Chapter IX: Part 9

On the other side, the cranes’ order in their flight against the wind is not of one sort. But this is a general notion among all fish, that they always swim against the waves and the tide, and always take care lest the wind being in their tails should force their fins from their backs, and leave their naked bodies exposed to the cold and other inconveniences; and therefore they still oppose the prows of their bodies against the waves. For that while they thus cleave the waves at the top, the sea keeps their fins close, and lightly flowing over the superficies of their bodies, becomes less burdensome, besides that it suffers not their scales to rise.

This, I say, is common to all fish, except that fish which is called ellops; which, as they report, always swims with the wind and tide, not minding the erection or opening of the scales, which do not lie towards the tail, as in other fish.

29. Moreover, the tunny is so sensible of the equinoxes and solstices, that he teaches even men themselves without the help of any astrological table. For where the winter solstice overtakes him, there he remains till the vernal equinox.

As for that same artifice of the cranes, that keep themselves waking by clutching a stone in their claws, how much more cunningly done is that of the dolphin, for whom it is not lawful to stand still or to be out of motion. For it is the nature of the dolphins to be always in motion; so that, when they cease to move, they also cease to live. And therefore when sleep seizes them, they raise their bodies to the superficies of the sea, and so sinking down again with their bellies upward, are carried along with the tide till they touch again the shore. Wakened in that manner, with an impetuous noise they mount upward again, designing thus a kind of rest still intermixed with motion. And the same thing is reported of the tunnies for the same reason.

Having thus concluded their mathematical foreknowledge of the mutations of the sun, of which Aristotle gives testimony, let me now relate their skill in arithmetic; but first of all, their knowledge in optics, of which Aeschylus seems not to have been altogether ignorant. For these are his words:

Casting a squint-eye like the tunny.

For tunnies seem to be dim-sighted of one eye. And therefore, when they enter the Euxine Sea, they coast along the land on the right side, and contrariwise when they come forth; prudently committing the care of their bodies to the best eye.

But wanting arithmetic in order to the preservation of mutual love and society one with another, they arrive in such a manner to the perfection of that science, that, in regard they are extremely desirous to enjoy the society of each other, they always make up their whole fry into the form of a cube, and make a solid of the whole number consisting of six equal planes; and then they swim in such order as to present an equal front in each direction. So then, if the observer of the tunnies does but exactly take the number of the side that he sees, he knows the whole number of the shoal; well knowing that the depth is equal to the breadth and length.

30. The fish amiae, which are another sort of tunnies, are so called, because they swim in shoals, as also the pelamydes or summer whitings. As for the rest that are seen to swim in shoals and to observe a mutual society, their number is not to be expressed. And therefore let us proceed to those that observe a kind of private and particular society one with another. Among which is the pinoteras of Chrysippus, upon which he has expended so much ink, that he gives it the precedency in all his books, both physical and ethical. For Chrysippus never knew the spongotera, for he would not have passed it over out of negligence.

The pinoteras is so called, from watching the fish called pina or the nacre, and in shape resembles a crab; and cohabiting with the nacre, he sits like a porter at his shell-side, which he lets continually to stand wide open until he spies some small fishes gotten within it, such as they are wont to take for their food. Then entering the shell, he nips the flesh of the nacre, to give him notice to shut his shell; which being done, they feed together within the fortification upon the common prey.

The sponge is governed by a certain little creature more like a spider than a crab. For the sponge wants neither soul nor sense nor blood; but growing to the stones, as many other things do, it has a peculiar motion from itself and to itself, which nevertheless stands in need as it were of a monitor or instructor. For being otherwise of a substance loose and open, and full of holes and hollowness, by reason of the sloth and stupidity of it the sponge-watcher assists to give notice when any thing of food enters the cavities of it, at which time the sponge contracts itself and falls to feeding.

But if a man approach and touch it, being nipped and admonished by the sponge-watcher, it seems to shudder and shut up the body of it, closing and condensing it in such a manner as makes it no easy thing to cut it from the place where it grows.

The purple shell-fish also, called porphyrae, clustering together in a kind of mutual society, build up little combs for themselves like bees, wherein they are said to generate; and culling out the choicest substance of the moss and seaweed that stick to their shells, they seem to be in a circular commons among themselves, feeding the one upon the other’s nourishment.

