Toxaris vel amicitia

Mnesippos What do you say, Toxaris? Do you Scythians sacrifice to Orestes and Pylades, and believe in them as gods?

Toxaris We sacrifice to them, certainly; still we do not hold them to be gods, but good men.

Mnesippos But is it customary with you to sacrifice to good men, too, when they die, just as you do to the gods?

Toxaris Not only that, but we keep feast-days and holidays in their honor.

Mnesippos What do you hope to get from them? Surely you don't offer sacrifice for the sake of getting the good-will of dead men.

Toxaris It is no harm to have even the dead on your side. But we also consider that we act for the advantage of the living by keeping the great and good in mind, and for this reason we honor the dead. For it is our belief that by these means many of our people will conceive a desire to be such men as these were.

Mnesippos You are right about that. But what was it you found so admirable in Orestes and

Pylades that you raised them to equality with the gods, though they were strangers in your land and your bitter foes? For when the Scythians of that day had seized them after their shipwreck and driven them off to be sacrificed to Artemis, they set upon the jailers, overpowered the guard, slew the king, carried off the priestess, and actually stole the statue of Artemis herself and set sail, laughing at the commonwealth of Scythia. Now, if this is the sort of thing you honor the men for, you cannot be too quick to produce many like them. But consider yourselves what the result will be, to judge from the past—whether it is to your advantage to have many cases of Orestes and Pylades sailing into Scythian ports. To my mind this would be the quickest way to become irreverent and godless yourselves, and to banish the surviving gods from your country. Then, I suppose, you will transfer your devotions from the whole body of gods to the men who come to steal them, and sacrifice to your temple-robbers as if they were divine.

But if it is not for these achievements that you honor Orestes and Pylades, tell me, Toxaris, what else they ever did for your good, in return for which you have now reversed your former judgment and sacrifice to them, bringing victims to those who once came extremely near being victims themselves. It seems absurdly inconsistent with the past.

Toxaris And yet, Mnesippos, those were noble deeds, though you laugh at them. Just think, they were only two men, and yet they dared this gallant adventure; sailed all this distance from home and ventured into the Pontos, unknown as yet to the Greeks, except those who manned the Argo in the expedition against Kolchis, and they were not frightened by the stories about this sea or its name of "The Inhospitable," gained for it, I suppose, by the savage tribes on its shores. And when they were captured they took the affair in such a courageous way that they were not contented merely to make their escape, but when they had first taken their revenge and carried off the statue of Artemis, then they sailed away. Now, are not these wonderful achievements, and really worthy of divine honor from any one who gives bravery his approval? Still, it is not because we see these traits in Orestes and Pylades that we deem them heroes.

Mnesippos Do go on and tell of something else they did, really divine and godlike. As far as their voyage and their journey into foreign lands are concerned, I could show you a great many more godlike among the merchants, particularly the Phoenicians, who not only sailed into the Pontos and as far as the Maiotis and the Bosporos, but to every point in Greek or barbarian wa- These people make an annual round of ters.

every cape and every peninsula, so to speak, and late in the autumn they sail back to their own country. To be consistent, you hold these, too, as gods-peddlers, and perhaps fish-mongers, though most of them be.

Toxaris Now listen, my amazing friend, and observe how much more candidly we barbarians judge good men than you Greeks. In Argos and Mykenai there is not even a noble tomb to be seen of Orestes and Pylades, but in our country there is shown a temple raised to them in common, as was natural since they were comrades, and sacrifices are offered to them and all other honors. The fact that they were foreigners, not Scythians, does not in the least prevent their being adjudged good men. For we do not ask whence noble and good people come, and we bear them no grudge for working good deeds, even if they are not our friends. On the contrary we applaud their acts, and adopt them as countrymen on the strength of them. But what we chiefly wondered at and praised in these men was this, that they seemed to us to be the noblest pair of friends in the world, and authorized to lay down for the rest of mankind the principle that friends must share all fortunes, and thus win the reverence of the best of the Scythians.

Our ancestors inscribed an account of their sufferings with each other, or for each other, on a bronze pillar and set it up as an offering in the Oresteion, making a law that the earliest training and education of their children should be to learn by heart the inscription on this pillar. The result is that it would be easier for one of them to forget his father's name than to be in ignorance of the deeds of Orestes and Pylades. Moreover, on the wall enclosing the temple there are ancient pictures displaying everything related on the pillar. One shows Orestes sailing in company with his friend; another shows him captured after his ship went to pieces on the rocks and made ready for the sacrifice, with Iphigeneia in the act of beginning the ceremony. On the opposite wall he is seen at the moment when he had burst his bonds and was killing Thoas and a number of other Scythians, and, finally, they are painted sailing away with Iphigeneia and the goddess. The Scythians are vainly trying to stop the ship, which is already under sail, and are hanging in the rigging and trying to board her; but they fail completely and some get wounded, and others, in fear of a like fate, swim off to land.

In this picture we can see best how much tenderness they showed for each other in the struggle with the Scythians. For the artist has depicted each careless of his own opponents, but warding off attacks on his friend, and trying to receive the missiles intended for him, thinking it nothing to die in saving his friend and taking on his own body the blow aimed at the other. Such devotion as this of theirs, such partnership in dangers, the faithfulness and good-fellowship and honesty and firmness of their mutual love, seemed to us not to belong to human nature, but to a finer temperament than that of men. For the majority, as long as the wind is favorable, take it ill if their friends do not divide their pleasures with them in equal shares, but if there comes the least breath of adversity they leave them to face danger alone. I will tell you another thing, too, that there is no office of friendship that a Scythian thinks greater, nor anything in which he takes more pride, than helping a friend in trouble and sharing his dangers, so that we think the hardest name a man can be called is "traitor to friendship." This is the reason we honor Orestes and Pylades, who were the best in what the Scythians deem good, and pre-eminent in friendship, which we admire above all things. So we have given them the name of “Korakoi,” which in our language signifies "genii of friendship."

Mnesippos Toxaris, I see that the Scythians have not only been great archers, and better than other nations in warlike pursuits, but are also the most persuasive orators in the world. For though I was of the other opinion a while ago, I now think you are quite right to deify

Orestes and Pylades. And I had no idea, my dear fellow, that you were a good painter as well. You have brought before me most vividly the pictures in the Oresteion, and the battle of the heroes and their vicarious wounds; but I never should have supposed that friendship was made so much of among the Scythians. I thought that inasmuch as they are inhospitable and wild, they dwelt together in constant feud and passion and anger, and entertained no friendship towards even their next of kin, judging from the things we hear of them, and particularly that they eat their fathers when they are dead.

