Book 2

How Socrates used to train himself in physical endurance; and of the temperate habits of that philosopher.

Among voluntary tasks and exercises for strengthening his body for any chance demands upon its endurance we are told that Socrates habitually practised this one: he would stand, so the story goes, in one fixed position, all day and all night, from early dawn until the next sunrise, open-eyed, motionless, in his very tracks and with face and eyes riveted to the same spot in deep meditation, as if his mind and soul had been, as it were, withdrawn from his body. When Favorinus in his discussion of the man's fortitude and his many other virtues had reached this point, he said: He often stood from sun to sun, more rigid than the tree trunks.

His temperance also is said to have been so great, that he lived almost the whole period of his life with health unimpaired. Even amid the havoc of that plague which, at the beginning of the Peloponnesian war, devastated Athens with a deadly species of disease, by temperate and abstemious habits he is said to have avoided the ill-effects of indulgence and retained his physical vigour so completely, that he was not at all affected by the calamity common to all.

What rules of courtesy should be observed by fathers and sons in taking their places at able, keeping their seats, and similar matters at home and elsewhere, when the sons are magistrates and the fathers private citizens; and a discourse of the philosopher Taurus on this subject, with an illustration taken from Roman history.

THE governor of the province of Crete, a man of senatorial rank, had come to Athens for the purpose of visiting and becoming acquainted with the philosopher Taurus, and in company with this same governor was his father. Taurus, having just dismissed his pupils, was sitting before the door of his room, and we stood by his side conversing with him. In came the governor of the province and with him his father. Taurus arose quietly, and after salutations had been exchanged, sat down again. Presently the single chair that was at hand was brought and placed near them, while others were being fetched. Taurus invited the governor's father to be seated; to which he replied: Rather let this man take the seat, since he is a magistrate of the Roman people. Without prejudicing the case, said Taurus, do you meanwhile sit down, while we look into the matter and inquire whether it is more proper for you, who are the father, to sit, or your son, who is a magistrate. And when the father had seated himself, and another chair had been placed near by for his son also, Taurus discussed the question with what, by the gods! was a most excellent valuation of honours and duties.

The substance of the discussions was this: In public places, functions and acts the rights of fathers, compared with tile authority of sons who are magistrates, give way somewhat and are eclipsed; but when they are sitting together unofficially in the intimacy of home life, or walking about, or even reclining at a dinner-party of intimate friends, then the official distinctions between a son who is a magistrate and a father who is a private citizen are at an end, while those that are natural and inherent come into play. Now, your visit to me, said he, our present conversation, and this discussion of duties are private actions. Therefore enjoy the same priority of honours at my house which it is proper for you to enjoy in your own home as the older man.

These remarks and others to the same purport were made by Taurus at once seriously and pleasantly. Moreover, it has seemed not out of place to add what I have read in Claudius about the etiquette of father and son under such circumstances. I therefore quote Quadrigarius' actual words, transcribed from the sixth book of his Annals

"The consuls then elected were Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus for the second time and Quintus Fabius Maximus, son of the Maximus who had been consul the year before. The father, at the time proconsul, mounted upon a horse met his son the consul, and because lie was his father, would not dismount, nor did the lictors, who knew that the two men lived in the most perfect harmony, presume to order him to do so. As the father drew near, the consul said: What next? The lictor in attendance quickly understood and ordered Maximus the proconsul to dismount. Fabius obeyed the order and warmly commended his son for asserting the authority which he had as the gift of the people."

For what reason our forefathers inserted the aspirate h in certain verbs and nouns.

THE letter h (or perhaps it should be called a breathing rather than a letter) was added by our forefathers to give strength and vigour to the pronunciation of many words, in order that they might have a fresher and livelier sound; and this they seem to have done from their devotion to the Attic language, and under its influence. It is well known that the people of Attica, contrary to the usage of the other Greek races, pronounced i(xqu/s (fish), i(/ppos (horse), and many other words besides, with a rough breathing on the first letter.

In the same way our ancestors said lachrumae (tears), sepulchrum (burial-place), ahenum (of bronze), vehemens (violent), incohare (begin), helluari (gormandize), hallucinari (dream), honera (burdens), honustum (burdened). For in all these words there seems to be no reason for that letter, or breathing, except to increase the force and vigour of the sound by adding certain sinews, so to speak.

But apropos of the inclusion of ahenum among my examples, I recall that Fidus Optatus, a grammarian of considerable repute in Rome, showed me a remarkably old copy of the second book of the Aeneid, bought in the Sigillaria for twenty pieces of gold, which was believed to have belonged to Virgil himself. In that book, although the following two lines were written thus:

Before the entrance-court, hard by the gate, With sheen of brazen (aena) arms proud Pyrrhus gleams, we observed that the letter h had been added above the line, changing aena to ahena. So too in the best manuscripts we find this verse of Virgil's written as follows:

Or skims with leaves the bubbling brass's (aleni) wave.

The reason given by Gavius Bassus for calling a certain kind of judicial inquiry divitiatio; and the explanation that others have given of the same term.

WHEN inquiry is made about the choice of a prosecutor, and judgment is rendered on the question to which of two or more persons the prosecution of a defendant, or a share in the prosecution, is to be entrusted, this process and examination by jurors is called divinatio.

The reason for the use of this term is a matter of frequent inquiry.

Gavius Bassus, in the third book of his work On the Origin of Terms, says:

This kind of trial is called divinatio because the juror ought in a sense to divine what verdict it is proper for him to give. The explanation offered in these words of Gavius Bassus is far from complete, or rather, it is inadequate and meagre. But at least he seems to be trying to show that divinatio is used because in other trials it is the habit of the juror to be influenced by what he has heard and by what has been shown by evidence or by witnesses; but in this instance, when a prosecutor is to be selected, the considerations which can influence a juror are very few and slight, and therefore he must, so to speak, divine what man is the better fitted to make the accusation.

Thus Bassus. But some others think that the divinatio is so called because, while prosecutor and defendant are two things that are, as it were, related and connected, so that neither can exist without the other, yet in this form of trial, while there is already a defendant, there is as yet no prosecutor, and therefore the factor which is still lacking and unknown—namely, what man is to be the prosecutor—must be supplied by divination.

How elegantly and clearly the philosopher Favorinus described the difference between the style of Plato and that of Lysias.

FAVORINUS used to say of Plato and Lysias: If you take a single word from a discourse of Plato or change it, and do it with the utmost skill, you will nevertheless mar the elegance of his style; if you do the same to Lysias, you will obscure his meaning.

On some words which Virgil is asserted to have used carelessly and negligently; and the answer to be made to those who bring this false charge.

SOME grammarians of an earlier time, men by no means without learning and repute, who wrote commentaries on Virgil, and among them Annaeus Cornutus, criticize the poet's use of a word in the following verses as careless and negligent: That, her white waist with howling monsters girt, Dread Scylla knocked about (vexasse) Ulysses' ships Amid the swirling depths, and, piteous sight! The trembling sailors with her sea-dogs rent. They think, namely, that vexasse is a weak word, indicating a slight and trivial annoyance, and not adapted to such a horror as the sudden seizing and rending of human beings by a ruthless monster.

They also criticize another word in the following:

Who has not heard Of king Eurystheus' pitiless commands And altars of Busiris, the unpraised (inlaudati)? Inlaudati, they say, is not at all a suitable world, but is quite inadequate to express abhorrence of a wretch who, because he used to sacrifice guests from all over the world, was not merely undeserving of praise, but rather deserving of the abhorrence and execration of the whole human race.

They have criticized still another word in the verse:

Through tunic rough (squalentem) with gold the sword drank from his pierced side, on the ground that it is out of place to say auro squalentem, since the filth of squalor is quite opposed to the brilliance and splendour of gold.