31. But why should we admire society in these creatures, when the most savage and most unsociable of all creatures which either lakes, rivers, or the ocean nourishes, the crocodile, shows himself the most sociable and grateful of water monsters in the banquets which he bestows upon the trochilus? For the trochilus is a bird that haunts marshes and rivers, and he guards and watches over the crocodile, not as one that feeds at his table, but as one that lives upon his scraps and leavings only. For when this bird observes the crocodile asleep, and the ichneumon ready to assail him, smeared with mud for the conflict like a wrestler covered with dust, he never leaves crying and pecking him with his beak, till he rouse the drowsy monster. In return of which the crocodile is so tame and gentle towards this bird, that he permits him to enter his yawning chaps, and is pleased with his pecking out and cleansing away with his beak the remainders of the devoured flesh that sticks between his teeth. And when the monster has an inclination to shut his mouth, he gives the bird notice by a gentle lowering of his jaw, nor will he close his chaps till he finds that the bird is flown away. The fish which the Greeks call hegemon (or the captain or leader) is a small fish, in bigness and shape not much unlike a gudgeon, but by reason of the roughness of his scales is said to resemble a bird when she shakes her feathers. This fish always keeps company with one of the huge whales, and swims before him to direct his course, lest he should bruise himself upon the shallows, or fall into any marshy place or narrow haven whence he could not easily get out again. Therefore the whale follows him, as the ship follows the helm, directing his course with confidence. All other things whatever, whether skiff, whether beast or stone, that chance to light into the gaping gulf of the whale’s mouth, immediately perish, being swallowed by the monster; but acknowledging his conductor, he receives him and lodges him, like an anchor, safely in his jaws. There he sleeps; and all the while he takes his rest, the whale lies still, as if he were at anchor; and when his guide comes forth again, the whale proceeds, never forsaking him night or day; or if he wander without his leader, the monster shipwrecks, like a vessel cast upon a rock without a helm. And this we saw not long ago near Anticyra, where they report that in former times a whale being cast and putrefying caused a pestilence.

Is it worth while then to compare these observations of community and association with those sympathies which, as Aristotle relates, exist between foxes and serpents because the eagle is an enemy to both? Or with those of the horn-owls with horses, whose dung they love to scrape about the field? For my part I observe no such care of one another in bees and emmets, which, by reason of their multitude, carry on and perfect their work in common, but have no particular care or consideration one of another.

32. We shall observe this difference more evidently, if we direct our discourses upon the most ancient and greatest works of common society, which are the works of generation and procreation of offspring. For in the first place, those fish that frequent the shores next adjoining to vast lakes or great rivers, when they are near their time of bringing forth, retire up into those places, seeking the fresh waters which are more gentle and void of brine. For tranquillity is most convenient for such as bring forth, and there is most safety in rivers and lakes for their young ones, as being freest from the devouring monsters of the sea. Which is the reason that there is the greatest plenty of fish about the Euxine Sea, where there are no whales, but only small sea-calves or little dolphins. Besides, the mixture of rivers, many in number, and those very large, that fall into the Pontus, make the temperature more kindly and proper for breeding and bringing forth. And that is most wonderful which is reported of the anthias, which Homer[92] calls the sacred fish, though some interpret sacred to signify great in that place, as we call a certain great bone _os sacrum_, and the epilepsy, being a great disease, the _sacred disease_, though others interpret that to be sacred which ought not to be touched, as being dedicated to holy use. And Eratosthenes seems to take the gilthead, so called from the golden hair about his eyes, for the sacred fish; though many believe it to be the ellops,—a fish seldom seen and difficult to be caught, yet many times it appears in the rivers of Pamphylia. So they that catch them are crowned, and their boats are also adorned with garlands, and as they pass along they are received and honored with loud shouts and clapping of hands. However it be, most people take the anthias to be a sacred fish, because that where the anthias appears, there are no sea-monsters, but the sponge-cutters dive boldly, and the fish as fearlessly spawn, as having a pledge for their security. And the reason is twofold, either because the sea-monsters dread the anthias, as elephants dread a hog, and lions a cock; or else it is a sign that there are no sea-monsters in those places, which the anthias knows and observes, as being an intelligent fish, endued with sense and a good memory.

33. Then again, the care of their young is common to both sexes. For the males never devour their offspring, but remain and abide constantly by the spawn, protecting it with a diligent watchfulness, as Aristotle relates; and those that accompany the females moisten the spawn with a small quantity of milky seed; for that otherwise the spawn will not grow, but remains imperfect and never arrives at the due proportion. Particularly the fish called phycides make themselves nests in the seaweed to preserve their spawn from the waves.

But the love of the galeus toward her young ones is beyond the affection and clemency of any the tamest of creatures; for they lay an egg, which being hatched, they nourish and carry the young about not outwardly, but within their own bowels, as if they could not breed their young without a second birth.

When the young ones are somewhat grown, they put them forth again, and teach them to swim close by themselves, then resume them again through their mouths into their bellies, and afford them nourishment and safe retirement in their bodies, till they are able to shift for themselves.

No less admirable is the care of the tortoise, as to the bringing forth and preserving her young. For she retires out of the sea to lay; but not being able to stay long upon the land, she hides her eggs in the sand, covering them over gently with the lightest of the gravel; and when she has thus sufficiently and assuredly concealed them, some report that she marks and streaks the place with her feet, that she may be able to know it again; others affirm that the female, being turned upon her back upon the sand by the male, leaves her particular marks and signatures behind her. However it be, this is most wonderful, that after waiting forty days (for in so many the eggs come to break) she returns, and knowing where the treasure lies, as well as any man understands where he hides his gold, she opens them with great joy and alacrity.

