Chapter III: Introduction (2)

XVI. My brother finished his argument, and then Simmias nodded his head two or three times. ‘A great man,’ he said, ‘a great man is Epaminondas, and thanks to Polymnis here for that, who procured for his sons from the first the best training in Philosophy. However, with regard to this question, Sir, do you and they settle it between you. Now about Lysis, if we [Sidenote: E] may be allowed to hear. Do you mean to move him from his tomb and to transfer him to Italy; or will you allow him to remain here with us, where he shall find kind and friendly fellow-lodgers when our time comes?’ Theanor smiled on him: ‘Lysis appears, Simmias, to love this country, in which by the good offices of Epaminondas he has wanted nothing that is honourable. For there is a certain holy rite connected with our Pythagorean burials, which if we lack we do not seem to attain our full and blessed consummation. So when we knew from dreams of the death of Lysis (we distinguish by a certain sign which is revealed in sleep whether an appearance belongs [Sidenote: F] to a dead person or a living), this thought came over many of us: so Lysis has been buried in another land with strange rites; he must be moved here to us, that he may share in all that is customary. Coming with such an intention, and guided straight to the tomb by people of the place, I was pouring libations just at evening time, and calling on the soul of Lysis to return and declare solemnly how we ought to act. The night went on and I saw nothing, but thought I heard a voice: “Stir not what is best unstirred; the body of Lysis has been buried with holy rites by friends; his soul has already been parted from it and dismissed to another birth, with another spirit for its partner.” Accordingly, when I met Epaminondas at dawn [Sidenote: 586] and heard the manner in which he buried Lysis, I recognized that he had been well trained by that great teacher, even to the rules which must not be spoken, and had enjoyed the guidance in life from the same spirit as he, unless I fail to guess the pilot aright from the course steered. For “wide are the tracks”[40] of our lives, and few there are of them by which the spirits lead men.’ When Theanor had said this, he looked closely at Epaminondas, as though scrutinizing him afresh without and within.

[Sidenote: B] XVII. In the meantime the surgeon came up and loosened Simmias’ bandage, intending to dress the limb. But Phyllidas came in upon us with Hippostheneidas, and bidding me, and also Charon and Theocritus, rise and follow him, led us to a corner of the colonnade, his face showing great agitation. To my question, ‘Any news, Phyllidas?’ he answered, ‘No news to me; I knew and told you all the time how weak Hippostheneidas was, and implored you not to admit him as an associate of our enterprise.’ We were dismayed at this, and Hippostheneidas said: ‘In Heaven’s name, Phyllidas, do not say that; do not take rashness to be courage, and thereby ruin us and the city too; [Sidenote: C] but allow the men to make their own return in safety if it is so appointed.’ Phyllidas was nettled: ‘Tell me, Hippostheneidas,’ he said, ‘how many do you think share the inner secrets of our plan?’ ‘Not less than thirty, to my knowledge’, he said. ‘Very well,’ said Phyllidas, ‘there is all that number, and you have taken on your single self to annul and check the plan on which all had resolved, you sent a mounted messenger to the men when already on their road, bidding them turn back and not press on to-day, when most of the arrangements for their return have settled themselves without us.’ When Phyllidas had said this we were all much disturbed, but Charon fastened [Sidenote: D] his eyes very severely on Hippostheneidas: ‘Villain!’ he said, ‘what have you done to us?’ ‘Nothing terrible,’ answered Hippostheneidas, ‘if you will drop your harsh tone and listen to the calculations of a man of your own age, with grey hairs like yourself. If we have resolved to give our countrymen an exhibition of a courage which loves danger, and a spirit which makes little of life, then there is much of the day still before us, Phyllidas; let us not wait for the evening, but march at once against the tyrants, our swords in our hands—let us slay, let us die, let us never spare ourselves! But say we find no difficulty in this, whether of action or of endurance, yet to rescue Thebes [Sidenote: E] from an armed force, when encompassed by so many enemies, and to expel the Spartan garrison at a cost of two or three lives, is not easy; for Phyllidas has never prepared so much strong liquor for his parties and receptions that all the fifteen hundred men of Archias’ bodyguard will be made drunk; yet, even if we get rid of him, Herippidas is on for night duty and sober, and Arcesus too. This being so, why hurry to bring home friends and relatives to manifest destruction, and that when the very fact of their return is not unknown to the enemy? Or why have [Sidenote: F] the Thespians been ordered to be under arms for these two days past, and ready whenever the Spartan officers call? Again, I hear that Amphitheus is to be examined and put to death to-day, whenever Archias returns. Are not these strong signs that our action is not unmarked? Is it not best to pause, not for a long time, but long enough to make the auspices right? For the prophets declare, that in sacrificing the ox to Demeter, they found that the entrails prognosticated much commotion and public danger. Again, and this needs the greatest caution on your part, Charon, yesterday Hypatodorus son of Erianthes walked back with me from the farm, quite a good and friendly [Sidenote: 587] person, but certainly not in our secrets. “Charon is your friend, Hippostheneidas,” he said, “but I do not know him well; tell him, if you think good, to be on his guard against a certain danger revealed in a very strange and disagreeable dream. Last night I thought that his house was in pangs as of labour, and that he and the friends who shared his anxiety prayed and stood around it, while it moaned and uttered inarticulate sounds. At last the fire flared out strong and terrible from within, so that most of the city was caught by the blaze, but the Cadmeia was only wrapped in smoke, the fire not spreading [Sidenote: B] up to it.” The vision which the man described was something like this, Charon; I was alarmed at the time, and much more so when I heard to-day that the exiles are to be put up at your house; I am now in an agony lest we may be bringing a load of troubles upon ourselves, yet not doing any harm worth mentioning to the enemies, but simply stirring them up. For I reckon the city to be on our side, the Cadmeia with them, as it certainly is.’

