The Apologia and Florida of Apuleius of Madaura Part 6

5. You have, I feel a.s.sured, come to this theatre with the best will in the world. For you know that the importance of an oration does not depend on the place in which it is delivered, but that the first thing that has to be considered is, 'What form of entertainment is the theatre going to provide?' If it is a mime, you will laugh; if a rope-walker, you will tremble lest he fall; if a comedian, you will applaud him, while, if it be a philosopher, you will learn from him.

_India and the Gymnosophists._

6. India is a populous country of enormous extent. It lies far to the east of us, close to the point where ocean turns back upon himself and the sun rises, on that verge where meet the last of lands and the first stars of heaven. Far away it lies, beyond the learned Egyptians, beyond the superst.i.tious Jews and the merchants of Nabataea, beyond the children of Arsaces in their long flowing robes, the Ityreans, to whom earth gives but scanty harvest, and the Arabs, whose perfumes are their wealth. Wherefore I marvel not so much at the great stores of ivory possessed by these Indians, their harvests of pepper, their exports of cinnamon, their finely-tempered steel, their mines of silver and their rivers of gold. I marvel not so much that in the Ganges they have the greatest of all rivers which

_Lord of all the waters of the East Is cloven and parted in a hundred streams.

A hundred vales are his, a hundred mouths, And hundred-fold the flood that meets the main_;

nor wonder I that the Indians that dwell at the very portals of day are yet of the hue of night, nor that in their land vast serpents engage in combat with huge elephants, to the equal danger and the common destruction of either; for they envelop and bind their prey in slippery coils so that they cannot disengage their feet nor in any wise break the scaly fetters of these clinging snakes, but must needs find vengeance by hurling their vast bulk to the ground and crushing the foe that grips them by the weight of their whole bodies. But it is of the marvels of men rather than of nature that I would speak.[38]

For the dwellers in this land are divided into many castes. There is one whose sole skill lies in tending herds of oxen, whence they are known as the oxherds. There are others who are cunning in the barter of merchandise, others who are st.u.r.dy warriors in battle and have skill to fight at long range with arrows or hand to hand with swords.

There is, further, one caste that is especially remarkable. They are called gymnosophists. At these I marvel most of all. For they are skilled--not in growing the vine, or grafting fruit-trees, or ploughing the soil. They know not how to till the fields, or wash gold, or break horses, or tame bulls, or to clip or feed sheep or goats. What, then, is their claim to distinction? This: one thing they know outweighing all they know not. They honour wisdom one and all, the old that teach and the young that learn. Nor is there aught I more commend in them than that they hate that their minds should be sluggish and idle. And so, when the table is set in its place, before the viands are served, all the youths leave their homes and professions to flock to the banquet. The masters ask each one of them what good deed he has performed between the rising of the sun and the present hour. Thereupon one tells how he has been chosen as arbiter between two of his fellows, has healed their quarrel, reconciled their strife, dispelled their suspicions and made them friends instead of foes. Another tells how he has obeyed some command of his parents, another relates some discovery that his meditations have brought him or some new knowledge won from another's exposition. And so with the rest of them,[39] they tell their story. He who can give no good reason for joining in the feast is thrust fasting from the doors to go to his work.

[Footnote 38: _libentius ego_ (MSS.).]

[Footnote 39: _denique ceteri commemorant_ (MSS.).]

_On Alexander and false philosophers._

7. The famous Alexander, by far the n.o.blest of all kings, won the t.i.tle of the Great from the deeds that he had done and the empire he had built, and thus it was secured that the man who had won glory without peer should never be so much as named without a word of praise. For he alone since time began, alone of all whereof man's memory bears record, after he had conquered a world-wide empire such as none may ever surpa.s.s, proved himself greater than his fortune. By his energy he challenged the most glorious successes that fortune could bestow, equalled them by his worth, surpa.s.sed them by his virtues, and stood alone in peerless glory, so that none might dare even hope for such virtue or pray for such fortune. The life of this Alexander is marked by so many lofty deeds and glorious acts, be it of prowess in the battle or statecraft in the council chamber, that you may marvel at them till you are weary. It is the story of all these great achievements that my friend Clemens, most learned and sweetest of poets, has attempted to glorify in the exquisite strains of his verse.

Now among the most remarkable acts recorded of Alexander is this.