Now as to the word vexasse, I believe the following answer may be made: vexasse is an intensive verb, and is obviously derived from ve- here, in which there is already some notion of compulsion by another; for a man who is carried is not his own master. But vexare, which is derived from vehere, unquestionably implies greater force and impulse. For vexare is properly used of one who is seized and carried away, and dragged about hither and yon; just as taxare denotes more forcible and repeated action than tangere, from which it is undoubtedly derived; and iactare a much fuller and more vigorous action than iacere, from which it comes; and quassare something severer and more violent than quatere. Therefore, merely because vexare is commonly used of the annoyance of smoke or wind or dust is no reason why the original force and meaning of the word should be lost; and that meaning was preserved by the earlier writers who, as became them, spoke correctly and clearly.

Marcus Cato, in the speech which he wrote On the Achaeans, has these words: And when Hannibal was rending and harrying (vexaret) the land of Italy. 'hat is to say, Cato used vexare of the effect on Italy of Hannibal's conduct, at a time when no species of disaster, cruelty or savagery could be imagined which Italy did not suffer from his hands. Marcus Tullius, in his fourth Oration against Verres, wrote: This was so pillaged and ravaged by that wretch, that it did not seem to have been laid waste (vexata) by an enemy who in the heat of war still felt some religious scruple and some respect for customary law, but by barbarous pirates.

But concerning inlaudatus it seems possible to give two answers. One is of this kind: There is absolutely no one who is of so perverted a character as not sometimes to do or say something that can be commended (laudari.) And therefore this very ancient line has become a familiar proverb: Oft-times even a fool expresses himself to the purpose. But one who, on the contrary, in his every act and at all times, deserves no praise (laude) at all is inlaudatus, and such a man is the very worst and most despicable of all mortals, just as freedom from all reproach makes one inculpatus (blameless). Now inculpatus is the synonym for perfect goodness; therefore conversely inlaudatus represents the limit of extreme wickedness. It is for that reason that Homer usually bestows high praise, not by enumerating virtues, but by denying faults; for example:

And not unwillingly they charged, and again:

Not then would you divine Atrides see Confused, inactive, nor yet loath to fight. Epicurus too in a similar way defined the greatest pleasure as the removal and absence of all pain, in these words:

The utmost height of pleasure is the removal of all that pains. Again Virgil on the same principle called the Stygian pool unlovely.

For just as he expressed abhorrence of the unpraised man by the denial of praise, so he abhorred the unlovable by the denial of love. Another defence of inlaudatus is this: laudare in early Latin means to name and cite. Thus in civil actions they use laudare of an authority, when he is cited. Conversely, the inlaudatus is the same as the inlaudabilis, namely, one who is worthy neither of mention nor remembrance, and is never to be named; as, for example, in days gone by the common council of Asia decreed that no one should ever mention the name of the man who had burned the temple of Diana at Ephesus.

There remains the third criticism, his use of the expression a tunic rough with gold. But squalentem signifies a quantity or thick layer of gold, laid on so as to resemble scales. For squalere is used of the thick, rough scales (squamae) which are to be seen on the skins of fish or snakes. This is made clear both by others and indeed by this same poet in several passages; thus:

A skin his covering was, plumed with brazen scales (squamis) And clasped with gold. and again:

And now has he his flashing breastplate donned, Bristling with brazen scales (squamis). Accius too in the Pelopidae writes thus:

This serpent's scales (squamae) rough gold and purple wrought. Thus we see that squalere was applied to whatever was overloaded and excessively crowded with anything, in order that its strange appearance might strike terror into those who looked upon it. So too on neglected and scaly bodies the deep layer of dirt was called squalor, and by long and continued use in that sense the entire word has become so corrupted, that finally squalor has come to be used of nothing but filth.

Of the obedience of children to their parents; and quotations on this subject from the writings of the philosophers, in which it is inquired whether all a father's commands should be obeyed.

IT is a frequent subject of discussion with philosophers, whether a father should always be obeyed, whatever the nature of his commands. As to this question writers On Duty, both Greeks and our own countrymen, have stated that there are three opinions to be noticed and considered, and these they have differentiated with great acuteness The first is, that all a father's commands must be obeyed; the second, that in some he is to be obeyed, in others not; the third, that it is not necessary to yield to and obey one's father in anything.

Since at first sight this last opinion is altogether shameful, I shall begin by stating what has been said on that point. A father's command, they say, is either right or wrong. If it is right, it is not to be obeyed because it is his order, but the thing must be done because it is right that it be done. If his command is wrong, surely that should on no account be done which ought not to be done. Thus they arrive at the conclusion that a father's command should never be obeyed. But I have neither heard that this view has met with approval —for it is a mere quibble, both silly and foolish, as I shall presently show—nor can the opinion which we stated first, that all a father's commands are to be obeyed, be regarded as true and acceptable. For what if he shall command treason to one's country, a mother's murder, or some other base or impious deed? The intermediate view, therefore, has seemed best and safest, that some commands are to be obeyed and others not. But yet they say that commands which ought not to be obeyed must nevertheless be declined gently and respectfully, without excessive aversion or bitter recrimination, and rather left undone than spurned.

But that conclusion from which it is inferred, as has been said above, that a father is never to be obeyed, is faulty, and may be refuted and disposed of as follows: All human actions are, as learned men have decided, either honourable or base. Whatever is inherently right or honourable, such as keeping faith, defending one's country, loving one's friend's, ought to be done whether a father commands it or not; but whatever is of the opposite nature, and is base and altogether evil, should not be done even at a father's order. Actions, however, which lie between these, and are called by the Greeks now me/sa, or neutral, and now a)dia/fora, or indifferent, such as going to war, tilling the fields, seeking office, pleading causes, marrying a wife, going when ordered, coming when called; since these and similar actions are in themselves neither honourable nor base, but are to be approved or disapproved exactly according to the manner in which we perform them: for this reason they believe that in every kind of action of this description a father should be obeyed; as for instance, if he should order his son to marry a wife or to plead for the accused. For since each of these acts, in its actual nature and of itself, is neither honourable nor base, if a father should command it, he ought to be obeyed. But if he should order his son to marry a woman of ill repute, infamous and criminal, or to speak in defence of a Catiline, a Tubulus, or a Publius Clodius, of course he ought not to be obeyed, since by the addition of a certain degree of evil these acts cease to be inherently neutral and indifferent. Hence the premise of those who say that the commands of a father are either honourable or base is incomplete, and it cannot be considered what the Greeks call sound and regular disjunctive proposition. For that disjunctive premise lacks the third member, or are neither honourable nor base. If this be added, the conclusion cannot be drawn that a father's command must never be obeyed.

The unfairness of Plutarch's criticism of Epicurus' knowledge of the syllogism.

PLUTARCH, in the second book of his essay On Homer, asserts that Epicurus made use of an incomplete, perverted and faulty syllogism, and he quotes Epicurus' own words:

Death is nothing to us, for what is dissolved is without perception, and what is without perception is nothing to us. Now Epicurus, says Plutarch, "omitted what he ought to have stated as his major premise, that death is a dissolution of body and soul, and then, to prove something else, he goes on to use the very premise that he had omitted, as if it had been stated and conceded. But this syllogism," says Plutarch, cannot advance, unless that premise be first presented.

What Plutarch wrote as to the form and sequence of a syllogism is true enough; for if you wish to argue and reason according to the teaching of the schools, you ought to say: Death is the dissolution of soul and body; but what is dissolved is without perception; and what is without perception is nothing to us. But we cannot suppose that Epicurus, being the man he was, omitted that part of the syllogism through ignorance, or that it was his intention to state a syllogism complete in all its members and limitations, as is done in the schools of the logicians; but since the separation of body and soul by death is self-evident, he of course did not think it necessary to call attention to what was perfectly obvious to everyone. For the same reason, too, he put the conclusion of the syllogism, not at the end, but at the beginning; for who does not see that this also was not due to inadvertence?

In Plato too you will often find syllogisms in which the order prescribed in the schools is disregarded and inverted, with a kind of lofty disdain of criticism.