XVIII. Theocritus broke in, stopping Charon who wanted to say something to Hippostheneidas: ‘Well, Hippostheneidas, [Sidenote: C] nothing has ever struck me as so encouraging for action (although I have myself always found my sacrifices favourable for the exiles), as this vision; strong, clear light over the city, rising, you tell us, out of a friendly house; the head-quarters of our enemies wrapped in black smoke, which always imports, at the best, tears and confusion; then inarticulate utterances proceeding from our side, so that, even if any one were to attempt to inform against us, only an indistinct rumour and blind suspicion can attach to our enterprise, which will have succeeded by the time it is evident. That the priests should find sacrifices unfavourable is natural; officials and victim belong to those in power, not to the people.’ While Theocritus was still speaking, I turned to Hippostheneidas: ‘What messenger did you send [Sidenote: D] out to them? Unless you have allowed a very long start we will give chase.’ ‘I do not know,’ he said, ‘for I must tell you the truth, Capheisias, whether you could possibly overtake the man; he has the best horse in Thebes. The man is known to you; he is head groom in Melon’s chariot stables, and through Melon knows our enterprise from its beginning.’ Meanwhile I had espied the man, and said, ‘Hippostheneidas, do you not mean Chlidon, who won the single-horse race in last year’s Heraea?’ ‘That is the man’, he said. ‘And who is that,’ I said, ‘standing this long time at the outer gates, and looking in at us?’ Then Hippostheneidas turned: ‘Chlidon,’ he [Sidenote: E] said, ‘yes, by Hercules, I fear something has gone very wrong.’ Meanwhile, the man saw that we were observing him, and drew up quietly from the door. Hippostheneidas gave him a nod and bade him speak out to all present. ‘I know these gentlemen, Hippostheneidas, perfectly well; and finding you neither at home nor in the market-place, I guessed that you had come to them, so I took the shortest way here, that you may all know [Sidenote: F] everything which has happened. When you ordered me to use all speed and meet the party in the hill country, I went home to get my horse; but when I asked for the bridle, my wife could not give it me, but stayed a long time in the store room. She searched and turned out everything inside, and after fooling me to her heart’s content, at last confessed that she had lent the bridle to our neighbour the evening before, his wife having come in to ask for one. I was angry and used strong words to her, upon which she took to horrible imprecations—“A bad journey [Sidenote: 588] and a bad return to you all!” May Heaven throw it all back upon herself, by Zeus, yes! At last, in my anger, I got as far as blows; then a crowd of neighbours and women ran up; I have behaved shamefully and have been treated no better, and have just managed to make my way to you, that you may send some one else to the exiles, for I am fairly off my head by this time and feel badly upset.’

XIX. We now experienced a strange revulsion of feeling. A little before we were chafing at the check we had received; now that the crisis was upon us short and sharp, and no delay possible, we found ourselves passing into an anguish of alarm. However, I said a word of greeting and encouragement to Hippostheneidas, to the effect that the very Gods were calling us [Sidenote: B] on to action. After this Phyllidas went out to arrange for his party, and to get Archias plunged straight into his drink, Charon to see to his house, while Theocritus and I returned to Simmias on the chance of getting a word with Epaminondas.