Toxaris Whether we are juster and more pious than the Greeks in these other matters, such as our relations with our parents, is not a point that I care to dispute with you at present; but it is easy to show that Scythian friends are far truer than Greek friends, and friendship is made more of by us than by you. Now, by the gods of the Greeks, do not take it ill if I tell you some of the things I have noted in my long stay among you. You seem to me to be able to discuss friendship, it is true, better than other people, but your practice of it is by no means worthy of your preaching. In fact, you are perfectly satisfied when you have eulogized it and shown how great a good it is, and in time of need you forsake your theories and make your escape somehow from the thick of action. Whenever the tragedians mount the stage and show you instances of the friendship you admire, you cry, "Bravo!" and applaud; and when they run into danger for another, most of you are even moved to tears; but in your own persons you do not venture to perform any praiseworthy act for another; and if your friend happens to be in need of anything, all these sentiments of tragedy instantly take to themselves wings and fly away like dreams, leaving you like those empty, hollow masks whose great yawning mouths utter not the slightest sound. With us the case is reversed; for in proportion as we are poorer in arguments about friendship we are richer in its works.

Come, now, let us do something of this sort, if it takes your fancy. Let us leave the friends of old whom you or I could count out of the question; for under that head you would be rich in them, summoning many credible poets to testify to the friendship of Achilles and Patroklos, and the camaraderie of Theseus and Peirithoos and the others, singing them in metre with the most beautiful language. But let us select a few from our contemporaries and tell their exploits-I for Scythia, you for Greece-and he who is victorious and able to produce the best friends will be openly the better man, and will proclaim his the better country, because he has won in a very noble and beautiful contest. For my part, I should vastly prefer losing my right hand for having been worsted in single combat-that is the Scythian forfeit to being judged inferior to another man in respect of friendship, and that, too, though I am a Greek Scythian myself.

Mnesippos It is no joke, Toxaris, to venture single combat with a man like you for opponent, equipped with arguments so pointed and so apt. However, I will not basely leave the whole Greek cause in the lurch on such short notice and retire before you; for, seeing that so many Scythians, as your stories and ancient paintings show, of which you delivered such a vigorous account a little while ago, were worsted by two, it would be a great scandal if all the Greeks, so many nations and so many cities as they are, should lose their case by default to you. If this should happen, it would be fair to cut off, not my right hand, as your custom is, but my tongue. But shall we limit ourselves as to the number of friendly exploits, or shall he who is able to mention most have so much better chance of victory?

Toxaris Oh dear, no. Let us agree that victory shall not lie in the number of exploits; but if yours are better and more striking than mine, though the same in number, they will, of course, wound me more vitally, and I shall give way sooner before their blows.

Mnesippos Very well. Let us agree how many are enough. Five apiece, it strikes me.

Toxaris I think so, too. But first declare, and upon oath, that you will speak the very truth. Otherwise, to invent this kind of thing is no great job, and refutation would be difficult; but if you should take your oath it would be impious not to believe you.

Mnesippos We will swear, if you do not think an oath superfluous. But which of our gods do you Or will the God of Friendship do?

Toxaris Certainly; but I will take our national oath when it is my turn to speak.

Mnesippos Then let Zeus, the God of Friendship, witness that all I shall tell you I speak either of my own knowledge or having learned from others, with all the exactitude in my power, and adding nothing of my own to the story.

[His first story celebrates the friendship of Agathokles of Samos for Deinias of Ephesos. Deinias was a very rich young man, who was surrounded by evil companions, and soon wasted his whole substance in riotous living. Thereupon Agathokles, a man of moderate means and his friend from childhood, whose good advice had made him insupportable in the heyday of Deinias's prosperity, sold the house of his fathers and handed over the proceeds to his friend. Deinias finally killed two persons in a disgraceful embroglio, and was sentenced to transportation for life to one of the Cyclades. Agathokles accompanied him into exile, tended him through a long illness, and after his death continued to live in the island to be near the grave of his friend.]

Toxaris I wish you were not on oath, Mnesippos, so that I might be at liberty to disbelieve your story. By your account this Agathokles is a true Scythian in friendship. I hope you are not going to tell of any one else like him.

Mnesippos Then hear about another, Euthydikos of Chalkis. Simylos, the ship-master of Megara, told me the story, swearing that he had seen the thing with his own eyes. He said he was sailing from Italy to Athens early in the autumn, carrying passengers from various places, and among these were Euthydikos and Damon his friend, a Chalkidian like himself. They were of the same age, but Euthydikos was strong and robust, while Damon was pale and feeble and seemed to be just recovering from a long illness. Now, as far as Sicily, Simylos said, the voyage was prosperous, but when they had passed through the strait and come out into the Ionian Sea a great storm fell upon them. It would be useless to give the details-whelming waves and waterspouts and hail-storms and all the horrors of a gale. But when they were just off Zakynthos, scudding under bare poles, with cordage dangling overboard to break the force of the sea, Damon grew sea-sick in such a pitching and tossing, and leaned over the side of the ship to vomit. Just then, I suppose, the ship heeled over more violently to that side and the wave receded at the same time. At all events, he fell head foremost into the sea with all his clothes on, poor wretch! which made swimming all the harder. He straightway gave a choking shriek, hardly keeping himself on top of the wave.

When Euthydikos, who happened to have his clothes off in bed, heard it, he threw himself into the sea, got hold of Damon, who had already given upall this could be seen from a distance in the bright moonlight—and swam along with him, helping to keep him above water. Those on the ship were eager to help them and full of pity for their fate, but they could no nothing, running before such a gale. One thing only was possible, and that they did; they threw overboard for them a great number of corks and some puntingpoles, so that they might swim on one of these if they chanced on it; and finally they threw over the companion - ladder bodily, which was a large one. Consider, now, in Heaven's name, what stronger proof of affection a man could give to his friend who had fallen by night into such a wild sea than to share his death! Pray, call before your eyes the towering waves, the noise of the broken water, the boiling foam, the night, the despair; then that drowning man, hardly keeping his head above water, stretching out his hands to his comrade, and the comrade leaping to him instantly and swimming with him, fearful lest Damon should perish before him. This is the way to see that in Euthydikos, too, I have described for you no unworthy friend.