34. Many observations like to these are made of the crocodile. But such is its skill in choosing a place for breeding, that no man can explain it by reason or conjecture. Whence it comes that the foreknowledge of this creature is imputed more to divinity than reason. For neither farther nor nearer, but just so far as the Nile that year will increase and cover the land, thither she goes forth and lays her eggs; which the countrymen finding, are able to tell one another how far the river will overflow that year. So truly does that animal measure for herself, that though she live in the water, she may lay her eggs dry. But the young ones being hatched, whichsoever of them, so soon as they are come to life, does not seize whatever comes next—either upon a fly, or a worm, or a straw, or a tuft of grass—with his mouth, the dam presently tears him to pieces with her teeth. But those that are fierce and active she loves and cherishes, according to the judgment of the wisest men, imparting her affection by the rules of judgment, not by the sway of passion.

The sea-calves also bring forth upon the dry lands; but then fetching out their young ones by degrees, they give them a taste of the sea-water, and presently lead them out again; and this they often do, till custom has made them bold, and brought them to love a sea life.

Frogs when they couple use a certain croaking invitation, which is commonly called ololygon; and when the male has thus enticed the female, they abide together all night. For in the water they cannot, and in the daytime they are afraid to engender upon the land, which in the night-time they do without control. At other times they croak more shrill and loud; and this is a sign of rain, and holds among the most assured prognostics of wet weather.

35. But what absurdity, dearest Neptune, would this passion of mine lead me into! How ridiculous should I appear, if trifling among sea-calves and frogs, I should omit one of the marine animals, the wisest and most beloved by the Gods! For what nightingales are to be compared with the halcyon for music? or who will presume to prefer the swallow’s love of offspring, the dove’s love of her mate, or the art and curiosity of the bees, to those virtues ascribed to the halcyon? One only island, as history tells us, received and entertained Latona when she gave birth; which island, floating before, was then made firm land. But when the halcyon brings forth, about the winter solstice, the whole ocean remains calm and undisturbed without the wrinkle of a wave. So that there is not any other creature for which man has so great an affection, seeing that for her sake for seven days and seven nights together, in the depth of winter, they sail without fear of shipwreck, and make their voyages upon the sea with greater safety than they travel upon the land.

But if it be required that we should make a brief recital of her particular virtues, she is so great an example of conjugal affection, that she does not keep company with her mate for a single season, but for the whole year together, and that not for wantonness (for she never couples but with her own), but out of affection and friendship, like a truly virtuous married wife. And when her mate through age becomes infirm and not able to bear her company, she takes care of him, and feeds and carries him about in his old age, never forsaking nor leaving him alone, but taking him upon her shoulders, carries him from place to place, never abandoning him till death.

As to her affection towards her young ones and care of their preservation, so soon as she perceives herself near the time of her bringing forth, she presently betakes herself to the making of her nest. For the building of which, she neither makes use of mud and dirt nor props it up with walls and rafters, like the swallows; nor does she use several members of her body to work with, like the bees, that employ their whole body to enter the wax and open their cells, with their six feet fashioning their six-sided apartments. For the halcyon having but one single instrument, one single tool, which is her bill, nor any other help to assist her in labor and her care of her young ones, what a wonderful master-piece of workmanship does she erect? Insomuch that it is a difficult thing for them that have not well considered it to believe their eyesight; her workmanship seeming rather the art of a shipwright than of a common builder; of all inventions being the only form not to be overwhelmed and washed by the waves. To this purpose she gathers together the thorns of the sea-needle—some straight, others oblique, like the woof in the loom—and twists and binds them where the thread and yarn are interwoven one within another, till she has framed a nest round and oblong, resembling the usual fisher-boats. This when she has finished she launches into the sea, where the waves beating gently upon it direct to reform what is amiss, by consolidating the loose and ill compacted parts, where the water has forced any entrance; insomuch that at length she fastens and strengthens what she has put together in such a manner, that it is not to be broken or pierced either by stones or steel. Nor is the symmetry and form of the inside and cavity of the nest less to be admired. For it is so contrived as only to receive herself; the entrance into it not being to be found by any other creature, nor can the sea itself find a way into it. I am apt to believe that there is none of you who never saw this nest. But for my own part, that have often seen and handled one of them, I may safely say, that I

In Delos’ temple near Apollo’s shrine,
Something like this, a fabric most divine,

have seen. That is to say, the horned altar, celebrated for one of the seven wonders of the world, which without the help of parget, glue, soder, paste, or any other binding, is framed only of horns that grew on the right side of the head of the beast.

Now may the Deity that is somewhat musical and an islander be propitious to me, ... while I deride the questions which those scoffers put,—wherefore Apollo may not be called mullet-shooter, when we find that Venus is called the mullet-protectrix; for which reason she is honored with temples adjoining to the sea, and sacred rights; and certain it is, that she is displeased when any mullet is killed. Therefore at Leptis the priests of Neptune never eat any thing that breeds in the sea; and you know the mullet is in great veneration among the professors of the Eleusinian mysteries; moreover, that the priestess of Juno at Argos abstains from the same fish; and the reason is because the mullets kill and destroy the sea-hare, which is pernicious to man, and therefore they spare those creatures that are kind and beneficial to him.

