Plutarch · a new plain-English translation from the Greek
Surely, Nicarchus, as time goes on it will bring much obscurity and confusion to these matters, if even now, when the events are so recent and fresh, false accounts composed about them already win credence. For the banquet was not, as you have heard, attended by the Seven alone, but by more than twice that number, among whom I myself was present, being on familiar terms with Periander because of my profession, and a guest-friend of Thales; for the man lodged with me at Periander's bidding. Nor did whoever it was that told you the story remember the conversation correctly; indeed, as it seems, none of those who were actually present told it. But since we have ample leisure now, and old age is not to be trusted to guarantee any postponement of the tale, I will relate the whole of it from the beginning, since you are so eager to hear it.
Periander had prepared the reception not in the city, but at the banqueting-hall near Lechaeum, beside the temple of Aphrodite, to whom the sacrifice was also being offered. For after his mother's passion, when she had willingly given up her life, he had not sacrificed to Aphrodite until then; but now, prompted by certain dreams sent by Melissa, he set out to honor and serve the goddess. To each of the invited guests a pair of horses, suitably adorned, had been sent; for it was summertime, and the whole road down to the sea was filled with dust and commotion from the crowd of carriages and people. Thales, however, on seeing the team of horses at his door, smiled and sent it away. So we set out on foot, turning aside through the fields, at our leisure, and with us as a third companion was Niloxenus of Naucratis, a decent man who had also become acquainted with Solon and Thales in Egypt, and who happened now to have been sent again to Bias. Even he himself did not know for what reason, except that he suspected he was bringing him a second problem, sealed up in a scroll; for he had been instructed, if Bias declined it, to show the scroll to the wisest of the Greeks.
"It is a stroke of luck for me," Niloxenus said, "to have found all of you gathered here, and I am bringing the scroll, as you see, to the dinner." And as he spoke he showed it to us. Thales laughed and said, "If it is anything troublesome, it will go back again to Priene; for Bias will settle it, just as he himself settled the first one." "And what was the first?" I asked. "He sent him," Thales said, "a sacrificial animal, with instructions to cut out the worst piece of meat and send back the best. And our friend did well: he cut out the tongue and sent that back — a fine and clever answer, which is why he is so esteemed and admired." "It is not only for that," said Niloxenus, "that he does not shrink from being called and counted a friend of kings, as you all are — since your king too admires you greatly for other things, and was extraordinarily delighted by your measurement of the pyramid, because without any elaborate procedure and without needing any instrument at all, you simply set your staff upright at the end of the shadow which the pyramid cast, and since the rays of the sun, touching both, produced two triangles, you showed that the shadow had the same ratio to the shadow as the pyramid had to the staff.
"But, as I was saying, you have been slandered as a hater of kings, and certain insolent remarks of yours about tyrants have been reported to him — that when Molpagoras the Ionian asked you what was the strangest thing you had ever seen, you answered, 'An old tyrant'; and again, at some drinking-party, when the talk turned to wild beasts, you said that the worst of the wild beasts was the tyrant, and the worst of the tame ones was the flatterer. These remarks, however much kings pretend to be different from tyrants, they do not hear with favor." "But that," said Thales, "belongs to Pittacus, spoken once in jest to Myrsilus. For my part I should be surprised," he said, "if it were not an old helmsman rather than an old tyrant that I had seen. As for the substitution, I feel as the young man felt who, meaning to throw a stone at the dog, struck his stepmother instead, and said, 'Not such a bad shot after all.' That is also why I have judged Solon to be the wisest of men, for refusing to become a tyrant. And this Pittacus, too — had he not taken up sole rule, he would never have said, 'It is hard to be a good man.' Periander, however, seems, as though gripped by an inherited disease in his tyranny, not to be handling it badly, seeking relief through wholesome company, up to now at least, and drawing to himself the society of men of good sense — though the curtailments of extreme power which Thrasybulus, my own fellow-citizen, urges upon him, he does not accept.
For it makes no difference whether a farmer, wishing to gather darnel and rest-harrow instead of wheat and barley, or a tyrant, wishing to rule slaves rather than men: for one single good, in place of many evils, the possession of power has — honor and reputation, provided the rulers govern as being better than good men and appear greater than great ones; but those who are content merely with safety, without honor, would do better to rule over many sheep and horses and cattle, and not over men." "But indeed," he said, "our friend here has drawn us into talk that is quite beside the point, neglecting to say and to seek what is fitting for men on their way to dinner. Do you not think that just as there is some preparation needed by the man who is going to give a feast, there is also one needed by the man who is going to dine? The Sybarites, it seems, issue their invitations to the women a year in advance, so that they may have leisure to prepare themselves with fine clothing and gold before going to the dinner; but I think that the true preparation of one who is going to dine properly requires still more time, because it is harder to find the adornment suited to one's character than the superfluous and useless adornment for the body. For the sensible man does not come to a dinner bringing himself merely as a vessel to be filled, but ready also to be earnest in something, to jest, to listen, and to say whatever the occasion calls upon those present to say and hear, if they are to enjoy one another's company.
For even poor fare can be set aside, and even if the wine is inferior, one can take refuge with the Nymphs; but a fellow-diner who is heavy-headed, oppressive, and ill-mannered spoils and ruins the charm of every wine and every dish and every musician, and such unpleasantness is not even easy to purge away, but for some it remains for their whole lives, this mutual displeasure with one another, like the stale dregs of some insult or anger that arose over wine. That is why Chilon acted best of all: invited yesterday, he did not agree to come until he had first learned who each of the other guests was to be. For he said that one must put up with an unreasonable fellow-passenger on a ship or a fellow-tent-mate on campaign, where sailing or serving is a necessity; but for a man of sense to throw himself in among fellow-drinkers at random is not the mark of good judgment. As for the Egyptian skeleton, which they bring in fittingly and set before the company at their banquets, urging them to remember that they too will soon be such as it is — though it comes as an unwelcome and untimely intruder on the festivity — it nevertheless has its use, if it turns the guests, not toward drinking and self-indulgence, but toward friendship and affection for one another, and urges them not to make life, which is already short in time, long in troubles."
Talking in this fashion along the road, we arrived at the house; and Thales did not wish to bathe, since we had already been anointed with oil; but as he went along he looked at the running-tracks and the wrestling-grounds and the grove by the sea, all suitably adorned — not that he was struck with wonder by any such things, but so that he might not seem to be disdaining or looking down upon Periander's lavish display. As for the rest of the company, when each had been anointed or bathed, the servants led them into the men's hall through the colonnade. Anacharsis was sitting in the colonnade, and a young slave-girl stood before him, parting his hair with her hands. Thales, as she ran up to him quite freely, kissed her and said with a laugh, "Make our guest handsome in this way, so that being so gentle he may not appear frightening or wild to us in looks." When I asked about the girl, who she was, he said, "Do you not know the wise and famous Eumetis? For that is what her father himself calls her, though most people, from her father's name, call her Cleobulina." And Niloxenus said, "Surely you are praising the girl's skill and wisdom in riddles — for some of the ones she has proposed have even reached Egypt."