Toxaris Were they lost, Mnesippos, or were they saved by some miracle? I am greatly alarmed about them.

Mnesippos Be comforted. They were saved, and they are in Athens at this moment, pursuing philosophy. Simylos could only tell me what he saw that night, that the one fell overboard and the other leaped after him, and that they were swimming together as far as they could be seen in the night. But the sequel I learned from Euthydikos's friends. In the first place, they came upon some of the corks and supported themselves on these, swimming with difficulty; and later, towards daybreak, they saw the companion and swam to it, and, mounted on this, they swam easily the rest of the way to Zakynthos.

After these, who are not bad specimens in my opinion, hear of a third man no whit worse than they. Eudamidas of Corinth, himself a very poor man, had two rich friends, Aretaios of Corinth and Charixenes of Sikyon. When he died he left a will, which perhaps may seem absurd to others, but I am not at all sure that such things do to you, a man of virtue, who honor friendship, and are competing for the first prize in it. The will read: "I bequeath to Aretaios my mother to support and tend in her old age, and to Charixenes my daughter to give in marriage, with as large a dowry as he can afford,”—for he had an aged mother and a young daughter just of marriageable age -"and if, in the mean time, anything happens to either of the legatees, let the other," said the will, "take his share." When this will was read, those who knew the poverty of Eudamidas but were not aware of the friendship between him and the legatees, turned the matter to a jest, and every one of them went off laughing and saying that Aretaios and Charixenes had come into a joyful inheritance if they were to make payment to Eudamidas, and if they who were living were to leave their property to a dead man.

But the heirs to whom these things were bequeathed came as soon as they heard of it, and carried out the provisions of the will. Now, Charixenes died only five days. later, and Aretaios showed himself the best of heirs by assuming both his own share and the other's. He still supports Eudamidas's mother, and the daughter he gave in marriage not long ago. Of his estate of five thousand dollars he gave two thousand with his own daughter and two thousand with the daughter of his friend, and deemed it right to celebrate both marriages on the same day. What do you think of Aretaios, Toxaris? Does he seem to you to furnish a bad example of friendship, inheriting such a legacy and not betraying his friend's bequest? Or shall our mature decision be to place him as one among the five?

Toxaris He, too, is a noble man. But I admire far more the confidence which Eudamidas placed in his friends. He showed that he, too, would have done likewise for them, even if the duty had not been left him by will, and would have been the first to come as the unappointed heir of such a legacy.

Mnesippos You are right. But I will tell you of a fourth, Zenothemis, the son of Charmoleos, from Marseilles. He was pointed out to me in Italy when I was there on an embassy from our government, and he was a tall, handsome man, and apparently rich. There sat beside him in his carriage a woman who was hideous in every way. Her right side, moreover, was withered, and she had lost an eye. She was altogether deformed, a revolting scarecrow. On my expressing wonder that a man so handsome and in the prime of life could endure to have such a woman ure. driving about with him, the man who had pointed him out told me what had necessitated the marriage, for he knew all the circumstances perfectly, being himself a native of Marseilles. He said that Menekrates, the father of the ill-favored woman, and Zenothemis were friends, and equals in riches and position. But after a while Menekrates was deprived of his estate, and at the same time disfranchised by a condemnation of the Six Hundred for proposing an unconstitutional meas- This, he said, was the penalty in Marseilles for making unconstitutional propositions. Now Menekrates was in great grief, partly because of the scandal of the condemnation, and partly because from being a rich and honored man he was now become poor, and of no reputation. But his greatest trouble was his daughter, who was already marriageable, being eighteen years old, but of so ill-favored an aspect that no one, however humbly born or poor, would have seen fit to take her without a struggle, even with all the fortune her father once possessed. She was also said to have epileptic fits at the waxing of the moon.

But Zenothemis, to whom he was pouring out these griefs, said to him, “Cheer up, Menekrates. You are not utterly destitute, nor will your daughter fail to find a bridegroom worthy of her race." So saying, he took him by the hand, led him to his house, and presented him with a share of his great estate. Then he gave orders for a banquet, and feasted his friends and Menekrates just as if he had persuaded one of his companions to agree to marry the girl. When the banquet was over, and they had poured libations to the gods, he offered a brimming goblet to Menekrates and said: "Receive a loving-cup from your son-in-law, for this day I shall marry your daughter, Kydimache. Her dowry I took a long time ago, twenty-five thousand dollars." "Out with you!" cried Menekrates. “I hope neither you nor I is so mad as to forget your youth and beauty, and see you yoked with this unsightly, disfigured girl." But while he was still speaking the other carried off the bride and presently came back, having married her. And from that day he has held to her with great affection, and takes her everywhere with him, as you see.

Far from being ashamed of his marriage, he seems to take pride in it, showing that he despises bodily charms or blemishes and wealth and public opinion, but regards only his friend Menekrates, who, he thinks, is none the worse in respect of friendship because of the condemnation of the Six Hundred. However, Fortune herself has rewarded his deeds in this way this ugly woman bore him a most beautiful child, and the other day his father took him up and carried him into the senate, garlanded with the suppliant's twigs and wrapped in black garments to make him the more pathetic, to plead for his grandfather. And when the baby laughed aloud at the senators and clapped his hands, they warmed to the child and reversed the decision against Menekrates; and at present he is enfranchised again, thanks to the advocate he employed with the senate. This, then, is what the man from Marseilles said Zenothemis had done for his friend, a noble action, as you see, and such as few Scythians would do, who are said to be particular in choosing the most beautiful women even for their harems.