36. Then again, we find among many of the Greeks temples and altars frequently dedicated to Diana Dictynna (so called from δίκτυον, _a net_) and Delphinian Apollo. And that same place which Apollo has peculiarly chosen for himself was first of all inhabited by Cretans, having a dolphin for their leader. For the Deity did not swim before his army in another shape (as the mythologists dream), but sending a dolphin to direct them in their course, the dolphin brought them to Cirrha. Story also tells us that Soteles and Dionysius, who were sent to Sinope by Ptolemy Soter to fetch from thence Serapis, were driven by contrary winds beyond Cape Malea, having the Peloponnesus upon their right hands; while they were thus wandering and out of their course, a dolphin appeared before the prow of the headmost vessel, and (as it were) kindly inviting them, conducted them into safe harbors and roads, till by his good guidance and leading them he at length brought the whole fleet to Cirrha. There, when they came to offer the usual sacrifices for their safe landing, they came to understand that, of two statues which were in the place, they were to take that of Pluto and carry it along with them; but as for that of Proserpina, they were only to take the mould and leave the statue itself behind. Probable it is that the Deity had a kindness for the dolphin, considering how much he delights in music. For which reason Pindar likens himself to the dolphin, and confesses himself to be moved in the same manner as that noble creature,

Which flutes’ beloved sound
Excites to play,
Upon the calm and placid sea.

Though it is very probable that his affection to men is more pleasing to the Deity, he being the only creature that bears an affection to man as man. For as for the land animals, some kinds there are that fly him altogether, and the tamest and most gentle follow him and are familiar with him, only for the benefit and nourishment which they receive from him; as the dog, the horse, and elephant. The swallows, by necessity constrained, build in houses, seeking shade and security, but are no less afraid of men than of the wild beasts. Only to the dolphin has Nature bequeathed that excellent quality, so much sought for by the best of philosophers, to love for no advantage; for that having no need at all of man, he is a kind friend to all men, and has lent his assistance to many. There is no man that is ignorant of the famous story of Arion. And you, my dear friend, have seasonably put us in mind of Hesiod; but

Thou didst not by a legal course
Rightly conclude thy long discourse.[93]

For when you had spoken so much in praise of the dog, you should not have passed by the dolphin. For it would have been a blind story of the dog that barked and flew with violence upon the murderers, had it not been for the dolphins, that took the carcass of Hesiod, floating in the sea near Nemeum, and readily receiving it from one another, landed it at Rhium, whereby the murder came to be known.

Myrtilus the Lesbian writes, that Enalus the Aeolian, being in love with the daughter of Phineus, who, by the command of the oracle of Amphitrite was cast into the sea by the Penthilidae, when he understood it, threw himself also into the sea, but was saved by a dolphin, and carried to Lesbos.

But the gentleness and kindness of the dolphin towards the lad of Jasus was so extraordinary that it might be said to amount even to amorous love. For he played and swam with him in the daytime, and suffered himself to be handled and bestrid by him; nor did he swim away with him, but joyfully carried him which way soever the lad by the motion of his body turned him, while the Iasians flocked from all parts to the shore to behold the sight. At length the lad, being thrown from the dolphin’s back by a terrible shower of rain and hail, was drowned. Which the dolphin perceiving took up the dead youth, and threw himself upon the land together with the body, from which he never stirred till he died out of his own element; deeming it but just to partake of that end of which he seemed to have been the occasion to his friend and playfellow. Nor can the Iasians forget the accident, but keep it still in remembrance by the stamp upon their coin, which is a lad upon a dolphin’s back.

And from hence it was that the fabulous stories of Coeranus gained credit. He was a Parian by birth, who residing at Byzantium, when a draught of dolphins caught in a net were exposed to sale and in danger of slaughter, bought them up all, and put them into the sea again. It happened not long after that Coeranus took a voyage in a vessel of fifty oars, carrying, as the story goes, several pirates. But between Naxos and the Bay of Paros he suffered shipwreck; and when all the rest were drowned, he alone was taken up by a dolphin that hastened to his succor, and carried to Sicynthus, and set ashore near the cave which to this day bears the name of Coeraneum. Upon which Archilochus is said to have made these lines:

Of fifty men, great Neptune gentle grown
Left courteous Coeranus alive alone.

Some years after Coeranus dying, his relations burnt his body near the seaside; at what time several dolphins appeared near the shore, as if they had come to his funeral; nor would they stir till the funeral was over. Moreover Stesichorus writes that Ulysses bore a dolphin painted upon his shield; and for what reason the Zacynthian records tell us, as Critheus testifies. For they say that Telemachus, when he was but a boy, falling into the sea, was saved by the dolphins that took him up and set him ashore. And therefore he made use of a dolphin for the impression of his seal and the ornament of his shield. But having promised before that I would produce no fabulous stories, and yet being carried, I know not how, to discourse beyond probability of dolphins by this repetition of the stories of Coeranus and Ulysses, I will do justice upon myself by concluding here.