"Not I," said Thales... she uses them playfully as one might use knucklebones, whenever she happens upon someone to try them on; but there is also political sense in her, and she makes her father gentler and more democratic toward the citizens." "Very well," he said, "and it shows too, looking at her plainness and simplicity of dress. But why does she care for Anacharsis so affectionately?" "Because," he said, "he is a temperate and learned man, and he has generously and eagerly given her the regimen and the purification which the Scythians use for the sick. And now, I think, she is attending to the man and being kind to him, learning something and conversing with him."
By now, as we were near the men's hall, Alexidemus the Milesian met us — he was the bastard son of Thrasybulus the tyrant — and he was coming out disturbed, muttering something to himself in some anger, nothing clear to us. But when he saw Thales, he checked himself a little, stopped, and said, "What an outrage Periander has committed against us! He would not let me sail away when I was eager to go, but begged me to stay for the dinner; and then, when I came, he assigned me a place of no honor, preferring Aeolians and islanders and — who not? — to me, since he plainly wishes to insult and humiliate Thrasybulus in my person, whom he sent, as though he cared nothing for him." "So then," said Thales, "do you fear, like the Egyptians who say that the stars, as they rise and set in the places through which they pass, become better or worse than themselves, that in the same way some dimming or lowering will come upon you because of your place? You would then be inferior even to the Spartan who, placed in the last position in a chorus by the director, said, 'Well done — you have found a way to make even this position honored.' It is not the place after whom we recline that we should be searching for," he said, "but rather how we may be well suited to those who recline with us, seeking in them straightaway a beginning and a handle for friendship — or rather, having it already — by not being difficult, but by being glad that we have been placed beside such men as these; since the man who is displeased at the position of his couch is displeased more with his couch-companion than with his host, and makes himself hateful to both."
"That," said Alexidemus, "is fine talk, but in practice I see that you wise men too pursue being honored" — and with that he pushed past us and left. And Thales, to us, as we marveled at the strangeness of the man, said, "He is unbalanced and odd by nature, since even as a youth, when some fine perfume was brought to Thrasybulus, he poured it into a large mixing-bowl, added unmixed wine to it, and drank it down, thereby earning himself enmity instead of friendship from Thrasybulus."
At this point a servant came forward and said, "Periander bids you, taking Thales with you, to examine this thing just now brought to him, whether it occurred naturally or is some sign and portent; for he himself seems greatly disturbed, thinking it a pollution and a stain upon the sacrifice." And at the same time he led us off to a building near the garden. There a young man, who appeared to be a herdsman, not yet bearded, and otherwise not ignoble in appearance, unfolded a hide and showed us an infant, as he said, born of a mare — the upper parts, as far as the neck and the hands, of human form, the rest belonging to a horse, and crying out in a voice like that of a newborn child. Niloxenus, saying "Averter of evil!", turned his face away, but Thales gazed at the young man for a long time, then smiled — for he was always accustomed to jest with me about my profession — and said, "Surely, Diocles, you intend to set the purification rite in motion, and to give trouble to the priests who avert such things, as though something terrible and momentous had occurred?"
"What else should I do?" I said. "It is a sign of faction and discord, Thales, and I fear it may extend even to marriage and offspring, unless the anger of the goddess is first appeased, since she now reveals it a second time, as you see." To this Thales made no answer, but went off laughing. And when Periander met us at the doors and asked eagerly about what we had seen, Thales let go of me and, taking hold of Periander's hand, said, "Whatever Diocles bids you do, do it at your leisure; but I advise you not to employ such young men as herdsmen for your horses, or else to give them wives." Periander, on hearing this, seemed to me to be greatly pleased; indeed he burst out laughing, and embracing Thales, kissed him warmly. And Thales said, "I think, Diocles, that the sign has already reached its fulfillment; for you see what evil has befallen us, in Alexidemus's refusal to dine with us."
When we had gone in, Thales, raising his voice somewhat, said, "Where, then, is the man who was so displeased at his place at table?" And when his place had been pointed out, Thales went round and reclined there himself, taking us with him, saying, "Why, I would even pay to share a single table with Ardalus." Now Ardalus was a Troezenian, a singer to the flute and priest of the Ardalian Muses, whom the ancient Ardalus of Troezen had established. Aesop — for he happened to have been sent recently by Croesus both to Periander and to the god at Delphi — was present too, seated on a low stool beside Solon, who was reclining above him, and said, "A Lydian mule, on seeing his own reflection in a river and marveling at the beauty and size of his body, set off to run like a horse, tossing his mane; but then, remembering that he was the son of a donkey, he quickly stopped his running and let go of his snorting and his pride." And Chilon, speaking in his Laconic manner, said, "And you too are slow, and yet you outrun the mule."
After this Melissa came in and reclined beside Periander, and Eumetis took her seat for the meal. And Thales, addressing me as I reclined above Bias, said, "Diocles, why did you not tell Bias that the guest from Naucratis has come again to him with royal problems, so that he might receive the discussion soberly and attentively?" And Bias said, "Why, this man has long been threatening me with such warnings; but as for me, I know that Dionysus, besides being formidable in other respects, is also called Lysius — the Looser — from his wisdom, so that he does not...
"...for I fear that, once filled with the god, I may compete with too little restraint." Such were the jests they traded with one another as they dined. But as for me, seeing that the dinner was more modest than usual, it occurred to me to reflect that the hosting and inviting of wise and good men adds no expense at all, but rather cuts it down, removing the fussiness of fancy relishes, exotic perfumes, pastries, and lavish outpourings of costly wines—luxuries which, though Periander indulged in them fairly regularly, in his tyranny and wealth and power, he now, in the presence of these men, made a display instead of plainness and moderation of expense. For he had stripped away and hidden the customary adornment not only of everything else but of his wife as well, and presented her adorned with simplicity and restraint.
When the tables had been removed and Melissa had passed round garlands, we poured our libations, and the flute-girl, after playing a short accompaniment to the libations, withdrew from the company. Ardalus then addressed Anacharsis and asked him whether there were flute-girls among the Scythians. He answered offhand, "No, nor even vines." When Ardalus said again, "But the Scythians do have gods," he replied, "Very much so—gods who understand human speech, unlike the Greeks, who suppose that they converse better than the Scythians do, and yet think the gods take more pleasure in listening to bones and pieces of wood."
Aesop said, "If only you knew, stranger, how the flute-makers of today, having given up fawn-bone pipes and now using ass-bone ones, claim that they sound better. That is why Cleobulina made a riddling remark about the Phrygian pipe: a dead beast's shinbone struck the horned ear, so that the ass was amazed that, though otherwise the dullest and least musical of creatures, it should supply the finest and most musical of bones." Neiloxenus said, "To be sure, that is exactly what the people of Busiris reproach us Naucratites for as well—for we already use ass-bone for our flutes. Those people consider it unlawful even to hear a trumpet, since its sound resembles that of a braying ass; and you surely know that among the Egyptians the ass is held in contempt on account of Typhon."