XX. However, they were far on in an inquiry of no mean import, Heaven knows, but one which Galaxidorus and Pheidolaus had started a little earlier, the problem of the real nature [Sidenote: C] and potency of the Divine Sign of Socrates, so called. What Simmias said in reply to the argument of Galaxidorus we did not hear; but he went on to say that he had himself once asked Socrates on the subject, and failed to get an answer, and so had never asked again; but that he had often been with him when he gave his opinion that those who claim intercourse with the divine by way of vision are impostors, whereas he attended to those who professed to hear a voice, and put serious questions to them. Hence it began to occur to us, as we were discussing the matter among ourselves, to suspect that the Divine Sign of Socrates might possibly be no vision but a special sense for [Sidenote: D] sounds or words, with which he had contact in some strange manner; just as in sleep there is no voice heard, but fancies and notions as to particular words reach the sleepers, who then think that they hear people talking. Only sleepers receive such conceptions in a real dream because of the tranquillity and calm of the body in sleep, whereas in waking moments the soul can hardly attend to greater powers, being so choked by thronging emotions and distracting needs that they are unable to listen and to give their attention to clear revelations. But the mind of Socrates, pure and passionless, and intermingling itself but [Sidenote: E] little with the body for necessary purposes, was fine and light of touch, and quickly changed under any impression. The impression we may conjecture to have been no voice, but the utterance of a spirit, which without vocal sound reached the perceiving mind by the revelation itself. For voice is like a blow upon the soul, which perforce admits its utterance by way of the ears, whenever we converse with one another. But the mind of a stronger being leads the gifted soul, touching it with the thing thought, and no blow is needed. To such a being soul yields as it relaxes or tightens the impulses, which are never [Sidenote: F] violent, as when there are passions to resist, but supple and pliant like reins which give. There is nothing wonderful in this; as we see great cargo-vessels turned about by little helms, and, again, potters’ wheels whirling round in even revolution at the light touch of a hand. These are things without a soul no doubt, yet so constructed as to run swiftly and smoothly, and therefore to yield to a motive force when a touch is given. But the soul of a man, being strained by countless impulses, as by cords, is far the easiest of all machines to turn, if it be touched rationally; it accepts the touch of thought, and moves as thought directs. For here the passions and impulses are stretched towards the [Sidenote: 589] thinking principle and end in it; if that principle be stirred they receive a pull, and in turn draw and strain the man. And thus we are allowed to learn how great is the power of a thought. For bones, which have no sensation, and nerves and fleshy parts charged with humours, and the whole resultant mass in its ponderous quiescence, do yet, as soon as the soul sets something a going in thought and directs its impulse towards it, rise up, alert and tense, a whole which moves to action in all its members, as though it had wings. But it is hard, nay, perhaps, altogether beyond our powers, to take in at one glance the [Sidenote: B] system of excitation, complex strain, and divine prompting, whereby the soul, after conceiving a thought, draws on the mass of the body by the impulses which it gives.[41] Yet whereas a word thus intellectually apprehended excites the soul, while no sort of voice is heard and no action takes place, even so we need not, I think, find it hard to believe that mind may be led by a stronger mind and a more divine soul external to itself, having contact with it after its kind, as word with word or light with reflection. For in actual fact we recognize the thoughts of one another by groping as it were in darkness with the assistance of voice; whereas the thoughts of spirits have light, they shine upon men capable of receiving them, they need not verbs [Sidenote: C] or nouns, those symbols whereby men in their intercourse with men see resemblances and images of the things thought, yet never apprehend the things themselves, save only those upon whom, as we have said, there shines from within a peculiar and spiritual light. And yet what we see happen in the case of the voice may partly reassure the incredulous. The air is impressed with articulate sounds, it becomes all word and voice, and brings the meaning home to the soul of the hearer. Therefore we need not wonder if, in regard to this special mode of thought also, the air is sensitive to the touch of higher beings, and is so modified as to convey to the mind of godlike and extraordinary men the thought of him who thought it. For as the strokes of miners[42] are caught on brazen shields because of the reverberation, [Sidenote: D] when they rise from below ground and fall upon them, whereas falling on any other surface they are indistinct and pass to nothing, even so the words of spirits pass through all Nature, but only sound for those who possess the soul in untroubled calm, holy and spiritual men as we emphatically call them. The view of most people is that spiritual visitations come to men in sleep; that they should be similarly stirred when awake and in their full faculties they think marvellous and beyond belief. As though a musician were thought to use his lyre when the strings are let down, and not to touch or use it when it is strung up and tuned! They do not see the cause, their [Sidenote: E] own inner tunelessness and discord, from which Socrates our friend had been set free, as the oracle given to his father when he was yet a boy declared. For it bade him allow his son to do whatever came into his mind; not to force nor direct his goings, but to let his impulse have free play, only to pray for him to Zeus Agoraios and to the Muses, but for all else not to meddle with Socrates; meaning no doubt that he had within him a guide for [Sidenote: F] his life who was better than ten thousand teachers and directors.

XXI. This, Pheidolaus, is what has occurred to me to think about the Divine Sign of Socrates, in his lifetime and since his death, dismissing with contempt those who have suggested voices or sneezings or anything of that sort. But what I have heard Timarchus of Chaeroneia relate on this head it may perhaps be better to pass over in silence, as more like myth than history. ‘Not at all;’ said Theocritus, ‘let us have it all. Even myth touches truth, not too closely, perhaps, but it does touch it at points. But first, who was this Timarchus? Explain, for I do not know him.’ ‘Naturally, Theocritus,’ [Sidenote: 590] said Simmias, ‘for he died quite young, having begged that he might be buried near Lamprocles, the son of Socrates, who had died a few days before, his own friend and contemporary. He then greatly wished to know what was really meant by the Divine Sign of Socrates, and so, like a generous youth fresh to the taste of Philosophy, having taken no one but Cebes and myself into his plan, went down into the cave of Trophonius, after performing the usual rites of the oracle. Two nights and one day he remained below; and when most people had given him up, and his family was mourning for [Sidenote: B] him, at early dawn he came up very radiant. He knelt to the God, then made his way at once through the crowd, and related to us many wonderful things which he had seen and heard.