37. ARISTOTIMUS. Now, gentlemen, it lies on your part that are judges, to pronounce sentence.

SOCLARUS. Assuredly then, for our parts, we shall give the same judgment in this, as Sophocles did in another case:

Discourse upon discording arguments
Is then determined best, when what was said
Is duly weighed and stated on both sides.

For thus comparing what you have both discoursed one against another, it will be found that you have acquitted yourselves on both sides like true champions against those that would deprive brute animals of sense and understanding.

THAT BRUTE BEASTS MAKE USE OF REASON

ULYSSES, CIRCE, GRYLLUS.

1. ULYSSES. All these things, Circe, I believe that I have learned and well remember. But I would willingly ask thee, whether thou hast any Grecians here, which being men thou hast transformed into wolves and lions.

CIRCE. Very many, dearest Ulysses, but wherefore do you ask the question?

ULYSSES. Because in good truth I am of opinion I should gain a high reputation among the Greeks, if by thy favor I could restore these men to human shape again, and not suffer them through any negligence of mine to wax old in the bodies of beasts, where they lead a miserable and ignominious life.

CIRCE. Surely, this man, fool as he is, believes it requisite that his ambition should be unfortunate not only to himself and his friends, but to those that nothing belong to him.

ULYSSES. Thou art now jumbling and mixing another villanous potion of twittle twattle, and wouldst plainly turn me into a beast too, if thou couldst make me believe that it were a misfortune to be transformed from a beast to a man.

CIRCE. What hast thou made thyself better than a beast, who, forsaking an immortal life, free from the miseries of old age, with me, art making such haste through a thousand threatening calamities to a mortal and (as I may say) old wife, pursuing an empty good and a shadow instead of real truth, and all this, thinking to be more conspicuous and famous than thou art.

ULYSSES. Well, Circe, let it be as thou sayest; for why should we be always contending about the same thing? However, do me the favor to restore these men, and give them into my custody.

CIRCE. By Hecate, not so fast neither; these are no ordinary fellows. But ask them first whether they are willing. If they refuse, do you, being such an eloquent gentleman, discourse them and persuade them; if you cannot persuade them, being too hard for ye at your own weapon, then let it suffice ye that you have ill consulted your own and the good of your friends.

ULYSSES. Blessed woman, wherefore dost thou mock me thus? For how can they either talk or hear reason, so long as they are asses, hogs, and lions?

CIRCE. Be of good comfort, most ambitious of men; I will so order the business, that they shall both understand and discourse; or rather, let one suffice to hear and return answers instead of all the rest. Look ye, here is one at hand; pray talk to him.

ULYSSES. Prithee, Circe, by what name shall we call him? Who is this fellow of all the men in the world?

CIRCE. What’s this to the purpose? Call him Gryllus, if you please; and for my part, I’ll leave ye together, that ye may not suspect him for speaking contrary to his mind to please me.

2. GRYLLUS. Save ye, Mr. Ulysses.

ULYSSES. And you too, by Jove, Mr. Gryllus.

GRYLLUS. What is’t your worship would have with me?

ULYSSES. Knowing you were all born men, I pity the condition ye are now in; and I pity ye the more, for that being Greeks ye are fallen under this misfortune; and therefore I made it my request to Circe that she would restore ye again to your former shape, as many of you as were desirous, to the end ye might return home again with us.

GRYLLUS. Hold, Mr. Ulysses, not a word more of this, I beseech your worship. For we all contemn thee, as one that none but fools call cunning, and as vainly vauntest thyself to be wiser than other men, and yet art afraid of being changed from worse to better; like children that are frightened at physician’s doses and hate going to school, although the medicines and the precepts make them healthy and learned of diseased and fools; just so thou refusest to be transformed out of one thing into another. And now thy bones rattle in thy skin for dread of living with Circe, lest she should transform thee into a hog or a wolf; and thou wouldst persuade us living in plenty of all enjoyments not only to forsake these blessings, but to abandon her that has so well provided for us, to sail along with thee, and to become men again, the most miserable of all creatures.

ULYSSES. In my opinion, Gryllus, this same wicked cup has not only deprived thee of thy shape, but of thy sense and reason too; or else thou art got drunk with those opinions which are everywhere exploded as nasty and villanous, unless some voluptuous pleasure of custom and habit has bewitched thee to this body.

GRYLLUS. Neither of these, O king of the Cephallenians. But if thou art come hither to dispute, and not to rail and swagger, we shall soon convince thee, having experience of both manners of living, that our way is to be preferred before that which thou so much applaudest.

ULYSSES. Nay, then go on; I’ll listen with both ears to hear this paradox discussed.