We have the fifth case still to consider, and I should not like to name another man and pass over Demetrios of Sounion. This Demetrios sailed to Egypt in company with Antiphilos of Alopeke. They were friends from childhood, being of the same age, and they lived together as students in Egypt, Demetrios pursuing the Cynic system under that famous sophist from Rhodes, and Antiphilos studying medicine. It came to pass after a while that Demetrios went into the interior to see the Pyramids and the Memnon, for he had heard of the Pyramids that, in spite of their height, they throw no shadow, and of the Memnon that it cries out at the rising of the sun. Being desirous, then, of seeing the Pyramids and hearing the Memnon, he sailed up the Nile, leaving Antiphilos, who dreaded the journey and the heat, behind. When Demetrios had been gone six months,

Antiphilos got into a scrape that called for some very good friend. A slave of his, Syros by name and a Syrian by nation, joined himself to a gang of temple-robbers, and, entering the temple of Anoubis in their company, stole from the god two golden goblets, a caduceus-this also of gold some dog-headed gods in silver, and other booty of the sort, which was all stored with Syros. They were caught selling some article and imprisoned, and when they were stretched on the wheel they straightway confessed the whole. Being led forth, they came to Antiphilos's house and brought out the booty, which was lodged under a bed in a dark corner. Both Syros and his master were immediately bound, Antiphilos being seized in the middle of his professor's lecture. Nobody rescued him, but even those who had been his companions turned away from the man who was said to have robbed Anoubis, and they counted it an impiety in themselves if they had ever drunk or feasted with him. His other slaves, two in number, cleared everything out of the house, and ran off.

The unhappy Antiphilos had accordingly been in durance a long time, with the reputation of being the most abandoned malefactor in the prison, and the Egyptian jailer, a superstitious man, considered that he was pleasing and avenging the god by bearing heavily on Antiphilos. If he ever defended himself, declaring that he had never done anything of the sort, he was thought utterly shameless, and hated the more. Presently he fell ill and suffered a great deal, naturally, for he slept on the ground, and at night he could not stretch out his legs because they were in the stocks. For by day the collar and a handcuff on the left-hand were enough, but at night they must needs bind him completely. Moreover, the illstench of the place, the stifling atmosphere created by so many prisoners confined in the same room, cramped for space and hardly breathing, the clang of iron, the scarcity of sleep-all these things were oppressive and unendurable to a man who was unused to them, and had had no experience of such a squalid life.

When he had begun to despair, and would not even take food, Demetrios arrived one day, ignorant of all these events. When he learned how things stood he came running forthwith to the prison, but he was not admitted then, for it was evening, and the jailer had locked the door some time before and gone to sleep, bidding his slaves to keep guard. But early in the morning he got in, after many supplications, and, passing along, sought Antiphilos for a long time, whose sufferings had made him unrecognizable. Making the round he examined each of the prisoners, as people do who are searching in the ranks for their own dead, already disfigured by death. And if he had not called his name, "Antiphilos Deinomenous!" it would have been some time before he recognized him, so greatly was he changed by the horrors he had experienced. But when Antiphilos heard the voice he called in reply, and, as the other approached, he parted his hair, filthy and matted with dirt, and drew it back from his face and showed who he was. Both the friends fell swooning at the unexpected sight, but presently Demetrios raised himself and Antiphilos too, and inquired of him exactly how everything stood. He bade him be of good courage, and, tearing his cloak in two, he wrapped himself in one half and the other he gave to Antiphilos, stripping off the dirty, ragged clouts he wore.

After this he kept him company, caring for him and serving him in every way. He hired himself to the merchants at the docks from daybreak till noon, and earned a good wage as a stevedore. Then, leaving his work, he handed over part of his earnings to the jailer, whom he thus rendered gentle and peaceable, and the rest sufficed him for his friend's maintenance. Through the day he used to stay with Antiphilos, cheering him up; but when night fell he would rest close by the door on a little bed he had made, with leaves thrown on it. Some time, then, they passed in this way, Demetrios being free of entry and Antiphilos finding his misfortunes easier to bear.

But after a certain robber died in the prison, apparently of poison, a strict guard was instituted, and no permissions whatever were granted to those who asked to visit the prison. In these circumstances Demetrios was in despair and grief, and, having no other means of being near his friend, he went to the governor and denounced himself as having a share in the undertaking against Anoubis. At this statement he was forthwith taken off to prison and brought to Antiphilos, for by many prayers to the jailer he contrived by his authority to be fastened next to his friend in the same stocks. It was then he showed most plainly the tenderness he had for him by disregarding his own sufferings. And yet he fell ill himself, but he suffered the less because his mind was bent on securing rest for his friend. So they bore their troubles lightly, being together.

After a while an event happened, as follows, which put an end to their misfortunes. One of the prisoners provided himself with a file from some source or other, and, with many of the captives for accomplices, sawed off the chain to which they were fastened in a row, their wooden collars being hung on it, and set them all free. They had no difficulty in killing the guards, who were few in number, and then scattered in all directions as each best could, most of them being taken again afterwards. But Demetrios and Antiphilos stayed on the spot, and even held Syros, who was in the act of running off. When day broke and the governor of Egypt heard what had happened, he despatched men to pursue the runaways; but sending for Demetrios and his friend he freed them from their fetters, and praised them for having been the only ones who did not make off. However, they were not the men to be satisfied with this dismissal. On the contrary, Demetrios cried aloud with indignation that it would be a great injustice if they were to appear to be criminals who had been liberated out of pity or by way of commendation for not having run away, and finally he compelled the magistrate to make a careful examination of the matter. When he had informed himself of their innocence he dismissed them with eulogies, expressing great admiration for Demetrios in particular, and condoling with them on the punishment which they had unjustly borne. He made them each a present out of his own pocket, two thousand dollars to Antiphilos and twice as much to Demetrios.

Antiphilos is still living in Egypt, but Demetrios left his four thousand dollars also with him and went off into Egypt among the Bramins, saying only this to Antiphilos, that his conduct in leaving him so soon would surely be excusable; he had no need of the money as long as he kept his present character of being able to do with little, and Antiphilos had no need of a friend now that his affairs were going smoothly. Such are Grecian friends, Toxaris, and if you had not already slandered us by saying that we pride ourselves on our phrases, I should have related to you the many noble arguments that Demetrios used in court, not defending himself at all, but Antiphilos, actually with tears and supplications, until Syros was flogged into acquitting them both.

My story, then, is told of this handful of good and true friends out of the many that memory first supplied me with, so I will now descend from the post of orator and leave the floor to you. But you had better be careful to make your Scythians out no worse than these, but a good deal better, unless you want to lose your right hand. You must speak up like a man, for it would be an absurd experience for you if, after having praised Orestes and Pylades like a professional orator, you should prove an indifferent speaker in behalf of the Scythians.