XXII. ‘He said that, when he descended into the oracular chamber, he first found himself in a great darkness; then, after a prayer, lay a long while not very clearly conscious whether he was awake or dreaming; only he fancied that his head received a blow, while a dull noise fell on his ears, and then the sutures parted and allowed his soul to issue forth. As it passed upwards, rejoicing to mingle with the pure transparent air, it appeared [Sidenote: C] first to draw a long deep breath, after its narrow compression, and to become larger than before, like a sail as it is filled out. Then he heard dimly a whirring noise overhead out of which came a sweet voice. He looked up and saw land nowhere, only islands shining with lambent fire, from time to time changing colour with one another, as though it were a coat of dye, while the light became spangled in the transition. They appeared to be countless in number and in size enormous, not all equal but all alike circular. He thought that as these moved around there was an answering hum of the air, for the gentleness of [Sidenote: D] that voice which was harmonized out of all corresponded to the smoothness of the motion. Through the midst of the islands a sea or lake was interfused, all shining with the colours as they were commingled over its grey surface. Some few islands floated in a straight course and were conveyed across the current; many others were drawn on by the flood, being almost submerged. The sea was of great depth in some parts towards the south, but [northwards[43]] there were very shallow reaches, and it often swept over places and then left them dry, having no strong [Sidenote: E] ebb. The colour was in places pure as that of the open sea, in others turbid and marsh-like. As the islands passed through the surf they never came round to their starting-point again or described a circle, but slightly varied the points of impact, thus describing a continuous spiral as they went round. The sea was inclined to the approximate middle and highest part of the encompassing firmament by a little less than eight-ninths of the whole, as it appeared to him. It had two openings which [Sidenote: F] received rivers of fire pouring in from opposite sides, so that it was lashed into foam, and its grey surface was turned to white. This he saw, delighted at the spectacle; but as he turned his eyes downwards, there appeared a chasm, vast and round as though hewn out of a sphere; it was strangely terrible and deep and full of utter darkness, not in repose but often agitated and surging up; from which were heard roarings innumerable and groanings of beasts, and wailings of innumerable infants, and with these mingled cries of men and women, dim sounds of all sorts, and turmoils sent up indistinctly from the distant depth, [Sidenote: 591] to his no small consternation. Time passed, and an unseen person said to him, “Timarchus, what do you wish to learn?” “Everything,” he replied, “for all is wonderful.” “We”, the voice said, “have little to do with the regions above, they belong to other Gods; but the province of Persephone which we administer, being one of the four which Styx bounds, you may survey if you will.” To his question, “What is Styx?” “A way to Hades,” was the reply, “and it passes right opposite, parting the light at its very vertex, but reaching up, as you see, from Hades below; where it touches the light in its revolution [Sidenote: B] it marks off the remotest region of all. Now, there are four first principles of all things, the first of life, the second of motion, the third of birth, the fourth of death. The first is linked to the second by Unity, in the Unseen: the second to the third by Mind, in the sun: the third to the fourth by Nature, in the moon. Over each of these combinations a Fate, daughter of Necessity, presides, and holds the keys; of the first Atropus, of the second, Clotho, of the one belonging to the moon Lachesis, and the turning-point of birth is there. For the other islands contain Gods, but the moon, which belongs to [Sidenote: C] earthly spirits, only avoids Styx by a slight elevation, and is caught once in one hundred and seventy-seven secondary measures[44]. As Styx moves upon her, the souls cry aloud in terror; for many slip from off her and are caught by Hades. Others the moon bears upwards from below, as they turn towards her; and for these death coincides with the moment of birth, those excepted which are guilty and impure, and which are not allowed to approach her while she lightens and bellows fearfully; mourning for their own fate they slip away and are borne downwards for another birth, as you see.” “But I see [Sidenote: D] nothing,” said Timarchus, “save many stars quivering around the gulf, others sinking into it, others, again, darting up from below.” “Then you see the spirits themselves,” the voice said, “though you do not know it. It is thus: every soul partakes of mind, there is none irrational or mindless; but so much of soul as is mingled with flesh and with affections is altered and turned towards the irrational by its sense of pleasures and pains. But the mode of mingling is not the same for every soul. Some are merged entirely into body, and are disturbed by passions throughout their whole being during life. Others [Sidenote: E] are in part mixed up with it, but leave outside their purest part, which is not drawn in, but is like a life-buoy which floats on the surface, and touches the head of one who has sunk into the depth, the soul clinging around it and being kept upright, while so much of it is supported as obeys and is not overmastered by the affections. The part which is borne below the surface within the body is called soul. That which is left free from dissolution most persons call mind, taking it to be something inside themselves, resembling the reflected images in mirrors; but those who are rightly informed know that it is outside themselves and address it as spirit. The stars, Timarchus,” the voice went on, “which you see extinguished, you are to [Sidenote: F] think of as souls entirely merged in bodies; those which give light again and shine from below upwards, shaking off, as though it were mud, a sort of gloom and dimness, are those which sail up again out of their bodies after death; those which are parted upwards are spirits, and belong to men who are said to have understanding. Try to see clearly in each the bond by which it coheres with soul.” Hearing this, he paid closer attention himself, and saw the stars tossing about, some less, some more, as we see the corks which mark out nets in the sea move over its surface; but some, like the shuttles used in [Sidenote: 592] weaving, in entangled and irregular figures, not able to settle the motion into a straight line. The voice said that those who kept a straight and orderly movement were men whose souls had been well broken in by fair nurture and training, and did not allow their irrational part to be too harsh and rough. Those which often inclined upwards and downwards in an irregular and confused manner, like horses plunging off from a halter, were [Sidenote: B] fighting against the yoke with tempers disobedient and ill-trained for want of education; sometimes getting the mastery and swerving round to the right; again bent by passions and drawn on to share in sins, then again resisting and putting force upon them. The coupling bond, like a curb set on the irrational part of the soul whenever it resists, brings on repentance, as we call it, for sins, and shame for all lawless and intemperate pleasures, being really a pain and a stroke inflicted by it on the soul when it is bitted by that which masters and rules it, until at length, being thus punished, it becomes obedient to the rein [Sidenote: C] and familiar with it, and then, like a tame creature, without blow or pain, understands the spirit quickly by signs and hints. These then are led, late in the day and by slow degrees, to their duty. Out of those who are docile and obedient to their spirit from the first birth, is formed the prophetic and inspired class, to which belonged the soul of Hermodorus[45] of Clazomenae, of which you have surely heard; how it would leave the body entirely and wander over a wide range by night and by day, and [Sidenote: D] then come back again, having been present where many things were said and done far off, until the enemy found the body, which his wife had betrayed, left at home deserted by its soul, and burnt it. Now this part is not true; the soul used not to go out from the body; but by always yielding to the spirit, and slackening the coupling-band, he gave it constant liberty to range around, so that it saw and heard and reported many things from the world outside. But those who destroyed the body while he was asleep are paying the penalty in Tartarus unto [Sidenote: E] this day. All this, young man, you shall know more clearly in the third month from this; now begone!” When the voice ceased, Timarchus wished to turn round, he said, and see who the speaker was; but his head again ached violently, as though forcibly compressed, and he could no longer hear or perceive anything passing about him; afterwards, however, he came to [Sidenote: F] by degrees, and saw that he was lying in the cave of Trophonius, near the entrance where he had originally sunk down.