Desiring that his likeness should be handed down to posterity with as little variation as possible, he refused to permit it to be profaned by a mult.i.tude of artists, and issued a proclamation to all the world over which he ruled that no one should rashly counterfeit the king's likeness in bronze or with the painter's colours, or with the sculptor's chisel. Only Polycletus might portray him in bronze, only Apelles depict him in colour, only Pyrgoteles carve his form with the engraver's chisel. If any other than these three, each supreme in his peculiar art, should be discovered to have set his hand to reproduce the sacred image of the king, he should be punished as severely as though he had committed sacrilege. This order struck such fear into all men that Alexander alone of mankind was always like his portraits, and that every statue, painting, or bronze revealed the same fierce martial vigour, the same great and glorious genius, the same fresh and youthful beauty, the same fair forehead with its back-streaming hair.

And would that philosophy could issue a like proclamation that should have equal weight, forbidding unauthorized persons to reproduce her likeness; then the study and contemplation of wisdom in all her aspects would be in the hands of a few good craftsmen who had been carefully trained, and unlettered fellows of base life and little learning would ape the philosopher no longer (though their imitation does not go beyond the professor's gown), and the queen of all studies, whose aim is no less excellence of speech than excellence of life, would no longer be profaned by evil speech and evil living: and, mark you, profanation of either kind is far from hard. What is more readily come by than madness of speech and worthlessness of character?

The former springs from contempt of others, the latter from contempt of self. For to show little care for one's own character is self-contempt, while to attack others with uncouth and savage speech is an insult to those that hear you. For is it not the height of insolence, think you, that a man should deem you to rejoice in hearing abuse of the best of men, and should believe that you do not understand evil and wicked words, or, if you do understand them, hold them to be good? What boor, what porter, what taverner is so poor of speech that could not curse more eloquently than these folk, if he would consent to a.s.sume the professor's gown?

_A eulogy of the proconsul of Africa._

8. He owes more to his personal character than to his rank, although even his rank is one that is shared by few. For out of numberless mult.i.tudes of men not many are senators, of senators but few are of n.o.ble birth, of the n.o.ble but few attain to the rank of consul, of consuls but few are good, and of the good but few are learned. But to confine what I have to say to his high office, 'tis not lightly that any man may a.s.sume the insignia of his rank either as regards clothing or foot-gear.

_A defence of himself against his critics and a laudation of the proconsul Severia.n.u.s._

9. If it should so chance that in this magnificent gathering there should sit any of those that envy or hate me, since in a great city persons may always be found who prefer to abuse rather than imitate persons better than themselves, and, since they cannot be like them, affect to hate them. They do this of course in order to illumine the obscurity that shrouds their own names by the splendour that falls from mine; if then, I say, any one of these envious persons sullies this distinguished audience with the stain of his presence, I would ask him for a moment to cast his eyes round this incredibly vast concourse. When he has contemplated a throng such as before my day never yet gathered to listen to a philosopher, let him consider in his heart how great a risk to his reputation is undertaken by a man who is not used to contempt in appearing here to-day; for it is an arduous task, and far from easy of accomplishment, to satisfy even the moderate expectations of a few. Above all it is difficult for me, for the fame I have already won and your own kindly antic.i.p.ation of my skill will not permit me to deliver any ill-considered or superficial utterance. For what man among you would pardon me one solecism or condone the barbarous p.r.o.nunciation of so much as one syllable? Who of you will suffer me to stammer in disorderly and faulty phrases such as might rise to the lips of madmen? In others of course you would pardon such lapses, and very rightly so. But you subject every word that _I_ utter to the closest examination, you weigh it carefully, you try it by the plumb-line and the file, you test it by the polish of the lathe and the sublimity of the tragic buskin. Such is the indulgence accorded to mediocrity, such the severity meted out to distinction. I recognize, therefore, the difficulty of the task that lies before me, and I do not ask you to alter the opinions you entertain of me. Yet I would not have you deceived by false and petty resemblances, for, as I have often said, there are certain strolling beggars who a.s.sume a professor's gown to win their livelihood. Not only the proconsul, but the town crier also ascends the tribunal and appears wearing the toga like his master. But the crier stands upon his feet for hours together, or strides to and fro, or bawls his news with all the strength of his lungs. The proconsul, on the contrary, speaks quietly and with frequent pauses, sits while he speaks, and often reads from a written doc.u.ment. This is only natural. For the garrulous voice of the crier is the voice of a hired servant, the words read by the proconsul from a written doc.u.ment const.i.tute a judgement, which, once read, may not have one letter added to it or taken away, but so soon as it is delivered, is set down in the provincial records. My literary position will provide a humble a.n.a.logy. All that I utter before you is forthwith taken down and read. I can withdraw or change nothing, nor make the least correction. I must therefore be all the more careful in what I say before you, and that too with regard to more than one form of composition. For there is greater variety in the works of my muse than in all the elaborate achievements of Hippias. If you will give me your best attention I will explain what I mean with greater detail and precision.