How the same Plutarch, with obvious captiousness, criticized the use of a word by Epicurus.

IN the same book,

Plutarch also finds fault a second time with Epicurus for using an inappropriate word and giving it an incorrect meaning. Now Epicurus wrote as follows:

The utmost height of pleasure is the removal of everything that pains. Plutarch declares that he ought not to have said of everything that pains, but of everything that is painful; for it is the removal of pain, he explains, that should be indicated, not of that which causes pain.

In bringing this charge against Epicurus Plutarch is word-chasing with excessive minuteness and almost with frigidity; for far from hunting up such verbal meticulousness and such refinements of diction, Epicurus hunts them down.

The meaning of favisae Capitolinae; and what Marcus Varro replied to Servius Sulpicius, who asked him about that term.

SERVIUS SULPICIUS, an authority on civil law and a man well versed in letters, wrote to Marcus Varro and asked him to explain the meaning of a term which was used in the records of the censors; the term in question was favisae Capitolinae. Varro wrote in reply that he recalled that Quintus Catulus, when in charge of the restoration of the Capitol, had said that it had been his desire to lower the area Capitolina, in order that the ascent to the temple might have more steps and that the podium might be higher, to correspond with the elevation and size of the pediment

; but that he had been unable to carry out his plan because the favisae had prevented. These, he said, were certain underground chambers and cisterns in the area, in which it was the custom to store ancient statues that had fallen from the temple, and some other consecrated objects from among the votive offerings. And then Varro goes on to say in the same letter, that he had never found any explanation of the term favisae in literature, but that Quintus Valerius Soranus used to assert that what we called by their Greek name thesauri (treasuries) the early Latins termed favisae, their reason being that there was deposited in them, not uncoined copper and silver, but stamped and minted money. His theory therefore was, he said, that the second letter had dropped out of the word flavisae, and that certain chambers and pits, which the attendants of the Capitol used for the preservation of old and sacred objects, were called favisae.

Numerous important details about Sicinius Dentatus, the distinguished warrior.

WE read in the annals that Lucius Sicinius Dentatus, who was tribune of the commons in the consulship of Spurius Tarpeius and Aulus Aternius, was a warrior of incredible energy; that he won a name for his exceeding great valour, and was called the Roman Achilles. It is said that he fought with the enemy in one hundred and twenty battles, and had not a scar on his back, but forty-five in front; that golden crowns were given him eight times, the siege crown once, mural crowns three times, and civic crowns fourteen times; that eighty-three neck-chains were awarded him, more than one hundred and sixty armlets, and eighteen spears; he was presented besides with twenty-five decorations

; he had a number of spoils of war, many of which were won in single combat; he took part with his generals in nine triumphal processions.

A law of Solon, the result of careful thought and consideration, which at first sight seems unfair and unjust, but on close examination is found to be altogether helpful and salutary.

AMONG those very early laws of Solon which were inscribed upon wooden tablets at Athens, and which, promulgated by him, the Athenians ratified by penalties and oaths, to ensure their permanence, Aristotle says that there was one to this effect: If because of strife and disagreement civil dissension shall ensue and a division of the people into two parties, and if for that reason each side, led by their angry feelings, shall take up arms and fight, then if anyone at that time, and in such a condition of civil discord, shall not ally himself with one or the other faction, but by himself and apart shall hold aloof from the common calamity of the State, let hint be deprived of his home, his country, and all his property, and be an exile and an outlaw.

When I read this law of Solon, who was a man of extraordinary wisdom, I was at first filled with something like great amazement, and I asked myself why it was that those who had held themselves aloof from dissension and civil strife were thought to be deserving of punishment. Then those who had profoundly and thoroughly studied the purpose and meaning of the law declared that it was designed, not to increase, but to terminate, dissension. And that is exactly so. For if all good men, who have been unequal to checking the dissension at the outset, do not abandon the aroused and frenzied people, but divide and ally themselves with one or the other faction, then the result will be, that when they have become members of the two opposing parties, and, being men of more than ordinary influence, have begun to guide and direct those parties, harmony can best be restored and established through the efforts of such men, controlling and soothing as they will the members of their respective factions, and desiring to reconcile rather than destroy their opponents.

The philosopher Favorinus thought that this same course ought to be adopted also with brothers, or with friends, who are at odds; that is, that those who are neutral and kindly disposed towards both parties, if they have had little influence in bringing about a reconciliation because they have not made their friendly feelings evident, should then take sides, some one and some the other, and through this manifestation of devotion pave the way for restoring harmony. But as it is, said he, most of the friends of both parties make a merit of abandoning the two disputants, leaving them to the tender mercies of ill-disposed or greedy advisers, who, animated by hatred or by avarice, add fuel to their strife and inflame their passions.

That the early writers used liberi in the plural number even of a single son or daughter.

The early orators and writers of history or of poetry called even one son or daughter liberi, using the plural. And I have not only noticed this usage at various times in the works of several other of the older writers, but I just now ran across it in the fifth book of Sempronius Asellio's History.

This Asellio was military tribune under Publius Scipio Africanus at Numantia and wrote a detailed account of the events in whose action he himself took part.

His words about Tiberius Gracchus, tribune of the commons, at the time when he was killed on the Capitol, are as follows: For whenever Gracchus left home, he was never accompanied by less than three or four thousand men. And farther on he wrote thus of the same Gracchus: He began to beg that they would at least defend him and his children (liberi); and then he ordered that the one male child which he had at that time should be brought out, and almost in tears commended him to the protection of the people.

That Marcus Cato, in the speech entitled Against the Exile Tiberius, says stitisses vadimonium with an i, and not stetisses; and the explanation of that word.

IN an old copy of the speech of Marcus Cato, which is entitled,Against the Exile Tiberius, we find the following words: What if with veiled head you had kept your recognizance? Cato indeed wrote stitisses, correctly; but revisers have boldly and falsely written an e and put stelisses in all the editions, on the ground that stitisses is an unmeaning and worthless reading. Nay, it is rather they themselves that are ignorant and worthless, in not knowing that Cato wrote stitisses because sisteretur is used of recognizance, not staretur.

To what extent in ancient days it was to old age in particular that high honours were paid; and why it was that later those same honours were extended to husbands and fathers; and in that connection some provisions of the seventh section of the Julian law.

AMONG the earliest Romans, as a rule, neither birth nor wealth was more highly honoured than age, but older men were reverenced by their juniors almost like gods and like their own parents, and everywhere and in every kind of honour they were regarded as first and of prior right. From a dinner-party, too, older men were escorted home by younger men, as we read in the records of the past, a custom which, as tradition has it, the Romans took over from the Lacedaemonians, by whom, in accordance with the laws of Lycurgus, greater honour on all occasions was paid to greater age.

But after it came to be realised that progeny were a necessity for the State, and there was occasion to add to the productivity of the people by premiums and other inducements, then in certain respects greater deference was shown to men who had a wife, and to those who had children, than to older men who had neither wives nor children. Thus in chapter seven of the Julian law priority in assuming the emblems of power is given, not to the elder of the consuls, but to him who either has more children tinder his control than his colleague, or has lost them in war. But if both have an equal number of children, the one who has a wife, or is eligible for marriage, is preferred. If, however, both are married and are fathers of the same number of children, then the standard of honour of early times is restored, and the elder is first to assume the rods. But when both consuls are without wives and have the same number of sons, or are husbands but have no children, there is no provision in that law as to age. However, I hear that it was usual for those who had legal priority to yield the rods for the first month to colleagues who were either considerably older than they, or of much higher rank, or who were entering upon a second consulship.

Sulpicius Apollinaris' criticism of Caesellius Vindex for his explanation of a passage in Virgil.