When silence followed, Periander, seeing that Neiloxenus wished to begin but was hesitating to open his speech, said, "For my part, gentlemen, I commend both cities and rulers who give audience first to strangers and only afterward to their own citizens; and it seems to me right now that we should hold back our own conversation for a little while, as being homely and familiar to us, and give precedence, as in an assembly, to those Egyptian and royal matters which our excellent friend Neiloxenus has brought to Bias—and Bias wishes to consider them together with all of you." And Bias said, "Where, indeed, or in whose company, could one more eagerly risk an answer, if answer one must, to such questions—especially since the king himself has bidden that the matter begin with me and then pass round to all of you?" So Neiloxenus handed him the document,
and Bias bade him unseal it and read it aloud to everyone in the company. The purport of what was written was this: "Amasis, king of the Egyptians, addresses Bias, wisest of the Greeks. The king of the Ethiopians has entered into a contest of wisdom with me. Being worsted in all the rest, he has finally devised a strange and difficult task, commanding me to drink up the sea. If I solve it, I am to have many of his villages and cities; if I fail, I am to withdraw from the cities around Elephantine. Consider the matter, then, and send Neiloxenus back at once. Whatever service is owed to your friends or fellow citizens on our part shall not be hindered by me." When this had been read, Bias did not pause long, but after a moment's reflection with himself, and a brief word with Cleobulus, who was reclining near him, said, "What do you say,
man of Naucratis? Will Amasis, king of so many men and possessor of so vast and excellent a country, really be willing, for the sake of a few obscure and wretched villages, to drink up the sea?" Neiloxenus laughed and said, "As if he would be willing, Bias! Consider what is possible." "Let him, then," said Bias, "tell the Ethiopian to hold back the rivers that flow into the seas, until he himself drinks up the sea as it now is—for the command concerns this present sea, not the sea that will exist afterward."
When Bias had said this, Neiloxenus, in his delight, rushed to embrace and kiss him; and while the others were praising and approving, Chilon laughed and said, "Man of Naucratis, before the sea is destroyed by drinking, sail off and report to Amasis that he need not seek how to consume so vast a quantity of brine, but rather how he may provide his subjects with a kingship that is sweet and fit to drink. In such matters Bias is most formidable, and the best teacher of them; and once Amasis has learned this from him, he will no longer need the golden footbasin against the Egyptians, but all will serve and love him as a good king, even should he be shown ten thousand times more lowborn than he now appears." "Indeed," said Periander, "it is worth our all contributing such first-fruits to the king,
each man for himself," as Homer puts it; for that contribution would be worth more to him than his trading-goods, and to us it would be more useful than anything else." So when Chilon said that Solon had the right to open the discussion—not only because he outranked all in age and happened to be reclining first, but also because he holds the greatest and most perfect office, having established laws for the Athenians—Neiloxenus quietly said to me, "Many false things are believed, Diocles, and most people take pleasure in fabricating unsuitable stories about wise men, and in readily accepting them from others as well—just as was reported to us in Egypt about Chilon, that he broke off his friendship and guest-ties with Solon because Solon said that laws ought not
to be altered." And I said, "That is a ridiculous story; for on that reasoning one would first have to disown Lycurgus, who overturned the whole constitution of the Lacedaemonians by means of laws of his own." After a brief pause Solon said, "To my mind, a king or a tyrant would become most renowned if he were to convert a monarchy into a democracy for his citizens." Bias spoke second: "if
he governed by laws that were not foreign to the customs of his native land." To this Thales said that he reckoned a ruler happy if he should die of old age in the course of nature. Fourth, Anacharsis said, "if he alone were wise." Fifth, Cleobulus said, "if he trusted none of his associates." Sixth, Pittacus said, "if the ruler brought it about that his subjects feared not for him, but on his behalf." After him Chilon
said that a ruler ought to think nothing that belongs to mortals, but everything that belongs to the immortals. When these opinions had been spoken, we asked Periander himself to say something as well. He, not at all cheerful but composing his features, said, "For my part, then, I declare in addition that virtually all the opinions just stated tend to turn a man of sense away from ruling altogether." And Aesop, as if in refutation, said, "Then you ought to settle this matter among yourselves, and not, while professing to be counselors and friends, become accusers of your rulers." Solon then touched him on the head and, smiling, said, "Would it not seem to you that a ruler is made more moderate, and a tyrant more reasonable, by one who persuades him that it is better not to rule than to rule?" "And who," said Aesop, "would be persuaded of this by you rather than by
the god, who declared in his oracle to you that the city is happy which listens to a single herald?" Solon replied, "But even now the Athenians listen to a single herald and to a single ruler—the law—while having a democracy. You, though, are clever at understanding crows and jackdaws, but you do not hear the god's voice accurately; you think a city fares best in the god's eyes
when it listens to one man, yet you regard it as the virtue of a symposium that all should converse, and about everything." "But you," said Aesop, "have not yet written that it is likewise improper for servants to get drunk, as you wrote at Athens that servants should not make love or anoint themselves with oil." When Solon laughed at this, Cleodorus the physician said, "But talking while soaked in wine is like anointing with oil dry—for it is most pleasant."
