the blessing of sleep no tongue can describe what a world of trouble must be taken. But Agesilaus was a lover of toil, and therefore not so dainty; the meanest beverage was sweet to his lips, and pleasant enough to his taste was the chance fare of the moment; and for the purpose of refreshing slumber every place alike conducive. It was not merely that to fare thus gave him pure pleasure, but in the sense of contrast lay a double satisfaction. Here was he roaming earth freely in the midst of a world of delight,[6] and there lay the Persian, under his eyes, who to escape a life of pain must drag together from the uttermost parts of earth the separate ingredients for his pleasure. It was another source of joy that to himself it was given to confront the appointed order of the universe[7] without pain; while through weakness of soul his rival, it was plain to see, was driven to flee away from heat and cold, and to shape his life, not by the pattern of brave men, but of some mean and defenceless animal.[8]
[5] See Herod. i. 135, for the luxury of the Persians and for the refinements of civilisation. See 'Mem.' II. i. 10; 'Cyrop.' VIII. i. 40.
[6] Or, 'in a round of festivity.'
[7] See Plut. 'Ages.' xiv. (Clough, iv. p. 17); 'Apophth. Lac.' p. 102; Eur. 'Supp.' 214, 215.
{de ou truphomen, theou kataskeuen bio dontos toiauten, oisin ouk arkei tade};
[8] Or, 'the most defenceless of God's creatures.' Lit. 'the weakest of animals.'
And what a fine trait this was in him, and betokening how lofty a sentiment, that, being content to adorn his own house with works and possessions suited to a man, and being devoted to the breeding of dogs and horses in large numbers for the chase and warfare, he persuaded his sister Cynisca to rear chariot horses,[9] and thus by her victory[10] showed that to keep a stud of that sort, however much it might be a mark of wealth, was hardly a proof of manly virtue. And surely in the following opinion we may discern plainly the generosity of him who entertained it. To win victories over private persons in a chariot race does not add one tittle to a man's renown. He, rather, who holds his city dear beyond all things else, who has himself sunk deep into the heart of her affections, who has obtained to himself all over the world a host of friends and those the noblest, who can outdo his country and comrades alike in the race of kindliness, and his antagonists in vengeance--such a man may, in a true sense, be said to bear away the palm of victory in conquests noble and magnificent; living and in death to him belongs transcendent fame.
[9] I.e. 'for the games.'
[10] I.e. 'at Olympia.' Cynisca, according to Pausanias (iii. 8), was the first woman who won a prize at Olympia. See also Plut. 'Ages.' xx. (Clough, iv. p. 23).
X
It is as possessiong qualities such as these that I praise Agesilaus. And in these matters he was not like a man who chances upon a treasure and thereby becomes wealthier, albeit none the more skilful in economy; nor yet like him who, when a plague has fallen upon an enemy, wrests a victory, whereby he may add to his reputation for success, but not for strategy. Rather was his example that of one who in each emergency will take the lead; at a crisis where toil is needful, by endurance; or in the battle-lists of bravery by prowess; or when the function of the counsellor is uppermost, by the soundness of his judgment. Of such a man I say, he has obtained by warrant indefeasible the title peerless.
And if, as a means towards good workmanship, we count among the noble inventions of mankind the rule and the plummet,[1] no less happily shall we, who desire to attain a manly excellence, find in the virtue of Agesilaus a pattern and example. He was God-fearing, he was just in all his dealings, sound of soul and self-controlled. How then shall we who imitate him become his opposite, unholy, unjust, tyrannical, licentious? And, truth to say, this man prided himself, not so much on being a king over others as on ruling himself,[2] not so much on leading his citizens to attack the enemy as on guiding them to embrace all virtue.
[1] See Aeschin. 'c. Ctes.' p. 52, 25; Plat. 'Phileb.' 56 B.
[2] See Plut. 'Apophth. Lac.' p. 104.
Yet let it not be supposed, because he whom we praise has finished life, that our discourse must therefore be regarded as a funeral hymn.[3] Far rather let it be named a hymn of praise, since in the first place it is only the repetition, now that he is dead, of a tale familiar to his ears when living. And in the next place, what is more remote from dirge and lamentation than a life of glory crowned by seasonable death? What more deserving of song and eulogy than resplendent victories and deeds of highest note? Surely if one man rather than another may be accounted truly blest, it is he who, from his boyhood upwards, thirsted for glory, and beyond all contemporary names won what he desired; who, being gifted with a nature most emulous of honour, remained from the moment he was king unconquered; who attained the fullest term of mortal life and died without offence[4] committed, whether as concerning those at whose head he marched, or as towards those others against whom he fought in war.
[3] See Symonds' 'Greek Poets,' ch. v.
[4] As to the word {anamartetos} so translated, see Breitenbach, Exc. ad x. 4 of his edition.
XI
It only remains for me, under the form of headings,[1] to review the topic of this great man's virtue, in hopes that thus his eulogy may cling to the memory more lastingly.
[1] Or, as others think, 'in a summary.'
Agesilaus reverenced the shrines and sacred places even of the enemy. We ought, he said, to make the gods our allies on hostile no less than on friendly soil.
He would do no violence to a suppliant, no, not even if he were his own foe; since how irrational must it be to stigmatise robbers of temples as sacrilegious and yet to regard him who tears the suppliant from the altar as a pious person.
One tenet he never wearied of repeating: the gods, he said, are not less pleased with holy deeds than with pure victims.
In the day of his prosperity his thoughts were not raised higher than befits a man; he gave thanks to the gods; and offered more victims when he had nothing to fear than he registered vows in time of apprehension.
He was accustomed in the midst of anxiety to wear an aspect of gaiety, but, when the victory was won, of gentleness.
Amongst friends his warmest greeting was reserved, not for the most powerful, but for the most ardent; and if he hated, it was not him who, being evil entreated, retaliated, but one who, having had kindness done to him, seemed incapable of gratitude.
He rejoiced when sordid greed was rewarded with poverty; and still more if he might himself enrich a righteous man, since his wish was to render uprightness more profitable than iniquity.
He made it a practice to associate with all kinds of people, but to be intimate only with the best.
As he listened to the praise of this man, or the censure of another, he felt that he learnt quite as much about the character of the speakers themselves as of those whom they discussed.
To be cheated by a friend was scarcely censurable, but he could find no comdemnation strong enough for him who was outwitted by a foe. Or again, to dupe the incredulous might argue wit, but to take in the unsuspecting was veritably a crime.
The praise of a critic who had courage to point out his defects pleased him; and plainness of speech excited in him no hostility. It was against the cunning rather of the secretive person that he guarded himself, as against a hidden snare.
The calumniator he detested more than the robber or the thief, in proportion as the loss of friends is greater than the loss of money.[2]
[2] Mr. R. W. Taylor aptly quotes 'Othello,' III. iii. 157--
'Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands; But he that filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him And makes me poor indeed.'
The errors of private persons he bore with gently, but those of rulers he looked upon as grave; since the mischief wrought in the one case was so small, and so large in the other. The proper attribute of royalty was, he maintained, not an avoidance of responsibility, but a constant striving after nobleness.[3]