Hippias was one of the sophists, and surpa.s.sed all his fellows in the variety of his accomplishments, while as an orator he was second to none. He was a contemporary of Socrates, and a native of Elis. Of his family nothing is known. But his fame was great, his fortune moderate; moreover he had a n.o.ble wk and an extraordinary memory, pursued many branches of study, and had many rivals. This Hippias, of whom I speak, once came to Pisa during the Olympian games arrayed in raiment that was as remarkable to the eye as it was wonderful in its workmanship.

For he had purchased nothing of what he wore: it was all the work of his own hands, the clothes in which he was clad, the shoes wherewith he was shod, and the jewels that made him conspicuous. Next his skin he wore an undershirt of triple weft and the finest texture, double dyed with purple. He had woven it for himself in his own house with his own hands. He had for girdle a belt, broidered in Babylonian fashion with many varied colours. In this also no man else had helped him. For outer garment he had a white cloak cast about his shoulders; this cloak also is known to have been the work of his own hands. He had fashioned even the shoes that covered his feet and the ring of gold with its cunningly engraved signet which he displayed on his left hand. Himself he had wrought the circle of gold, had closed the bezel around the gem and engraved the stone. I have not yet told you all the tale of his achievements. But I will not shrink from enumerating all the marvels that he thought it no shame to show. For he proclaimed before that vast concourse that his own hands had fashioned the oil-flask which he carried. It was in shape a flattened sphere, and its outlines were round and smooth. Beside it he showed an exquisite flesh-sc.r.a.per, the handle[40] of which was straight, while the tongue was curved and grooved with hollow channels, so that the hand might have a firm grip and the sweat might be carried off in a trickling stream from the blade. Who could withhold praise from a man who had such manifold knowledge of so many arts, who had won such glory in every branch of knowledge, who was, in fact, a very Daedalus,[41] such skill had he to fashion so many useful instruments? Nay, I myself praise Hippias, but I prefer to imitate his fertile genius in respect of the learning, rather than of the furniture with which it was so richly equipped. I have, I confess, but indifferent skill in these sedentary arts. When I want clothes I buy them from the weaver, when I want sandals, such as I am now wearing, I purchase them from the shoemaker. I do not carry a ring, since I regard gold and precious stones of as little value as pebbles or lead. As for flesh-sc.r.a.pers and oil-flasks and other utensils of the bath I procure them in the market. I will not go to the extent of denying that I am wholly ignorant how to use a shuttle, an awl, a file, a lathe, and other tools of the kind, but I confess that I infinitely prefer to all these instruments one simple pen, with which I may write poems of all kinds, such as may suit with the reciter's wand and the accompaniment of the lyre or grace the comic or the tragic stage. Satires also do I write and riddles, histories also on diverse themes, speeches that the eloquent and dialogues that philosophers have praised. Nay, and I write all these and much besides with equal fluency in Greek and Latin, with equal pleasure, like ardour and uniform skill. Most excellent proconsul, I would I could offer all these works of mine not in fragments and quotations but in entirety and completeness! Would I might enjoy the priceless boon of your testimony to the merits of all the offspring of my muse! It is not that I lack praise, for my glory has long bloomed fresh and bright before the eyes of all your predecessors, till to-day it is presented to you! But there is none whose admiration I would more gladly win than yours, for I admire you beyond all other men by reason of your surpa.s.sing virtues. Such is the ordinance of nature. Praise implies love and, love once given to another, we demand his praise in return. And I acknowledge that I love you; no private tie of interest binds me to you, it is in your public capacity that you have won my devotion. I have never received any favour at your hands, for I have never asked for one. But philosophy has taught me not only to love my benefactors, but even such as may have done me injury, to attach greater importance to justice than to my private interests, and to prefer the furtherance of the public welfare to the service of my own. And so it comes about that while most men love you for the actual benefits conferred upon them by your goodness, I love you for the zeal with which that goodness is inspired. And the secret of my devotion is this. I have seen your moderation in dealing with the affairs of the inhabitants of this province, a moderation which has won the affection of those who have come into contact with you by the benefits you have conferred on them, of those with whom you have never come into contact by the good example you have set. For while many have received your benefits, all have profited by your example. Who would not gladly learn from you by what moderation one may acquire your pleasing gravity, your severity tempered with mercy, your unruffled resolution and the kindly energy of your character? Africa has within my knowledge had no proconsul whom she reverenced more or feared less. Your year of office stands alone; for in it shame rather than fear has been the motive to set a check on crime. No other invested with your power has more often blessed, more rarely terrified: no governor has ever brought a son with him more like his father's virtues than is yours; and for this reason no proconsul has ever resided longer at Carthage than have you.