3. GRYLLUS. Have at ye then, sir. But it behooves us to begin first with those virtues which you so presumptuously assume to yourselves, and for which you so highly advance yourselves before the beasts, such as justice, prudence, fortitude, &c. Now answer me, thou the wisest among mortals; for I have heard thee telling a story to Circe of the territory of the Cyclops, that being neither ploughed nor planted by any person, it is so fertile and generously productive, that it bears all sorts of fruits and herbs spontaneously. Now which do you prefer, this country, or your own goat-feeding stony Ithaca, which being cultivated with great labor and hardship, yet answers the expectations of the husbandmen with only a mean and scanty return? Now take it not amiss that I forewarn ye lest your love to your country sway ye to give an answer contrary to truth.

ULYSSES. No, no, I will not lie for the matter; I must confess I love and honor my own country more; but I applaud and admire theirs far beyond it.

GRYLLUS. Hence we must conclude that it is so as the wisest of men has affirmed; that there are some things to be praised and approved, others to be preferred by choice and affection. And I suppose you believe the same concerning the soul. For the same reasons hold in reference to the soul as to the ground; that such a soul should be the best, that produces virtue like spontaneous fruit, without labor and toil.

ULYSSES. Grant all this.

GRYLLUS. Then you confess that the souls of beasts are the more perfect, and more fertilely endued for the production of virtue; seeing that without any command or instruction—as it were without sowing or ploughing—it produces and increases that virtue which is requisite for every one.

ULYSSES. Prithee, Gryllus, don’t rave, but tell me what those virtues are that beasts partake of?

4. GRYLLUS. Rather what virtues do they not partake of in a higher degree than the wisest of men? Look upon fortitude in the first place, of which you vaunt and brag to have such a terrible share, being not ashamed of the magnificent titles of Ulysses the bold and city-stormer, when indeed, like a pitiful knave as thou art, thou dost only circumvent by tricks and artifices men that understand only the simple and generous way of making war, ignorant altogether of fraud and faith-breaking, and by that means coverest thy deceit with the name of virtue, which never admits of any such coney-catching devices. But do you observe the combats and warfare of beasts, as well one against another as against yourselves, how free from craft and deceit they are, and how with an open and naked courage they defend themselves by mere strength of body; and how, neither afraid of the law that calls them forth to battle nor the severe edicts against deserters, but only out of scorn to be overcome, they fight with obstinacy to the last for conquest and victory. For they are not vanquished when their bodies are worsted, neither does despair cowardize them, but they die upon the spot. And you shall see many times that the strength of many, while they are expiring, being retired and crowded together in some part of the body, still makes resistance against the victor, and pants and fumes till at length it fails like extinguished fire that goes out for want of fuel. But there is no crying for quarter, no begging of mercy, no acknowledgment of being beaten; nor will the lion be a slave to the lion, nor the horse to the horse, as one man is a slave to another, willingly and patiently embracing servitude, which derives its name (δουλεία) from that of cowardice (δειλία). On the other side, such beasts as men by nets and treacherous snares get into their power, if fully grown, rather choose to die than serve, refusing nourishment and suffering extremity of drought. But as for their young ones,—being tractable and supple by reason of their age, and fed with the deceitful mixtures and food that men provide for them, their inbred fierceness languishing through the taste of preternatural delights,—they suffer that which is called domestication, which is only an effeminating of their natural fury.

Whence it is apparent that beasts are naturally inclined to be courageous and daring, but that the martial confidence of men is preternatural. Which, most noble Ulysses, you may chiefly observe from hence; for that in beasts Nature keeps an equal balance of strength; so that the female, being but little inferior to the male, undergoes all necessary toils, and fights in defence of her young ones. And thus you hear of a certain Cromyonian sow, which, though a female, held Theseus tack, and found him work sufficient. Neither had the wisdom of that same female Sphinx that sat on Phicium, with all her riddles and enigmas, availed her, had she not far excelled the Cadmeans in strength and fortitude. Not far from whence the Telmesian fox had his den, a great propounder of questions also; not to omit the female serpent that fought with Apollo for his oracle at Delphi. Your king also took the mare Aetha from the Sicyonian, as a bribe to discharge him from going to the wars; and he did well, thereby showing how much he esteemed a valiant and generous mare above a timorous coward. You yourself have also seen female panthers and lionesses little inferior to the males in strength and courage; when your own wife, though a Lacedaemonian, when you were hectoring and blustering abroad, sat at home in the chimney-corner, not daring to do so much as the very swallows in encountering those who plagued both her and her family. Why need I still speak of the Carian and Maeonian women? Whence it is apparent that fortitude is not natural to men, for then the women would partake of the same strength with men. So that the fortitude which you exercise is only constrained by law, not natural and voluntary, but subservient to the manners of the place and enslaved to reproach, a thing made up only of glorious words and adventitious opinion. And you undergo labor and throw yourself into danger, not out of real valor and boldness, but because ye are more afraid of other things. Therefore, as among thy own companions he that first makes haste to snatch up the light oar does it not because he contemns it, but because he is loath to be troubled with the more heavy; so he that endures a blow to avoid a wound, and defends himself against an enemy to preserve himself from wounds and death, does it not out of daring courage against the one, but out of fear of the other. Thus your fortitude is only a prudent fear; and your courage a knowing timidity, which understandingly does one thing to avoid another.