Chilon took this up and said, "For that very reason one ought all the more to abstain from it." Again Aesop said, "And yet Thales was thought to have said that he would grow old very quickly." Periander laughed and said, "We have him, Aesop, and rightly served, before we have brought in all of Amasis's questions that we chose to take up, we have fallen into others. But see to the rest of the letter, Neiloxenus, and put it to use now that these gentlemen are present together." "Well then," said Neiloxenus, "the Ethiopian's command one could call nothing but a 'grieving message-staff,' in Archilochus's phrase; but your guest-friend Amasis has proved gentler in such problems, and more cultivated. For he bade him say what is oldest, what is most beautiful, what is greatest,
what is wisest, what is most common, and—yes, by Zeus—in addition, what is most useful, what is most harmful, what is strongest, and what is easiest. Did he, then, answer and resolve each of these?" "He did," said Neiloxenus, "and you shall judge for yourselves once you have heard. For the king cares a great deal that his answers not be caught out by fault-finders, and that if the one who answers goes wrong in any of them, this should not escape unrefuted. I will read out to you just as he answered. 'What is oldest?' 'Time.' 'What is greatest?' 'The universe.' 'What is wisest?' 'Truth.' 'What is most beautiful?' 'Light.' 'What is most common?' 'Death.' 'What is most useful?' 'God.' 'What is most harmful?' 'A daemon.' 'What is strongest?' 'Fortune.' 'What is easiest?' 'Pleasure.'" When this had been read out a second time, Nicarchus, and silence had fallen,
Thales asked Neiloxenus whether Amasis had accepted the solutions. When he replied that some he had welcomed and with others he was dissatisfied, Thales said, "And indeed nothing here is beyond reproach; all of it contains great errors and ignorance. Take time, for instance—how could it be oldest, when part of it is past, part present, and part
still to come? For the time that will exist after us will prove younger than the affairs and people of today. As for regarding truth as wisdom, that seems to me no different from declaring light to be the eye. And if he believed light to be beautiful, as indeed it is, how did he overlook the sun itself? As for the rest, the answer concerning gods and daemons carries rashness
and danger, while the one concerning fortune carries great irrationality; for fortune would not shift about so easily if it were the strongest and most powerful of existing things. Nor indeed is death most common, for it does not concern the living. But so that we may not seem to be merely correcting the judgments of others, let us set our own answers alongside his. I offer myself first, if
Neiloxenus wishes, to be questioned point by point." As the questions and answers went then, so I will now relate them to you. "What is oldest?" "God," said Thales, "for he is uncreated." "What is greatest?" "Space; for while the universe contains everything else, space contains the universe itself." "What is most beautiful?" "The universe; for everything that is in order is a part of it." "What is
wisest?" "Time; for it has already discovered some things, and will discover the rest." "What is most common?" "Hope; for even those who have nothing else still have this." "What is most useful?" "Virtue; for by its right use it makes everything else useful too." "What is most harmful?" "Vice; for its presence does harm to most things." "What is strongest?" "Necessity; for it alone is unconquerable." "What is easiest?"
"That which is according to nature, since as for pleasures, many people often renounce them." When all had approved of Thales, Cleodorus said, "Such questions and answers, Neiloxenus, are fitting for kings to exchange; but the barbarian who pledged Amasis to drink the sea needed the brevity of Pittacus, which he employed toward Alyattes when the latter was issuing some arrogant order and writing to the Lesbians—Pittacus answered nothing at all, but simply
bade him eat onions and hot bread." Periander then took this up and said, "But indeed, Cleodorus, it was the custom among the ancient Greeks to pose such riddles to one another. For we hear that even at the funeral games of Amphidamas in Chalcis, the most eminent poets of that time gathered together. Amphidamas was a warlike man, and after causing much trouble to the Eretrians, he fell in
the battles over the Lelantine plain. Since the verses the poets had prepared made the judging difficult and contentious because of the closeness of the contest, and the reputations of the rivals, Homer and Hesiod, gave those judging great embarrassment and hesitation, they turned instead to such riddling questions. And, as Lesches tells it, the one proposed: 'Muse, tell me of those things which neither happened before nor
will be hereafter,' and Hesiod answered off the cuff: 'but when around the tomb of Zeus the clattering-hoofed horses shatter their chariots, straining for victory'—and it is said that it was chiefly for this that he won admiration and was awarded the tripod." "How," said Cleodorus, "does that differ from Eumetis's riddles? For her it is perhaps not unseemly, while she plays and weaves them together like
other women do their girdles and hairnets, to propose such things; but for men of sense to occupy themselves with any such matter is ridiculous." Eumetis, who evidently would have liked to say something in reply, restrained herself out of modesty, and her face filled with a blush. Aesop, as if defending her, said, "Is it not more ridiculous, then, to be unable to solve riddles such as
the one which he himself proposed to us a little before dinner: 'I saw a man who had welded bronze upon a man with fire—can you say what this is?'" "But I have no wish even to learn it," said Cleodorus. "And yet," he said, "no one knows this better than you, nor practices it better; and if you deny it, I have witnesses from Sicyon." Cleodorus laughed at this; for indeed he made the greatest use of
the Sicyonian cupping-instruments of all the physicians of his time, and this remedy owes not the least of its reputation to him. Mnesiphilus the Athenian, a companion and admirer of Solon, said, "For my part, Periander, I think our conversation, like the wine, ought to be shared out not by wealth nor by rank, but equally among all, as in a democracy, and held in common; but as for the matter just now concerning rule,
"...and of kingship that have just been spoken of, we ordinary citizens have no share. So I think each of you ought once more to contribute some opinion about a constitution based on equality, beginning again from Solon." It was agreed that they should do this. And Solon spoke first: "You have already heard, together with all the Athenians, what opinion I hold about government; but if you wish to hear it again now, it seems to me that a city fares best and best preserves its democracy in which those who have not been wronged prosecute and punish the wrongdoer no less than the one who has been wronged." Bias spoke second, and said that the best democracy was one in which all men fear the law as they would a tyrant. After him Thales named the city that has citizens neither too rich nor too poor. Next Anacharsis said that among all other things reckoned equal, it is by virtue that the better is distinguished, and by vice the worse.
Fifth, Cleobulus said that a people is most sound of mind where the citizens who take part in public affairs fear blame more than the law. Sixth, Pittacus said it is the constitution where it is not possible for the wicked to rule and not possible for the good not to rule. Turning next, Chilon declared that the constitution which listens most to the laws and least to orators is the best. Last of all, Periander, summing up, said that it seemed to him that everyone was praising the democracy that most resembles an aristocracy. When this discussion too had reached its end, I for my part thought it right that the men should also tell us how a household ought to be managed: "for kingdoms and cities are governed by few, but hearth and household belong to all of us alike." Then Aesop laughed and said,
"Not to all, at least not to everyone" -- "do you count Anacharsis among them too? He has no household at all, but even prides himself on being houseless, and uses a wagon instead, just as they say the sun travels about in a chariot, occupying now one region of the sky, now another." And Anacharsis said, "That is precisely why he is alone, or more than any other of the gods, free and self-governing, and rules over all things while being ruled by none, but reigns as king and holds the reins. Only you have failed to notice how surpassingly beautiful and wondrous in size his chariot is; for you would not, in jest and mockery, have compared it to ours. As for a household, Aesop, you seem to think it consists of these coverings of clay and wood and baked tile, just as if one supposed the shell to be the snail rather than the living creature.
It is no wonder, then, that Solon made you laugh when, having seen the house of Croesus lavishly adorned, he did not immediately declare its owner to be living happily and blessedly, since he wished to be a spectator rather of the good things within the man than of those about him. But you seem not even to remember your own fox. For she, entering a contest of beauty of coat with the leopard, asked the judge to examine what was within her, since from there she would appear more variegated. But you go about admiring the works of carpenters and stonemasons, thinking a household to consist not in what is within and proper to each person -- children, marriage, friends, and servants, with whom, even in an anthill or a bird's nest, those who have sense and act moderately share what they possess -- that is a good and blessed household.