VIRGIL has the following lines in the sixth book:

Yon princeling, thou beholdest leaning there Upon a bloodless lance, shall next emerge Into the realms of day. He is the first Of half-Italian strain, thy last-born heir, To thine old age by fair Lavinia given, Called Silvius, a royal Alban name (Of sylvan birth and sylvan nurture he), A king himself and sire of kings to come, By whom our race in Alba Longa reign.

It appeared to Caesellius that there was utter inconsistency between thy last-born heir and To thine old age by fair Lavinia given, Of sylvan birth. For if, as is shown by the testimony of almost all the annals, this Silvius was born after the death of Aeneas, and for that reason was given the forename Postumus, with what propriety does Virgil add: To thine old age by fair Lavinia given, Of sylvan birth? For these words would seem to imply that while Aeneas was still living, but was already an old man, a son Silvius was born to him and was reared. Therefore Caesellius, in his Notes on Early Readings, expressed the opinion that the meaning of the words was as follows: Postuma proles, said he, does not mean a child born after the death of his father, but the one who was born last; this applies to Silvius, who was born late and after the usual time, when Aeneas was already an old man. But Caesellius names no adequate authority for this version, while that Silvius was born, as I have said, after Aeneas' death, has ample testimony.

Therefore Sulpicius Apollinaris, among other criticisms of Caesellius, notes this statement of his as an error, and says that the cause of the error is the phrase quem tibi longaevo. Longaevo, he says, does not mean 'when old,' for that is contrary to historical truth, but rather ' admitted into a life that is now long and unending, and made immortal.' For Anchises, who says this to his son, knew that after Aeneas had ended his life among men he would be immortal and a local deity, and enjoy a long and everlasting existence. Thus Apollinaris, ingeniously enough. But yet a long life is one thing, and an unending life another, and the gods are not called of great age, but immortal.

Marcus Cicero's observations on the nature of certain prepositions; to which is added a discussion of the particular matter which Cicero had observed.

AFTER careful observation Marcus Tullius noted that the prepositions in and con, when prefixed to nouns and verbs, are lengthened and prolonged when they are followed by the initial letters of sapiens and felix; but that in all other instances they are pronounced short.

Cicero's words are:

Indeed, what can be more elegant than this, which does not come about from a natural law, but in accordance with a kind of usage? we pronounce the first vowel in indoctus short, in insanus long; in immanis short, in infelix long; in brief, in compound words in which the first letters are those which begin sapiens and felix the prefix is pronounced long, in all others short; thus we have conposuit but cōnsuevit, cŏncrepuit but cōnficit. Consult the rules of grammar and they will censure your usage; refer the matter to your ears and they will approve. Ask why it is so; they will say that it pleases them. And language ought to gratify the pleasure of the ear.

In these words of which Cicero spoke it is clear that the principle is one of euphony, but what are we to say of the preposition pro? For although it is often shortened or lengthened, yet it does not conform to this rule of Marcus Tullius. For it is not always lengthened when it is followed by the first letter of the word fecit, which Cicero says has the effect of lengthening the prepositions in and con. For we pronounce prŏficisci, prŏfugere, prŏfundere, prŏfannu and prŏfestumn with the first vowel short, but prōferre, prōfligare and prōficere with that syllable long. Why is it then that this letter, which, according to Cicero's observation, has the effect of lengthening, does not have the same effect by reason of rule or of euphony in all words of the same kind, but lengthens the vowel in one word and shortens it in another.

Nor, as a matter of fact, is the particle con lengthened only when followed by that letter which Cicero mentioned: for both Cato and Sallust say faenoribus copertus est.

Moreover cōligatus and cōnexus are pronounced long.

But after all, in these cases which I have cited one can see that this particle is lengthened because the letter n is dropped; for the loss of a letter is compensated by the lengthening of the syllable. This principle is observed also in the word cōgo; and it is no contradiction that we pronounce cŏegi short; for this form cannot be derived from cōgo without violation of the principle of analogy.

That Phaedo the Socratic was a slave; and that several others also were of that condition.

PHAEDO of Elis belonged to that famous Socratic band and was on terms of close intimacy with Socrates and Plato. His name was given by Plato to that inspired dialogue of his on the immortality of the soul. This Phaedo, though a slave, was of noble person and intellect, and according to some writers, in his boyhood was driven to prostitution by his master, who was a pander. We are told that Cebes the Socratic, at Socrates' earnest request, bought Phaedo and gave him the opportunity of studying philosophy. And he afterwards became a distinguished philosopher, whose very tasteful discourses on Socrates are in circulation.

There were not a few other slaves too who afterwards became famous philosophers, among them that Menippus whose works Marcus Varro emulated in those satires which others call Cynic, but he himself, Menippean.

Besides these, Pompylus, the slave of the Peripatetic Theophrastus, and the slave of the Stoic Zeno who was called Persaeus, and the slave of Epicurus whose name was Mys, were philosophers of repute.

Diogenes the Cynic also served as a slave, but he was a freeborn man, who was sold into slavery. When Xeniades of Corinth wished to buy him and asked whether he knew any trade, Diogenes replied: I know how to govern free men.

Then Xeniades, in admiration of his answer, bought him, set him free, and entrusting to him his own children, said: Take my children to govern.

But as to the well-known philosopher Epictetus, the fact that he too was a slave is too fresh in our memory to need to be committed to writing, as if it had been forgotten.

On the nature of the verb rescire; and its true and distinctive meaning.

I HAVE observed that the verb rescire has a peculiar force, which is not in accord with the general meaning of other words compounded with that same preposition; for we do not use rescire in the same way that we do rescribere (write in reply), relegere (reread), restituere (restore),... and substituere (put in the place of);

but rescire is properly said of one who learns of something that is hidden, or unlooked for and unexpected.

But why the particle re has this special force in this one word alone, I for my part am still inquiring. For I have never yet found that rescivi or rescire was used by those who were careful in their diction, otherwise than of things which were purposely concealed, or happened contrary to anticipation and expectation; although scire itself is used of everything alike, whether favourable or unfavourable, unexpected or expected. Thus Naevius in the Triphallus wrote:

If ever I discover (rescivero) that my son Has borrowed money for a love affair, Straightway I'll put you where you'll spit no more.

Claudius Quadrigarius in the first book of his Annals says:

When the Lucanians discovered (resciverunt) that they had been deceived and tricked. And again in the same book Quadrigarius uses that word of something sad and unexpected:

When this became known to the relatives (rescierunt provinqui) of the hostages, who, as I have pointed out above, had been delivered to Pontius, their parents and relatives rushed into the street with hair in disarray. Marcus Cato writes in the fourth book of the Origins:

Then next day the dictator orders the master of the horse to be summoned: I will send you, if you wish, with the cavalry.' It is too late,' said the master of the horse, 'they have found it out already (rescicere).'

That for what we commonly call virvaria the earlier writers did not use that term; and what Publius Scipio used for this word in his speech to the people, and afterwards Marcus Varro in his work On Farming.

IN the third book of his treatise On Farming,

Marcus Varro says that the name leporaria is given to certain enclosures, now called vivaria, in which wild animals are kept alive and fed. I have appended Varro's own words: There are three means of keeping animals on the farm—bird houses, leporaria (warrens), and fish-ponds. I am now using the term ornithones of all kinds of birds that are ordinarily kept within the walls of the farmhouse. Leporaria I wish you to understand, not in the sense in which our remote ancestors used the word, of places in which only hares are kept, but of all enclosures which are connected with a farm-house and contain live animals that are fed. Farther on in the same book Varro writes:

When you bought the farm at Tusculum from Marcus Piso, there were many wild boars in the leporarium.

But the word vivaria, which the common people now use—the Greek para\de/isoi and Varro's leporaria —I do not recall meeting anywhere in the older literature. But as to the word roboraria, which we find in the writings of Scipio, who used the purest diction of any man of his time, I have heard several learned men at Rome assert that this means what we call vivaria and that the name came from the oaken planks of which the enclosures were made, a kind of enclosure which we see in many places in Italy. This is the passage from Scipio's fifth oration Against Claudius Asellus:

When he had seen the highly-cultivated fields and well-kept farmhouses, he ordered them to set up a measuring rod on the highest spot in that district; and from there to build a straight road, in some places through the midst of vineyards, in others through the roborarium and the fish-pond, in still others through the farm buildings.