In short, if you believe yourselves superior to the beasts in fortitude, why do your poets call those that behave themselves most valiantly against their enemies wolf-breasted, lion-hearted, and compare them to wild boars; but never call the courage of lions man-like, or resemble the strength of a wild boar to that of a man? But as they call the swift wind-footed, and the beautiful Godlike-formed, hyperbolizing in their similes; so when they extol the gallantry of the stout in battle, they derive their comparisons from the superior in bravery. The reason is, because courage is as it were the tincture and edge of fortitude; which the beasts make use of unmixed in their combats, but in you being mixed with reason, like wine diluted with water, it gives way to danger and loses the opportunity. And some of you there are who deny that courage is requisite in battle, and therefore laying it aside make use of sober reason; which they do well for their preservation, but are shamefully beside the cushion, in point of strength and revenge. How absurd is it therefore for you to complain of Nature, because she did not furnish your bodies with goads and teeth and crooked claws to defend yourselves, when at the same time you would disarm the soul of her natural weapons?

5. ULYSSES. In good truth, Gryllus, you are grown, in my conceit, a notable sophister, to discourse at this rate out of a hog’s snout, and yet to handle your argument so strenuously. But why have you not all this while spoke a word of temperance?

GRYLLUS. Because I thought you would have contradicted first what I have already said. But you are in haste to hear what I have to say concerning temperance, because that, being the husband of a most temperate and chaste wife, you believe you have set us an example of temperance by abstaining from Circe’s embraces. And yet in this you differ nothing from all the beasts; for neither do they desire to approach their superiors, but they pursue their pleasures and amours among those of their own tribe. No wonder is it then, if—like the Mendesian goat in Egypt, which is reported to have been shut up with several most beautiful women, yet never to have offered copulation with them, but when he was at liberty, with a lustful fury flew upon the she-goats—so thou, though a man addicted greatly to venereal pleasures, yet being a man, hast no desire to sleep with a goddess. And for the chastity of thy Penelope, the ten thousand rooks and daws that chatter it abroad do but make it ridiculous and expose it to contempt, their being not one of those birds but, if she looses her mate, continues a widow, not for a small time, but for nine ages of men; so that there is not one of those female rooks that does not surpass in chastity thy fair Penelope above nine times.

6. But because thou believest me to be a sophister, I shall observe a certain order in my discourse, first giving thee the definition of temperance, and then dividing desire according to the several kinds of it. Temperance then is the contracting and well governing our desires, pruning off those that are superfluous and encroaching upon our wills, and ruling those that are necessary by the standards of reason and moderation. Now in desires you observe a vast number of distinctions. For it is both natural and necessary to drink; but as for venereal desires, which derive their originals from Nature, there is a time when they may be restrained without any inconvenience; these are therefore called natural but not necessary. But there is another sort, which are neither natural nor necessary, but infused from without by vain opinion through the mistake of right and true; and it is these that want but very little of ruining all your natural desires with their number, like a multitude of foreigners outnumbering the natives and expelling them from their habitations. But the beasts, having their souls unmixed and not to be overcome by these adventitious passions, and living lives as distant from vain opinion as from the sea, are inferior to you in living elegantly and superfluously, but they are extremely wary in preserving temperance and the right government of their desires, as being neither troubled with many, nor those foreign to their natures. And therefore formerly I was no less smitten with the glister of gold than thou art now, as believing nothing else that a man could possess to be comparable to it. Silver also and ivory inveigled me with the same desires; and he that enjoyed these things in the greatest measure seemed to be a man most happy and beloved of God, whether a Phrygian or a Carian, whether more meanly descended than Dolon or more miserable than Priam. From thenceforward being altogether swayed by my desires, I reaped no other pleasure nor delight in any other blessings of my life, with which I abounded, believing that I wanted still and missed my share of those that were the chiefest and the greatest. Therefore, I remember, when I beheld thee in Crete, at some solemnity, most pompously attired, I neither envied thy wisdom nor thy virtue; but the extraordinary fineness and exquisite workmanship of thy tunic, and the glistering of thy purple upper garment, and the beauty of the ornaments struck me with admiration. And the golden clasp, methought, was a pretty toy that had something of extraordinary graving in it; and bewitched with these baubles, I followed thee as the women did. But now being altogether estranged from those vain opinions, and having my understanding purified, I tread both gold and silver under my feet as I do the common stones; nor did I ever sleep more soundly upon thy carpets and tapestries, than now I do, rolled over head and ears in the deep and soft mud. None of those adventitious desires reside in our souls, but for the most part our manner of living is accustomed to necessary pleasures and desires; and as for those pleasures which are not necessary but only natural, we make such a use of them as is neither without order nor moderation.