For my part, then," he said, "I give this answer both to Aesop and I agree with Diocles; but each of the others is entitled to declare his own opinion." Solon then said that he himself thought the best household to be one where the possessions are attended neither by injustice in their acquiring, nor by distrust in their keeping, nor by regret in their spending. Bias said it is one in which the master is such by his own character as he would be outside the house because of the law. Thales said it is one in which the master is able to enjoy the greatest leisure. Cleobulus said it is one where the master has more who love him than who fear him. Pittacus said that the best household is one that needs none of the superfluous things and lacks none of the necessary ones. Chilon
said that the household ought above all to resemble a well-governed kingdom. Then he added that Lycurgus too, when someone urged him to establish democracy in the city, said, "First establish democracy in your own house." When this discussion also had come to an end, Eumetis went out together with Melissa, and as Periander was pledging Chilon in a large cup, and Chilon in turn pledging Bias, Ardalus rose and, addressing Aesop, said, "Will you not pass the cup this way to us, seeing these men passing it to one another like the cup of Bathycles, without sharing it with anyone else?" And Aesop said, "But this cup need not be for everyone; it has long been reserved for Solon alone." Then Pittacus, addressing
Mnesiphilus, asked why Solon does not drink but instead contradicts his own poems, in which he has written, "Now the works of the Cyprus-born goddess are dear to me, and of Dionysus, and of the Muses, which they set before men for their delight." But Anacharsis spoke first: "He fears you, Pittacus, and that harsh law of yours in which you have written that if a man commits any offense while drunk, the penalty shall be double what it is for a sober man." And Pittacus said, "But you yourself so flouted the law that last year, at your brother-in-law's, having got drunk, you demanded a prize and a garland." "And why should I not," said Anacharsis, "when prizes were offered to the one who drank the most, and I, being the first to get drunk, claimed the victor's prize? Or explain to me, you sages, what is the goal of drinking much unmixed wine, if not getting drunk?"
When Pittacus laughed at this, Aesop told a story of this sort: "A wolf, seeing shepherds eating a sheep in their hut, came near and said, 'What an uproar there would be from you, if I were doing this!'" And Chilon said, "Aesop defended himself rightly, having been silenced by us a little earlier, and now seeing others snatching away Mnesiphilus's argument; for it was Mnesiphilus who was to give the answer on Solon's behalf." "And I do say," said Mnesiphilus, "knowing that Solon holds that in every art and every human and divine power, the product is the true work rather than that by which it is produced, and the end rather than the means to the end. For a weaver, I think, would consider a cloak or a garment his work rather more than
the arrangement of the loom's rods and the raising of the heddles; and a smith would consider the welding of iron and the tempering of an axe his work more than the necessary preliminaries to it, such as kindling coals or preparing ore. Still more would an architect reproach us if we called his work not a ship or a house, but the boring of timbers and the kneading of clay; and the Muses altogether so, if we should think their work to be the lyre and the pipes, rather than the shaping of character and the soothing of the passions in those who make use of melodies and harmonies. So too the work of Aphrodite is not intercourse and union, nor is the work of Dionysus drunkenness and wine, but rather the friendliness, longing, and companionship and intimacy toward one another which they produce through these things; for these are the divine works Solon speaks of,
and these, he says, he loves and pursues most now that he has grown old. Now the craftsman of harmony and friendship between men and women is Aphrodite, who through bodily pleasure mingles and melts their souls together; but for the many, who are not especially intimate or well acquainted, it is Dionysus who, softening their characters as if by fire in the wine, and moistening them, provides some beginning of blending and friendship toward one another. And whenever such men come together as those Periander has invited here, there is, I think, no need at all of cup or wine-jug; rather the Muses, setting in the midst, as it were, a sober mixing-bowl of discourse -- one that contains the most pleasure together with both play and seriousness -- with this they stir up, water, and pour out good will among them, leaving the wine-jug
for the most part to rest quietly "above the mixing bowl," which is what Hesiod forbade in the case of those more capable of drinking than of conversing. Since indeed I understand that the ancients speak of the toasts themselves as needing "a fair portion," as Homer said, and a measured amount for each drinker, and only then, like Ajax, sharing a portion with his neighbor." When Mnesiphilus had said this, Chersias the poet -- for he had by now been released from blame and had been recently reconciled with Periander, at Chilon's request -- said, "Does Zeus, then, dispense to the gods also, as Agamemnon did to his champions, a measured drink, when they were pledging one another as they feasted at his table?" And Cleodorus said, "But you, Chersias,
if certain doves bring ambrosia to Zeus, as you people say, flying over the Wandering Rocks with difficulty and hardship, do you not think that nectar too is hard for him to procure and scarce, so that he must be sparing and provide it to each in a measured share?" "Perhaps," said Chersias, "but since the discussion has again turned to household management, which of you would tell us what remains? What remains, I think, is to determine some measure of property that will be sufficient and adequate." And Cleobulus said, "For the wise, the law has given a measure; but to the foolish I will tell a story of my own daughter, which she told to her brother. She said that the Moon asked her mother to weave her a little garment that fit properly; and her mother said, 'And how can I weave one that fits? For now I see you full,
and again crescent-shaped, and at other times gibbous.' So too, my dear Chersias, for a foolish and worthless man there is no measure of property; for he is different at different times in his needs, because of his desires and fortunes, just like Aesop's dog, which this man here says, curling and coiling itself up in winter because of the cold, intends to build itself a house, but in summer again, stretched out and sleeping, appears large to itself and thinks it neither necessary nor a small task to build itself so vast a house. Do you not see, Chersias," he said, "that the small men now contract themselves into small compass, as though they meant to live simply and in Spartan style, and then again, if they do not have everything that both private citizens and kings possess, think they will perish from want?" When Chersias fell silent at this, Cleodorus took up the point and said,
"But we see the wise as well holding their possessions divided among themselves by unequal measures." And Cleobulus said, "Yes, my good man, for the law, like a weaver, gives to each of us what is fitting, moderate, and suitable. And you yourself, just as if by law, in nourishing and regulating and medicating the sick by your art, do not give the same amount to each, but apportion to all what is appropriate." Then Ardalus took up the point and said, "Does then some law also require your companion, Solon's guest-friend Epimenides, to abstain from other foods, and to pass the whole day, taking only a little of the hunger-quelling preparation he himself compounds into his mouth, without breakfast and without dinner?" When this question had brought the symposium to a pause,
Thales, mocking a little, said that Epimenides was wise not to want the trouble of grinding and baking his own food for himself, as Pittacus does. "For I myself," he said, "once heard a foreign woman singing at the mill, when I was in Eresus: 'Grind, mill, grind; for even Pittacus grinds, king though he is of great Mytilene.'" And Solon said he was surprised at Ardalus, if he had not read the law of the man's diet written in the verses of Hesiod; for Hesiod is the one who first supplied Epimenides with the seeds of this kind of nourishment, and taught men to inquire how great a boon there is in mallow and asphodel. "Do you suppose," said Periander, "that Hesiod had any such thing in mind,