Thus we see that to pools or ponds of water in which live fish are kept in confinement, they gave their own appropriate name of piscinae, or fishponds.

Apiaria too is the word commonly used of places in which bee-hives are set; but I recall almost no one of those who have spoken correctly who has used that word either in writing or speaking. But Marcus Varro, in the third book of his treatise On Farming, remarks:

This is the way to make melissw=nes, which some call mellaria, or 'places for storing honey.' But this word which Varro used is Greek; for they say melissw=nes, just as they do a)mpelw=nes (vineyards) and dafnw=nes (laurel groves).

About the constellation which the Greeks call a(/maca and the Romans septentriones; and as to the origin and meaning of both those words.

SEVERAL of us, Greeks and Romans, who were pursuing the same studies, were crossing in the same boat from Aegina to the Piraeus. It was night, the sea was calm, the time summer, and the sky bright and clear. So we all sat together in the stern and watched the brilliant stars. Then those of our company who were acquainted with Grecian lore discussed with learning and acumen such questions as these: what the a(/maca, or Wain, was, and what Boötes, which was the Great, and which the Little Bear and why they were so called; in what direction that constellation moved in the course of the advancing night, and why Homer says that this is the only constellation that does not set, in view of the fact that there are some other stars that do not set.

Thereupon I turned to our compatriots and said: Why don't you barbarians tell me why we give the name of septentriones to what the Greeks call a(/maca. Now ' because we see seven stars' is not a sufficient answer, but I desire to be informed at some length, said I, of the meaning of the whole idea which we express by the word septentriones.

Then one of them, who had devoted himself to ancient literature and antiquities, replied: "The common run of grammarians think that the word septentriones is derived solely from the number of stars. For they declare that triones of itself has no meaning, but is a mere addition to the word; just as in our word quinquatrus, so called because five is the number of days after the Ides, atrus means nothing. But for my part, I agree with Lucius Aelius and Marcus Varro, who wrote that oxen were called triones, a rustic term it is true, as if they were terriones, that is to say, adapted to nominibus regionibusque docere nos ipse vellet, ploughing and cultivating the earth. Therefore this constellation, which the early Greeks called a(/maca merely from its form and position, because it seemed to resemble a wagon, the early men also of our country called septentriones, from oxen yoked together, that is, seven stars by which yoked oxen (triones) seem to be represented. After giving this opinion, Varro further added," said he, that he suspected that these seven stars were called triones rather for the reason that they are so situated that every group of three neighbouring stars forms a triangle, that is to say, a three-sided figure.

Of these two reasons which he gave, the latter seemed the neater and the more ingenious; for as we looked at that constellation, it actually appeared to consist of triangles.

Information about the wind called Iapyx and about the names and quarters of other winds, derived from the discourses of Favorinus.

AT Favorinus' table, when he dined with friends, there was usually read either an old song of one of the lyric poets, or something from history, now in Greek and now in Latin. Thus one day there was read there, in a Latin poem, the word Iapyx, the name of a wind, and the question was asked what wind this was, from what quarter it blew, and what was the origin of so rare a term; and we also asked Favorinus to be so good as to inform us about the names and quarters of the other winds, since there was no general agreement as to their designations, positions or number.

Then Favorinus ran on as follows: It is well known, said he, " that there are four quarters and regions of the heavens—east, west, south and north. East and west are movable and variable points;

south and north are permanently fixed and unalterable. For the sun does not always rise in exactly the same place, but its rising is called either equinoctial when it runs the course which is called i)shmerino/s (with equal days and nights), or solsticial, which is equivalent to qerinai\ tropai/ (summer turnings), or brumal, which is the same as xeimerinai\ tropai/, or 'winter turnings.' So too the sun does not always set in the same place; for in the same way its setting is called equinoctial, solstitial, or brumal. Therefore the wind which blows from the sun's spring, or equinoctial, rising is called eurus, a word derived, as your etymologists say, from the Greek which means ' that which flows from the east.' This wind is called by the Greeks by still another name, a)fhliw/ths, or 'in the direction of the sun'; and by the Roman sailors, subsolanus (lying beneath the sun). But the wind that comes from the summer and solstitial point of rising is called in Latin aquilo, in Greek bore/as, and some say it was for that reason that Homer called it ai)qrhgene/ths, or 'ether-born'

; but boreas, they think, is so named a)po\ th=s boh=s, 'from the loud shout,' since its blast is violent and noisy. To the third wind, which blows from the point of the winter rising—the Romans call it volturnus —many of the Greeks give a compound name, eu)ro/notos, because it is between eurus and notus. These then are the three east winds: aquilo, volturnus and curus, and eurus lies between the other two. Opposite to and facing these are three other winds from the west: caurus, which the Greeks commonly call a)rgesth/s or 'clearing'; this blows from the quarter opposite aquilo. There is a second, favonius, which in Greek is called ze/furos, blowing from the point opposite to eurus; and a third, Africus, which in Greek is li/y, or 'wet-bringing,' blows in opposition to volturnus. These two opposite quarters of the sky, east and west, have, as we see, six winds opposite to one another. But the south, since it is a fixed and invariable point, has but one single south wind; this in Latin is termed auster, in Greek no/tos, because it is cloudy and wet, for noti/s is the Greek for 'moisture."

The north too, for the same reason, has but one wind. This, called in Latin septentrionarius, in Greek a)parkti/as, or 'from the region of the Bear,' is directly opposite to auster. From this list of eight winds some subtract four, and they declare that they do so on the authority of Homer, who knows only four winds: eurus, auster, aquilo and favonius, blowing from the four quarters of the heaven which we have named primary, so to speak; for they regard the east and west as broader, to be sure, but nevertheless single and not divided into three parts. There are others, on the contrary, who make twelve winds instead of eight, by inserting a third group of four in the intervening space about the south and north, in the same way that the second four are placed between the original two at east and west.

"There are also some other names of what might be called special winds, which the natives have coined each in their own districts, either from the designations of the places in which they live or from some other reason which has led to the formation of the word. Thus our Gauls call the wind which blows from their land, the most violent wind to which they are exposed, circius, doubtless from its whirling and stormy character; the Apulians give the name Iapyx —the name by which they themselves are known (Iapzyges)—to the wind that blows from the mouth of)Iapugi/a itself, from its inmost recesses, as it were.

This is, I think, about the same as caurus; for it is a west wind and seems to blow from the quarter opposite eurus. Therefore Virgil says that Cleopatra, when fleeing to Egypt after the sea-fight, was borne onward by Iapyx, and he called an Apulian horse by the same name as the wind, that is, Iapyx. There is also a wind named caecias, which, according to Aristotle blows in such a way as not to drive away clouds, but to attract them. This, he says, is the origin of the proverbial line:

Attracting to oneself, as caecias does the clouds.

Moreover, besides these which I have mentioned there are in various places other names of winds, of new coinage and each peculiar to its own region, for example the Atabulus of Horace;

these too I intended to discuss; I would also have added those which are called etesiae and prodromi, which at a fixed time of year, namely when the dog-star rises, blow from one or another quarter of the heavens; and since I have drunk a good bit, I would have rated on about the meaning of all these terms, had I not already done a deal of talking while all of you have been silent, as if I were delivering 'an exhibition speech.' But for one to do all the talking at a large dinner-party," said he, is neither decent nor becoming.

