercised over youths than over children. For who does not know that the offenses of children are small and altogether curable — perhaps the negligence of tutors, or the misleading and disobedience of teachers — whereas the wrongdoings of those who are already growing into young men are often monstrous and outrageous: excess of the belly, thefts of their fathers' money, dice, revels, drinking bouts, love affairs with maidens, and the ruin of the households of married women. One ought, then, to bind and restrain the impulses of such young men through careful attention, for the prime of pleasures at this age is unmanaged, prone to leap about, and in need of a bridle; so that those who do not vigorously take hold of this age hand over, through their own folly, license to commit wrongdoing. Sensible fathers, therefore, ought especially at this critical time to keep watch, staying alert
to bring their young sons to their senses, by teaching, threatening, entreating, and showing them examples of those who through love of pleasure have fallen into misfortunes, and of those who through self-restraint have won praise and a good reputation. For these two things are, as it were, the elements of virtue: hope of honor and fear of punishment; for the one makes men more eager for the noblest pursuits, the other makes them reluctant toward base deeds.
In general it is fitting to keep children away from association with wicked men, for they carry away some part of the wickedness of such men. This too Pythagoras enjoined, in riddling sayings which I shall set out and explain, for these too contribute no small weight toward the acquisition of virtue. For instance: "Do not taste blacktails" — that is, do not spend time with black-hearted men out of ill nature. "Do not step over the balance beam" — that is, one must set the highest value on justice and not overstep it.
"Do not sit upon a grain-measure" — that is, avoid idleness and take forethought to provide the necessary sustenance. "Do not offer your right hand to everyone" — meaning that one should not enter into agreements rashly. "Do not wear a tight ring" — meaning that one should conduct one's life so as not to be constrained by it. "Do not stir the fire with a knife" — meaning that one should not provoke a man who is already angry,
for that is not fitting, but rather one should yield to those who are angry. "Do not eat the heart" — that is, do not harm your own soul by wearing it down with worries. "Abstain from beans" — meaning that one should not engage in politics, for in former times votes were cast by beans, by which magistracies were determined. "Do not put food into a chamber pot" — this signifies that it is not fitting to put fine speech into a wicked soul; for speech is the food of thought, and wickedness of character makes that food impure.
"Do not turn back when you have come to the boundaries" — that is, those who are about to die and who see the boundary of life drawing near should bear it easily and not lose heart. But I shall return to the subject I set out with at the beginning: from all wicked men, as I said, children must be kept away, and above all from flatterers. What I often say, and keep saying, to many fathers, I would say now as well: there is no class more utterly destructive, none that more readily and more quickly derails youth, than flatterers, who utterly ruin both fathers and sons together, making the old age of the one grievous and the youth of the other corrupted, holding out pleasure as an unguarded bait for their counsels.
To the sons of the rich, one father urges sobriety, but flatterers urge drunkenness; one urges self-control, they urge licentiousness; one urges thrift, they urge extravagance; one urges hard work, they urge idleness, saying, "Life is but a moment of time. One ought to live, not merely to exist alongside life. Why should we worry about our father's threats? He is a doting old fool ready for the grave, and we shall soon lift him up and carry him out as fast as we can."
Another such youth has taken up with a common prostitute and made a wife of a kept woman, and has plundered and stripped away his father's provisions for old age. A vile breed, hypocrites of friendship, strangers to frank speech, flatterers of the rich and despisers of the poor, drawn to the young as if by a musician's craft, grinning broadly whenever those who feed them laugh, and being spurious and illegitimate parts of a soul and of a life, living wholly at the beck and nod of the rich — free by fortune, but slaves by choice; and when they are not being abused, they think themselves abused, because they are being kept for nothing. So then, if any father cares about the good conduct of his children, he must drive out these vile creatures; and he must drive out no less the depravity of their schoolfellows, for these too are capable of corrupting the most decent natures.
These matters, then, are honorable and advantageous; but what I am about to say next belongs to human weakness. For I do not, on the other hand, require fathers to be utterly harsh and hard by nature, but in many respects to make allowance for some of the errors of the young, and to remind themselves that they too were once young. And just as physicians, by mixing the bitterness of their medicines with sweet flavors, find a pleasant way through to what is beneficial, so too fathers ought to mix the harshness of their reproofs with gentleness, and at one time give free rein to their children's desires and loosen the reins, and at another time again pull them tight; and above all bear their errors with good humor, but if that is not possible, then, having grown angry for the occasion, to let the anger quickly burn out. For it is better for a father to be quick-tempered than sullen and slow to anger,
since implacability and difficulty in reconciling are no small proof of hatred toward one's children. It is also good sometimes to appear not even to know of certain of their errors, but to apply the dimness and deafness of old age to what happens, so as, seeing some of what is done, not to see it, and hearing, not to hear it. We put up with the faults of friends; why is it strange to do so with those of children? We often fail to reproach even our slaves for their drunken revelry.
"You once spared a slave — well then, give him provisions too. You were once angry — well, forgive as well. He once deceived you through a household servant — restrain your anger. He once took a yoke of oxen from the field — [overlook it]. He once came home reeking of yesterday's drunkenness — pretend not to notice. He smells of perfume — say nothing." It is thus that untamed youth is broken in, like a colt. One must also try to yoke in marriage those who are the slaves of pleasures and are hard of hearing toward reproofs, for this bond is
...of youth, the safest of all. Fathers should betroth to their sons wives who are neither of much higher birth nor much wealthier than themselves, for the saying "drive the one that matches you" is wise. For those who take wives far superior to themselves, without realizing it, become not husbands of their wives but slaves of their dowries.
Having added a few brief points, I shall now bring these precepts to a close. For above all, fathers must, by doing nothing wrong themselves, but rather doing everything they ought, offer themselves as a clear example to their children, so that the children, looking to their fathers' lives as to a mirror, may be turned away from shameful deeds and words. For those who rebuke their sons when they go wrong, and yet fall into the same errors themselves, become, under cover of their sons' names, unwitting accusers of themselves; and living altogether basely, they do not even have the boldness to reprove their own slaves, let alone their sons.
Apart from this, they would become counselors and teachers of wrongdoing to their sons. For where the old are shameless, there the young too must of necessity be most shameless. One must therefore strive to practice everything fitting for the moral training of children, emulating Eurydice, who, though an Illyrian and thrice a barbarian, nevertheless late in life took up education for the sake of her children's learning.
Her love for her children is sufficiently shown by the epigram which Eurydice of Hierapolis dedicated to the Muses: "This gift Eurydice of Hierapolis dedicated to the Muses, having conceived in her soul a joyous longing. For letters, memorials of speech, though she was already mother of grown sons, she toiled hard to learn."
Now to embrace all the precepts mentioned above is perhaps a matter for prayer or exhortation; but to emulate the greater part of them, while itself requiring good fortune and much diligence, is nevertheless attainable by human nature.