7. And therefore let us consider these in the first place. The pleasure then that affects the sense of smelling with sweet odors and fragrant exhalations, besides that it has something in it which is pure in itself, and as it were bestowed upon us gratis, contributes also in some measure to the distinction of nourishment. For the tongue is said to be the judge of sweet, sour, and tart, only when the juices have come to be mingled and concorporate with the tasting faculty, and not before. But our smell, before the taste, becoming sensible of the virtue and qualities of every thing, and being more accurate than the tasters attending upon princes, admits what is familiar to Nature, and expels whatever is disagreeable to it; neither will it suffer it to touch or molest the taste, but accuses and declares the offensiveness of the thing smelt, before it do any harm. As to other things, it troubles us not at all as it does you whom it constrains for the sake of the sweet scents of cinnamon nard, malobathrum, and Arabian reed, to seek out for things dissimilar, and to jumble them together with a kind of apothecary’s or perfumer’s art, and at vast expense to purchase an unmanly and effeminate delight, for nothing profitable or useful. Now being such, this sense of smelling has not only corrupted all the female sex but the greatest part of men, insomuch that they care not to converse with their own wives, unless perfumed with precious ointments and odoriferous compositions. Whereas sows, she-goats, and other females attract the boars, he-goats, and the males of their own kind, by their own proper scents; and smelling of the pure dew, the meadows, and the fresh grass, they are incited to copulation out of common affection; the females without the coynesses of women, or the practice of little frauds and fascinations, to inflame the lust of their mates; and the males, not with amorous rage and frenzy stimulated, and enforced to purchase the act of generation with expensive hire or servile assiduity, but enjoying their seasonable amours without deceit or purchase of the satisfaction of their venery. For Nature in the spring-time, even as she puts forth the buds of plants, likewise awakens the desires of animals, but presently quenches them again, neither the female admitting the male nor the male attempting the female after conception. And thus pleasure has but a small and slender esteem among us; but Nature is all in all. So that even to this very day, we beasts were never yet tainted with coupling male with male, and female with female. Of which nevertheless there are many examples to be produced among the greatest and most celebrated persons; for I pass by those not worth remembrance.

Agamemnon hunted all Boeotia in pursuit of Argynnus, who fled his embraces; and after he had falsely accused the sea and winds, bravely flung himself into the lake Copais, to quench his love and free himself from the ardor of his lust.

Hercules in like manner pursuing his beardless friend, forsook his choicest associates and abandoned the fleet.

In the vaulted room belonging to Apollo surnamed Ptous, one of you men secretly wrote this inscription, Achilles the fair; when Achilles at that time had a son. [And I hear the inscription is still remaining.][94] Yet if a cock tread a cock in the absence of the hen, he is burned alive, upon the signification of the soothsayer that it portends some fatal calamity. This is a plain confession in men themselves, that the beasts excel them in chastity, and that force is not to be put upon Nature for the sake of pleasure. But your incontinence is such, that Nature, though she have the law to assist her, is not able to keep it within bounds; insomuch that, like a rapid inundation, those inordinate desires overwhelm Nature with continual violence, trouble, and confusion. For men have copulated with she-goats, sows, and mares; and women have run mad after male beasts. And from such copulations sprang the Minotaurs and Silvans, and, as I am apt to believe, the Sphinxes and Centaurs. It is true, that sometimes, constrained by hunger, a dog or a bird has fed upon human flesh; but never yet did any beast attempt to couple with human kind. But men constrain and force the beasts to these and many other unlawful pleasures.

8. Now being thus wicked and incontinent in reference to the aforesaid lustful desires, it is no less easy to be proved that men are more intemperate than beasts, even in those things which are necessary, that is to say, in eating and drinking, the pleasure of which we always enjoy with some benefit to ourselves. But you pursuing the pleasures of eating and drinking beyond the satisfaction of nature, are punished with many and tedious diseases, which, arising from the single fountain of superfluous gormandizing, fill your bodies with all manner of wind and vapors not easy for purgation to expel. In the first place, all sorts of beasts, according to their kind, feed upon one sort of food, which is proper to their natures; some upon grass, some upon roots, and others upon fruits. They that feed upon flesh never mind any other sort of food. Neither do they rob the weaker animals of their nourishment. But the lion suffers the hart, and the wolf the sheep, to feed upon what Nature has provided for them. But man, such is his voracity, falls upon all, to satisfy the pleasures of his appetite; tries all things, tastes all things; and, as if he were yet to seek what was the most proper diet and most agreeable to his nature, among all the creatures is the only all-devourer. And first he makes use of flesh, not for want, as having the liberty to take his choice of herbs and fruits, the plenty of which is inexhaustible; but out of luxury and being cloyed with necessaries, he seeks after inconvenient and impure diet, purchased by the slaughter of living creatures; by that means showing himself more cruel than the most savage of wild beasts. For blood, murder, and flesh are proper to nourish the kite, the wolf, and dragon; but to men they are delicious viands. Then making use of all, he does not do like the beasts, which abstain from most creatures and are at enmity only with a few, and that only compelled by the necessities of hunger; but neither fowl nor fish nor any thing that lives upon the land escapes your tables, though they bear the epithets of human and hospitable.