This is what Favorinus recounted to us at his own table at the time I mentioned, with extreme elegance of diction and in a delightful and graceful style throughout. But as to his statement that the wind which blows from the land of Gaul is called circius, Marcus Cato in his Origins calls that wind, not circius, but cercius. For writing about the Spaniards who dwell on this side the Ebro, he set down these words: But in this district are the finest iron and silver mines, also a great mountain of pure salt; the more you take from it, the more it grows. The cercius wind, when you speak, fills your mouth; it overturns an armed man or a loaded wagon.

In saying above that the e)thsi/ai blow from one or another quarter of the heavens, although following the opinion of many, I rather think I spoke hastily.

For in the second book of Publius Nigidius' treatise On Wind are these words:

Both the e)thsi/ai and the annual south winds follow the sun. We ought therefore to inquire into the meaning of follow the sun.

A discussion and comparison of passages taken from the comedy of Menander and that of Caecilius, entitled Plocium.

I OFTEN read comedies which our poets have adapted and translated from the Greeks—Menander or Posidippus, Apollodorus or Alexis, and also some other comic writers. And while I am reading them, they do not seem at all bad; on the contrary, they appear to be written with a wit and charm which you would say absolutely could not be surpassed. But if you compare and place beside them the Greek originals from which they came, and if you match individual passages, reading them together alternately with care and attention, the Latin versions at once begin to appear exceedingly commonplace and mean; so dimmed are they by the wit and brilliance of the Greek comedies, which they were unable to rival.

Only recently I had an experience of this kind. I was reading the Plocium or Necklace of Caecilius, much to the delight of myself and those who were present. The fancy took us to read also the Plocium of Menander, from which Caecilius had translated the said comedy. But after we took Menander in hand, good Heavens! how dull and lifeless, and how different from Menander did Caecilius appear! Upon my word, the armour of Diomedes and of Glaucus were not more different in value.

Our reading had reached the passage where the aged husband was complaining of his rich and ugly wife, because he had been forced to sell his maid-servant, a girl skilled at her work and very good looking, since his wife suspected her of being his mistress. I shall say nothing of the great difference; but I have had the lines of both poets copied and submitted to others for their decision. This is Menander:

Now may our heiress fair on both ears sleep. A great and memorable feat is hers; For she has driven forth, as she had planned, The wench that worried her, that all henceforth Of Crobyle alone the face may see, And that the famous woman, she my wife, May also be my tyrant. From the face Dame Nature gave her, she's an ass 'mong apes, As says the adage. I would silent be About that night, the first of many woes. Alas that I took Crobyle to wife, With sixteen talents and a foot of nose. Then too can one her haughtiness endure? By Zeus Olympius and Athena, no ' She has dismissed a maid who did her work More quickly than the word was given her, More quickly far than one will bring her back! But Caecilius renders it thus:

In very truth is he a wretched man, Who cannot hide his woe away from home; And that my wife makes me by looks and acts: If I kept still, I should betray myself No less. And she has all that you would wish She had not, save the dowry that she brought. Let him who's wise a lesson take from me, Who, like a free man captive to the foe, Am slave, though town and citadel are safe. What! wish her safe who steals whate'er I prize? While longing for her death, a living corpse am I. She says I've secret converse with our maid— That's what she said, and so be laboured me With tears, with prayers, with importunities, That I did sell the wench. Now, I suppose, She blabs like this to neighbours and to friends: " Which one of you, when in the bloom of youth, Could from her husband win what I from mine Have gained, who've robbed him of his concubine." Thus they, while I, poor wretch, am torn to shreds.

Now, not to mention the charm of subject matter and diction, which is by no means the same in the two books, I notice this general fact—that some of Menander's lines, brilliant, apt and witty, Caecilius has not attempted to reproduce, even where lie might have done so; but he has passed them by as if they were of no value, and has dragged in some other farcical stuff; and what Menander took from actual life, simple, realistic and delightful, this for some reason or other Caecilius has missed. For example, that same old husband, talking with another old man, a neighbour of his, and cursing the arrogance of his rich wife, says:

I have to wife an heiress ogress, man! I did not tell you that? What, really? no? She is the mistress of my house and lands, Of all that's hereabout. And in return I have by Zeus! the hardest of hard things. She scolds not only me, but her son too, Her daughter most of all.—You tell a thing There's no contending with.—I know it well. But in this passage Caecilius chose rather to play the buffoon than to be appropriate and suitable to the character that he was representing. For this is the way he spoiled the passage:

But tell me, sir; is your wife captious, pray?— How can you ask?—But in what manner, then?— I am ashamed to tell. When I come home And sit beside her, she with fasting breath Straight kisses me.—There's no mistake in that. She'd have you spew up what you've drunk abroad.

It is clear what your judgment ought to be about that scene also, found in both comedies, which is about of the following purport: The daughter of a poor man was violated during a religious vigil. This was unknown to her father, and she was looked upon as a virgin. Being with child as the result of that assault, at the proper time she is in labour. An honest slave, standing before the door of the house, knowing nothing of the approaching delivery of his master's daughter, and quite unaware that violence had been offered her, hears the groans and prayers of the girl labouring in childbirth; he gives expression to his fear, anger, suspicion, pity and grief. In the Greek comedy all these emotions and feelings of his are wonderfully vivid and clear, but in Caecilius they are all dull and without any grace and dignity of expression. Afterwards, when the same slave by questioning has found out what has happened, in Menander he utters this lament:

Alas! thrice wretched he who weds, though poor, And children gets. How foolish is the man Who keeps no watch o'er his necessities, And if he luckless be in life's routine, Can't use his wealth as cloak, but buffeted By ev'ry storm, lives helpless and in grief. All wretchedness he shares, of blessings none, Thus sorrowing for one I'd all men warn. Let us consider whether Caecilius was sufficiently inspired to approach the sincerity and realism of these words. These are the lines of Caecilius, in which he gives some mangled fragments from Menander, patching them with the language of tragic bombast:

Unfortunate in truth the man, who poor, Yet children gets, to share his poverty. His fortune and his state at once are clear; The ill fame of the rich their set conceals.

Accordingly, as I said above, when I read these passages of Caecilius by themselves, they seem by no means lacking in grace and spirit, but when I compare and match them with the Greek version, I feel that Caecilius should not have followed a guide with whom he could not keep pace.

On the ancient frugality; and on early sumptuary laws.

FRUGALITY among the early Romans, and moderation in food and entertainments were secured not only by observance and training at home, but also by public penalties and the inviolable provisions of numerous laws. Only recently I read in the Miscellanies of Ateius Capito an old decree of the senate, passed in the consulship of Gaius Fannius and Marcus Valerius Messala, which provides that the leading citizens, who according to ancient usage interchanged at the Melagesian games

(that is, acted as host to one another in rotation), should take oath before the consuls in set terms, that they would not spend on each dinner more than one hundred and twenty asses in addition to vegetables, bread and wine; that they would not serve foreign, but only native, wine, nor use at table more than one hundred pounds' weight of silverware.

But subsequent to that decree of the senate the law of Fannius was passed, which allowed the expenditure of one hundred asses a day at the Roman and the plebeian games, at the Saturnalia, and on certain other days; of thirty asses on ten additional days each month; but on all other days of only ten. This is the law to which the poet Lucilius alludes when he says:

The paltry hundred pence of Fannius. In regard to this some of the commentators on Lucilius have been mistaken in thinking that Fannius' law authorized a regular expenditure of a hundred asses on every kind of day. For, as I have stated above, Fannius authorized one hundred asses on certain holidays which he expressly named, but for all other days he limited the daily outlay to thirty asses for some days and to ten for others.

Next the Licinian law was passed which, while allowing the outlay of one hundred asses on designated days, as did the law of Fannius, conceded two hundred asses for weddings and set a limit of thirty for other days; however, after naming a fixed weight of dried meat and salted provisions for each day, it granted the indiscriminate and unlimited use of the products of the earth, vine and orchard. This law the poet Laevius mentions in his Erotopaegnia.