For during the period which you devoted to visiting the province, Honorinus remained with us; wherefore, though we have never regretted our governor's absence more, we have felt it less. For the son has all his father's sense of justice, the youth has all an old man's wisdom, the deputy has all the consul's authority. In a word, he presents such a perfect pattern and likeness of your virtues, that the glory acquired by one so young would, I vow, be a greater source of wonder than your own, save for one fact; he has inherited it from you. Would we might live in the joy of his perpetual presence! What need have we of change of governors? What profit of these short years, these fleeting months of office? Ah! how swiftly pa.s.s the days, when the good are with us, how quickly spent the term of power for all the best of those who have ruled over us! Ah! Severia.n.u.s, the whole province will sigh for your departure. But Honorinus at least is called away by the honours which are his due; the praetorship awaits him; the favour of the two Caesars forms him for the consulate; to-day our love enfolds him, and the hopes of Carthage promise that in the years to come he will be here once more. Your example is our sole comfort; he who has served as deputy shall soon return to us as proconsul!

[Footnote 40: _clausulae_ vulgo.]

[Footnote 41: _Daedalum_ (Kruger).]

_On Providence and its marvels._

10. _First hail we thee, O Sun, Whose fiery course and rushing steeds reveal The glowing splendour of thy ardent flame._

Hail we also the Moon, who learns of his light how she herself may shine, and the influences also of the five planets--Jupiter that brings blessings, Venus that brings pleasure, Mercury the giver of swiftness, Saturn the worker of bane, Mars with his temper of fire.

There are also other divine influences, that lie midway 'twixt earth and heaven, influences that we may feel but not see, such as the power of Love and the like, whose force we feel, though we have never seen their form. So too on earth 'tis this force that, in accordance with the wise behests of providence, here bids the lofty peaks of mountains rise, there has spread forth the low flat levels of the plain, has marked out the streams of rivers and the greensward of the meadows, has given birds the power to fly, reptiles to crawl, wild beasts to run, and men to walk.

_A comparison between those who lack wealth and those who lack virtue._

11. He whose soul is barren of virtue is like those poor wretches that till a barren inheritance of stony fields, mere heaps of rocks and thorns. Since they may win no harvest from their own wildernesses, and find no fruit in a soil where only

_Wild oats and darnel rank have mastery_,

conscious of their own poverty they go forth to steal the fruits of others and rifle their gardens, that they may mingle their neighbours'

flowers with their own thistles.

_On the Parrot._

12. The parrot is an Indian bird, in size very slightly smaller than a dove. But there is nothing dovelike in its hue. For it has nothing of the milky whiteness or dull blue, blended or distinct, nor yet of the pale yellow or iridescence that characterize the dove. The parrot is green from the roots of its feathers to their very tips, save only for the markings on the neck. For its tiny neck is girdled and crowned with a slender band of crimson like a collar of gold, which is of equal brilliance through all its extent. Its beak is extraordinarily hard. If after it has soared to a great height it swoops headlong on to some rock, it breaks the force of its fall with its beak, which it uses as an anchor. Its head is not less hard than its beak. When it is being taught to imitate human speech, it is beaten over the head with an iron wand, that it may recognize its master's command. This is the rod of its school-days. It can be taught to speak from the day of its birth to its second year, while its mouth is still easily formed and its tongue sufficiently soft to learn the requisite modulations. On the other hand, if caught when it is old, it is hard to teach and forgets what it has learned. The parrot which is most easily taught the language of man is one that feeds on acorns and manlike has five toes on each foot. All parrots do not possess this last peculiarity, but there is one point which all have in common: their tongue is broader than that of any other bird. Wherefore they articulate human words more easily owing to the size of their palate and the organ of speech. When it has learnt anything, it sings or rather speaks it out with such perfect imitation that, if you should hear it, you would think a man was speaking; on the contrary if you hear a crow[42]