Toxaris It is all very well that you spur me on to speak! Don't you care whether you lose your tongue by defeat in the contest? But I will begin directly without any of your phrase-making; that is not our way in Scythia, particularly when the deeds speak louder than the words that tell of them. You need not expect me to follow you in elaborating the praises of a hero who married a plain wife without a dowry, or another who gave two thousand dollars as a wedding-present to a friend's daughter, or even one who offered himself for imprisonment with the certainty of a speedy release. For all these are trifles, and not one of them calls for exertion or courage.

But I will tell you of many a murder and war and death for the sake of a friend, to show that it is childish to compare your case with ours in Scythia. Still, your feeling is reasonable enough, and it is natural that you should eulogize these small matters, for you have no great occasions for displaying friendship, sunk in peace as you are, just as calm weather furnishes no opportunity to learn a pilot's quality. You need a storm for that. But with us one war follows on the heels of another, and we are either riding against some one else, or retiring before invaders, or falling to and fighting about pasturage or booty. In these emergencies, above all others, a man needs stanch friends. Accordingly, we cement friendships in the most enduring way, deeming them our only invincible weapons.

In the first place, I should like to describe to you our manner of acquiring friends. We do not do it over our cups as you do, or because a certain man happens to be a playfellow or a neighbor; but when we see a good man of great ability, we all strive for him, and we think it proper to win a friend as you do a wife, courting him a long time and taking all similar measures not to meet with a disappointment in friendship or figure as rejected aspirants. And when at length one has been chosen as his friend, the next step is a contract and a mighty oath that they will live together and, if need be, die for one another. This is the manner of the oath: we cut our fingers and let the blood trickle into a cup and then we dip our sword-points in it and, desisting from this at the same moment, we drink. When once we have done this, nothing can thereafter put us asunder. Three at most are permitted to enter into such a contract, since a man with many friends seems as bad to us as a woman with many lovers or husbands, and we think his friendship will no longer be so sure when it is parcelled among many tendernesses.

I will begin with the recent adventures of Dandamis. When his friend Amizokes was carried off as a prisoner of war by the Sauromatians— but first I will take our national oath for you, since that was our original agreement. I swear by the Wind and by the Sword, Mnesippos, that I will tell you nothing false about Scythian friends.

Mnesippos I did not insist on an oath from you, Toxaris; but you did well not to swear by any god.

Toxaris What do you mean? Don't you think that the Wind and the Sword are gods? Are you, perhaps, unaware that nothing is greater to men than life and death? So whenever we swear by the Wind and the Sword we swear by the Wind as the source of life and the Sword because it brings death.

Mnesippos If that is your reason you might have plenty of other gods like the Sword: the arrow and the spear and the hemlock and the noose, and the like. For this god Death has many forms, and offers innumerable roads lead ing his way.

Toxaris See now how captious you are! What a lawyer's trick it is to break in in the midst and spoil my speech! I held my tongue while you were talking.

Mnesippos I'll not do it again, Toxaris, your reproof was very just. So go on with confidence just as if I were not present to hear you. I will be as silent as that.

Toxaris It was the fourth day of friendship between Dandamis and Amizokes, that is, since they had drunk each other's blood, when the Sauromatians invaded our country with ten thousand horsemen and an army of foot reported to be three times as many. Since they fell upon us when we were not expecting an invasion, they put all our troops to flight, killing many of the warriors and capturing the survivors, except a few who were quick enough to swim across the river to where the other half of our camp was with part of the wagons. For our leaders had seen fit for some reason or other to encamp us in that way on both banks of the Tanais. They next proceeded to drive off our flocks, secure the prisoners, pillage the tents and seize the wagons, most of which they captured, men and all, and they insulted our wives and concubines under our very eyes, which nearly maddened us.

Now Amizokes was taken prisoner, and as they were leading him off he called upon his friend by name, cruelly bound as he was, and reminded him of the cup of blood. When Dandamis heard him he did not hesitate an instant, but swam across to the enemy with all of us looking on. The Sauromatians, lifting their darts, set on him as if to kill him, but he shouted the word "Ziris!" When a man says this word the enemy do not kill him, but receive him as a messenger about exchange of prisoners. So he was led to the commander, and of him he demanded his friend. The commander asked for a ransom, saying the prisoner should not go forth unless he got a great price for him.

"All that I possessed," said Dandamis, "has been pillaged by you. But if, stripped as I am, I can in any way pay the price, I am at your service. Command what you will. If you like, take me in his stead, and use me as you see fit." "There is no need," said the Sauromatian, "to keep the whole of you, particularly as you came saying 'Ziris!' but lay down a part of what you have, and you may take your friend." Dandamis asked what he wanted, and the other demanded his eyes. He instantly presented them to be cut out, and when this had been done, and the Sauromatians were in possession of the ransom, he received Amizokes and went away leaning on him, and together they swam across and returned to us saved.

This event put heart into all the Scythians, and they no longer considered themselves worsted by the Sauromatians, seeing that the enemy had not carried off our greatest good, but that our noble disposition was left to us and our constancy in friendship. And the same thing frightened the Sauromatians extremely, for they calculated what sort of men we would be to fight with when we were prepared if we showed such endurance when we were surprised. So when night came they left most of the flocks, and burned the wagons and retreated. But Amizokes could no longer bear to see at the price of Dandamis's blindness, so he, too, put out his own eyes, and they were both permitted a quiet life by the Scythian commonwealth, and supported at the public expense with every honor.

What could you tell to match this, Mnesippos, if I should let you count up ten more in addition to your five, and not on oath, either, so that you might add plenty of inventions? And yet I gave you the bare facts. If you had told a story like this I know very well how much cleverness you would have mixed in your tale, what prayers Dandamis offered, and the manner of blinding him, and what he said and how he went off again, and how the Scythians received him with blessings, and the other devices you are wont to employ on your audience.

But now hear of another man, equally admirable: Belittas, a cousin of this Amizokes. When he saw his friend Basthes dragged from his horse by a lion-they happened to be hunting together —and that the lion had already clutched him and clung to his throat tearing him with his claws, he leaped down from his own horse, fell upon the beast from behind, and dragged him over, diverting his rage to himself. He passed his fingers between the animal's teeth, and tried his best to drag Basthes out of his jaws until the lion let him go, half dead already, and, turning upon Belittas, grappled with him and slew him too. But even as he was dying he found time to strike the lion in the breast with his sword, so that they all died together, and we buried them, digging two graves near together, one for the friends and one opposite for the lion.