These are the words of Laevius, by which he means that a kid that had been brought for a feast was sent away and the dinner served with fruit and vegetables, as the Licinian law had provided: The Licinian law is introduced, The liquid light to the kid restored. Lucilius also has the said law in mind in these words: Let us evade the law of Licinius.

Afterwards, when these laws were illegible from the rust of age and forgotten, when many men of abundant means were gormandizing, and recklessly pouring their family and fortune into an abyss of dinners and banquets, Lucius Sulla in his dictatorship proposed a law to the people, which provided that on the Kalends, Ides and Nones, on days of games, and on certain regular festivals, it should be proper and lawful to spend three hundred sesterces on a dinner, but on all other days no more than thirty.

Besides these laws we find also an Aemilian law, setting a limit not on the expense of dinners, but on the kind and quantity of food.

Then the law of Antius, besides curtailing outlay, contained the additional provision, that no magistrate or magistrate elect should dine out anywhere, except at the house of stipulated persons.

Lastly, the Julian law came before the people during the principate of Caesar Augustus, by which on working days two hundred sesterces is the limit, on the Kalends, Ides and Nones and some other holidays, three hundred, but at weddings and the banquets following them, a thousand.

Ateius Capito says that there is still another Edict—but whether of the deified Augustus or of Tiberius Caesar I do not exactly remember—by which the outlay for dinners on various festal days was increased from three hundred sesterces to two thousand, to the end that the rising tide of luxury night be restrained at least within those limits.

What the Greeks understand by a)nalogi/a, and, on the contrary, by a)nwmali/a.

IN the Latin language, just as in Greek, some have thought that the principle of a)nalogi/a should be followed, others that of a)nwmali/a. is the similar inflection of similar words, which some call in Latin proportio, or regularity.)Anwmali/a is irregularity in inflection, following usage. Now two distinguished Greek grammarians, Aristarchus and Crates, defended with the utmost vigour, the one analogy, the other anomaly. The eighth book of Marcus Varro's treatise On the Latin Language, dedicated to Cicero, maintains that no regard is paid to regularity, and points out that in almost all words usage rules. As when we decline, says he, lpus lupi, probus probi, but lepus leporis; again, paro paravi and lavo lavi, pungo pupugi, tundo tutudi and pingo pinxi. And although, he continues, "from ceno and prandeo and poto we form cenatus sum, pransus sum and potus sum, yet from destringor and extergeor and lavor we make destrinxi and extersi and lavi. Furthermore, although from Oscus, Tuscus and Graecus we derive the adverbs Osce, Tusce and Graece, yet from Gallus and Maurus we have Gallice and Maurice; also from probus probe, from doctus docte, but from rarus there is no adverb rare, but some say raro, others rarenter. "

In the same book Varro goes on to say: No one uses senior and that form by itself is naught, but almost everyone says adsentior. Sisenna alone used to say adsentio (I agree) in the senate, but later many followed his example, yet could not prevail over usage. But Varro himself in other books wrote a good deal in defence of analogy. Therefore his utterances on the subject are, as it were, common-places, to cite now against analogy and again also in its favour.

Discourses of Marcus Fronto and the philosopher Favorinus on the varieties of colours and their Greek and Latin names: and incidentally, the nature of the colour spadix.

WHEN the philosopher Favorinus was on his way to visit the exconsul Marcus Fronto, who was ill with the gout, he wished me also to go with him. And when there at Fronto's, where a number of learned men were present, a discussion took place about colours and their names, to the effect that the shades of colours are manifold, but the names for them are few and indefinite, Favorinus said: "More distinctions of colour are detected by the eye than are expressed by words and terms. For leaving out of account other incongruities, your simple colours, red (rufus) and green viridiss), have single names, but many different shades. And that poverty in names I find more pronounced in Latin than in Greek. For the colour red Rufuss) does in fact get its name from redness, but although fire is one kind of red, blood another, purple another, saffron another, and gold still another, yet the Latin tongue does not indicate these special varieties of red by separate and individual words, but includes them all under the one term rubor, except in so far as it borrows names from the things themselves, and calls anything ' fiery,' ' flaming,' 'blood-red,' 'saffron' 'purple' and 'golden.' For russus and rubber are no doubt derived from rufus, and do not indicate all its special varieties, but canqo/s and e)ruqro/s and purro/s and kirro/s and foi=nic seem to mark certain differences in the colour red, either intensifying it or making it lighter, or qualifying it by the admixture of some shade."

Then Fronto, replying to Favorinus, said: "I do not deny that the Greek language, which you seem to prefer, is richer and more copious than ours; but nevertheless in naming these colours of which you have just spoken we are not quite so badly off as you think. For russus and ruber, which you have just mentioned, are not the only words that denote the colour red, but we have others also, more numerous than those which you have quoted from the Greek. For fihlvus, flavus, rubidus, poeniceus, rutilus, luteus and spadix are names of the colour red, which either brighten it (making it fiery, as it were), or combine it with green, or darken it with black, or make it luminous by a slight addition of gleaming white. For poeniceus, which you call foi=nic in Greek, belongs to our language, and rutilus and spadix, a synonym of poeniceus which is taken over into Latin from the Greek, indicate a rich, gleaming shade of red like that of the fruit of the palm-tree when it is not fully ripened by the sun. And from this spadix and poeniceus get their name; for spadix in Doric is applied to a branch torn from a palm-tree along with its fruit. But the colour fulvus seems to be a mixture of red and green, in which sometimes green predominates, sometimes red. Thus the poet who was most careful in his choice of words applies fulvus to an eagle, to jasper, to fur caps, to gold, to sand, and to a lion;

and so Ennius in his Annals uses fulvus of air.

Flavus on the other hand seems to be compounded of green and red and white; thus Virgil speaks of golden hair as flava and applies that adjective also to the leaves of the olive, which I see surprises some; and thus, much earlier, Pacuvius called water flava and dust fulvus.

I am glad to quote his verses, for they are most charming: Give me thy foot, that with the same soft hands With which oft times I did Ulysses soothe I may with golden (flavis) waters wash away The tawny (fulvum) dust and heal thy weariness. "

Now, rubidus is a darker red and with a larger admixture of black; luteus, on the other hand, is a more diluted red, and from this dilution its name too seems to be derived. Therefore, my dear Favorinus, said he, "the shades of red have no more names in Greek than with us. But neither is the colour green expressed by more terms in your language, and Virgil, when he wished to indicate the green colour of a horse, could perfectly well have called the horse caerulus rather than glaucus, but he preferred to use a familiar Greek word, rather than one which was unusual in Latin.

Moreover, our earlier writers used caesia as the equivalent of the Greek glaukw=pis, as Nigidius says, from the colour of the sky, as if it were originally caelia."

After Fronto had said this, Favorinus, enchanted with his exhaustive knowledge of the subject and his elegant diction, said: Were it not for you, and perhaps for you alone, the Greek language would surely have come out far ahead; but you, my deal Fronto, exemplify Homer's line:

Thou would'st either have won or made the result indecisive. But not only have I listened with pleasure to all your learned remarks, but in particular in describing the diversity of the colour flavus you have made me understand these beautiful lines from the fourteenth book of Ennius' Annalns which before I did not in the least comprehend: The calm sea's golden marble now they skim; Ploughed by the thronging craft, the green seas foam; for 'the green seas' did not seem to correspond with 'golden marble.' But since, as you have said, flavus is a colour containing an admixture of green and white, Ennius with the utmost elegance called the foam of the green sea 'golden marble.'

The criticism of Titus Castricius passed upon passages from Sallust and Demosthenes, in which the one described Philip, the other Sertorius.