attempting to speak, you would still call the result croaking rather than speech. But crow and parrot are alike in this; they can only utter words that they have been taught. Teach a parrot to curse and it will curse continually, making night and day hideous with its imprecations. Cursing becomes its natural note and its ideal of melody. When it has repeated all its curses, it repeats the same strain again. Should you desire to rid yourself of its bad language, you must either cut out its tongue or send it back as soon as possible to its native woods.

[Footnote 42: _corvinam quidem si audias idem conantem, crocire non loqui._ The text is corrupt, Van der Vliet's suggestion probably gives the correct sense.]

_A comparison between the eloquence of the philosopher and the song of birds._

13. ... For the eloquence bestowed on me by philosophy has no resemblance to the song that nature has given to certain birds which sing but for a brief s.p.a.ce and at certain times only. For instance, the swallows sing at morn, the cicalas at noon, the night-owl late in the dark, the screech-owl at even, the horned-owl at midnight, the c.o.c.k before the dawn. Indeed these animals seem to have made a compact together as to the various times and tones of their song. The crowing of the c.o.c.k is a sound should wake men from their beds, the horned-owl groans, the screech-owl shrieks, the night-owl cries 'tuwhit, tuwhoo', the cicalas chatter, and the swallows twitter shrill. But the wisdom and eloquence of the philosopher are ready at all times, waken awe in them that hear, are profitable to the understanding, and their music is of every tone.

_On Crates the Cynic._

14. These arguments and the like which he had heard from the lips of Diogenes, together with others which suggested themselves to him on other occasions, had such influence with Crates, that at last he rushed out into the market-place and there renounced all his fortune as being a mere filthy enc.u.mbrance, a burden rather than a benefit.

His action having caused a crowd to collect, he cried in a loud voice, saying, 'Crates, even Crates sets thee free.' Thenceforth he lived not only in solitude, but naked and in perfect freedom and, so long as he lived, his life was happy. And such was the pa.s.sion he inspired that a maiden of n.o.ble birth, spurning suitors more youthful and more wealthy than he, actually went so far as to beg him to marry her. In answer Crates bared his shoulders which were crowned with a hump, placed his wallet, staff and cloak upon the ground, and said to the girl, 'There is all my gear! and your eyes can judge of my beauty. Take good counsel, lest later I find you complaining of your lot.' But Hipparche accepted his conditions, replying that she had already considered the question and taken sufficient counsel, for nowhere in all the world could she find a richer or a fairer husband. 'Take me where you will!'

she cried....

_Of the isle of Samos and Pythagoras._

15. Samos is an island of no great size in the Icarian sea, and lies over against Miletus to the west, with but a small s.p.a.ce of sea between them. In whichever direction you sail from this island, though you make no great haste, the next day will see you safe in harbour.

The land does not respond readily to the cultivation of corn, and it is waste of time to plough it. But the olive grows better in it, and those who grow vines or vegetables have no fault to find with it. Its farmers are entirely taken up with hoeing the ground and the cultivation of trees, for it is from these rather than from cereals that Samos derives its wealth. The native population is numerous, and the island is visited by many strangers. The capital town is unworthy of its reputation, but the abundant ruins of its walls testify to its former size.

It possesses, however, a temple of Juno famous from remote antiquity: to reach it, if I remember aright, one must follow the sh.o.r.e for not more than twenty furlongs from the city. The treasury of the G.o.ddess is extraordinarily rich, containing great quant.i.ties of gold and silver plate, in the form of platters, mirrors, cups, and all manner of utensils. There is also a great quant.i.ty of brazen images of different kinds. These are of great antiquity, and remarkable for their workmanship; I may mention one of them in particular, a statue of Bathyllus standing in front of the altar; it was the gift of the tyrant Polycrates, and I think I have never seen anything more perfect. Some hold that it represents Pythagoras, but this opinion is incorrect. The statue represents a youth of remarkable beauty; his hair is parted evenly in the midst of his forehead and streams over either cheek. Behind his hair is longer and reaches down to his shoulders, covering the neck whose sheen one may detect between the tresses. The neck is plump, the jaws full, the cheeks fine, and there is a dimple in the middle of his chin. His pose is that of a player on the lyre. He is looking at the G.o.ddess, and has the appearance of one that sings, while his embroidered tunic streams to his very feet. He is girt in the Greek style, and a cloak covers either arm down to the wrists. The rest of the cloak hangs down in graceful folds. His lyre is fastened by an engraven baldric, which holds it close to the body.