XXIII. ‘Such was the tale of Timarchus. When he died, having returned to Athens in the third month after hearing the voice, and when, in our wonder, we told Socrates of the story, he blamed us for not reporting it while Timarchus was still alive, since he would gladly have heard it more clearly from himself, and have questioned him further. There, Theocritus, you have all, tale and theory both. But perhaps we ought to invite the stranger to join our inquiry; the subject comes nearly home to inspired men.’ ‘Well, but’, the stranger answered, ‘Epaminondas, who puts out from the same port, is not contributing his opinion.’ Our father smiled: ‘That is just his character, Sir. Silent and cautious in speaking, but a glutton for learning and listening. That is why Spintharus of Tarentum, after spending no little time with him here, is always saying, as you know, that he never met [Sidenote: 593] any man of his own standing who knew more or who spoke less. So pray let us have all your own thoughts on the subject.’

XXIV. ‘Then, for my part,’ said Theanor, ‘I think that the story of Timarchus ought to be dedicated to the God, as holy and inviolable. But it will be strange to me if any shall be found to discredit what Simmias tells us about the matter; thus, while they designate swans, serpents, dogs and horses as sacred, refusing to believe that men may be godlike and friends of God, yet holding that God is not a friend of birds but a friend of man. As, then, a man who loves horses does not care equally for all individuals which make the class, but always picks out and separates [Sidenote: B] some excellent member of the class, and trains him by himself and feeds him and loves him beyond others; so it is with ourselves; the higher powers extract, if the word may pass, the best out of the herd, and deem them worthy of a very special training, directing their course, not by reins nor by halters, but by reason, through signs utterly incomprehensible to the general herd. Why, most dogs do not understand the signals used in hunting, nor most horses those used in the manège; but those who have learned know at once from a whistle or a chirrup what they are required to do, and easily take the right position. Homer clearly knows the distinction [Sidenote: C] to which I refer. Some of his prophets he calls “readers of dreams” and “priests”, others understand the conversation of the Gods themselves, he thinks, by sympathy, and signify the future to us. For instance:

_Thus they conferred: but Helenus, Priam’s son,
That scheme, which pleased them, in his heart divined._[46]

And again:

_So the everlasting voice I have heard and known._[47]