THIS is Demosthenes' striking and brilliant description of king Philip:

I saw that Philip himself, with whom we were struggling, had in his desire for empire and absolute power had one eye knocked out, his collar-bone broken, his hand and leg maimed, and was ready to resign any part of his body that fortune chose to take from him, provided that with what remained he might live in honour and glory. Sallust, desiring to rival this description, in his Histories thus wrote of the leader Sertorius

: He won great glory in Spain, while military tribune under the command of Titus Didius, rendered valuable service in the Marsic war in providing troops and arms; but he got no credit for much that was then done under his direction and orders, at first because of his low birth and afterwards through unfriendly historians; but during his lifetime his appearance bore testimony to these deeds, in many scars on his breast, and in the loss of an eye. Indeed, he rejoiced greatly in his bodily disfigurement, caring nothing for what he had lost, because he kept the rest with greater glory.

In his estimate of these words of the two writers Titus Castricius said: Is it not beyond the range of human capability to rejoice in bodily disfigurement? For rejoicing is a certain exaltation of spirit, delighting in the realization of something greatly desired. How much truer, more natural, and more in accordance with human limitations is this: ' Giving up whatever part of his body fortune chose to take.' In these words, said he, Philip is shown, not like Sertorius, rejoicing in bodily disfigurement, which, he said, is unheard of and extravagant, but as a scorner of bodily losses and injuries in his thirst for honour and glory, who in exchange for the fame which he coveted would sacrifice his limbs one by one to the attacks of fortune.

That it is uncertain to which deity sacrifices ought to be offered when there is an earthquake.

WHAT is to be regarded as the cause of earthquakes is not only not obvious to the ordinary understanding and thought of mankind, but it is not agreed even among the natural philosophers whether they are due to the mighty winds that gather in the caverns and hollow places of the earth, or to the ebb and flow of subterranean waters in its hollows, as seems to have been the view of the earliest Greeks, who called Neptune the Earth Shaker; or whether they are the result of something else or due to the divine power of some other god—all this, I say, is not yet a matter of certain knowledge. For that reason the Romans of old, who were not only exceedingly scrupulous and careful in discharging all the other obligations of life, but also in fulfilling religious duties and venerating the immortal gods, whenever they felt an earthquake or received report of one, decreed a holy day on that account, but forbore to declare and specify in the decree, as is commonly done, the name of the god in whose honour the holy day was to be observed; for fear that by naming one god instead of another they might involve the people in a false observance. If anyone had desecrated that festival, and expiation was therefore necessary, they used to offer a victim to either the god or goddess, and Marcus Varro tells us that this usage was established by a decree of the pontiffs, since it was uncertain what force, and which of the gods or goddesses, had caused the earthquake.

But in the case of eclipses of the sun or moon they concerned themselves no less with trying to discover the causes of that phenomenon. However, Marcus Cato, although a man with a great interest in investigation, nevertheless on this point expressed himself indecisively and superficially. His words in the fourth book of his Origins are as follows:

I do not care to write what appears on the tablet of the high priest: how often grain was dear, how often darkness, or something else, obscured the light of sun or moon. Of so little importance did he consider it either to know or to tell the true causes of eclipses of the sun and moon.

A fable of the Phrygian Aesop, which is well worth telling.

AESOP, the well-known fabulist from Phrygia, has justly been regarded as a wise man, since he taught what it was salutary to call to mind and to recommend, not in an austere and dictatorial manner, as is the way of philosophers, but by inventing witty and entertaining fables he put into men's minds and hearts ideas that were wholesome and carefully considered, while at the same time he enticed their attention. For example, this fable of his about the little nest of a birdlet with delightful humour warns us that in the case of things which one can do, hope and confidence should never be placed in another, but in one's own self. There is a little bird, he says, it is called the lark. It lives in the grain-fields, and generally builds its nest at such a time that the harvest is at hand exactly when the young birds are ready to be fledged. Such a lark chanced to have built her nest in a field which had been sown rather early in the year; therefore when the grain was turning yellow, the fledglings were still unable to fly. Accordingly, when the mother went off in search of food for her young, she warned them to notice whether anything unusual was said or done there, and to tell it to her on her return. A little later the owner of that grain-field calls his young son and says: ' Do you not see that this is ripe and already calls for hands? To-morrow then, as soon as it is light, see that you go to our friends and ask them to come and exchange work with us, and help us with this harvest.' So saying, he at once went away. And when the lark returned, the chicks, frightened and trembling, twittered about their mother and implored her to make haste and at once carry them off to some other place; 'for,' said they, 'the master has sent to ask his friends to come at daybreak and reap.' The mother bids them be easy in mind. ' For if the master,' said she, ' has turned the harvesting over to his friends, the field will not be reaped to-morrow, and I need not take you away to-day.' On the following day the mother flies off to get food. The master waits for those whom he had summoned. The sun grows hot and nothing is done. The day advances and no friends come. Then he says again to his son: 'Those friends of ours are a lot of slackers. why not rather go and ask our relatives and kinsfolk to come to reap early tomorrow?' This, too, the frightened chicks tell their mother. She urges them once again to be without fear and without worry, saying that hardly any relatives and kinsfolk are so obliging as to undertake labour without any delay and to obey a summons at once. 'But do you,' she said, 'observe whether anything more is said.' Next day at dawn the bird left to forage. The relatives and kinsfolk neglected the work which they were asked to do. So finally the owner said to his son: ' Enough of friends and relatives. Bring two scythes at daybreak; I myself will take one and you yourself the other, and tomorrow we ourselves will reap the grain with our own hands.' When the mother heard from her brood that the farmer had said this, she cried: ' It is time to get out and be off; for this time what he said surely will be done. For now it depends on the very man whose business it is, not on another who is asked to do it.' And so the lark moved her nest, the owner harvested his crop.

This then is Aesop's fable, showing that trust in friends and relatives is usually idle and vain. But what different warning do the more highly revered books of the philosophers give us, than that we should rely on ourselves alone, and regard everything else that is outside us and beyond our control as helpful neither to our affairs nor to ourselves? This parable of Aesop has been rendered in tetrameter verse by Quintus Ennius in his Saturae most cleverly and gracefully.

The following are the last two lines of that version, and I surely think it is worth while to remember them and take them to heart:

This adage ever have in readiness; Ask not of friends what you yourself can do.

An observation on the waves of the sea, which take one form when the wind is from the south, and another when it is from the north.

IT has often been observed in the motion of the waves caused by the north winds or by any current of air from that quarter of the heaven [that it is different from that caused by] the south and southwest winds. For the waves raised by the blowing of the north wind are very high and follow hard upon one another, but as soon as the wind has ceased, they flatten out and subside, and soon there are no waves at all. But it is not the same when the wind blows from the south or southwest; for although these have wholly ceased to blow, still the waves that they have caused continue to swell, and though they have long been undisturbed by wind, yet the sea keeps continually surging. The reason of this is inferred to be, that the winds from the north, falling upon the sea from a higher part of the sky, are borne straight down, as it were headlong, into the depths of ocean, making waves that are not driven forward, but are set in motion from within; and these, being turned up from beneath, roll only so long as the force of that wind which blows in from above continues. The south and southwest winds, on the contrary, forced down to the southern zone and the lowest part of the heavens, are lower and flatter, and as they blow over the surface of the sea, they push forward the waves rather than raise them up. Therefore the waters are not struck from above but are forced forward, and even after the wind has fallen they retain for some time the motion given by the original impulse. Moreover, this very suggestion of mine may be supported by the following lines of Homer, if one reads them carefully. For he wrote thus of the blasts of the south wind:

Then Notus drives huge waves against the western cliff, but on the other hand he speaks in a different way of boreas, which we call aquilo:

And Boreas aetherborn, uprolling a great wave. For he means that the waves stirred up by the north winds, which are high and blow from above, are so to speak rolled downward, but that by the south winds, which are lower than these, they are driven forward in an upward direction by a somewhat greater force and pushed up. For that is the meaning of the verb w)qei=, as also in another passage:

The stone toward the hilltop pushed he up.

This also has been observed by the most learned investigators of nature, that when the south winds blow, the sea becomes blue and bright, but, under the north winds, darker and more gloomy. I noted the cause of this when I was making excerpts from the Problems of Aristotle.