My third case, Mnesippos, shall be the friendship of Makentes, Lonchates, and Arsakomas. This Arsakomas fell in love with Mazaia, daughter of Leukanor, king of the Bosporians, when he went as an envoy in the matter of the tribute which the Bosporians pay us periodically, and which was then three months overdue. Mazaia was a tall, beautiful girl, and Arsakomas, seeing her at dinner, became enamored and fell into a bad way about her. He had finished the business of the tribute, and the king had given him his answer, and was feasting him by way of dismissal. Now it is the custom on the Bosporos for suitors to propose for girls at dinner, stating the qualifications which render them desirable parties. On this occasion there happened to be a great many aspirants at the dinner, kings and kings' sons, and Tigrapates was there, the monarch of the Lazians, and Adyrmachos, the ruler of Machlyëne, with many others. Each suitor is obliged to announce himself and tell why he has come a-wooing, and then to eat his dinner quietly, sitting among the others. But when dinner is over he must ask for a wine-glass and pour out a libation on the table, and propose for the girl, setting forth his advantages of birth, or wealth, or influence, in the most favorable light.

In accordance with this custom many had poured out the libation and made their proposals, counting up their kingdoms and riches; and last of all Arsakomas called for a glass, and instead of pouring out a libation-for it is not our practice to pour out our wine, indeed it is held an impiety towards the god - he emptied the glass at a draught, and said: "Your majesty, give me your daughter Mazaia to hold as my wife. I am a better match than these others as far as wealth and possessions go." Leukanor was amazed, for he knew that Arsakomas was poor, and a commoner of the Scythians, and he inquired: "How much cattle have you, Arsakomas, or how many wagons? For these are the things you Scythians are rich in.” "Nay," said Arsakomas, “I have neither wagons nor herds, but I have two friends so noble and brave that no other Scythian can match them." A shout of laughter rose at these words, and no account was taken of his offer, for they thought he was drunk. In the early morning Adyrmachos, who had been chosen from the other suitors, made ready to conduct his bride to the Maiotis among the Machlyëans.

But Arsakomas made his way home and told his friends how he had been insulted by the king, and laughed to scorn at the dinner because they thought him poor. "And yet," said he, "I explained to the king how rich I am in having you, Lonchates and Makentes, and how much better and more secure your devotion is than the power of the Bosporians. But while I was going through this he flouted me and passed me by, and bestowed the right to lead away the bride on Adyrmachos the Machlyean, because he said he owned ten golden goblets and eighty four-seated wagons, and any amount of sheep and cattle. You see how high above true men he rates store of beeves and superfluous drinking-cups and heavy wagons. For my part, my friends, I was doubly wounded, both because I love Mazaia, and because this public affront cut me deeply, and I think you were as much wronged as I. For a third of the insult belongs to each of you, at least if we were living as though we were one man since the day we came together, and feel pain and pleasure from the same causes." "Not only so," rejoined Lonchates, "but each of us feels the whole of the insult when you are treated in that way."

“The next question,” said Makentes, “is, what Ishall we do in this case?" "Let us parcel out the job," said Lonchates. "I, for my part, promise to bring to Arsakomas the head of Leukanor, and you must fetch him the bride." "Very good," said he. "And you, Arsakomas, seeing that this is a great business, must stay here to collect and make ready arms and horses and other equipment as much as you can get. For it is not unlikely that an army and a war will be what we shall need next. You will have no trouble in gathering a goodly following since you are a true man yourself, and our kinsmen are not few; but the best way will be to take your seat on the ox-hide." These plans were agreed to, and Lonchates went off, just as he was, direct to the Bosporos, and Makentes to the Machlyëans, both on horseback. Arsakomas stayed at home and addressed himself to the young men, armed a force of his kinsmen, and finally seated himself on the oxhide.

The custom of the hide is this: When a man has received an injury and wishes to revenge himself on some one, but sees that his unaided strength will not suffice him, he sacrifices an ox, cuts the flesh in pieces and boils it, stretches the hide on the ground and seats himself on it, drawing his hands behind his back as if his arms were tied at the elbow. This is our most urgent form of supplication. The flesh of the ox lies alongside, and kinsmen, and any one else who will, take a morsel, and, setting the right foot on the hide, promise aid according to the ability of each, one agreeing to furnish five horsemen, found and paid, another ten, another yet more, another hoplites or foot-soldiers as many as he is able, and the poorest offering himself alone. Sometimes a great throng gathers about the hide, and a force of this sort is most sure to hang together and most irresistible in battle because they are upon oath, for stepping upon the hide constitutes an oath. In this way Arsakomas occupied himself, and about five thousand horsemen joined him, and hoplites and foot-soldiers to the number of twen. ty thousand.

Lonchates made his way to the Bosporos incognito, and presented himself before the king, who was engaged in affairs of state, saying that he came as a public emissary from Scythia, but brought also private news of great moment to the king. When he was bidden speak, he said: "The Scythians make this public and open demand: that your herdsmen will not cross over into our plains, but pasture their flocks only to the end of the rocky ground. And they deny that the plunderers of whose incursions into your country you complain were sent out with the general consent, but declare that each of them carries on his robbery for his own private advantage; and that if one of them should be caught you are authorized to punish him. This is their communication.

But I will inform you on my own account of a great expedition that is coming against you under Arsakomas, son of Mariantes, who was recently an envoy to your court. I believe your rejection of him as a suitor for your daughter is the cause of his enmity. He has been sitting on the ox-hide this week past and has collected a considerable force." "I had heard myself," rejoined Leukanor, "that a force was being gathered by some one's ox-hide, but I did not know that it was collected against us, or that Arsakomas was at the head of it."

"It is against you, however, that it is being prepared," said Lonchates. But Arsakomas is an enemy of mine, and he takes it ill that I am honored before him by the elders and am thought the better man in all respects. And if you should promise me your other daughter, Barketis-since I am no unworthy match in other respects-I will come before long and bring you his head. "I promise," said the king, growing extremely frightened, for he knew the reason Arsakomas had for being angry about the marriage, and he always trembled at the Scythians anyhow.