The mind of kings and generals is made known to outsiders through the senses, by special beacons or proclamation, or calls on the trumpet; and so the divine message reaches few of us in and [Sidenote: D] through itself, and that rarely; for ordinary men signals are employed and these are the groundwork of what we call divination. The Gods, then, regulate life only for a few, for those whom they wish to make blessed in a single degree, and truly divine; but souls released from coming to the birth, and now for ever at rest from a body, and dismissed into freedom, are spirits who care for men, in Hesiod’s sense. For as athletes, when age has brought them an end of training, do not wholly lose the spirit of competition or of care for the body, but delight to see others in practice, and cheer them on and run beside them, so [Sidenote: E] those who have ceased from the struggles of life, made spirits because of the excellence of their soul, do not utterly despise our earthly affairs, our discussions and our interests: they have a kindly feeling for those training with the same end before them, they share their eagerness for virtue, encourage them, and join them in their bursts, whenever they see them running with hope near at hand and already within touch. For the spirit does not help [Sidenote: F] all men as they come. It is as with swimmers upon the sea; spectators on the shore merely gaze in silence on those who are out in the open, drifting far from land; whereas they run along the beach towards those who are already nearing it, they dash in to meet them, and with hand, and voice, and endeavour, hasten to the rescue. Such, Simmias, is the way of a spirit; while we are dipped beneath the tides of life, changing body for body, like relays on a road, he allows us to struggle out for ourselves, to be brave and patient, to try by our own virtue to reach the harbour in safety. But when any soul through a myriad of births has striven once and again a long-drawn strife well and stoutly, and when, with the cycle now wellnigh complete, it [Sidenote: 594] takes the risks, and sets its hope high, as it nears the landing-place, and presses upwards with sweat and endeavour, the God thinks it no wrong that its own spirit should go to the help of such a soul, but lets zeal go free, and the Gods are zealous to encourage and to save, one this soul and one that. The soul hearkens because it is so near, and it is saved; but if it does not hearken the spirit leaves it, and its happy chance is gone.’

XXV. As he finished, Epaminondas looked at me. ‘It is nearly your time, Capheisias, to go to the gymnasium and not fail your comrades; we will take care of Theanor, and break up [Sidenote: B] our conference whenever he likes.’ ‘Let us do so,’ I said, ‘but I think Theocritus here wants a few words with you while Galaxidorus and I are present.’ ‘By all means’, said he; he rose and led the way to the angle of the portico. We stood round and tried to encourage him to join the scheme. He answered that he perfectly well knew the day of the return of the exiles, and had arranged with Gorgidas as to all that was necessary for our friends, but that he refused to take the life of any citizen without trial, unless there were an urgent necessity; also, looking to the body of the Thebans, it was specially convenient that there should be some person with hands clean [Sidenote: C] and beyond suspicion, when the time should come to advise the people for the best. We agreed, and he returned at once to Simmias and his party. We went down to the gymnasium and met our friends, and, pairing off for wrestling matches, exchanged information and plans for action. We saw also Archias and Philippus, anointed and starting for the supper. For Phyllidas, [Sidenote: D] fearing that they might put Amphitheus to death first, called on Archias immediately after he had escorted Lysanoridas, and by suggesting hopes that the lady he desired to meet would come to the place, persuaded him to turn his mind to having a good time with the usual companions of his revels.

XXVI. It was now getting late, and the cold was intense, as the wind had got up. Most people had therefore made for their homes more quickly than usual. We had fallen in with Damocleidas, Pelopidas, and Theopompus, and were taking them with us, as others took others of the exiles. For the party had broken up immediately after crossing Cithaeron; and the bitter [Sidenote: E] weather allowed them to muffle up their faces and pass through the city in security. Some of them were met by a lightning flash on the right without thunder, as they entered through the gates; and the sign seemed favourable for safety and glory, with a bright issue to follow and no danger.

XXVII. So when we were all inside, two short of fifty, while Theocritus was sacrificing by himself in an outbuilding, there was a loud knocking at the door; and presently some one came in to say that two servants of Archias, sent on an urgent message to Charon, were knocking at the courtyard gate and calling for it to [Sidenote: F] be opened, and were angry at the slowness of the response. Charon was much disturbed, and gave orders to open to them at once, while he himself went to meet them, the crown on his head showing that he had sacrificed and was at his wine, and asked the messengers what they wanted. One of them replied: ‘Archias and Philippus sent us, you are to come to them as quickly as you can.’ When Charon asked, ‘What is the reason of this hasty summons, and is there anything new?’ ‘We know nothing further,’ answered the messenger, ‘but what shall we tell them?’ ‘This, by Zeus,’ said Charon, ‘that as soon as I have put off this crown and got my cloak, I will follow you. For, if I go straight off with you, there will be an alarm; people will think that I am in [Sidenote: 595] custody.’ ‘Do so,’ they said, ‘for we too have orders to convey from the magistrates to the guard of the lower city.’ So they went off. When Charon came in and told us this, we were all aghast, thinking we had been betrayed. Most of us were inclined to suspect Hippostheneidas; he had tried to hinder the return by sending Chlidon, and when that failed and the dread moment was upon us, he had used his plausible tongue to betray the scheme, out of fear; for he did not come with the rest into the house, but the whole impression he gave us was of a coward and turncoat. However, we all thought that Charon ought to go, and obey the [Sidenote: B] summons of the magistrates. He ordered his son to come in, the handsomest boy in Thebes, Archidamus, and the most painstaking in his gymnastics; barely fifteen, but in strength and size far above others of his age. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘he is my only one, and, as you know, I love him dearly; I place him in your hands, and charge you in the name of the Gods, and in the name of the spirits, if I should appear a traitor to your cause, slay him, and spare us not. For the rest, my gallant friends, set yourselves to meet the event; do not give in like shabby cowards, or allow this scum to slay your bodies; defend yourselves, keep your souls [Sidenote: C] above defeat, they are our country’s!’ As Charon said this, we were wondering at his spirit and noble heart, though indignant at his idea of suspicion on our part, and bade him take the boy away. ‘More than that, Charon,’ said Pelopidas, ‘we think that you have not been well advised in that you have not already removed your son to another house. What need for him to run our risks if taken with us? You must send him away even now, so that, if anything happen to us, one noble nursling may be left to be our avenger on the tyrants.’ ‘Not so;’ said Charon, ‘here he shall stay and share your risks; for, even in his interest, it is not [Sidenote: D] good that he should fall into the enemy’s hands. But you, my boy, be daring beyond your years, taste the struggles which must come, take risks with our many brave countrymen in the cause of freedom and valour; much hope still is left, and I think that a God is surely watching over us in our contest for the right.’