he who is always a praiser of frugality and who urges us toward the plainest of foods as being the most pleasant? For the mallow is good to eat, and the asphodel-stalk is sweet; but those hunger-quelling and thirst-quelling drugs I hear of are more like medicines than food -- honey, and some barbarian cheese, and a great many seeds not easily procured. How then could Hesiod, whose rudder hangs above the smoke, and for whom the labors of oxen and hard-toiling mules would perish, ever require such elaborate provision, if so great a preparation were needed? I am surprised too at your guest-friend, Solon, that when he recently performed the great purification for the Delians, he did not learn from them of what is carried into the temple as memorials and samples of the earliest food, along with other cheap and self-grown things -- mallow and asphodel -- from which it is likely that Hesiod too recommends to us
frugality and simplicity." "Not only that," said Anacharsis, "but each of these is also praised, among vegetables, as especially conducive to health." And Cleodorus said, "You are right to say so. For Hesiod, being clearly a man skilled in medicine, discusses, not carelessly or ignorantly, matters of diet and the mixing of wine and the quality of water and of bathing, and the proper season for intercourse with women, and the seating of infants. But it seems to me more just that Aesop should declare himself a disciple of Hesiod than of Epimenides; for it was the fable of the hawk and the nightingale that gave him the beginning of this fine, varied, and many-tongued wisdom of his. But I for my part would gladly hear from Solon -- for it is likely that he learned, having spent much time with Epimenides at Athens -- what experience or reasoning led him
to adopt such a diet." And Solon said, "But why should one need to ask him that? For it was plain that, next to the greatest and most excellent good, the second is to need the least possible amount of nourishment. Or do you not think the greatest good is to need no nourishment at all?" "By no means," said Cleodorus, "not for my part, at least, if I must say what appears true, especially with a table set before us, which those who remove it, when the food is taken away, treat as an altar of the gods of friendship and hospitality. And just as Thales says that if the earth were taken away the whole universe would fall into confusion, so too the dissolution of a household is the removal of nourishment; for together with it are removed the hearth-fire, the hearth itself, the mixing bowls, the receiving of guests and hospitality -- the most humane and primary of our associations with one another -- and indeed the whole of life, if indeed there is any occupation of man
...activities that provide an occupation, most of which the need and provision of food calls forth. It would also be a terrible thing, my friend, to lose farming along with it; for once destroyed, it again leaves us an earth shapeless and unclean, full of unfruitful growth and of streams running in disorder through neglect. And along with it it destroys every art and occupation as well, of which it is the leader and to all of which it provides the foundation and their material — and without it they are nothing, once it is out of the way.
The honors of the gods, too, are abolished: men would owe the Sun only a small debt of gratitude, and the Moon a still smaller one, for light and warmth alone. But for Zeus the Rain-giver, Demeter of the First-Furrow, and Poseidon the Nurturer of Plants, where will there be an altar, where a sacrifice? And how will Dionysus be ‘giver of joy,’ if we shall need nothing that he gives? What shall we sacrifice or pour as a libation? And of what shall we offer the firstfruits? All these things involve the overturning and confusion of the greatest matters.
Now to cling to every pleasure without exception is altogether unreasonable, but to flee every pleasure without exception is altogether without feeling. Let the soul, then, make use of certain other, better pleasures; but for the body there is no pleasure more legitimate than that which comes from being nourished — a fact which no one has failed to notice; for it is this pleasure that people set in their midst and share with one another at dinners and at table, whereas for the pleasures of sex they put forward night and a great deal of darkness, believing that to share in these openly would be shameless and bestial, as it would not be to fail to share in that other pleasure.”
When Cleodorus paused, I took up the discussion and said, “But you leave out the fact that along with food we would also banish sleep? For if there is no sleep, there is not even a dream, but our oldest oracle is gone. Life will become uniform, and in a sense the body will encircle the soul in vain; for most of its parts, and the most important ones, have been fashioned as instruments for the sake of food — the tongue, the teeth, the stomach, the liver. For none of them is idle or arranged for any other use; so that whoever has no need of food has no need of the body either. And this would mean he has no need of himself; for each of us exists together with a body.”
“So then,” I said, “these are the contributions we bring in on the stomach’s behalf; but if Solon or anyone else has some charge to bring, we shall listen.” “By all means,” said Solon, “lest we show ourselves more indiscriminate even than the Egyptians, who, when they cut open a corpse, display it to the sun, then cast the entrails into the river, and thereafter take care of the rest of the body as already made clean. For this, in truth, is the pollution of our flesh, and it is Tartarus in Hades — a place choked full of terrible currents and of wind and fire mingled together, and of corpses. For no living thing feeds on anything else that is alive, but rather we do wrong by killing living creatures, and by destroying plants too, which, in being nourished and growing, share in life.
For whatever changes into something else perishes out of what it naturally was, and undergoes every kind of destruction, so that it may become food for another. Abstaining from eating flesh, then, as they relate of Orpheus in ancient times, is a piece of sophistry rather than an escape from the wrongdoings connected with food. The only true escape and the one true purification for perfect justice is to become self-sufficient and to need nothing else. But for the being to whom God has made it impossible to secure its own preservation without harming another, nature has thereby attached the origin of injustice as well.
Is it not worth considering, then, my friend, cutting away, together with injustice, the belly and the stomach and the liver, which give us no perception or desire for anything noble, but rather resemble kitchen implements — such as choppers and cauldrons — while others resemble mills and ovens and well-diggers’ tools and kneading-troughs? One could quite literally see, in the case of most people, the soul shut up as if in a mill within the body, forever going round and round in service to the need of food — just as, indeed, only a little while ago we ourselves neither saw nor heard one another, but each of us, bent over, was enslaved to the business of food.
But now, with the tables removed, we have become free, as you see, and crowned with garlands we spend our time in conversation, keep company with one another, and have leisure — because we have reached the point of no longer needing food. Well then, if the condition we are now in should remain unceasing throughout our whole life, shall we not always have leisure to be together with one another, fearing no poverty and knowing no wealth? For the desire for superfluous things immediately follows and takes up residence together with the need for necessities.
But Cleodorus thinks food must exist so that there may be tables and mixing-bowls, and so that we may sacrifice to Demeter and Kore. Let someone else, in the same way, demand that there be battles and war, so that we may have walls and dockyards and armories, and so that we may offer the hecatomphonia, as they say is the custom among the Messenians. And let another be indignant on behalf of health, I suppose — for it would be a terrible thing if, no one being sick, there were no longer any use for a soft bed or a couch, if we should not sacrifice to Asclepius or to the gods who avert evil, and if medicine, with all its instruments and drugs, should be laid aside, unhonored and unwanted.
But how does this differ from the case in question? Food too is applied as a remedy for hunger, and everyone who is nourished and follows a regimen is said to be treating himself — not because it is something pleasant and welcome, but because they are doing what is necessary for nature. Indeed, one could enumerate more pains than pleasures arising from food; or rather, the pleasure occupies only a brief place in the body and lasts no great time, while the trouble and difficulty involved in managing it — why need I say how many shameful and painful things it fills us with?