His hands are delicate and taper. The left touches the strings with parted fingers, the right is in the att.i.tude of one that plays and is approaching the lyre with the plectrum, as though ready to strike as soon as the voice ceases for a moment to sing. Meanwhile the song seems to well forth from the delicate mouth, whose lips are half open for the effort. This statue may represent one of the youthful favourites of the tyrant Polycrates[43] hymning his master's love in Anacreontic[44] strain. But it is far from[45] likely that it is a statue of the philosopher Pythagoras. It is true he was a native of Samos, remarkable for his unusual beauty, and skilled beyond all men in harping and all manner of music, and living at the period when Polycrates was lord of Samos. But the philosopher was far from being a favourite of this tyrant. Indeed Pythagoras fled secretly from the island at the very beginning of the tyrant's reign. He had recently lost his father Mnesarchus, who was, I read, a skilful jeweller excelling in the carving of gems, though it was fame rather than wealth that he sought in the exercise of his art. There are some who a.s.sert that Pythagoras was about this time carried to Egypt among the captives of King Cambyses, and studied under the _magi_ of Persia, more especially under Zoroaster the priest of all holy mysteries; later they a.s.sert he was ransomed by a certain Gillus, King of Croton.

However, the more generally accepted tradition a.s.serts that it was of his own choice he went to study the wisdom of the Egyptians. There he was initiated by their priests into the mighty secrets of their ceremonies, pa.s.sing all belief; there he learned numbers in all their marvellous combinations, and the ingenious laws of geometry. Not content with these sciences, he next approached the Chaldaeans and the Brahmins, a race of wise men who live in India.[46] Among these Brahmins he sought out the gymnosophists. The Chaldaeans taught him the lore of the stars, the fixed orbits[47] of the wandering lords of heaven, and the influence of each on the births of men. Also they instructed him in the art of healing, and revealed to him remedies in the search for which men have lavished their wealth and wandered far by land and sea.[48] But it was from the Brahmins that he derived the greater part of his philosophy, the arts of teaching the mind and exercising the body, the doctrines as to the parts of the soul and its various transmigrations, the knowledge of the torments and rewards ordained for each man, according to his deserts, in the world of the G.o.ds below. Further he had for his master Pherecydes, a native of the island of Syros and the first who dared throw off the shackles of verse and write in the free style of unfettered prose. Pherecydes died of a horrible disease, for his flesh rotted and was devoured of lice; Pythagoras buried him with reverent care. He is said also to have studied the laws of nature under Anaximander of Miletus, to have followed the Cretan Epimenides, a famous prophet skilled also in rites of expiation, that he might learn from him and also Leodamas, the pupil of Creophylus, the reputed guest and rival of the poet Homer.

Taught by so many sages, and having drained such deep and varied draughts of learning through all the world, and being moreover dowered with a vast intellect whose grandeur almost pa.s.ses man's understanding, he was the founder of the science and the inventor of the name of philosophy. The first of all his lessons to his disciples was the lesson of silence. With him meditation was a necessary preliminary to wisdom, meditation set a bridle on all speech, robbed words, which poets style winged, of their pinions and restrained them within the white barrier of the teeth. This, I tell you, was for him the first axiom of wisdom, 'Meditation is learning, speech is unlearning.' His disciples, however, did not refrain from speech all their lives, nor did their master impose dumbness on all for a like s.p.a.ce of time. For those of more solid character a brief term of silence was considered sufficient discipline; the more talkative were punished by exile from speech for as much as five years. I may add that my master Plato deviates little or not at all from the principles of this school, and in most of his utterances is a follower of Pythagoras. And that I too might win from my instructors the right to be called one of his followers, I have learned this double lesson in the course of my philosophical studies--to speak boldly when there is need of speech and gladly to be mute when there is need of silence. As a result of this self-command, I think I may say that I have won from your predecessors no less praise for my seasonable silence than approval for the timeliness of my speech.

[Footnote 43: _qui_ vulgo.]

[Footnote 44: _Anacreonteum_ vulgo.]