XXVIII. Tears came to many of us, Archidamus, at the words of Charon. Dry-eyed himself and unmoved, he placed his son in the hands of Pelopidas, and made his way through the doors with a word of greeting and encouragement for each of us. Even more would you have admired the bright and fearless bearing of the boy himself in the peril. Like Neoptolemus,[48] he showed no [Sidenote: E] paleness or alarm, but drew the sword of Pelopidas and seemed to study it. In the meantime, Diotonus, a friend of Cephisodorus, came in to us, sword in hand, and wearing a steel breastplate under his clothes; and when we told him of Charon being sent for by Archias, blamed us for losing time, and implored us to go straight to the houses, where we should be upon them before they were ready; failing that, it would be better, he said, to go out into the open and form our parties there out of the scattered and uncombined units, rather than shut ourselves up in a chamber [Sidenote: F] and wait like a swarm of bees to be cut out by the enemy. The prophet Theocritus added his urgent appeal; his victims showed a clear and good result, and assured him of safety.

XXIX. While we were arming and making arrangements, Charon reappeared, his face radiant. Smiling as he looked at us, he bade us take heart; there was no danger and the business was moving on. ‘Archias’, he said, ‘and Philippus, when they heard [Sidenote: 596] that I had obeyed their summons, were already heavy with drink, sodden alike in body and mind; it was all they could do to stand upon their feet and move out towards the door. When Archias said: “Charon, we hear that exiles have passed into the city and are being concealed”, I was not a little troubled. “Where are they said to be?” I asked, “and who are they?” “We do not know,” replied Archias, “and therefore ordered you to come, on the chance that you might have heard something more certain.” I took a moment to recover my senses, as if after a blow, and began to put things together. The information given could be no substantial story; the plot had not been betrayed by any of those privy to it; for the tyrants could not be in ignorance as to [Sidenote: B] the house if their information came from any person with real knowledge; it must be merely a suspicion or some indefinite rumour circulating in the city which had reached them. So I answered: “I remember that in the lifetime of Androcleidas there were often reports of the kind floating idly about and causing us annoyance. But at the present time, Archias,” I went on, “I have heard nothing of the sort; however, I will inquire into the story, if you so desire, and, if I hear anything worth attention, you shall not fail to know.” “By all means,” said Phyllidas, “look well into this matter and leave no stone unturned. What is to prevent us? We must think nothing beneath our notice, but must take all precautions and pay attention. Forethought is good; safety is good!” As he said [Sidenote: C] this, he took Archias by the arm and led him off into the house where they are drinking. ‘Now, friends,’ he went on, ‘no delay for us, a prayer to the Gods, and forth we go!’ When Charon had said this, we spent a while in prayer and mutual encouragement.

XXX. It was now the hour at which people are mostly at supper; the wind was still rising and drove beneath it snow with drizzle, so that the narrow streets were quite empty as we made our way through them. The party told off against Leontides and Hypates, who lived near one another, went out cloaked and carrying no arms but a sword apiece (among [Sidenote: D] these were Pelopidas, Damocleidas, and Cephisodorus). Charon, Melon, and the rest who were to attack Archias, wore half-cuirasses, and thick wreaths, some of firwood, some of pine. Some were in women’s tunics, which gave the effect of a drinking procession with women. But our ill-fortune, Archidamus, which set all the weakness and ignorance of the enemy on a level with all our daring and preparation, and chequered our action from the outset with perilous episodes like a stage play, met us at [Sidenote: E] the moment of action, and sharp and terrible was the crisis with its dramatic surprise. Charon, having satisfied Archias and Philippus, had returned home and was putting us through our parts, when there came a letter from this city; it was from Archias the priest to Archias of Thebes, an old friend and guest, it would seem, with full news of the return and plot of the exiles, of the house [Sidenote: F] to which they had repaired, and of those who were acting with them. Archias was by this time drenched with wine, and excited about the expected arrival of the ladies; he took the letter, but when the bearer said that it was addressed to him about certain urgent business: “Then urgent business to-morrow!” he said, and thrust the letter under his head cushion; then he asked for a cup, kept calling for wine, the whole time ordering Phyllidas to go out to the door and see whether the women were near.