I think that Homer, having his eye on these very things, used the fact of not eating as a proof, in speaking of the gods, that they do not die: ‘for they eat no bread, nor drink flashing wine; therefore they are bloodless, and are called immortal’ — as though food were the provision not only for living but also for dying. For the diseases that grow up together with our bodies from food bring an evil no less than deficiency does; and often it is a greater task to consume and disperse again through the body the food that has arrived than it was to procure and gather it in the first place.
But just as if the Danaids were to puzzle over what kind of life they would live and what they would do once freed from their toil and filling of the jar, so we puzzle over what we would do if we could ever stop carrying, into our flesh, that untiring quantity of goods from land and sea alike — what shall we do, out of sheer inexperience of what is truly good, content with a life fixed upon mere necessities? Just as those who have been slaves, once freed, do for themselves and on their own account the very things they once did in service to their masters, so too the soul, which now nourishes the body with many labors and preoccupations, would, if released from that servitude, nourish and sustain itself, once made free, and would live looking to itself and to the truth, with nothing to distract or draw it away.”
‘Such, then, Nicarchus, were the things said about food.’ While Solon was still speaking, Gorgus, the brother of Periander, came in; for he had happened to be sent to Taenarum in consequence of certain oracles, conducting a sacrifice and a sacred embassy to Poseidon. When we had greeted him, and Periander had drawn him near and kissed him, Gorgus sat down beside him on the couch and reported certain things meant for him alone, while Periander listened, appearing to undergo many different reactions to what was said. At times he seemed distressed, at times indignant, often disbelieving, then amazed, and at last, laughing, he turned to us and said, ‘For the present I should like to tell you what has been reported; but I hesitate, remembering that Thales once said that one should speak of what is plausible and keep silent about what is beyond belief.’
Bias then took up the point and said, ‘But this too is a piece of wisdom from Thales — that one ought to distrust one’s enemies even about credible matters, but trust one’s friends even about incredible ones; and by enemies I, for my part, mean the wicked and foolish, and by friends the good and sensible, as he himself defined them. Therefore,’ he said, ‘it must be told to us all, Gorgus — indeed you ought to declaim it before these young men here, proclaiming aloud the tale you have come bringing us.’
Gorgus then said that, the sacrifice having been carried out by him over three days, and on the last night there being an all-night festival with dancing and merrymaking along the shore, the moon was shining down onto the sea, and there being no wind but a stillness and calm, a rippling could be seen far off coming down along the headland, bringing with it a certain foam and a great noise of surf around it, so that everyone ran down in wonder to the spot where it was about to strike the shore. And before they could guess, from its speed, what was approaching, dolphins were seen — some crowding together around it in a ring, others leading the way toward the smoothest part of the shore, and still others behind, as if escorting it.
In the middle there rose above the sea an indistinct, shapeless mass — a body being carried along — until, gathering together and running up onto the shore as one, the dolphins set down on the land a man, breathing and moving; and they themselves, turning back toward the headland, leapt out of the water even more than before, sporting, as it seemed, out of some pleasure, and frolicking.
‘Many of us,’ Gorgus said, ‘were thrown into confusion and fled from the sea, but a few of us, taking courage with me, approached and recognized Arion the singer to the lyre — he himself was calling out his own name, and he was made recognizable by his dress, for he happened to be wearing the competition costume he used when performing as a citharode. So we carried him to the tent, and since he had suffered no harm except that, from the speed and rush of the journey, he appeared exhausted and worn out, we heard a story that would be incredible to everyone except us who had witnessed its outcome.
For Arion said that he had long since resolved to set sail from Italy, and that, when Periander wrote to him, he became more eager still; and when a Corinthian merchant ship appeared, he boarded it at once and put out to sea; and after three days of sailing with a moderate wind, he perceived that the sailors were plotting to kill him; and then he learned also from the helmsman, who told him secretly, that they had resolved to do this in the night.
Being then without any help and at a loss, he was seized by some divine impulse: to adorn his body and take up, while still alive, his competition dress as his own burial garment, and to sing his life out to its end, and in this respect not to prove himself more ignoble than swans. So having dressed himself and having announced beforehand that a certain eagerness had come over him to perform the Pythian nome, for the safety of himself, the ship, and those sailing in her, he took his stand by the rail at the stern, and, striking up beforehand an invocation of the gods of the sea, sang the nome. And just as he was scarcely at its midpoint, the sun was sinking into the sea, and the Peloponnese was coming into view.
The sailors, then, no longer waiting for night but moving to the killing at once — he saw drawn swords and the helmsman already covering his face — he ran up and threw himself as far as possible from the ship. And before his whole body had sunk, dolphins swam beneath him and bore him up; at first he was full of confusion, anguish, and distress, but once the ride became easy, and he saw many dolphins gathering benevolently around him and taking turns, as if it were a duty owed in turn and fitting for them all to share, and the ship, left far behind by their speed, made this plain to sense — he said that he felt not so much fear of death, nor desire to live, as an ambition arose in him for his own preservation, so that he might be shown to be a man beloved of the gods and might gain a firm conviction concerning them.
At the same time, looking up and seeing the sky full of stars, and the moon rising bright and clear, and the sea everywhere standing motionless and waveless, as though a path were being cut open by his passage, he thought to himself that the eye of Justice is not a single one, but that God, through all these things around him, watches over on every side what is done on both land and sea. By these very reflections, he said, the weariness and heaviness that had come over his body were lifted; and at last, when a steep and high headland lay ahead, the dolphins, guarding him carefully and rounding it closely, swam alongside the land, bringing him in safely as though guiding a boat into harbor, so that he perceived plainly that his conveyance had come about by the piloting of a god.’
‘When Arion had told this,’ Gorgus said, ‘I asked him where he supposed the ship would put in.’ ‘He said it would certainly be Corinth, but that it would arrive much later than his own crossing; for he reckoned that he himself, having been cast overboard in the evening, had been carried a distance of no less than five hundred stades, and that a calm had settled in immediately afterward.’
Nevertheless, Gorgus said, he himself, having learned the name of the shipowner and of the helmsman, and the ship’s distinguishing mark, sent out boats, and soldiers to watch the landing places, and had Arion carried along with him in hiding, so that the crew, learning beforehand of his survival, might not escape. And indeed the whole affair truly seemed to resemble a piece of divine fortune: for they themselves had arrived here at the very same time, and learned that the ship had been seized by the soldiers and that the merchants and sailors had been taken.
Periander accordingly ordered Gorgus to rise at once and put the men in custody, where no one would approach them or tell them that Arion had been saved. Aesop said, ‘So you people mock my jackdaws and crows for conversing, when dolphins perform such youthful exploits as this!’ And I said to him, ‘Let us say something else, Aesop: this story has been believed and written down among us for more than a thousand years, dating from the times of Ino and Athamas.’
