Agesilaus [17]
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]
[3] On the word {kalokagathia} so translated, see Demosth. 777,
[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]
[3] On the word {kalokagathia} so translated, see Demosth. 777,