XXXI. As they had beguiled their drinking with this hope, we joined the company, and pushing our way through the servants to the banqueting hall stood a short time at the door looking [Sidenote: 597] at each of the party. Our crowns and dress and make-up, while apologizing for our presence, caused a silence: but as soon as Melon rushed first up the hall, his hand upon his sword-hilt, Cabirichus, the appointed president, plucked him by the arm as he passed, and shouted out, ‘Phyllidas, is not this Melon?’ Melon shook off his grasp, drawing his sword as he did so, then, rushing upon Archias as with difficulty he found his feet, struck and struck till he had killed him. Philippus received a neck wound from Charon; he tried to defend himself with the drinking-cups [Sidenote: B] which were near his hand, but Lysitheus threw him off the couch to the ground and slew him. We tried to pacify Cabirichus, imploring him not to assist the tyrants, but to join in our country’s deliverance, remembering that he was a holy person and consecrated to the Gods for her sake. As, however, from the wine he had taken, it was not easy to carry his thoughts to the proper course, while he stood excited and confused, and kept presenting the point of his spear (customarily worn by our magistrates at all times), I myself seized it at the middle and swung it over his head, crying to him to let go and save himself, or he would be wounded. But Theopompus, standing near him [Sidenote: C] on the right, struck him with his sword, and said: ‘Lie there with those whom thou hast been flattering; never mayest thou wear a crown in a free Thebes, nor sacrifice any longer to the Gods, in whose names thou hast often called down curses on our country, and prayers for her enemies!’ When Cabirichus was down, Theocritus, who was with us, snatched the sacred spear out of the wound; and we slew a few of the servants who ventured on resistance, while we shut up in the hall those who behaved quietly, not wishing them to slip away and spread news of what had happened, before we knew whether things had gone [Sidenote: D] well with our comrades also.

XXXII. Their history was this. Pelopidas and his party quietly approached the courtyard door of Leontides, and told the servant who answered their knock that they had come from Athens with letters for Leontides from Callistratus. When he had given the message and received orders to open, and had removed the bar and set the door a little ajar, they burst in in a body, upset the man, and charged on through the court to the bedroom of Leontides. His suspicions carrying him at once to the truth he drew his dagger and rushed to defend himself; an unjust and tyrannical man he was, but of sturdy courage and a [Sidenote: E] powerful fighter. However, he did not make up his mind to throw down the torch and close with the attacking party in the dark; but in the light, and in their full view, as soon as they began to open the door, he smote Cephisodorus on the groin, and closed with Pelopidas next, shouting loudly all the time to call the attendants. These were held in check by Samidas’ party, not venturing to come to blows with some of the best known and bravest men in Thebes. Pelopidas and Leontides had to fight it [Sidenote: F] out; it was a sword duel in the doorway of the chamber, a narrow one, in the middle of which lay Cephisodorus, fallen and dying, so that the others could not come in to the rescue. At last our man, having received a slight wound in the head and having given many, and thrown Leontides down, ran him through over the still warm body of Cephisodorus. The latter saw the enemy falling, and placed his hand in that of Pelopidas, saluted the others, and cheerfully breathed his last. Leaving them, they turned against Hypates, and the door having been opened to them there, in the same way, they cut him down while trying to escape over a roof to the neighbours.

[Sidenote: 598] XXXIII. Thence they hastened towards us, joining us outside, near the Polystyle. After mutual greetings and talk, we proceeded to the prison. Phyllidas called the head jailer out and said: ‘Archias and Philippus order you to bring Amphitheus to them at once.’ He, remarking the strangeness of the hour, and that Phyllidas did not seem composed as he spoke to him, but hot from the struggle and excited, saw through our artifice: ‘When did the Polemarchs send for a prisoner at such an hour, [Sidenote: B] Phyllidas,’ he asked, ‘and when by you? What password do you bring?’ As he was speaking, Phyllidas, who carried a cavalry lance, drove it through his ribs and brought the scoundrel to the ground, where he was trampled and spat upon the next day by a number of women. We burst open the doors of the prison, and called on the prisoners by name; first Amphitheus, then our acquaintances among the others. As they recognized the voices they leapt up from their pallet beds, dragging their chains, while those whose feet were fast in the stocks stretched out their hands, shouting and imploring us not to leave them behind. As these were being released, many of those who lived near came up, perceiving [Sidenote: C] what was going on and delighting in it. The women, as soon as each heard about her own relation, dropped Boeotian habits, and ran out to one another, asking questions from the men who met them. Those who found their own fathers or husbands followed, and no one tried to hinder them, for all who met them were deeply affected by pity for the men, and by the tears and prayers of modest women.