Solon, then, taking up the point, said, ‘But let these matters, Diocles, be left near the gods and above us; more human, and closer to our own level, is what happened to Hesiod — for perhaps you have heard the story.’ ‘I have not,’ I said. ‘But it is certainly worth hearing. There was, it seems, a man of Miletus, with whom Hesiod shared hospitality and lodging in Locris; and this man had secretly had intercourse with the daughter of his host,
and, when the man was discovered, Hesiod fell under suspicion of having known of it from the start and of having helped conceal the wrong, though he was guilty of nothing, but had fallen unjustly into the way of anger seizing its occasion and of slander. For the girl’s brothers killed him, lying in ambush near the Locrian sanctuary of Nemean Zeus, and with him his companion, whose name was Troilus. Their bodies were thrown into the sea; and that of Troilus, into...
"—was carried out to the river Daphnus, but was caught by a wave-washed reef that rose a little above the sea; and to this day the reef is called Troilus. But Hesiod's body a school of dolphins immediately took up from the shore and carried toward Rhium, near Molycreia. It happened that the Locrians were holding the festival and sacred assembly of the Rhia, which they still celebrate with great show around that place; and when the body was seen being borne toward them, the people, marveling as one would expect, ran down to the shore, and recognizing the corpse, still fresh, they made everything else secondary to seeking out the murder, on account of Hesiod's fame. And this they accomplished quickly, finding the murderers: for they drowned them alive in the sea and razed their house to the ground.
"Hesiod was buried near the Nemean sanctuary; but most strangers do not know his tomb, for it is kept hidden, being sought after by the Orchomenians, who, as they say, wish in accordance with an oracle to take up his remains and bury them among themselves. If, then, they behave so kindly and humanely toward the dead, it is all the more likely that they help the living, especially when charmed by pipes or by certain melodies. For we all already know this, that these creatures delight in music and pursue it, and swim alongside those who are rowed to the accompaniment of song and pipe, taking pleasure in the dances when the sea is calm. They delight also in the swimming of boys and compete with divers. For this reason there is an unwritten law of immunity for them: no one hunts them or does them harm, except when, caught in nets, they do mischief about the catch, in which case they are punished with blows, like children who have done wrong.
"I recall also having heard from men of Lesbos that a certain girl's rescue from the sea was brought about by a dolphin; but I myself am not exact about the other details, and since Pittacus knows the story, it is right for him to relate it." Pittacus then said that the story was famous and remembered by many. For when an oracle was given to those who were colonizing Lesbos, that whenever, sailing, they should come upon a reef called Mesogeion, they should there let down to Poseidon a bull, and to Amphitrite and the Nereids a living maiden — there being seven founders and kings, and an eighth, Echelaus, the leader of the colony appointed by the oracle, who was still unmarried — when the seven cast lots, among those who had unmarried daughters, the lot fell upon the daughter of Smintheus. Her they adorned with clothing and gold, and when
they arrived at the place, they were about to offer prayers and let her down. But it happened that one of those sailing with them was in love with her — a young man of no mean birth, it seems, whose name is still remembered, Enalus. He, seized by an overwhelming eagerness to help the maiden in that moment of distress, rushed forward at the critical instant and, throwing his arms around her, threw himself along with her into the sea. Immediately a rumor arose, without any certainty, but persuading many nonetheless, and it spread through the camp concerning their safety and rescue. But at a later time they say that Enalus appeared in Lesbos and told how they had been carried unharmed by dolphins through the sea and cast up on the mainland, and he related still other things more marvelous than these, astonishing and enchanting most people, and he furnished proof of all this by a deed.
For when a towering wave rose up around the island and the people were afraid to go meet it, he alone went down to the sea and followed it, and octopuses accompanied him to the sanctuary of Poseidon. Of these, the largest was carrying a stone; Enalus took it and dedicated it, and we still call this the stone of Enalus. "In general," he said, "if anyone knew the difference between the impossible and the unusual, and between the irrational and the paradoxical, he would above all, Chilon, both refrain from believing too readily and from disbelieving, keeping to 'nothing in excess,' as you have prescribed."
After him Anacharsis said that, since Thales rightly supposed that soul is present in all the most sovereign and greatest parts of the universe, it is not right to marvel that the finest things are accomplished by the design of god. "For the body is the instrument of the soul," he said, "and the soul is the instrument of god; and just as the body has many movements of its own, but the most and finest by means of the soul, so in turn the soul performs some things by its own motion, but yields others to god, who uses it, to guide and turn it wherever he wishes, it being the most tractable of all instruments. For it would be strange," he said, "if fire is an instrument of god, and breath, and water, and clouds, and rain, by which he saves and nourishes many things, and destroys and takes away many others, and yet he makes use of animals for nothing at all among the things done by him.
"But it is more likely that they, being wholly dependent on the power of god, serve him and are in sympathy with the movements of god, just as bows are in sympathy with the Scythians, and lyres and pipes with the Greeks." To this the poet Chersias added, recalling others who had been saved unexpectedly, and in particular Cypselus, the father of Periander, whom the men sent to kill him, when he was newborn, turned away from after he smiled at them; and when they repented and sought him again, they did not find him, for he had been put away by his mother in a beehive-chest (kypsele). For this reason Cypselus built the treasury at Delphi, as though the god at that time had checked the infant's crying, so that he might escape the notice of those seeking him.
And Pittacus, addressing Periander, said, "Well said, Periander — Chersias composed that with the treasury in mind; for I have often wished to ask you the reason for those frogs, what they mean by being carved in such numbers about the base of the palm tree, and what connection they have with the god or with the one who dedicated it." And when Periander bade Chersias answer — for he knew, and had been present when Cypselus dedicated the treasury — Chersias smiled and said, "But I would not tell before learning from you gentlemen what 'nothing in excess' means for you, and 'know thyself,' and that saying which has made many men unmarried, many distrustful, and some even speechless: 'Give a pledge, and ruin is at hand.'"
"What need is there," said Pittacus, "for us to explain these things to you? For you have long praised the account which Aesop, it seems, has composed for each of them." And Aesop said, "When Chersias jokes with me, that is one thing; but when he is serious, he shows that Homer is the inventor of these sayings, and says that Hector knew himself, for in attacking the others he avoided battle with Ajax, son of Telamon; and that Odysseus, the champion of 'nothing in excess,' urges Diomedes, son of Tydeus: 'Neither praise me overmuch, nor find fault with me'; and as for pledging, most others take it that he speaks of it as a wretched and foolish thing, when he says, 'Wretched indeed are the pledges of the wretched'; but this Chersias here says that Ate was cast down by Zeus in company with the pledge which Zeus, having pledged himself, was deceived about concerning the birth of Heracles."
Solon then took up the argument and said, "Then must we not trust the wisest Homer also when he says, 'Night now is falling; it is good to yield to night'? Let us, then, pour libations to the Muses and to Poseidon and Amphitrite, and, if it seems good, break up the symposium." This, Nicarchus, was the end of that gathering.