"Swear, then," said Lonchates, "in very truth to keep your agreement and not to repudiate it." At this point, and just as the king had lifted his hand to heaven, intending to swear, Lonchates said, "Not here, for some of the by-standers might suspect the matter of our oath. But let us go into the temple of Ares here and shut the doors and take our oaths so that nobody can hear them. For if Arsakomas should get wind of this I am afraid he would offer me up as a sacrifice before battle, since he is already surrounded by no small force." "Very well," said the king. Then, turning to his attendants," Remove to a distance, and let no one be found in the temple unless I call him." When they had entered and the body-guard had withdrawn, Lonchates drew his sword, grasped the king's mouth with his other hand to prevent his crying out, and smote him in the breast. Then he cut off his head and went out with it under his cloak, pretending to speak with the king as he went, and saying that he would be back directly, as if Leukanor had sent him on some errand. When he had thus made his way to the place where he had left his horse tied, he mounted and spurred off to Scythia. There was no pursuit, for it was a long time before the Bosporians found out what had happened, and when they did find it out they fell to quarrelling about the succession.

These, then, were the exploits of Lonchates, done in fulfilling his promise to Arsakomas by bringing the head of Leukanor. Makentes, on his part, arrived among the Machlyëans, having heard on the road what had happened at the Bosporus. Thus he was the first to announce to them the murder of the king, and he added: "The state, Adyrmachos, summons you to the throne because you are his son-in-law. So do you ride first and seize the empire, appearing on the scene while matters are in disorder. Let the young lady follow after you with chariots, for you will the more easily conciliate the Bosporian mob if they see the daughter of Leukanor. I am an Alanian and related to the girl on the mother's side, for it was from our family that Leukanor chose his wife, Masteira. And now I am come to you from Masteira's brothers in Alania, who bid you ride to the Bosporos as quickly as you may, and not permit the empire to pass into the hands of Eubiotos, a bastard brother of Leukanor, who has always been a friend of the Scythians and detested by the Alanians." This speech Makentes delivered, wearing the dress of the Alanians and speaking their language, for on these points the Scythians and

Alanians agree with this one exception, that the Alanians do not wear their hair very long, as the Scythians do. But in this respect, too, Makentes had likened himself to an Alanian by cutting his hair as much short of the Scythian length as an Alanian's would probably be. So by these means he got credence as a relative of Masteira and Mazaia.

"And now, Adyrmachos," said he, "I am ready to ride with you to the Bosporos if you like, or, if need be, to stay behind and escort the young lady." "That is what I should prefer," said Adyrmachos, "to have you escort Mazaia. For if you go with us to the Bosporos we should only be one horseman the more, but if you should escort my wife for me you would be worth a multitude." This was done, and Adyrmachos rode off, having handed over his maid-wife Mazaia to Makentes. He, on his part, escorted her in her chariot during the day, but when night fell he set her upon a horse-for he had provided that one horseman beside himself should accompany them-and, leaping on his own, he no longer rode by the Maiotis, but turned off inland, keeping the Mitraian mountains on his right. He let the the girl rest now and then, and on the third day crossed the Machlyëan border into Scythia. His horse, when he stopped galloping, stood still for a moment, and then fell dead.

Makentes handed over Mazaia to Arsakomas, saying, "Receive the fulfilment of my promise also." He was stunned by the unexpected vision, and strove to express his thanks, but Makentes said, "Stop trying to make me out a different person from yourself. To thank me for what I have done is much as if my left-hand should acknowledge its obligation to my right because it had been tended when it was wounded, and tenderly cared for when it was tired. So it would be an absurdity in us, too, if we who have joined our fortunes this long time, and as nearly as possible made ourselves into one man, should still think it a great thing if a part of us does something for the good of the whole body. For it is for his own good that he does it, seeing he is part of the benefitted whole." Thus did Makentes meet Arsakomas's thanks.

Adyrmachos, when he heard of the fraud, did not continue his journey to the Bosporos, for Eubiotos was already installed in office, having been summoned from Sauromatia, where he was sojourning. He returned home, collected a great army, and marched through the hill-country upon Scythia. Soon after, Eubiotos, too, made an attack, leading a rabble of Greeks and picked troops from Alania and Sauromatia, forty thousand strong. He and Adyrmachos joined forces, thus forming an army of ninety thousand men, of whom a third were mounted archers. But wefor I, too, had a share in their rising, and contributed a hundred found horsemen on the occasion of the ox-hide-assembled to the number of nearly thirty thousand, counting the horsemen, and awaited the onset. Arsakomas was in command. When we saw them coming we advanced to meet them, sending the cavalry against them first. When the battle had been fiercely waged a long time our side began to give in. Our phalanx was gradually broken into, and finally the whole Scythian army was cut in two, and one part retired, not distinctly worsted, however; indeed, their flight looked like an orderly retreat, and even the Alanians did not dare to pursue them far. But the Machlyeans and Alanians surrounded the other half, which was the smaller, and cut them down in every direction with a generous discharge of arrows and darts, so that the surrounded were almost exhausted, and most of them were already throwing down their arms.

As it happened, both Lonchates and Makentes were in this division, and they had both been wounded already through their hardihood-Lonchates in the thigh with the butt-end of a lance, and Makentes in the head with an axe, and in the shoulder with the shaft of a pike.

When Arsakomas, who was with us in the other division, perceived this, he felt that it would be a shocking thing if he were to go off and leave his friends behind, so he clapped spurs to his horse, and, raising a shout, rode through the enemy, waving his sword on high, so that the Machlyëans could not withstand the rush of his courage, but fell apart and gave way to him to pass through. When he had recovered his friends and heartened up the others, he darted upon Adyrmachos, and, striking him in the neck with his sword, cleft him to the belt. At his fall the whole force of the Machyleans fell into disorder, and then the Alanians and the Greeks followed suit, so that we began to have the advantage, and we should have gone on killing for a long time if night had not robbed us of the business. On the following day suppliants came from the enemy asking for peace, the Bosporians promising to pay double their tribute, the Machlyëans saying that they would give hostages, and the Alanians agreeing to subdue for us as indemnity for that invasion, the Sindianoi, who had been at feud with us for a long time. On these terms we made a treaty, as had been agreed upon much earlier by Arsakomas and Lonchates, and peace was made under the direction of these men. Such deeds, Mnesippos, the Scythians dare do for friends.

Mnesippos Very tragical and romance-like. But may the Sword and the Wind, by whom you swore, have mercy on me; for I do not think a man would be much to blame if he should disbelieve your tales.

Toxaris Beware, my friend, lest your doubt be envy. Doubt as you will, you will not keep me from telling other such deeds of Scythians that I know of.

Mnesippos Only not at great length, my dear fellow, nor using such unbridled words. You abused my silence to run up and down through Scythia and Machlyëne, and off to the Bosporos and back again.

Toxaris I must obey your commands even in this, and speak briefly lest you weary of following me about with your ears.

But hear what services I myself received from a friend named Sisinnes. When I left home and went to Athens, through my desire for a Greek education, I put in at Amastris, on the Pontos; for ships from Scythia call there, the city being not far from Karambis. Sisinnes accompanied me, my friend from childhood. We spied a sort of lodginghouse near the harbor, and, removing our luggage into it from the ship, we went out to stroll in the market-lace, suspecting no evil. But in the mean time some thieves forced the bolt and carried off everything, leaving us not even enough to get through the day with. Now when we came home and found what had happened, we felt it would not do to accuse the neighbors, for there were many of them, or the landlord, for we were afraid most people would think us sharpers if we said that some one had robbed us of fifteen hundred dollars, a great deal of clothing, some rugs, and everything else we had.

We considered our circumstances and what we should do, utterly without resources in a foreign country, and my opinion was that we had better thrust our swords between our ribs then and there and die, rather than submit to be shamefully destroyed by hunger and thirst. But Sisinnes tried to encourage me, and implored me to do nothing of the sort, for he had a plan by which we should get food enough. And for the nonce he took to carrying wood from the harbor, and returned with provisions bought with his wages. But early next morning, as he was walking about the market-place, he saw a kind of procession, as he said, of noble and beautiful youths. They were enlisted to fight in single combat for pay, and the contest was to come off in three days. He made full inquiries about them, and then came to me and said, "Don't call yourself poor any longer, Toxaris, for in three days I shall prove you rich."

That was all he told me, and we managed to eke out a wretched existence in the interval.

When the games were about to begin we also were among the spectators, for Sisinnes dragged me out, persuading me that it would be a pleasure to see the wonderful Greek games, and brought me to the theatre. Sitting there we first saw wild beasts infuriated with darts and then chased by dogs, or let loose upon bound men, who, we concluded, were criminals. Then the single fighters entered, and the herald, bringing forward a well-grown youth, said that whoever wished to fight him was to come into the arena and get two thousand dollars, the wages for fighting. At this Sisinnes rose, and, leaping into the arena, offered to fight, and asked for weapons. When he received the money he brought it to me and gave it into my hands. "If I should win, Toxaris," he said, "we will go off together with plenty of money, but if I fall, bury me and go back to Scythia." Thereupon I cried out, but he took the armor and put it all on except the helmet. This he did not wear, but fought bareheaded. The first thing that happened was that he was wounded, cut under the knee with a curved sword, so that the blood ran plentifully. I was already dead in advance with fear. But, watching his adversary, who came on too boldly, he struck him on the breast and drove home so that he went down in an instant between Sisinnes's feet.

Sisinnes was exhausted himself by his wound, so that he sat down on the body and almost gave up his own ghost. But I ran forward, raised him up and comforted him, and when they had dismissed him as already the victor I lifted him and carried him home. After he had been nursed a long time he survived, it is true, and lives to this day in Scythia, married to my sister. But, nevertheless, he is lame from his wound. This, Mnesippos, took place neither in Machlyëne nor in Alania, so as to be unsupported by evidence and open to disbelief, but many of the folk of Amastris are at hand who remember the contest of Sisinnes.

When I have told you as my fifth case the deeds of Abauchas I will stop. This Abauchas once came into a city of the Borysthenites, bringing with him his wife, whom he loved tenderly, and two small children, one of them a baby at the breast and the other a girl seven years old. A friend of his, Gyndanes, journeyed in company with him, and he, moreover, was suffering from a wound he got from robbers who had waylaid them on the road. For in fighting them he got a thrust in the thigh, so that he could not even stand for pain. As they were asleep at night— they happened to be lodging in an upper story—a great fire broke out, all means of exit were cut off, and the flames surrounded the house on every side. Thereupon Abauchas awoke, and he left his weeping child behind and shook off his wife, who clung to him, calling to her to save herself; but he lifted his friend and made his way down, and was in time to get out through part of the house not yet entirely seized by the fire. His wife followed, carrying the baby, and bidding the little girl come after; but the woman was half-burnt and let the baby fall from her arm, and barely leaped through the flame with the little girl, who also had a narrow escape from death. When it was afterwards made a reproach to Abauchas that he had deserted his wife and children to bring Gyndanes out, he would say, "It is an easy matter for me to have more children, and it is impossible to know whether they will be good or not; but it would take me a long time to find another such friend as Gyndanes, who has given me great proof of his affection."

These five, Mnesippos, I have chosen from many to tell you of. And now it should be time to decide between us whether you are to lose your tongue or I my right hand. Who, then, shall be our judge?

Mnesippos No one, for we did not appoint any arbiter of the discussion. But do you know what we shall do? Since we have this time shot our arrows without a mark, let us choose an umpire and tell him the stories of other friends, and then he who is defeated shall be punished by the loss of his tongue if it be I, of his right hand if it be you. Nay, this is barbarous; but since you have shown yourself an encomiast of friendship, and I, too, believe that mankind have no better or fairer possession, why should not we too agree between ourselves that we are friends now and will be forever, and acquiesce in a common victory, carrying off the greatest prizes—instead of one tongue or one right-hand, each gaining two and four eyes besides, and four feet, and a double allowance of everything? For when two or three friends join. they form something like the painters' picture of Geryon, a man with six hands and three heads. It strikes me that they were three people acting in concert as they ought to do, if they are friends.

Toxaris You are right; let us do so.

Mnesippos But we need no blood, Toxaris, and no sword to cement our friendship. For this present talk of ours and our striving for like things will be more sure than that cup of which you drink, since to my mind such matters need not compulsion but good-will.

Toxaris I approve. Let us be friends and hosts from this moment, you to me here in Greece, and I to you if you should ever come to Scythia.

Mnesippos I assure you I would cheerfully go farther yet to find such friends as your words prove you to be, Toxaris.